Gynecocracy

She lay back and drew me on to her.

"My love, my love!" I exclaimed.

She resigned herself to my fury, and I possessed her-not Bacchus docens, but this time of her own goodness.

I felt myself Mademoiselle and Mademoiselle me.

She loved me; her arms twined about my shoulders. Her passion startled me. Her legs wound round my body. She pressed me further into her.

"With all my heart!" she declared. "You have won! I will yield all my heart! I will embrace, will conceive, will reproduce you-if I can!"

I lay on her bosom. I felt myself inside her and felt the workings of her mind and body upon mine.

I was entirely engulfed, in her beautiful body. She felt the throbbing of my member, and its agitations were all understood and appreciated by the corresponding organ of her own feminine constitution.

I proceeded to beget a child, worthy, I hoped, of her and of myself. There would be some immortality in the result. These days at Downlands and Mademoiselle's sweet influence on me would not be lost. They would live in a child. The spirit now summoned would find a home.

Throb! Throb! Throb!

"Oh, Julia! Oh, Lord Ladywood! Oh, my love, my love, my own love!"

And Mademoiselle yielded herself up to the soft ecstasy.

Oh, that May morning! What ecstasy was mine! What rapture! What satisfaction!

CHAPTER 10

My Wedding

My majority was approaching, and I was already the father of a beautiful girl, able in its infantine prattle to say, "Mam, mam, mam," to its own dear mamma, my Hortense. I confided to her the secret between Beatrice and myself. She had wished to be the mother of a child of love, not of marriage; and she promised to announce my engagement to my parents. They could not be astonished at it; and Mademoiselle told me I had made the wisest choice, notwithstanding that she felt sure Beatrice would always insist on having the upper hand.

My parents were pleased. I do not know whether I myself was or not. But I had quite satisfied myself that love did not necessarily mean marriage, indeed that marriage was a social necessity, probably excluding love.

And Beatrice's ample thighs filled me with passion. I might do much worse than be her husband.

One result of the engagement was a termination of my residence at Downlands Hall. It was not considered proper for me to reside before marriage in the same house with my bride select. Until engagement was known it did not matter. When once it was I suppose it was imagined I should seize the earliest opportunity of lying with her, and of plucking my rose too soon.

When our engagement was formally acknowledged, what importance it gave Beatrice! What airs of superiority she assumed!

"I took rooms in town and then went on to my father's where Beatrice and Maud were invited.

Agnes and Mademoiselle came for the festivities to my coming of age, and then the engagement was announced to the world. The marriage was celebrated at St. George's, Hanover Square.

How queer I felt in trousers again and with what envy Beatrice eyed them.

My happiness with Mademoiselle made me impervious to all this, however.

I, of course, recollect my nervousness at the breakfast. I felt like a slave and Beatrice evidently felt like my owner.

She, indeed, slapped my face in the carriage; and, sliding her hand down in front of me, told me that that thing was hers now forever, to use as she chose.

I did not object to being possessed by the magnificent girl into which she had now grown.

But what had I promised? Or, rather, what had I not promised and sworn in the most solemn mode! We had no sooner got well away from Victoria on the road to Dover than she made me kneel down in the carriage and kiss and do homage to Viscountess Ladywood.

What a deluge she gave me! She had her maid in another carriage, and she informed me that in her overall were several birches.

"And you have no corset on, Julian. This freedom I shall not permit. I believe in commencing at once. I shall birch you at night at the 'Lord Warden,' after supper; and tomorrow, underneath your coat and trousers, you shall wear a chemise, corset, drawers, and stockings of mine."

"Oh, Beatrice!" I exclaimed, clasping and kissing.

"Don't you miss your petticoats?" she enquired.

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, then, get under mine."

She held me there as we rushed through Kent, whilst she pretended to amuse herself with a novel.

Her maid was a French girl, named Sophie-an intolerable termagant.

Of course my sense of possession of a woman gave me a certain importance. Beatrice was mine, to the exclusion of everyone else; and as I kissed her well-developed vulva, and tickled her large clitoris, I was proud of my possession. But this was quickly knocked out of me.

I did not exactly care about being treated as an absolute baby, and as such Beatrice and Sophie between them treated me.

Will it be believed, that, on our very wedding night, Beatrice locked me up in my dressing room, while she was being put to bed?

When once there, Sophie led me into my wife's room like a lamb to the slaughter.