Gynecocracy

CHAPTER 20

It is an ill wind that blows nobody good! The advantage of the operation I had undergone did not only lie in the greater ease and comfort with which I employed the best agent and the cleverest advocate of my feelings, but also in the fact that I ran no risk of having him flayed out of mere wantonness-an act Elise had perpetrated on me on more than one occasion.

Neither my cousins nor Elise could now slip their hands up my petticoats, excite Mons. Priapus, and retract his covering, leaving him raw and bald until they were pleased to re-hood him, or to permit me to do so myself.

But his head now reminded me of a vulture clothed with plumage up to the neck and bare beyond. In fact Elise made some remark of the kind as she dressed me and suggested that she should make a nice, soft warm cap for the poor chap. I did not respond either "yes" or "no."

In all respects I was now treated as a girl. All day long my ideas, wishes, and desires about exercise, about reading, about work, about sport, were pruned down, and assumed, as a matter of course, to be those which should influence the actions and life of a young lady of my age. What yet remained of my masculine propensities suffered great repression from this process.

It was a masterly measure and decidedly checked flirtation. But Mons. Priapus-abnormal or not-was there and free. And four or five days after the first day when Mademoiselle had admitted that I was restored to health I must narrate that certain appearances had (under extenuating circumstances, undoubtedly-a peeping ankle will do so much mischief) made themselves remarkable in front, just underneath the end of my corset, lifting my petticoats and skirts in a peculiar manner, making quite a little mound in front, and raising the garments higher off the ground than usual, and also further away from me so that they stuck out. 260

This was first noticed as I was standing one afternoon in the schoolroom reading in choice Italian some of Boccaccio's tales to Mademoiselle and my three cousins who were working. I was carried away by what I read and not caring to recall my thoughts from contemplation of the delightful ideas suggested by the author at first did not notice that I had not the attention of my audience, that the girls were tittering, and that Mademoiselle was gazing at me with amused anger, biting her lips either with vexation, or to repress her laughter. There was nothing laughable in what I read. I thought it was some of their tomfoolery and read on. I felt naughty, but never dreamt they would be able to discern any indications of it. At the end of the paragraph I came to a full stop.

"You may well stop, Miss!" remarked Mademoiselle. "A pretty exhibition you are making of yourself," she continued, laying aside the embroidery, upon which she had been engaged.

"It is an unfortunate interruption," cried Agnes. "I was much interested in the adventures we were listening to. I wonder whatever the Signora did with her lover. Julia, I wish your abnormal development was-was-"

She dared not conclude her sentence before Mademoiselle, but her eyes told me what she meant.

"Was inside me," is what she would have said.

Through the perplexity and embarrassment I suffered I felt the germination of the same desire. I would have given her a reason for no longer laughing at me. But I dared not dwell on it or the phenomenon would have again become noticeable!

"Julia!" said Beatrice, "is not responsible. It is all Mr. Boccaccio's fault."

Beatrice had evidently not forgotten the whipping I had given her a few days before.

"I really cannot permit," broke in Mademoiselle, "such an indecent exhibition. I cannot pass over it-Julia, I am shocked and ashamed of you-a young lady should know how to restrain herself, and if she does not know she must be taught. Beatrice, take your cousin and put her down on that couch upon her back, and hold her arms over her head."

Sinking with shame, afraid to say a word in self-defence, I was led to the couch and laid across it. It was in a prominent part of the room.

"Maud, lift up her skirts-throw them over her head-take off her drawers-spread out her legs."

These directions were all speedily obeyed. I resigned myself with a choking in my throat.

"Now keep her so, until I return," ordered Mademoiselle.

"I shall have the birching of you, Julian, in a few minutes. I knew," said Beatrice, "I knew my revenge would come. Won't you catch it!"

"I declare," exclaimed Maud, "your remark has made the thing positively rear its head."

"Oh, Julia!" went on Maud, first clasping her hands before her and then kneeling between my knees, almost touching "him," for whatever my sex, he was certainly masculine. "Oh, Julia! Do you remember?"

"Remember what?" angrily exclaimed Beatrice.

"Mind your own business, Bee. He is just as much mine as yours."

If Maud had said more mine than yours, she would have been more accurate, nearer the truth.

"Indeed," rejoined Beatrice scornfully, "he has sold himself to me long ago. I know what happened in your studio, Maud."

"You don't," screamed Maud, an angry flush rising and spreading itself all over her countenance.

"Yes, I do," quickly replied Beatrice, "and he is to marry me for it; and I shall compel you, Maud, when we are married, to ask for a repetition of it."

Maud's angry flush died away. She thought it wiser not to pursue the subject; instead she caught her skirts with both her hands, and slightly raising them asked, "Now?"

"I think your assumption and airs of proprietorship quite absurd," she continued. "He is not his own to give away or to sell, and as you say you know all about it, no doubt you are aware that Elise, in whose possession he was by Mademoiselle's own order, sold him to me."

"That's all very fine," quickly retorted Beatrice, with a readiness a lawyer might have envied, raising herself up, throwing her head back, and speaking the words with great defiance, "but he was to have been only for three days in Elise's possession even if you had not interfered; and you surely do not imagine that she could have sold him to you for a longer time than she was to have had him herself?"

"My interference indeed! How dare you? You would have done the same yourself, and as to Elise's selling him or his selling himself, he is Mademoiselle's slave."

Beatrice during this altercation held my hands very tightly by the wrists over my head. I wondered what my fate would be.

"Look here," cried Agnes as I contemplated the stylish forms before which I was so shamefully exposed, "if Mademoiselle catches us squabbling you know we shall be flogged all round; do shut up. You have got him now, Bee, at any rate, so what is the good of wrangling?"

"Oh! Maud is always setting everybody to rights."

"I don't appropriate other people's possessions anyhow."

"Because you can't get them."

"I have had more than you."

"And yet you say you don't appropriate other people's possessions."

"No more I do. I bought them."

"Bought them. Prostitute!" hissed Beatrice.

"Beatrice, shut up! Goodness, she must have heard!"

Mademoiselle, at that instant, opened the door.

"Which of you young ladies used a word with which I will not sully my lips?"

They all hung their heads.

"Maud, was it you?"

"Beatrice and I were discussing what Julia had been reading to us. She declared that the lady was-was…"

It was very generous of Maud.

Agnes looked greatly relieved.

Beatrice threw a glance of grateful recognition at her sister for her presence of mind and generosity after which I certainly drew my breath more freely. Had Mademoiselle known the truth Beatrice would have been half annihilated especially after what had actually occurred between Maud and myself which, no doubt, Mademoiselle would have surmised Beatrice was maliciously throwing in Maud's teeth. Besides which Mademoiselle believed, or, as I really think, pretended to believe, that what had happened between Maud and myself was known only to Maud, myself, herself, and Elise.

What she might feel bound to do if brought into contact with the fact that it was common knowledge, I dread to think. What an escape for Bee and for all of us!

"So, Beatrice, as usual, it is you who are in fault; it was you who used that word! Where are your modesty, your maidenly feelings? How could a young lady use such a word?"

Beatrice looked at Mademoiselle but said nothing. There seemed, however, to be something in her mouth.

"Well?" asked Mademoiselle.

"I really can't see any harm in the word: pro, 'before,' and statue, 'I place.' If I had said, proseda, or procax, or togata, or meretrix, or cunnus, or pellex, or lupa, or scrotum-"

"Very well, Beatrice. Stop your obscene storm of words! Your vocabulary-sacre blue! — you have a fine one. It does credit to your classical attainments. However, I have something else to attend to now. You shall be punished, after dinner, in a way which will test your candour. If what you have said to me is true you will not feel the penalty: but I doubt it very much. Prostitute indeed-a pretty word! As it is of so little significance please to write it in Roman capitals on a large card and hang it round your neck when you come down to dinner!"

"Oh, Mademoiselle!"

Mademoiselle had a flat steel ring or disc in her hand, the inside edges of which were serrated or indented like a saw. By means of a watch spring attached to it, it was fixed on to Mons. Priapus, and it was evident to me that if he enlarged himself in the least, the teeth would be into him and the more he grew the further they would penetrate.

"There," said Mademoiselle, having daintily fixed the instrument, "I think this will cure you; but in the drawing room I must direct Elise to replace that bandage you wore when Lord Alfred Ridlington dined with us. And now, Miss Julia, of course you know you must be birched. Beatrice, flog your cousin's bottom for her?"

Beatrice brightened up at the notion of whipping me.

Mons. Priapus grew. I got fearfully pricked.

"Oh, Beatrice, let me go!" I shouted. "Oh, Mademoiselle, it is eating into me! Take it off," I cried desperately struggling, "take it off!"

Beatrice held me tight.

Mademoiselle was pleased to see her horribly ingenious little instrument work so effectually.

"Oh! Do not have me whipped with it on! Oh, Mademoiselle, please!"

"You may appeal to Beatrice."

"Certainly you shall keep it on; it is a capital thing for you. Come, turn over. Who shall hold him, Mademoiselle? and how many is he to have?" responded that damsel.

"You must put the straps across his shoulders, Beatrice. And Maud and Agnes-one at each side-can hold up his skirts. I should order him five dozen, but as he has that little bulldog on in front, we will say three. He'll bite, I expect."

I was strapped down, my petticoats held up, my buttocks exposed.

Beatrice turned back her sleeve displaying and freeing her supple wrist.

He did bite already, of course.

She walked over to me with determination and glee. I knew I should catch it and I did.

To begin with her strokes were delivered very slowly and with great force; and then, instead of spreading them about she continued to administer them as much as possible in the same spot aiming each stroke carefully.

I panted and called out-ended, in fact, by bursting into a paroxysm of sobbing. Of course my contortions and cries were no more heeded by Beatrice and Mademoiselle than if Beatrice had been lashing a feather bolster; neither did Maud nor Agnes seem to pity me.

I had whipped Beatrice, it was her turn now. My goodness! If she whipped me like this when I was married to her!

"There, Miss Julia," said Beatrice, with satisfaction as she concluded and drew the birch through her left hand quite affectionately and gratefully.

The bulldog did bite again, as I writhed on the couch, and it entirely deprived me of the power or wish to express the sensations provoked by my nakedness and castigation before the girls.

"Well, Julia," asked Beatrice afterwards when she met me in the gallery, "did I warm your bottom for you? Does it still smart?"

"Oh, Beatrice!" and I grew red as I looked at her.

"Thank me for the punishment. You deserved it."

"Yes. Thank you for flogging me."

"And you deserve another for daring to flog me?"

"Oh, no! I was obliged to."

"I have nothing to do with that. Do you deserve another for daring to whip me, or do you not?" — stamping her foot.

I grew pale. She had given me a birching I should not forget for a week or ten days and was intending to give me another. I looked at her splendid form.

"Yah!"

"What on earth possesses you, Julia?"

"That damned thing!"

Beatrice shouted with laughter.

"Oh," I soberly remarked, "it is all very well to laugh! It hurts confoundedly, I can tell you."

"So it ought! Will you please answer my question, Julia?"

"Yes, Beatrice, I do; but don't give it me yet."

"Good boy! As a reward you shall have it in a very pleasant way. Your head between my legs, your face upwards, while I hold your legs across my shoulders. You know-you remember-don't you?"

"Yes, under your petticoats?" asked I, slyly, for which I was given a slap.

"Oh! Oh! I can say no more," I was obliged to yell out; for the next moment this cursed contrivance bit me again. "I may have no feelings at all," cried I, clasping my hands to the middle of my lap. "I would sooner wear that diabolical bandage. Who is to whip me, Bee?"

"Oh, Agnes shall do that!" said Beatrice, scarcely concealing her merriment.

"Be it so. I hope you'll take this ring off."

Agnes' whippings were not very dreadful.

"We shall see," replied Bee, going away.

The ring I have since discovered is an American invention intended for the prevention of involuntary excitement during sleep. The teeth instantly wake the sleeper and-well, they at least deprive the act of its involuntary character.

A pleasant state of things! Was I to be permitted no sensations whatever? Again a fresh invention for teaching me a habit of restraint, of continence, by a method which itself violently excited just the contrary.

What my feelings were in the drawing room that night when Beatrice received her remedy for the use of that ill-favoured word and for her unwise defence of it I must leave to be told in another chapter.