"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
It was some alleviation of my circumstances to know that I had a confederate in Beatrice, and (to some extent) in Elise also. So far as their own designs upon me required, I knew they would support me in withstanding Mademoiselle, Maud, and Agnes. And that thus a sort of defensive alliance had been established which would occasionally yield me a certain amount of protection. But at what a cost the alliance would be upheld! Of course all the friction would be upon me. I should always be the victim and probably should have to endure pains and penalties from both sides. Except for the sentimental consolation arising from being in league with Beatrice, and from the pleasure I took in doing her bequests, I felt it would be better for me to have but one mistress. It would be impossible for me to please all. Already I saw trouble ahead concerning the Apollo. Maud would insist. So would Beatrice. Mademoiselle would side with Maud. Beatrice would not dare to side openly with me. I should then have to obey Beatrice and disobey Maud and Mademoiselle. There would be a battle royal, the whole brunt of which I should have to bear. It was extremely probable that in the clash of contending forces they would tear me to pieces.
Possibly also, Beatrice was only carrying out instructions of Mademoiselle, with whom, for all I knew, she might have some secret understanding. It might be some deep and insidious design of Mademoiselle to make my discipline and trials more severe. It might be her game to secretly instigate rebellion for the delight of wreaking vengeance upon me; to put me in a position in which, whatever my conduct was, I should be unable to avoid incurring her anger, and be tortured also by the necessity of silence and the sense of wrong. I felt instinctively what exquisite enjoyment and pleasure she would take in such a state of affairs, and how natural such an idea would be to so artful and intriguing a young lady. So far as she was concerned, it was extremely likely. But ultimately I felt sure that Beatrice was incapable of such perfidy, and so felt more secure.
"Now, Sir," said Elise peremptorily, but serenely, "get up-put on that nightdress this instant, and-come with me!"
I was obliged to obey her, and she re-attired me in my white nightdress and led me to Mademoiselle's bedroom.
I found Mademoiselle seated in a cosy chair near her dressing table, attired in a ravishing peignoir which was negligently unfastened. Her magnificent hair was let down, falling about her shoulders. She looked sleepy, and was in the act of yawning as I entered. A vicious-looking riding-whip lay on the top of one of the pedestals, which flanked the glass. Not far from her stood a stool covered with blue satin.
She glanced at me as I entered in my white raiment, which was so long that I had to hold it up in front to avoid stepping on it, but did not speak to me. She addressed Elise.
"I am far too tired and sleepy to do anything more tonight, Elise, and shall not be able to put him through the trial and lesson he ought properly to receive before being permitted to sleep with me in my bed. I dare say, however, he is also too tired to be really dangerous. Just try him, however. Strip him," she added, yawning again.
She evidently did not mean to mince matters or to allow any fooling, and was in a very businesslike frame of mind. Her eyes, however, gleamed when she saw me the next moment absolutely naked before her, and she looked at me contentedly and approvingly.
"He is a nice boy," she said. Elise waited a few seconds, also regarding me; but in that respectful manner, which the presence of her mistress necessitated.
"Go on, Elise," presently ordered Mademoiselle.
"Lie across that stool on your face," said Elise to me severely.
Suppressing a sigh, perhaps a groan, I obeyed. I wondered what fresh torture I was to undergo. Surely not more whipping.
Elise put one hand very heavily on the small of my back, pressing all the wind out of me, and rubbed and pinched my bottom and the backs of my thighs very violently with the other hand, which she also rapidly inserted between my legs, and as rapidly withdrew, until, at last, she found she was working me up into a state of extreme excitement; then she said:
"This is to teach you how to contain yourself. Mind, whatever I do, and I shall do more, you must restrain yourself. If there is the slightest mark on the cushion, you will have three dozen cuts-like this," and she gave me a frightful cut across the legs with the whip, at which I yelled; "and instead of being allowed to sleep with Mademoiselle, you will be tied up naked with your hands above your head to the post of her bed, and you will stay there all night."
She waited a minute or two, and then she asked in a hard voice: "You understand?"
"Yes," I answered.
"And promise?"
"Yes; if I possibly can."
"If you can! You must. There's another reminder."
"Yah! I do promise. I will, indeed."
Bracing myself up, I resolved, whatever she did, not to allow anything to happen. The resolution was rash, but I set my teeth. Three dozen like that! It was only a question of muscular restraint. And to be tied up all night. Anything would be better than that, tired as I was. So I set my teeth firmly. I was in for it. The whip was awful, cruel beyond expression.
Elise immediately stood across me. I sighed and trembled, but fixed my thoughts on the pattern of the carpet, not allowing them to wander upon her. She soon recalled them. She inserted her left hand underneath me and caught hold of me, putting her right hand behind me. She worked the right one over all the lumbar muscles, both vigorously and relentlessly, for quite five minutes. I resolved not to give way. I refused to let an idea of what she was doing cross my mind, and remained absolutely passive. When she found this the case, she tried all the harder, and began to suggest thoughts about being under a maid's legs (pressing me with them), and her having what she had in her hands, about my nakedness, about Mademoiselle. Everything she could think of to excite my feelings, but I hardened myself and turned myself to stone. I would not be overcome. I reflected on the pain of the whip, and on what I should gain by victory. I resolved to be a stone, and succeeded. Elise tired herself uselessly. It hurt me dreadfully, and the strain occasioned by my determination to contain myself, and hers to overcome and defeat me, made me sore and aching. At last she stood from over me.
"Let me look," she exclaimed.
I also gave a glance. Surely there could be no mark to defeat all my efforts.
"I declare there is nothing!"
I looked at her triumphantly.
She made another minute examination. The blue satin would at once have shown the slightest stain.
"Ah! Ah! Elise," said Mademoiselle, to Elise's chagrin.
"Now on your back," said the discomfited Elise, who would have had the whipping of me, and did not like to be done out of it.
So I laid down on my back.
"Put your legs as wide apart as they will go."
Then she briskly stood over me, so arranging her petticoats on this occasion, that I was right under her bottom, with nothing between it and my face, but here and there her drawers, and these she rubbed away, until she felt her naked flesh against me. This was much harder to bear. She caught me in front with both hands, rolled the testicles, slipped her hands down and endeavoured to excite each nerve in turn. She evidently knew all about it. As I could not now hear anything she said, she could not excite my imagination and so find a traitor within the citadel by her words. But this advantage was counterbalanced and more, by my actual contact with her flesh, and with her mouth with a moustache, which was in a state of great excitement, very wet, and constantly rubbing and pressing against my mouth and all over my face. No words could have so completely conveyed the idea as the actual reality did. I was overwhelmed by that sense of the female sex which exacts immediate sexual acknowledgment from anything in the least degree worthy of being named masculine. An exaction made more irresistible by the use of her hands, and by the knowledge of what she and Mademoiselle could see. To all this I shut my mind. I had no carpet to contemplate. I closed my eyes, and I refused to remember where I was. I simply passively endured. I shut my teeth and lips firmly, notwithstanding her reiterated attempts upon them. My will stood me in good stead. I conquered. But instead of loving, I hated Elise. I hated Mademoiselle. I loathed women. And when she got off me it was all I could do to prevent myself from saying so.