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    A Tale of Satisfied Desire
    A Tale of Satisfied Desire
    A Tale of Satisfied Desire
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    A Tale of Satisfied Desire

    By Pierre Angelique (Georges Bataille)

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Translation of The Story of the Eye, first published 1953, translator believed to be Austryn Wainhouse.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOlympia Press
    Release dateNov 24, 2015
    ISBN9781608726455
    A Tale of Satisfied Desire

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    • 3/5
      Fascinating and deeply upsetting, even to me who is not particularly sensitive to scenes of graphic violence and sex. I read, a good twenty years ago, Bataille's Blue of Noon, and found it more interesting than this strange story, but I'm certain that 'The Story of the Eye' will at some point add to my understanding of M. Bataille's work overall. This work, I think, is quite valuable, although I am a very gentle person by nature and act. I do not understand his work as of yet, but I do think that the notion of a 'this-world' transcendence -- as evinced here and in 'Inner Experience' -- presents us with the possibility of liberation. I cannot explain or justify this claim any further.

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    A Tale of Satisfied Desire - Pierre Angelique (Georges Bataille)

    Table of Contents

    A Tale of Satisfied Desire

    Pierre Angelique (Georges Bataille)

    CHAPTER ONE. The Cat's Eye

    CHAPTER TWO. The Antique Wardrobe

    CHAPTER THREE. Marcelle's Smell

    CHAPTER FOUR. A Sunspot

    CHAPTER FIVE. A Trickle of Blood

    CHAPTER SIX. Simone

    CHAPTER SEVEN. Marcelle

    CHAPTER EIGHT. The Open Eyes of the Deadwoman

    CHAPTER NINE. Lewd Animals

    CHAPTER TEN. Granero's Eye

    CHAPTER ELEVEN. Under the Sun of Seville

    CHAPTER TWELVE. Simone's Confession and Sir Edmond's Mass

    CHAPTER THIRTEEN. The Legs of the Fly

    A Tale of Satisfied Desire

    Pierre Angelique (Georges Bataille)

    This page copyright © 2003 Olympia Press.

    http://www.olympiapress.com

    CHAPTER ONE. The Cat's Eye

    CHAPTER TWO. The Antique Wardrobe

    CHAPTER THREE. Marcelle's Smell

    CHAPTER FOUR. A Sunspot

    CHAPTER FIVE. A Trickle of Blood

    CHAPTER SIX. Simone

    CHAPTER SEVEN. Marcelle

    CHAPTER EIGHT. The Open Eyes of the Deadwoman

    CHAPTER NINE. Lewd Animals

    CHAPTER TEN. Granero's Eye

    CHAPTER ELEVEN. Under the Sun of Seville

    CHAPTER TWELVE. Simone's Confession and Sir Edmond's Mass

    CHAPTER THIRTEEN. The Legs of the Fly

    Translated by Austryn Wainhouse

    CHAPTER ONE. The Cat's Eye

    I grew up very much alone, and as far back as I recall I was frightened of anything sexual. I was nearly sixteen when I met Simone, a girl my own age, at the beach in X. Our families being distantly related, we quickly grew intimate. Three days after our first meeting, Simone and I were alone in her villa. She was wearing a black pinafore with a starched white collar. I began realizing that she shared my anxiety at seeing her, and I felt even more anxious that day because I hoped she would be stark naked under the pinafore.

    She had black silk stockings on covering her knees, but I was unable to see as far up as the cunt (this name, which I always used with Simone, is, I think, by far the loveliest of the names for the vagina). It merely struck me that by slightly lifting the pinafore from behind, I might see her private parts unveiled.

    Now in the corner of a hallway there was a saucer of milk for the cat. Milk is for the pussy, isn't it? said Simone. Do you dare me to sit in the saucer?

    I dare you, I answered, almost breathless.

    The day was extremely hot. Simone put the saucer on a small bench, planted herself before me, and, with her eyes fixed on me, she sat down without my being able to see her burning buttocks under the skirt, dipping into the cool milk. The blood shot to my head, and I stood before her awhile, immobile and trembling, as she eyed my stiff cock bulging in my pants. Then I lay down at her feet without her stirring, and for the first time, I saw her pink and dark flesh cooling in the white milk. We remained motionless, on and on, both of us equally overwhelmed ....

    Suddenly, she got up, and I saw the milk dripping down her thighs to the stockings. She wiped herself evenly with a handkerchief as she stood over my head with one foot on the small bench, and I vigorously rubbed my cock through the pants while writhing amorously on the floor. We reached orgasm at almost the same instant without even touching one another. But when her mother came home, I was sitting in a low armchair, and I took advantage of the moment when the girl tenderly snuggled in her mother's arms: I lifted the back of her pinafore, unseen, and thrust my hand under her cunt between her two burning legs.

    I dashed home, eager to jerk off some more, and the next day there were such dark rings around my eyes that Simone, after peering at me for a while, buried her head in my shoulder and said earnestly: I don't want you to jerk off anymore without me.

    Thus a love life started between the girl and myself, and it was so intimate and so driven that we could hardly let a week go by without meeting. And yet we virtually never talked about it. I realized that her feelings at seeing me were the same as mine at seeing her, but I found it difficult to have things out. I remember that one day, when we were in a car tooling along at top speed, we crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl. Her head was almost totally ripped off by the wheels. For a long time, we were parked a few yards beyond without getting out, fully absorbed in the sight of the corpse. The horror and despair at so much bloody flesh, nauseating in part, and in part very beautiful, was fairly equivalent to our usual impression upon seeing one another. Simone was tall and lovely. She was usually very natural; there was nothing heartbreaking in her eyes or her voice. But on a sensual level, she so bluntly craved any upheaval that the faintest call from the senses gave her a look directly suggestive of all things linked to deep sexuality, such as blood, suffocation, sudden terror, crime; things indefinitely destroying human bliss and honesty. I first saw her mute and absolute spasm (which I shared) the day she sat down in the saucer of milk. True, we only exchanged fixed stares at analogous moments. But we never calmed down or played except in the brief relaxed minutes after an orgasm.

    I ought to say, nevertheless, that we waited a long time before copulating. We merely took any opportunity to indulge in unusual acts. We did not lack

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