Gynecocracy

I adopted the degrading posture, and she stood near me, speaking consoling words and rubbing the afflicted part with her soft hand. She did more than rub it.

"How naughty you have made me feel. I was bad enough when I came in. I must see, what consolation you can give me. Lie across the bed on your back, with your head over the edge."

I did so. I felt like a dog turned upside down. But what could I do with this uncompromising damsel? She stood over me, purring deliciously, and handling me, looking into my eyes, which were fixed somewhat reproachfully on her.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

Reply was unnecessary, and I was a little indignant.

"Now you must please me," she went on.

I knew what was coming. I had not spent the afternoon for nothing. I felt that I was beginning to understand women and their little ways. They were all alike. Precisely the same words, too.

She lifted up her skirts and threw them over my breast, put my head between her legs, and held it there, and rubbed herself against my mouth. I knew what to do, and did it. She was much smaller there than Mademoiselle, and there was a wall inside, beyond which I could not get. Her throbs were also more pronounced. She moved herself, she rubbed and pressed me more severely, and used her hands more freely. Added to which, she applied her tongue to me, and sucked what she was playing with in her mouth, stooping over me for the purpose.

She stopped once or twice, and slightly withdrawing herself, and lifting her soft, warm, garments, looked at me, and asked whether what she was doing gave me pleasure, and whether I liked my task.

I replied, "Immensely," and so I did.

She recommenced; the crisis arrived! Remembering my lesson about a lady's choicest favours, I did not hesitate to swallow, and, indeed, swallowed willingly what she shot into my mouth. She was not content until she had made me come also in her mouth. I did not like the idea of doing it and tried to prevent myself, but her hands and tongue were too much for me.

A moment after, Elise entered, and found me in the position I have described, prone on my back on the bed, enveloped from my breast upwards in Beatrice's skirts, which lay across me; my head out of sight under her petticoats, between her taper legs, and my face still closely pressed against her body.

"Pretty goings on," exclaimed Elise, nonchalantly. "I am sorry to interrupt your amusement, Miss Beatrice, but the half hour is up, and you must not remain longer. One minute, though. I must help him to recover. Put his legs across your shoulders, Miss; yes, and lift them up-one over each. Now clasp your arms round them and hold them firmly. Now, Master Julian-"

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, went Elise with her open hand and all her strength on my defenceless and sore bottom. I was quite powerless, effectually deprived of the use of my legs which Beatrice clasped just below the knees. My feet reached just a little way beyond her neck, and I was unable to spring up, as her own legs tightly encased my head. My posture not only admirably exposed me, but also drew the skin quite tight. I wriggled and struggled, for the slaps were stinging ones, but Beatrice easily held me. Her position gave her such a purchase. I ground my face into her. It was my only consolation.

"There," said Elise at length, "now he will be fit for Mademoiselle."

Beatrice then let me go. She was on fire, and well she might be.

"Good boy! she said. "You have done me so much good. I feel quite revived."

"Has Mademoiselle done with Lord Alfred Ridlington?" she asked Elise a moment later, with a curious little emphasis on the "Lord."

"Yes," Elise replied. "Sent him off scarcely able to sit down in his carriage."

"Good gracious," I thought as I lay on the bed quite naked and equally careless of what these two young women who had so intimately acquainted themselves with all my secret anatomy thought or said, "so he has been punished after all, and he must be a man then! Well, I am glad he did not escape scot-free."

"Now, Julian," said Beatrice to me as Elise began fooling with my legs and pulling them about, "I have one thing to say to you. I heard Maud announce that she wished to have you as a model for an Apollo. Now mind! That I forbid, positively!"

"Don't you think I am fit for it?" I asked mischievously.

"Never mind my reasons; remember I forbid it. Good night, dear," kissing me.

"And, Elise, let him wear a pair of my drawers tomorrow, instead of Mademoiselle's," she added.

"Yes, Miss, certainly; that is" (aside) "if he wears any at all. Good night, Miss."

"Good night," and Beatrice went.

CHAPTER 15

The Preparatory Ordeal