form of sexual gratification they crave.  But in a large proportion of cases this is not possible.  The conventionally bred woman often cannot bring herself to humor even some quite innocent fetishistic whim of her husband’s, for it is too alien to her feelings and too incomprehensible to her ideas, even though she may be genuinely in love with him; in many cases the husband would not venture to ask, and scarcely even wish, that his wife should lend herself to play the fantastic or possibly degrading part his desires demand.  In such a case he turns naturally to the prostitute, the only woman whose business it is to fulfil his peculiar needs.  Marriage has brought no relief to these men, and they constitute a noteworthy proportion of a prostitute’s clients in every great city.  The most ordinary prostitute of any experience can supply cases from among her own visitors to illustrate a treatise of psychopathic sexuality.  It may suffice here to quote a passage from the confessions of a young London (Strand) prostitute as written down from her lips by a friend to whom I am indebted for the document; I have merely turned a few colloquial terms into more technical forms.  After describing how, when she was still a child of thirteen in the country, a rich old gentleman would frequently come and exhibit himself before her and other girls, and was eventually arrested and imprisoned, she spoke of the perversities she had met with since she had become a prostitute.  She knew a young man, about twenty-five, generally dressed in a sporting style, who always came with a pair of live pigeons, which he brought in a basket.  She and the girl with whom she lived had to undress and take the pigeons and wring their necks; he would stand in front of them, and as the necks were wrung orgasm occurred.  Once a man met her in the street and asked her if he might come with her and lick her boots.  She agreed, and he took her to a hotel, paid half a guinea for a room, and, when she sat down, got under the table and licked her boots, which were covered with mud; he did nothing more.  Then there were some things, she said, that were too dirty to repeat; well, one man came home with her and her friend and made them urinate into his mouth.  She also had stories of flagellation, generally of men who whipped the girls, more rarely of men who liked to be whipped by them.  One man, who brought a new birch every time, liked to whip her friend until he drew blood.  She knew another man who would do nothing but smack her nates violently.  Now all these things, which come into the ordinary day’s work of the prostitute, are rooted in deep and almost irresistible impulses (as will be clear to any reader of the discussion of Erotic Symbolism in the previous volume of these Studies).  They must find some outlet.  But it is only the prostitute who can be relied upon, through her interests and training, to overcome the natural repulsion to such actions, and gratify desires which, without gratification, might take on other