Rachel Rodskiss

When I had got into bed or rather lain down upon my mattress on the ground, in my shift and drawers, for modesty’s sake, I asked Tania what had caused those weals. She laughed and said:

“You are green! Olga’s little cane did that, and you’ll get the same if you don’t mind.”

I was horrified to hear that such dreadful things went on in the house. Then I suddenly thought of Anna the valet, whom I had seen sent to Olga’s room that afternoon; I asked Tania why Anna had been sent there.

“Why, to be whipped of course! Olga has perfect control of all the servants and punishes them as she sees fit. Probably at this moment Anna is wriggling about beneath a birch-rod.”

When her family is brutally murdered by a pogrom, our young and beautiful heroin subsequently finds herself bound to the most cruel of servitudes. Subject to the rod and birch for minor indiscretions and kept for the gratification of her lascivious masters, Rachel soon loses all abandon. Favouring compliance to defiance she gives herself over willingly to all those deeds and devices those of lesser morals are want to impose on those below them.

Her story continues as she is sold to The Mandarin, a trader of vice and flesh. At the hands of sailors, ruffians, and lords, Rachel will know a darker side of decadence. Lashing out at her master finds her sentenced to two-hundred lashes, and while awaiting sentence she tells her unfortunate tale to a nobleman with a penchant for the flagellatory. This is her tale.

One of the most uncompromising of Charles Carrington's agents, Roberts et Dardaillon, publications, this pseudonymously written work of Victorian erotica is as graphic as perhaps those of De Sade's that came before.

Not for the faint of heart, weak of disposition or easily offended... fair warning herewith given.