Gynecocracy

CHAPTER 6

This afternoon, which I well and vividly remember, was full of novel and startling revelations and experiences for me. I had no real knowledge whatever, nor did I recognise the character of my passions and instincts. Although now wide awake, they were then totally blind, and perplexed me with doubts and curiosity as to their significance.

Of a subtle and indefinable influence I was very conscious, but its source was still a mystery to me, and its sway a puzzle. The company of a young woman affected me very differently from the companionship of men; why, I knew not. I supposed Mademoiselle's hand had excited me only because she had touched and played with an organ of which for some reason I felt ashamed, especially in connection with a woman. Why the drawers and petticoats kept me in a perpetual and delicious tremor of excitement, and made that organ grow inconveniently and painfully large and distil in an altogether unusual manner a pellucid essence, I did not know either.

To think of all this in connection with the propagation of our race never once struck me. How the human race propagated seemed to me like one of those dry matters to be found at the commencement of geographies with the explanation of the seasons, the revolution of the earth round the sun, amp;c.

The pretty boudoir was trimmed and pranked with rose-coloured silk and exquisite water colours, until it looked a perfect feminine thing. Its statuettes were feminine. A bust of Omphale; a replica of Hercules in the Borghese Casino, in her clothes; an Aurora conquering a reluctant Cephalous, who was on one knee, his arms bent back in her hands, and his shoulders entangled in and imprisoned by pretty legs.

The high priestess of this charming sanctuary, sunlit, rosy-coloured, perfumed, and delicious, was Mademoiselle. Never had I seen her so alluring! She had promised to let me tell her "all about it" in her boudoir after luncheon and was keeping her word. She had given directions that we were not to be disturbed. She told me with winning softness that I had her now all to myself. My faults were all ignored or forgotten. Luncheon had revived her. Her spirits had lost that archness which had so disconcerted me, and she had become affectionate and gentle; yet I did not feel towards her as if she were my sister. There were cravings which unconsciously affected me but the magic secret had not yet been imparted and I was content to admire as I reclined upon the luxurious divan. Her masses of black hair had become loosened, and its thick rolls contrasted with her white skin in a marvellous manner. Her ruby lips and white teeth, her pink ears, and lovely head so admirably poised upon an adorable bust, dazzled me with their beauty. Her body was thrown back in her big dormeuse, her ankles and even higher being exposed to my view. She had been pretending to read, and was sipping black coffee, and petted me with cake and red Burgundy, rich as nectar.

When suddenly I called to mind how she had treated me, and what she had seen, my cheeks burned more than they did from Beatrice's slapping, and I noticed that the thought produced a strange medley of sensations on the organ violated by that beautiful hand and those taper fingers. I thought that some of my remarks brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks, but it may have been only the reflection of the rose-tender light of the apartment. She spoke in soft melodious tones, and although only twenty-three years of age, she appeared a complete woman of the world and entirely free from girlish ignorance.

"Now, Julian-for you wish to be a boy for me, and I will not now call you Julia, you have many things to tell me and here you have me in an amiable mood, all to yourself. What is it you have to confess? Begin."

"Oh, Mademoiselle, I do not know. Many, many things; but how to describe them is beyond me. I thought-I should be so wretched here, with only girls, and now-"

"You think you will change your mind. Do not be in too great a hurry to do that." 31

"You seemed as though it would be impossible to be friends with you, and-and you punished me so severely; but the strange thing about it is that it has made me like you-made me quite fond of you. I want to be close to you, to be always with you. I want-"

"What do you want?"

"Oh! May I say it? I want to love you."

"Do you, indeed? Well, you have a mark of my favour in the garment you have about your neck. I do not think any cavalier could bear a more distinguished or intimate mark of a lady's favour than her drawers; but, as I believe they are usually carried on the helmet or shield, I will, if you like, muffle up your head in them."

"Oh, no, Mademoiselle; because then I could not see you!"

"But, if it were not for that, do you really think you would like it?"

"Yes."

"You would be over head and ears in love then," she rejoined, laughing, "and I fear I should be compelled to punish you again. But, come, how would you like to love me?"

"I should like to be close to you-oh, so close-to feel you as close to me-to hold your hands, to look into your eyes, to kiss you, to expire for you."

"If you think of kissing my lips, some day, years hence, if you are very good and very obedient in the meanwhile, and have a moustache-well, perhaps then, if you remember, you may ask again."

"But how could I wear a girl's clothes with a moustache?"

"I do not think it is good for a youth without a moustache to kiss a lady's mouth. It is only after long and devoted service, after winning his way upwards in her favour by slow degrees, that such a delight could be permitted."

"But may I," I asked eagerly, half-rising, "kiss your feet? I have done so once. Let me begin at the beginning. Let me do it again, and perhaps I may get a little higher, because-because-"

"Because what?"

"When you were whipping me you-you stood over me, and perhaps-might-kiss your-"

"Kiss what?"

"Your leg," said I with bated breath. I was intoxicated with the recollection of the contact of the warm soft flesh and the satin skin.

"And would you really like to kiss my legs again?" enquired Mademoiselle archly, moving them ravishingly. "Well, we shall see. I have something here I want to read, when we have done talking; and then perhaps I may let you put your lips to my ankle. But you must first tell me about your experiences of a petticoat-you were very inquisitive about them. What could have induced you to lift up that girl's petticoats? What did you expect to see underneath them? Your affection for petticoats made me put you in them, Julian. That is what your curiosity has brought you to."

"Oh, I lifted them out of sheer mischief. What is it that girls hide so carefully underneath them? I only saw a pair of fat legs."

"I dare say you will know before you are much older. Mischief! Mon Dieu! Did you not feel naughty?"

"I felt carried away by some passion or other. Is that feeling naughty? It is rather a nice feeling."

"Did you feel the same under my petticoats?"

"A little."

"And whilst Elise was marching you off to be birched by me?"

"Yes."

"And whilst I was punishing you?"

"Yes."

"Especially, I suppose, when I lifted up your shirt?"

"Yes."

"Now, cannot you guess why?"

"No. Have girls the same thing under their petticoats as I have under my shirt? Is that why they wear them?"

"Have you never seen a girl naked?"

"No." '

"Look at those statues. Look at that Venus; look at Aurora. Have they got the thing you complain of?"

"No; but I always thought that was because they were only statues."

"And you don't know what that thing is capable of, and why women have not got one?"

"No."

"I must really give you a psychological lesson, Julian, and put you in possession of knowledge which a great boy like you should have. At present you are unfit for life and for the world, and much of the discipline you are having would be thrown away if I did not instruct you."

So Mademoiselle got up, and radiant with amusement, she reclined on the great ottoman at my side, with her left arm across me. She settled herself comfortably, and then turning her head and looking over her shoulder into my eyes, she questioned me archly as to whether her being so close to me did not make me feel naughty? I was almost suffocated by the violence of my feelings, nor did she wait for any reply, but rapidly slipping her right hand under my petticoats and moving it along the front and inside of my things, she caused me inexpressible emotion. She then caught hold of the thing in front of me.

"It is here you feel naughty, you bold boy. Another time I should whip you for this." These words made me worse.

"Yes! Yes!" I gasped in hushed tones.

"How it has grown!" she exclaimed, as she held it tightly in her hand.

Leaning close to me, she mingled a little pain with my pleasure by drawing the foreskin up and down several times, each time further back. I wriggled and said she hurt me.

"It is very tight," she remarked, and then finally grasping it and the testicles together in her hand, she squeezed and opened her hand frequently, sending a convulsive thrill each time through my body, so that several times I nearly threw her off me and jumped up. But she held me tight in that delicious thraldom and persistently continued her movement.

"Oh! Oh! Mademoiselle. Oh! Miss de Chambonnard! Oh, how nice! Oh, how I love you! How I adore you! I–I-worship" (squeeze, squeeze) "you! Oh, let me go! Oh, don't! Oh, how nice your hand" (squeeze) "is there! Oh, how I love you!" clasping her slender waist round from the back with any disengaged arm.

"Oh, take your hand away! Something awful-something dreadful will happen. I am sure it will, and I cannot prevent it. Oh! Oh!" For all answer, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, uninterruptedly and determinedly continued.

When she worked me almost into a frenzy, and my movements, jerks, and exclamations showed me to be in extremis, still holding me and pressing me more tightly, she again turned her head to look into my eyes. I noticed her own eyes were swimming. She squeezed me and crushed me more energetically, not uttering a syllable, but pressing against me with her whole form.

At last a convulsive shudder shook my frame from head to foot, and finally centred and concentrated itself in what she had hold of. Completely beyond myself and without my control, it went into a violent spasm of throbs, causing me such a sensation of delight and satisfaction as I had never dreamt of in my wildest moments, spouting out something time after time into her dainty hand, which was now still, and only quiescently grasping me.

"Oh," I gasped as I lay exhausted, and she arose, "if only I could do that to you!"

"Where should you put it, Master Julian?" she asked, laughing.

That, I confess, puzzled me.

As I lay recovering, my eyes rivetted on Mademoiselle, I understood why women have such power over men, why men will go through so much for them, and how truly they may be named "mistress." It is because they have it in their power to do that with his body, which can convulse him with inexpressible and delirious joy. I began to feel the subtle pleasure of being wrapt in a woman's garments, which seemed hallowed from their resemblance to those which enveloped Mademoiselle herself, as she stood a little distance off, wiping her dainty hand with a handkerchief, and putting on a pretty and amused air of delicate disgust.

I had been introduced to Love, and made acquainted with one of the secrets of its influence and power. Love was no longer an abstraction, but the sweetest and most desirable reality. Venus had, however, so far only uncovered her face. I felt the want of some complement of my ecstasy, of some participation in it. The veil had fallen to the Goddess's shoulders, not yet to her feet!

Mademoiselle again ensconced herself in her easy chair, and taking up her book, turned over its leaves somewhat at random. Her breasts rose and fell more quickly than before; and upon her cheeks there was just the slightest possible flush-such a flush of pink as a delicate white rose sometimes has. And in her dark eyes shone a glorious and laughing light, which she allowed to radiate upon me, reminding me of the laughter-loving Venus, and revealing the significance of that Homeric epithet.