Gynecocracy

She resumed her seat, and bade me kneel at her feet. I obeyed mechanically. Had she bade me walk into a fire, I think I should have done so. I was thoroughly exhausted, my head sank upon her lap, and my tears flowed softly, but I soon began to feel better. She then bade me kiss her hands and the remains of the rod, and thank her humbly, but sincerely, for whipping me. Whatever she ordered I at once obeyed, deprived altogether of my own volition. She made me stoop down and kiss her feet and legs; for one delicious moment she held my head in soft imprisonment between her thighs. Beside myself from the effect of the pain, I am astonished still at the recollection of how my feelings towards Mademoiselle then underwent a most unreasonable but complete alteration. I loved her as violently as I had detested her before. I fell hopelessly in love with my cruel governess. I loved her because of her cruelty and became suddenly enthralled by a strong and anxious desire to press and fondle her. I worshipped the very ground on which she walked. Why was this?

CHAPTER 5

Metamorphosis And luncheon

Mademoiselle reclined for some minutes in her chair, whilst I knelt between her knees with bowed head, drinking in, as it were, the luscious radiance which I had suddenly discovered encompassed her. She did not speak; she allowed the influence of her being and spirit to silently overcome me.

At last she rose, and pouring some wine into a large bohemian glass, she bade me drink; then, pointing to some clothes Elise had left behind her, told me to put them on.

I suppose the red grape juice made me defiant, for, on perceiving them to be a girl's dress, I protested. Mademoiselle simply said she was sure I should obey her. Strange to say, that was enough, and I complied, only remarking that for her sake I wished to be a boy. She smiled and promised that I should tell her all about it after luncheon in her boudoir. With her help I then put on a chemise, long stockings, drawers, petticoats, a corset which did not fit, and I was buttoned up in a bodice. How strangely embarrassed I felt. But these feelings were swallowed up by a sense of disgrace when I found that outside all, I had to wear a pair of Mademoiselle's own laced drawers, the waistband being tied round my neck, and my arms thrust through the legs as though they were sleeves. These were fastened with garters at the wrists. In that guise I was to appear before the girls at luncheon in token of my subjugation and defeat, and of the rout and discomfit of my virility. Petticoats were difficult enough to put up with; this addition of a pair of drawers completed my abasement. However, the novelty and discomfort of the attire served somewhat to divert my attention from the intense humiliation I suffered, as did also the effort necessary to walk at all decently; for what with the high heels of the girls' boots, which buttoned high up my legs and which felt like mountains under them-and what with the agitation of my nerves and my soreness from the severe whipping I had received at Mademoiselle's hands-walking was no easy matter. I blushed like a girl as I felt the feminine garments against my legs and saw the drawers about my arms. The delicate, minute, ladylike handkerchief, all laced and of no practical use whatever which I had to hold in my hand, made me feel really girlish; and when ushered into the luncheon room and introduced to my cousins as-"Miss Julia, instead of that very naughty boy Master Julian, who has been sent home"-I began positively to wonder whether I was not actually a girl. They made great fun of me in a quiet and exasperating way, saying the sleeves reminded them of a bishop under his wife's thumb, and Agnes slyly suggested a cushion when she noticed that it hurt me as I sat down.

When I looked at Beatrice's girlish figure, I felt I was a boy dressed up, and feared she would despise me forever. She, however, said nothing; but when I handed her a plate and upset her wine glass in so doing, Mademoiselle bade her smack my face. She did so with a severity that startled me. Whatever her real feelings towards me were, it was evident I need look for no mitigation of my punishment from her.

"You clumsy hussy," exclaimed Mademoiselle, flushing angrily, when the leg of that damned linen thing upset Beatrice's glass, sending the red wine all over the tablecloth, on to her pretty frock, and I stood dumbfounded by her.

"Beatrice, smack her face. Stand still, Miss, and keep your hands down!"

And Beatrice, with a half-vexed and half-amused air, who was rubbing out with her napkin the wine which had stained her gown, gently put the napkin down, and calmly stretching out her right arm to free her hand from its cuff and sleeve, she smilingly opened her pretty plump hands and looking full into my eyes gave my left cheek a stinging slap delivered straight from the shoulder.

Before I had time to recover she repeated the process on my other cheek.