Gynecocracy

CHAPTER 7

I felt convinced that there was some way as yet undisclosed-some means by which I could comprehensively and entirely love and be loved.

I had already become sensible of the rapture of possessing in some degree the secret of the concealed springs which, duly worked upon, rose in fountains of overwhelming volume and transported one in floods of delight.

I felt that at last I had begun to live instinctively, that there was something to live for. It could be no mere hallucination that the future had still some mystery to disclose, and some more perfect tuition to offer. A dim vision of the happiness to be enjoyed by the human creature when it perfects itself by the discovery and coalescence of its sexual affinity was thus unfolded; and, on the other hand, I easily perceived the misery it must endure from unsatisfied yearnings.

There was evidently more in the education I was receiving and in the discipline to which I had been given up than was apparent on its surface or than I had supposed.

Mademoiselle had indeed thoroughly given me a psychological lesson. I had taken it to be a joke. I had not dreamt it was possible for that little hand to teach me so much.

At last my fair instructress looked up, and speaking as though she were putting some restraint upon herself, said significantly: "Well, Julian, I think we have talked long enough, and I am now going to read."

"Oh, Mademoiselle," I said, "won't you give me more?"

"You silly boy," she rejoined, laughing, and now really rosy, "you do not even know what I am going to permit you. Come here."

She was seated in a low and long-seated armchair, and placing her knees against its left elbow, she directed me to seat myself on the floor, with my legs underneath the chair, and with my face close to the front of the seat.

I found this no easy matter, and went to work rather clumsily, receiving one or two playful but sharp slaps, "for not carrying out a lady's wishes with more alacrity." When at last I had succeeded, she unfastened and took off the drawers from my arms and also the body of the dress I was wearing, leaving my arms, neck, and shoulders bare. I was much incommodated by the corset, which was really a very ill-fitting one, and felt exceedingly awkward in my unfamiliar attire, and indeed hurt myself with the busks of the longwaisted thing as I assumed the required posture. My long legs, uncovered by the petticoats, which in my efforts to seat myself as bidden had worked themselves quite up to my knees, were disposed in a very ungraceful and clumsy heap beneath the chair. I sincerely trusted Mademoiselle, martinet and stickler for elegance as I knew her to be, would not notice this, dreading the consequences if she did. Perhaps, however, she considered the irksomeness and the discomfort of the badly arranged drapery beneficial. For although she must have noticed the bundle and my immodestly uncovered legs, yet when she had got me close enough, she gave me no further directions. By a dexterous movement and half-turn, accomplished before I had time to guess what she meant, she whisked her petticoats over my head and lodged her right leg across my left shoulder. The result was that I found my head again between her soft and warm thighs, each voluptuously pressing one of my cheeks. Her legs were enveloped in exquisitely fine linen undergarments; and there was wafted to me a fresher and stronger prevalence of that strange intoxicating perfume which I had noticed about the red flannel petticoat. My natural impulse was to retreat, an effort promptly prevented by a tight grip of Mademoiselle; stooping over she lifted up her skirts and looking at me with a strange fierce light in her eyes but with a rosy smile upon her face, said: "Now, Julian, if in the course of your incursions underneath my petticoats you should encounter a mouth with a moustache you may kiss it; and, in fact, when 39

I press my heel against your back-like this-you are to kiss it-you understand-and to continue doing so as long as I press you."

She then again dropped her voluminous garments over me and threw herself well back in the chair. My head, already well above her knees, came to the open part of her drawers where I felt her satin like skin and soft warm flesh, this time naked, against my cheeks. To my astonishment, my nose, mouth, and chin were tickled by some hairs. This must be the moustache thought I, and before I had time to determine what to do, Mademoiselle gave a wriggle and holding me close with her legs, rubbed something very hairy and moist all over my face, my eyes, my nose, and my mouth in a very lingering manner. In the midst of the hair I found what seemed like a mouth set lengthwise instead of across, and felt a little protuberance near its top, which was pressed forcibly against my own lips and which appeared to be excessively sensitive. At the same moment I felt her heel pressed against my shoulders and I gave it a kiss. It was instantly pushed into my lips and my mouth was forced wide open; unable to kiss it, I tickled it with my tongue.

Mademoiselle's movements as I did so became more and more vigorous, her hold of me grew tighter and tighter, and she pressed me still more closely. Feeling her foot heavily against my shoulders I continued to play with what I concluded was her raw flesh, to bite it gently with my teeth, and to lick it with my tongue, especially that little protuberance, as I soon discovered the transports which that gave her. To my wonder the aperture still grew larger and larger until I seemed actually to lose my face in it. It had wet me and appeared to cover me all over in it. I felt as if I was some distance inside her body and I grew furious with a strange excitement which increased with her own. Mademoiselle's throbs became more and more convulsive, indeed as violent as mine had been on the ottoman.

At last, centring herself upon my mouth, there came a series of violent spasmodic throbs lasting for some seconds then becoming gradually slower and slower, whilst there was jerked into my mouth a warm 40

sticky fluid tasting something like the white of an egg only a little bitter. I could hear Mademoiselle's exclamations although her garments partly smothered the sound. At last her efforts ceased, her grasp relaxed, and she seemed to repose as she let my head rest against one of her knees.

What an experience! There was no longer any need to describe to me how a man differed from a woman. How delightful that she should be so formed and possess an organ so receptive, so responsive, so capable of appreciating and returning the passions of my own, which, whether it was intended or not for the purpose, I longed to place inside hers. How exquisite would be the pleasure if our movements could take place simultaneously, and whilst I was inside her. I was overjoyed at the intimate knowledge of a woman to which I had been so agreeably introduced and wondered whether everyone had equal good fortune, feeling convinced that they could not otherwise obtain anything like a perfect acquaintance with her. I was overjoyed, too, that that woman in my case was Mademoiselle.

I burned to express my feelings in words, to implore her to permit me to carry out my idea of inserting in her the engine of mine which she had manipulated. I conceived the idea to be original and I thought its communication would be welcomed by her as an inspiration of genius.

Not knowing what to do with the liquid with which my mouth was filled and needing some fresh air and a relief from the constraint of my position, I endeavoured to rise; but Mademoiselle instantly clasped my head tightly between her knees and prevented me. A horse's strength is in his loins, a lion's in his jaws, an elephant's in his trunk and weight, an ox's in his neck, and a woman's is evidently in her thighs. I again tried to free myself only to receive a tighter and more prolonged and suffocating squeeze followed by a smart blow on my back from her heel, which almost knocked the wind out of me. A little chagrined and disappointed, I thought it wisest to give in, and resolved to await events, passing my time in contemplation of my delicious situation under a young lady's petticoats. To enhance my sense of it I recalled her lovely features and figure to my mind, picturing her to myself seated there. And then I remembered that I was in full possession of the secret of her most private charms. I gently rubbed my head against her, up and down the insides of her thighs. She relaxed her hold and her lascivious motions told me how this pleased her.

I revelled in the contact of her undergarments and in the warm atmosphere and pungent scent of the locality. I gloried in the discovery of what petticoats actually did conceal and I swallowed the liquid in my mouth with a voluptuous thrill.

Mademoiselle was evidently reading, and I had opportunity for moralizing. I began to wonder whether there was anything wicked in all this-whether it was impure? Was it adultery, fornication, or lasciviousness to be beneath a maid's legs, kissing them and gratifying her and myself by dalliance with my lips and tongue with her "mouth with a moustache," simply because that mouth was between her legs and usually hidden? The concealment was conventional as dress, founded on the decorum and decencies of life. Was it wicked to kiss the mouth of an Eastern woman because, when walking abroad, it was covered by a Sash-mak? Brushing aside the conventionalities in the shape of skirts and drawers gave a poignant relish to the embrace that seemed perfectly legitimate. So I hugged Mademoiselle closer and kissed her legs again.

In a few minutes any further disposition on my part for reflection and analysis was cut short by a firm but gentle pressure of her dainty leg and little heel on my back. Again I glued my mouth to what seemed the compendium, the embodiment, the full divine revelation of Mademoiselle herself in her most intimate soul, and, on this occasion, with fewer scruples and with more avidity, with greater knowledge and keener skill. I bit the tender succulent lips, I inserted my tongue further and tickled the little protuberance more persistently, absorbing the yielding flesh more greedily. Mademoiselle's motions were in proportion more violent, her transport, her loss of self-control completer. All our efforts were directed to bring about a repetition of that convulsive and spasmodic agitation of her being which seemed to delight her and affected me. It took much longer this time and required more effort; her legs were thrown wider apart and she exerted herself (and I also) more vigorously. At last it came! The spasm took place more slowly and endured longer. She lay back with a sigh or gasp of relief and satisfaction, and I was becoming a little weary; no ethical questions this time presenting themselves for analysis and solution. The novelty of the situation was wearing off. Besides I felt the need of a repetition of the operation upon myself and was anxious to communicate my idea to her. However, I was not allowed to rise.

Mademoiselle read on. She moved and adjusted herself, giving me pleasure by the fresh and unavoidable contact of her flesh, each time she did so. But it seemed as though I were never to be released, and it appeared an interminable time before I again felt the signal on my back, and, on this occasion by the exercise of a little compulsion, was forced a third time to repeat the delicious process.

A few minutes later Mademoiselle threw down her book, lifted her leg off my shoulder, and told me to get up.

What a delicious flutter she was in! And how proud I felt at having been permitted to become so intimately acquainted with the secrets of her being!

"You may get up now, Julian, you dear boy, and we will have some tea. I want it, I can tell you."

I got up and stretched myself. I glanced at the Sevres clock, leisurely ticking away the hours as though it controlled Time with its fat and lazy motion.

For two hours had I been under Mademoiselle's petticoats in close communion with her!