Humiliation

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Anna Karenina (1877)

  After the conversation with Alexey Alexandrovitch, Vronsky went out onto the steps of the Karenins’ house and stood still, with difficulty remembering where he was, and where he ought to walk or drive. He felt disgraced, humiliated, guilty, and deprived of all possibility of washing away his humiliation. He felt thrust out of the beaten track along which he had so proudly and lightly walked till then. All the habits and rules of his life that had seemed so firm, had turned out suddenly false and inapplicable. The betrayed husband, who had figured till that time as a pitiful creature, an incidental and somewhat ludicrous obstacle to his happiness, had suddenly been summoned by her herself, elevated to an awe-inspiring pinnacle, and on the pinnacle that husband had shown himself, not malignant, not false, not ludicrous, but kind and straightforward and large. Vronsky could not but feel this, and the parts were suddenly reversed. Vronsky felt his elevation and his own abasement, his truth and his own falsehood. He felt that the husband was magnanimous even in his sorrow, while he had been base and petty in his deceit. But this sense of his own humiliation before the man he had unjustly despised made up only a small part of his misery. He felt unutterably wretched now, for his passion for Anna, which had seemed to him of late to be growing cooler, now that he knew he had lost her forever, was stronger than ever it had been. He had seen all of her in her illness, had come to know her very soul, and it seemed to him that he had never loved her till then. And now when he had learned to know her, to love her as she should be loved, he had been humiliated before her, and had lost her forever, leaving with her nothing of himself but a shameful memory. Most terrible of all had been his ludicrous, shameful position when Alexey Alexandrovitch had pulled his hands away from his humiliated face. He stood on the steps of the Karenins’ house like one distraught, and did not know what to do. “A sledge, sir?” asked the porter. “Yes, a sledge.” On getting home, after three sleepless nights, Vronsky, without undressing, lay down flat on the sofa, clasping his hands and laying his head on them. His head was heavy. Images, memories, and ideas of the strangest description followed one another with extraordinary rapidity and vividness. First it was the medicine he had poured out for the patient and spilt over the spoon, then the midwife’s white hands, then the queer posture of Alexey Alexandrovitch on the floor beside the bed.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  SERVING MAID BEAUTY COULD not believe her bad luck when, entering the upstairs parlor, she saw the lovely Lady Juliana was playing chess with the Prince, and that other beautiful Ladies were seated about at various chessboards, and that there were several Lords as well, including an old man with white hair that flowed down over his shoulders. Why did it have to be this Lady Juliana, so full of airy gestures and sunshine, her thick braids done tonight with crimson ribbon, her breasts beautifully molded by the velvet gown, and her laughter already filling the air as the Prince whispered to her some little witticism. Beauty did not know what she felt. Was it jealousy? Was it merely the usual humiliation? And Beauty had been adorned so cruelly by Leon, it was better to be naked. First Leon had scrubbed away all the Prince's fluids, then he had braided only a thick lock of Beauty's hair on either side, pinning back these braids so that most of her hair still hung free. Then he had put little jeweled clamps on her nipples, but these were connected to each other by two strands of fine gold chain like a necklace. The clamps hurt and the chains moved as the bells had with Beauty's every breath. But she had been quite horrified to discover this was not all. Leon's quick, graceful fingers had probed her navel, then smoothed into it a paste in which he set a glittering brooch, a fine jewel surrounded by pearls. Beauty had gasped. She felt as if someone were pressing her there, trying to enter her, as if her navel had become a vagina. And the feeling continued. She could feel it now. Then her ears must be hung with heavy jewels on tight gold clamps that stroked her neck when she moved, and her pubic lips of course could not be spared but must wear the same adornment. There were snake bracelets for her upper arms, and jeweled cuffs for her wrists, the effect to make her feel all the more exposed. Adorned and yet exposed. It was mystifying. About her neck finally a choker of jewels, and then on her left cheek a little jewel in paste like a beauty mark. It caused her such annoyance. She wanted to wipe it away and could imagine it glittering. It seemed she could even see it out of the corner of her eye. But then she had been quite frightened when Leon tipped her head back, and put a delicate little gold ring on the side of her nostril.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  The slaves were in a state of dread, lest they be made to perform. He said nothing more than that, but I knew what he was thinking. It was a grueling test of self-control. He combed my hair, rubbed much oil into my buttocks and thighs, even oiled my pubic hair a little and brushed it so it would be glossy. "I was quiet. I was thinking. "And when I was finally brought into the room, into the shadows near the wall from which I could see the illuminated circle, I understood what I had to do. There were stools of various heights and various circumferences. There were trapezes hung so and great hoops mounted perpendicular to the floor. Candles burned everywhere on high stands among the chairs of the Lords and Ladies who were already assembled. "And the Queen, my cruel Queen sat in state, with the Grand Duke Andre beside her. "Princess Lynette stood in the middle of the circle. So she would be allowed to stand, I mused, and I should be driven in on hands and knees. Well, I must make up my mind. "And as I knelt there waiting I decided that resistance was impossible. Were I to try to hide my tears, were I to grow tense, my humiliation would only be more dreadful. "I must make up my mind to do what I had to do. Princess Lynette looked exquisite. Her flaxen hair hung free down her back where it had been trimmed only enough to expose all of her buttocks. She had no more than a pink blush there from the paddle, and a blush on her thighs and calves too, which far from disfiguring her, appeared to shape her and improve her. It was infuriating. About her neck she wore a collar of gilded and worked leather that was a mere adornment. She wore boots as well, heavily gilded with high heels. "And I of course was utterly naked. I did not even have a collar which meant I must control myself at her commands, I could not even be dragged this way and that. "So I could see exactly what I must succeed in doing. She would put on a great show of inventiveness. She would be ready to vent her anger on me in commands of 'Hurry,' and 'Quickly' and scold and condemn for the slightest disobedience. She would therefore win the applause of the audience. And the more I struggled, the more she would shine, just as Lord Gregory had indicated. "The only way I could triumph was through perfect obedience. I must execute all her commands to perfection.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  She felt hatred for the Queen suddenly, more violently than she had felt it for Lady Juliana. But then the Queen commenced to examine, slowly, Beauty's nipples. The fingers of the Queen's right hand turned each nipple this way and that, testing the soft circle of skin around it. Beauty's breath became uneven, and she felt the moisture between her legs as though a grape had been squeezed there. It seemed the Queen was monstrously bigger than she, and as strong as a man, or was it only that to struggle against the Queen was unthinkable? Beauty tried to regain some calm, to think of her feeling of release on the Bridle Path, but it eluded her. It had been fragile all along. Now it was nothing. "Look at me," the Queen commanded gently again, and Beauty realized as she looked up that she was crying. "Spread your legs," the Queen ordered. At once Beauty obeyed. "Now she will see," Beauty thought. "It will be as bad as when Lord Gregory saw. And Prince Alexi will see." The Queen laughed. "I said spread your legs," she said, and gave Beauty's thighs fierce stinging slaps. Beauty spread her legs much wider and felt graceless as she did so. When her knees were pressed down to the coverlet on either side, she thought she could not endure the ignominy of it. She stared at the coffered ceiling of the bed above her and realized that the Queen was opening her sex as Leon had done. Beauty bit down on her cries. And Prince Alexi witnessed all of it. She remembered his kisses, and smiles. The lights of the room shimmered, and she felt her own shuddering as the Queen's fingers felt the moisture in this secret, exposed spot, playing with Beauty's pubic lips, smoothing the pubic hair, and finally catching a lock of it to pull and tease idly. It seemed the Queen took both her thumbs and wrenched Beauty open. Beauty tried to keep her hips still. She wanted to rise to escape, like some miserable Princess in the Training Hall who could not endure being so examined. Yet she did not protest; her whimpers were faint and uncertain. The Queen commanded her to turn over. Blessed concealment, that she could hide her face in the pillows. But those cool, commanding hands were playing with her buttocks now, opening them, touching her anus. "O, please," she thought desperately, and she knew that her shoulders shook with her silent crying. "O, this is dreadful, dreadful!" With the Prince, finally, she had known what was wanted. On the Bridle Path, finally, she had been told what was wanted. But what did this wicked Queen want of her, that she suffer, that she cringe, that she offer herself or merely endure? And the woman despised her!

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  I struggled to obey without losing my balance. If I flagged in the slightest with the broad rotation of my buttocks, the Princess had an opportunity again to upbraid me. "Finally, she raised her voice and announced to the Court that we had here an obedient Prince capable of even more imaginative amusements in the future. The Queen clapped her hands. The assembly could now rise and disperse, but they did so very slowly, and Princess Lynette, to continue the performance for the very last onlookers, quickly ordered me to grasp the trapeze over my head, and as she spanked me relentlessly, I was ordered to lift my chin and to march in place on my toes for her. "Pain shot through my calves and thighs, but the worst as always was the burning and swelling of my buttocks. Yet I marched with my chin up as the hall emptied. The Queen had gone first. Finally all the Lords and Ladies were gone. "Princess Lynette gave over her paddle and her strap to Lord Gregory. "I stood holding the trapeze, my chest heaving, my limbs tingling. I had the pleasure of seeing Princess Lynette stripped of her boots and her collar by a Page who threw her over his shoulder, and then she was carried out, but I couldn't see her face, and did not know what she was feeling. Her buttocks were up in the air over the Page's shoulder; her pubic lips were long and thin, and her pubic hair reddish. "I was alone, damp all over with sweat, and exhausted. Lord Gregory was standing there. And he came and lifted my chin and said, 'You are unconquerable, aren't you?' I was astonished. 'Miserable, proud, rebellious, Prince Alexi!' he said furiously. I tried to show my consternation. 'Tell me how I've displeased?' I begged, having heard Prince Gerald say that enough in the Queen's chamber. "'You know you take pleasure in all of it. There is nothing that is too ungraceful for you, too undignified, too difficult. You play with all of us!' he said. Again, I was astonished. "'Well, you will measure my cock for me now,' he said, and ordered the last Page to leave us. I still held the trapeze as commanded. The room was dark save for the luminous night sky through the windows. I heard him opening his clothes, I felt the nudge of his penis. And then he thrust it into my buttocks. "'Damnable little Prince,' he said, as he drove into me. "When it was finished, Felix slung me over his shoulder as unceremoniously as the other Page had carried Princess Lynette. My cock swelled against him, but I tried to control it. "When he set me down in the Queen's chamber, she sat at her dresser filing her nails. 'I've missed you,' she said. I hurried to her on my hands and knees and kissed her slippers.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  Its prongs pierced her though not deeply, only enough to hold it in place, but she almost cried because she wanted so to wipe it away like the jewel, indeed, to pull all these adornments loose, though Leon was complimenting her. "Ah, when they give me something truly beautiful to work with, then I can show my skill," he sighed. He gave her hair a brisk brushing and then said she was ready. Now she entered this vast shadowy parlor on her hands and knees and hurried to the Prince's side, kissing his boots immediately. The Prince did not look up from his chessboard, and to Beauty's scalding shame, it was the Lady Juliana who greeted her: "Ah, but if it isn't the darling one, and how lovely she looks. Kneel up, my precious," she said in that gay, carefree voice, tossing one of her braids back over her shoulder. She laid her hand on Beauty's throat, examining the jewel necklace. It seemed her fingers caused a tingling through Beauty's flesh, but she did not even try to steal a glance at the young woman's face. "Why am I not sitting there as she is sitting, exquisitely dressed and free and proud," Beauty thought. "What has become of me, that I must kneel here before her and be handled as something less than human? I am a Princess!" And then she thought of all the other Princes and Princesses and felt foolish. "Do they think these thoughts?" This woman, more than any other, tormented her. But Lady Juliana was not satisfied. "Stand up my dear so that I can have a look at you and don't make me tell you to put your hands behind your neck and spread your legs." Beauty heard laughter from behind her and someone remarking to someone else that yes, the Prince's slave was well named. And realizing suddenly that there were no other slaves in this room, Beauty felt all the more bereft. She shut her eyes as she had before when Lady Juliana had inspected her. And she felt the Lady's hands on her thighs and then pinching her buttocks. "O, why can she not leave me alone, doesn't she know what I suffer?" Beauty thought, and through her narrowed eyelids she looked down to see the Lady beaming at her. "And what does her Highness think of her?" Lady Juliana asked with genuine curiosity, glancing at the Prince who was still deep in contemplation. "She does not approve," the Prince murmured. "She accuses me of passion." Beauty tried to remain composed, standing as she was in attendance. She heard laughter and conversation about her.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  I did so, my buttocks facing the Queen and the Grand Duke, a position which again, even in the midst of this, reminded me of my nakedness. "She put aside her paddle, and picked her favorite toy then, the leather strap, and gave my legs a heavy strapping on both thighs and calves, letting the leather curl about me, and ordered me to move forward a few inches so that I might place my chin upon a high stool there. My hands must go behind my back, my back must be arched. I did as I was told and stood, spread-legged, bent at the waist, my face tipped up for all to see my miserable expression. "As you can imagine my buttocks hung free in the air, and she commenced to shower them with compliments. 'Very pretty hips, Prince Alexi, very pretty buttocks, tough and round and muscular, and very pretty indeed when you squirm to escape my strap and my paddle.' She illustrated all this as I did with her strap, and I was crying softly now between my moans. "It was then she gave a command which surprised me. 'But the Court wants to see you display your buttocks. They want to see you move them,' she said. 'Not merely to escape the punishment you so richly deserve and richly need, but to see some real show of humility.' I didn't know what she meant. She spanked me hard as if I meant to be stubborn, while I answered through my tears, 'Yes, my Princess.' 'But you do not obey!' she cried out. She had commenced what she really wanted, and as soon as she said this, I began to sob in spite of myself. What could I say to her? 'I want to see your buttocks move, Prince,' she said. 'I want to see them dance, while your feet remain still.' I heard the Queen laugh. And suddenly overcome with shame and fear, I knew the seemingly small thing she wanted of me was too much for me. I move my hips, I moved them from side to side as she spanked me and my chest shook with another sob that I could scarce keep quiet. "'No, Prince, nothing so simple as that, a real dance for the Court,' she said, 'your reddened and punished buttocks must do something besides sleep under my blows!' and she placed her hands on my hips then and slowly moved them not only from side to side, but down and around and up, so that I had to bend my knees. She rotated them. It seems a small thing as I say it.

• From Anna Karenina (1877)

  In spite of Vronsky’s apparently frivolous life in society, he was a man who hated irregularity. In early youth in the Corps of Pages, he had experienced the humiliation of a refusal, when he had tried, being in difficulties, to borrow money, and since then he had never once put himself in the same position again. In order to keep his affairs in some sort of order, he used about five times a year (more or less frequently, according to circumstances) to shut himself up alone and put all his affairs into definite shape. This he used to call his day of reckoning or _faire la lessive_. On waking up the day after the races, Vronsky put on a white linen coat, and without shaving or taking his bath, he distributed about the table moneys, bills, and letters, and set to work. Petritsky, who knew he was ill-tempered on such occasions, on waking up and seeing his comrade at the writing-table, quietly dressed and went out without getting in his way. Every man who knows to the minutest details all the complexity of the conditions surrounding him, cannot help imagining that the complexity of these conditions, and the difficulty of making them clear, is something exceptional and personal, peculiar to himself, and never supposes that others are surrounded by just as complicated an array of personal affairs as he is. So indeed it seemed to Vronsky. And not without inward pride, and not without reason, he thought that any other man would long ago have been in difficulties, would have been forced to some dishonorable course, if he had found himself in such a difficult position. But Vronsky felt that now especially it was essential for him to clear up and define his position if he were to avoid getting into difficulties.

• From Anna Karenina (1877)

  And she remembered how, long, long ago, when she was a girl of seventeen, she had gone with her aunt to Troitsa. “Riding, too. Was that really me, with red hands? How much that seemed to me then splendid and out of reach has become worthless, while what I had then has gone out of my reach forever! Could I ever have believed then that I could come to such humiliation? How conceited and self-satisfied he will be when he gets my note! But I will show him.... How horrid that paint smells! Why is it they’re always painting and building? _Modes et robes_, she read. A man bowed to her. It was Annushka’s husband. “Our parasites”; she remembered how Vronsky had said that. “Our? Why our? What’s so awful is that one can’t tear up the past by its roots. One can’t tear it out, but one can hide one’s memory of it. And I’ll hide it.” And then she thought of her past with Alexey Alexandrovitch, of how she had blotted the memory of it out of her life. “Dolly will think I’m leaving my second husband, and so I certainly must be in the wrong. As if I cared to be right! I can’t help it!” she said, and she wanted to cry. But at once she fell to wondering what those two girls could be smiling about. “Love, most likely. They don’t know how dreary it is, how low.... The boulevard and the children. Three boys running, playing at horses. Seryozha! And I’m losing everything and not getting him back. Yes, I’m losing everything, if he doesn’t return. Perhaps he was late for the train and has come back by now. Longing for humiliation again!” she said to herself. “No, I’ll go to Dolly, and say straight out to her, I’m unhappy, I deserve this, I’m to blame, but still I’m unhappy, help me. These horses, this carriage—how loathsome I am to myself in this carriage—all his; but I won’t see them again.” Thinking over the words in which she would tell Dolly, and mentally working her heart up to great bitterness, Anna went upstairs. “Is there anyone with her?” she asked in the hall. “Katerina Alexandrovna Levin,” answered the footman. “Kitty! Kitty, whom Vronsky was in love with!” thought Anna, “the girl he thinks of with love. He’s sorry he didn’t marry her. But me he thinks of with hatred, and is sorry he had anything to do with me.” The sisters were having a consultation about nursing when Anna called. Dolly went down alone to see the visitor who had interrupted their conversation. “Well, so you’ve not gone away yet? I meant to have come to you,” she said; “I had a letter from Stiva today.” “We had a telegram too,” answered Anna, looking round for Kitty. “He writes that he can’t make out quite what Alexey Alexandrovitch wants, but he won’t go away without a decisive answer.”

• From Querelle (1953)

  41 I QUERELLE whom he would enroll for the job, and it would be through him that he would be able to reach Mario and Norbert. Now the boss seemed straight; the other one was too hand some to be a mere cop. Those rings were too nice for that. "And what about me? And my jewels? If only that sonofabitch could see theml" Querelle was referring to the treasure hidden away in the despatch-boat, but also to his balls, full and heavy, which he stroked every night, and kept safely tucked away between his hands while he slept. He thought of the stolen watch. He smiled: that was the old Querelle, blooming, lighting up, showing the delicate underside of his petals. The workmen went and sat down at a bare wooden table in the middle of the dormitory, between the two rows of beds. On it st ood two large, steaming bowls of soup. Slowly Gil took his hand off the fur of the cat lying stretched on his knee; then put it back there. Some small part of his shame was flowing out into the animal and being absorbed by her. Thus, she was a comfort to Gil, like a dressing staunching a wound. Gil had not wanted to get into a fight when, on coming back, Theo had started poking fun at him. And that had been obvious from his tone of voice, so surprisingly humble when answering: "There's some words better left unsaid." As his retorts were usually dry and laconic, almost to the point of cruelty, Gil had been all the more conscious of his humiliation when he heard his own voice ingratiate itself, stretch out like a shadow round Theo's feet. To hi mself, to console his self-regard, Gil had remarked that one does not fight with such assholes, but the spontaneous sweet ne ss of his voice reminded him too strongly that he had, in fact, given in. And his buddies? \Vhat the hell did they matter, fuck'em. Theo, that was well known, Theo was a queer. He was tough and nervy all right, but he was a queer. No sooner had

• From Querelle (1953)

  99 I QUERELLE that his body would then be ready for it. Slowly, eyes closed as if still asleep, and hoping to look convincing in case all other eyes were attending his awakening, he turned round in his bed. A beam of sunlight from the window shone straight onto his blankets, on which some buzzing flies had settled. Without knowing what it was that attracted them, Gil knew that it had to do with the exposure of some secret. As noncha lantly as possible, he pulled the object-his briefs-down under the sheets, to find that they were a pair slightly soiled with shit and blood at the back: this, in the sunlight, had been attra cting the flies. Now they buzzed off with such an infernal drone that the room was filled with the sound of it, revealing Gil's infamy, proclaiming it with the majesty and splendor of an organ volun tary. Gil felt certain that it was Thea's vengeful doing: he had gone through Gil's kit bag, come up with the disgusting item, and placed it on the young mason's bed while he was still asleep. The boys had watched these preparations gravely, si lently, not interfering, as they knew Thea to be a violent character, and as that trait of his made them feel more real to themselves. And, well, there was no harm in taking that young guy down a peg or two, was there? The sun and the flies-Thea hadn't even reckoned with them-had added their talents to the show. \Vithout raisin g it fr01n the pillow, Gil turned his head to the left: he felt something hard under his cheek. Most ca refully, slowly, he extended his hand and pulled the object dow n under the sheets, against his chest. It was a huge egg plant. He held it in his hand; it was quite beautiful, terrifyingly large, violet in color, round. All of Gil's suppressed anger manifest in the taut muscles under the smooth white skin, in the fixed stare of his green eyes, in his lack of wit, in his mouth ill at case with his always unfinished smile that refused to dis close any but his front teeth and looked as tight-stretched as a cntcl lengt h of clastic that must flip back and hurt you; in his dry, colorless, and rather sparse hair; in his silences; in his clear

• From Anna Karenina (1877)

  The commissionaire who took the letter had brought her back the most cruel and unexpected answer, that there was no answer. She had never felt so humiliated as at the moment when, sending for the commissionaire, she heard from him the exact account of how he had waited, and how afterwards he had been told there was no answer. Anna felt humiliated, insulted, but she saw that from her point of view Countess Lidia Ivanovna was right. Her suffering was the more poignant that she had to bear it in solitude. She could not and would not share it with Vronsky. She knew that to him, although he was the primary cause of her distress, the question of her seeing her son would seem a matter of very little consequence. She knew that he would never be capable of understanding all the depth of her suffering, that for his cool tone at any allusion to it she would begin to hate him. And she dreaded that more than anything in the world, and so she hid from him everything that related to her son. Spending the whole day at home she considered ways of seeing her son, and had reached a decision to write to her husband. She was just composing this letter when she was handed the letter from Lidia Ivanovna. The countess’s silence had subdued and depressed her, but the letter, all that she read between the lines in it, so exasperated her, this malice was so revolting beside her passionate, legitimate tenderness for her son, that she turned against other people and left off blaming herself. “This coldness—this pretense of feeling!” she said to herself. “They must needs insult me and torture the child, and I am to submit to it! Not on any consideration! She is worse than I am. I don’t lie, anyway.” And she decided on the spot that next day, Seryozha’s birthday, she would go straight to her husband’s house, bribe or deceive the servants, but at any cost see her son and overturn the hideous deception with which they were encompassing the unhappy child. She went to a toy shop, bought toys and thought over a plan of action. She would go early in the morning at eight o’clock, when Alexey Alexandrovitch would be certain not to be up. She would have money in her hand to give the hall-porter and the footman, so that they should let her in, and not raising her veil, she would say that she had come from Seryozha’s godfather to congratulate him, and that she had been charged to leave the toys at his bedside. She had prepared everything but the words she should say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of it, she could never think of anything. The next day, at eight o’clock in the morning, Anna got out of a hired sledge and rang at the front entrance of her former home.

• From The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (1983)

  He said nothing more than that, but I knew what he was thinking. It was a grueling test of self-control. He combed my hair, rubbed much oil into my buttocks and thighs, even oiled my pubic hair a little and brushed it so it would be glossy. "I was quiet. I was thinking. "And when I was finally brought into the room, into the shadows near the wall from which I could see the illuminated circle, I understood what I had to do. There were stools of various heights and various circumferences. There were trapezes hung so and great hoops mounted perpendicular to the floor. Candles burned everywhere on high stands among the chairs of the Lords and Ladies who were already assembled. "And the Queen, my cruel Queen sat in state, with the Grand Duke Andre beside her. "Princess Lynette stood in the middle of the circle. So she would be allowed to stand, I mused, and I should be driven in on hands and knees. Well, I must make up my mind. "And as I knelt there waiting I decided that resistance was impossible. Were I to try to hide my tears, were I to grow tense, my humiliation would only be more dreadful. "I must make up my mind to do what I had to do. Princess Lynette looked exquisite. Her flaxen hair hung free down her back where it had been trimmed only enough to expose all of her buttocks. She had no more than a pink blush there from the paddle, and a blush on her thighs and calves too, which far from disfiguring her, appeared to shape her and improve her. It was infuriating. About her neck she wore a collar of gilded and worked leather that was a mere adornment. She wore boots as well, heavily gilded with high heels. "And I of course was utterly naked. I did not even have a collar which meant I must control myself at her commands, I could not even be dragged this way and that. "So I could see exactly what I must succeed in doing. She would put on a great show of inventiveness. She would be ready to vent her anger on me in commands of 'Hurry,' and 'Quickly' and scold and condemn for the slightest disobedience. She would therefore win the applause of the audience. And the more I struggled, the more she would shine, just as Lord Gregory had indicated. "The only way I could triumph was through perfect obedience. I must execute all her commands to perfection. And I must not struggle either externally or inwardly.

• From Escape (2007)

  I had given him all of my paychecks. I cooked his meals and cleaned his house. I had sex with him every week. My reward? Hatred and humiliation. I could not imagine a worse fate than having to live with him and my sister wives throughout eternity. Nor was Warren Jeffs anyone I wanted to be around for eternity. Hell was a better option for me than anything that existed on earth. I was finished—finished sacrificing my self and soul for Merril Jessop. I was not going to live under his tyranny any longer, no matter what the consequences were. Cottonwood Park was a peaceful place that afternoon. Harrison was sweetly sleeping. But I had changed. I looked up to El Capitan, the peak that towered over our FLDS community. As a little girl, I had always looked at the peak as a red sandstone curtain that protected us from the evils of an unknown and scary world. I was still afraid of outsiders and the world I did not know. But El Capitan now felt like a prison wall that trapped me in a world of torture and misery. I had never before considered leaving my religion, my family, my customs, and my beliefs behind. It was all that I had ever known. Would it be worth it to give it all up? I had no way of knowing. It was frightening even to contemplate a life beyond. But I did know I no longer believed that Merril would want me with him in the afterlife. If I had nothing with him, I had nothing in eternity. I might as well have the best possible life I could on this earth. When I got home I went straight to my bedroom. Merril came to my room that night and wanted to have sex. We had not had intercourse for several months because of my high-risk pregnancy with Harrison. I didn’t want to have sex with him again. When I got into bed I put Harrison between us. “If you want me to get close to you, then you are going to have to move that baby.” Merril’s voice was firm. I turned my back and rolled over, acting like I hadn’t heard him, and went to sleep. Merril was furious when he left my bedroom the next morning. I was relieved that he was gone. I never wanted him to touch me again. Ever. If I was going to hell, there was no reason to bother trying to please Merril anymore. I got into the shower and started to shake. In thirteen years, I had never refused to have sex with Merril. That morning as I was scrubbing every inch of my body I realized that it was mine. I had gotten my body back. No man would ever violate me again and treat me like filth. It would be easier to tolerate Merril’s abuse if I didn’t also have to have sex with him, too.

• From Filthy Animals (2021)

  “It’s not yours. You can’t throw something out when it’s not yours.” Charles turned toward him and pushed him onto his back. Then sat on Lionel’s stomach. He held the ruler over his head, out of Lionel’s reach. “Your boyfriend give you this?” “No,” Lionel said. “No.” Lionel closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Charles mocking him. But then Charles started to drum on the kitchen counter with the ends of the ruler. It was the music he had been humming. Charles squeezed his knees tight to Lionel’s sides. “This isn’t funny,” Lionel said. “It’s not a joke.” He reached up for the ruler, and Charles caught his wrist, held his arm still. His first thought was that Charles was going to tickle him, and he flinched in anticipation for it. The extension of this horrible game. But Charles did not tickle him. No. He did something much worse. He leaned down and looked closely at the keloids. His breath was close on Lionel’s skin, warm, damp. But it was the brightness in his eyes that made Lionel look away. He didn’t want to see Charles seeing him. Lionel tried to pull his arm free, but Charles was stronger than him. They both knew that, and it made Lionel feel more pathetic for struggling as he did. “Don’t,” Lionel said. Charles kissed the keloids, and Lionel almost jumped out of his skin at the shock of it. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Lionel said. “Watch me,” Charles said. He kissed the heel of Lionel’s palm, and then moved down the tributaries of his veins, down the whole length of his arm. Kissing him again and again, until they were face-to-face. It was an ugly, cruel thing to do, Lionel thought. It was as mean a thing as he could have imagined. He couldn’t look at Charles, not after Charles had done what he did. “I wish you hadn’t,” Lionel said. Charles got off him then, and Lionel sat up. Blood had pooled in the back of his head, making him dizzy. He rested his back against the legs of the chair. And he took the pieces of the ruler from Charles. He felt safe with them there. A part of his old life, who he used to be. “Why’d you do it?” Charles asked, and when Lionel did not answer, he added, “It must have hurt like hell.” “You know how sometimes an animal will chew its arm off to get loose if it’s desperate enough?” Lionel turned his arm over and looked down at the scars there. They were mute. Whatever wisdom or clarity they had given him was gone. What he saw was a mass of tissue stitched back together. What he saw was only evidence of his body’s history. And to try to discern old moods, old insights, was just chasing shadows. “Be serious, Lionel.”

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  the village there, who greatly sorrowed for this servant: then we, avoiding likewise from this dread- ful lodging, incontinently departed away, and for a whole day travelled through the plain country, and then we came very tired to a fair city very populous, where our shepherds determined to make their home and continue, by reason that it seemed a place where they might live unknown, far from such as should pursue them, and because it was a country very plentiful of corn and other victuals. There when we had remained the space of three days, and that I, poor ass, and the other horses were fed and kept in the stable to the intent we might seem more saleable, we were brought out at length to the market, and by and by a crier sounded with his horn to notify that we were to be sold. All my companion horses and the other asses were bought up by gentlemen, but as for me I stood still forsaken, for that most men passed me by with despight. And when many buyers came by and handled me and looked at my teeth in my mouth to know my age, I was so weary with opening my jaws that at length (unable to endure any longer) when one came with a stinking pair of hands and grated my gums often with his filthy fingers, I seized them and well nigh bit them clean off, which thing caused the standers-by to for- sake buying me, as being a fierce and cruel beast. The crier when he had gotten a hoarse voice and was well nigh burst with crying, and saw that no man would buy me, began very scurrilously to mock my evil fortune, saying: “To what end stand we here to offer for sale this vile ass, this old feeble beast, this slow jade with worn hoofs, made hideous by his labours, idle save when he is vicious, and good for nothing but to make sieves of his skin? Why do 383 LUCIUS APULEIUS cuipiam, si qui tamen faenum suum perdere non gravatur."

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  7 Nec ille sermoni mulieris defuit sed exsurgens ala- criter “Vis” inquit * Verum scire, materfamilias ? Hoc tibi dolium nimis vetustum est et multifariam rimis hiantibus quassum " ; ad maritumque eius dis- simulanter conversus “Quin tu, quieunque es homuncio, lucernam" ait * Actutum mihi expedis, ut erasis intrinsecus sordibus diligenter an aptum usui possim dinoscere, nisi nos putas aes de malo habere?" Nee quiequam moratus ac suspicatus acer et egregius ille maritus, accensa lucerna, “ Dis- cede," inquit * Frater, et otiosus assiste, donec probe procuratum istud tibi repraesentem," et cum dicto nudatus ipse, delato lumine, scabiem vetustam cariosae testae occipit exculpere. At vero adulter, bellissimus ille pusio, inclinatam dolio pronam uxorem fabri superincurvatus secure dedolabat. Ast illa capite in dolium demisso maritum suum astu meretricio tractabat ludiere: hoc et illud et aliud et rursus aliud purgandum demonstrat digito suo, donec utroque opere perfecto, acceptis septem denariis, calamitosus faber collo suo gerens dolium coactus est ad hospitium adulteri perferre. 8 Pauculis ibi diebus commorati et munificentia publica saginati vaticinationisque crebris mercedibus suffarcinati purissimi illi sacerdotes novum quaestus genus sibi comminiscuntur. Sorte unica pro casibus ! 1 Casibus is the emendation of the Dutch editors:Colvius and Oudendorp for the MSS’ meaninglecs casulis. 410 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK IX she, bi He is gone uxder to see where it be sound or no. Then her lover, which was under the tub, began to stir that his words might agree to the words of the woman, and said : * Dame, will you have me tell the truth? This tub is old and rotten and cracked as meseemeth on every side." And then he turned himself to her husband, colouring the matter and saying: “I pray, honest man, whoever you be, light a candle that | may make the tub clean within, to see if it be for my purpose or no, for I do not mind to cast away my money wilfully.” This clever husband by and by, suspecting nothing, delayed not to light a candle, saying: “I pray you, good brother, put not yourself to so much pain, but stand by and let me make the tub clean and ready for you"; whereupon he put off his coat and took the light and crept under the tub to rub away the old filth from the sides. In the mean season the minion lover cast his wife on the bottom of the tub, and had_ his pleasure with her over his head, and she, like the very harlot that she was, played a merry prank upon her husband; for as she was in the midst of her pastime, she turned her head on this side and that side, shewing now this and now that to be cleansed, till as they had both ended their business, and then he delivered seven pence for the tub: and then the poor smith must himself carry it on his back to the lover's lodging.

• From The Sexual Outlaw (1977)

  So began one or two or even three blurred days of drugs and sex and hatred. The dark youngman was Tony; his roommate was Steve, a wild-looking muscular blond man-very handsome—who greeted them at the door in brief shorts. Looking at Jim, “You got us a gorgeous body,” he said to Tony. Electronic sounds and images charged the house. The stereo throbbed. Deliberately distorted, the television flashed colored acid shapes. The radio shot rock sounds. Naked, the three smoked hash, snorted cocaine, inhaled amyl, ate uppers—even downers. Their heads drummed with the amplified sound, flashing images, rushing drugs. Then the ugly orgies began. Barking, Steve commanded Tony to do whatever he was ordered: to Jim first, then to Steve, often to both. “Suck him, lick his ass!” Steve ordered Tony. “Now mine, fag!” Drowning in churning waves of warring dope, they floated for hours or days from orgy to orgy, dope to more dope. Steve used Tony's body, tongue, mouth, ass, as they used the dope throughout that miasmic blurred time. Periodically Jim wanted to pull away, yes, but, he tells himself, the dope and the electric excitement forced him to stay. And, yes, the hint of a subtle struggle between him and Steve, a struggle not recognized fully until the whole thing erupted. Moody silences. Then the sex bouts resumed. The stereo, the TV, the radio—they pounded out smashed sounds and wiped colors. At Steve's command, Tony's tongue crawled over Jim's body, Steve's, and he groveled at their feet. Steve would shove Tony around roughly, even spitting on him, pissing on him. They both fucked Tony throughout that time. Once they attempted to do it simultaneously. Jim would retreat, despising what he was doing, but, yes, aroused—and, yes (he reminds himself of this constantly when the memory recurs), waiting to—this was the word he conjured— “conquer” Steve. Yes, that—and the dope (he has to rationalize at least partly for his aroused excitement) kept him there. Into this there flowed at least one more person— sometimes Jim thinks there were two—Steve's sex client or clients. The client, older, would watch; if he joined in, Steve would treat him the way he did Tony—laughing contemptuously. Jim asked for and got half the money, a matter suddenly of major importance to him. They popped dozens of poppers, the sex-triggering odor erupting in the rooms. Sulkiness again—they would retreat from each other. The sex bouts resumed with Steve's harsh commands at Tony. Then Steve ordered Tony merely to watch while he made it with Jim. Jim wishes this hadn't happened, but it did: Because physically—and only physically, he emphasizes—Steve turned him on, and he obviously turned Steve on equally—they kissed, licked each other's body, sucked each other before Tony's hurt eyes. Steve wanted to fuck Jim, but Jim wouldn't allow it. Instead, Jim kept fingering Steve's ass—and Steve resisted. Deliberately Jim broke another popper, held the ampule relentlessly to Steve's nose; Steve inhaled anxiously, inhaled longer, inhaled.

• From Escape (2007)

  Merril doesn’t eat shrimp, which meant I couldn’t either. It was wrong for me to like something he didn’t. As his wife, I was to become one with him in every way. In the FLDS, a woman is supposed to be in complete harmony with her husband. A devout wife would never even desire to eat something her husband disliked. The only fish Merril liked was halibut. It wasn’t on the menu. I ordered steak. Tammy spent the night with Merril, so there were no bedtime theatrics. The next morning, we headed to Honolulu after changing planes in Maui. When we claimed our luggage, one of Cathleen’s suitcases—the one with her long underwear—was missing. She began sobbing uncontrollably. I thought she was lucky not to have to wear it for the rest of the trip. The underwear always made me feel clumsy, but in the tropics it was worse because of the three pairs of socks we wore over them—a light support stocking, followed by a heavy dance sock capped off with a heavier support stocking to keep everything in place. Tammy and I both had extra underwear, but sharing was not permissible. Cathleen was out of luck and she was inconsolable. Merril offered her a thousand dollars to replace whatever was in her missing suitcase, but the money didn’t matter to her. She wanted her garments. The drama resumed at the hotel when Merril announced that he wanted to spend the night with me. Tammy went ballistic. She had spent two nights with Merril and made it quite well known to Cathleen and me that they hadn’t had sex either time. She launched into Merril again about his sinful behavior, calling him immoral for not getting her pregnant and for having sex with me while I was. Tammy called the room soon after we got there. Not only had Cathleen locked her out, she’d barricaded the door with the furniture in the room. Cathleen was screaming as loud as she could, “I’m totally done with you! I don’t want to see you ever again!” Merril listened to Tammy’s play-by-play account of the fight and said he’d take care of it. He called Cathleen and berated her. Why had she come on the trip if she couldn’t behave? After a barrage of Merril’s disparaging and humiliating remarks, Cathleen relented and let Tammy back into the room. Merril and I had sex. The snaps were unsnapped, but our long underwear stayed on. No one spoke at breakfast. Afterward we headed for the van and another day of sight-seeing. Even though Cathleen was only in the early stages of her pregnancy, she began wobbling like a woman on the verge of delivery. It was her way of trying to show what a sacrifice she was making for Merril—even though he mistreated her, she was hobbling along and carrying his child.

• From Rocket Men: The Daring Odyssey of Apollo 8 and the Astronauts Who Made Man’s First Journey to the Moon (2018)

  The words devastated Susan. On the spot, she knew she’d never forget them. But something about that incident steeled Susan’s spine. From the day Frank began dating her, he sensed an undergirding of strength in Susan. This girl, he thought, can handle anything. As high school drew to a close, Frank needed to decide on a future. He wanted to be a fighter pilot—a perfect way to combine flying and defense of his country. World War II had ended nearly a year earlier, but already tensions were building with the Soviet Union. No less an expert in looming tyranny than Winston Churchill now warned that “an iron curtain” had descended across Europe. Frank believed him. After scoring high on admissions exams, Frank enrolled at the United States Military Academy at West Point in the fall of 1946. Cadet Borman was all baby face and golden hair compared to his classmates. Many had already attended college, and at least half were veterans of World War II. In early fall, Borman tried out for the plebe (first year) football team. He’d been a star high school quarterback, but at this level he didn’t have the necessary arm strength. He joined anyway, as the varsity team’s assistant manager, in charge of gathering dirty socks and sweaty jockstraps. It was thrilling for Borman, who got to observe head coach Earl Blaik’s legendary intensity and to watch one of the young assistant coaches, Vince Lombardi, develop his own military coaching style. Borman fell in love with West Point. The rules, the order, the discipline—it all seemed designed to tune out distraction and allow a man to get on with what really mattered. As a kid, he’d already been different from his peers—he went after the things that were important to him, as if he were on a mission. At West Point, nothing mattered but the mission. He pledged himself to the academy’s motto—Duty, Honor, Country. It seemed to Borman that a person who believed in anything less wouldn’t get where he needed to go. All the while, Borman and Susan continued dating, if only by U.S. mail. She was still in Tucson, and they were separated by more than two thousand miles. West Point did not allow furloughs for plebes, even for holidays. Fearing he’d receive a breakup letter from Susan, Borman struck first, sending a letter to Susan saying they needed to cool their relationship. It only made sense, in light of their distance, his commitment to West Point, and the focus he’d need to make his new