If I had taken her at her word and declined her terms I know she would have been in a fix.
"How dared you, you bold bad boy" (this was better) "put that dreadful engine into your cousin? I shew you what it would do. How had you the face to let it work inside a girl? Come here," she said, ravishingly moving her leg. "Come here, I will give you a dose really this time!"
She pulled a stool to the side of the couch and placed a cushion upon it. I approached her. She bid me lie flat down with the back of my head on the cushion. She lifted her garments and her left leg. She had pink silk drawers on and they whisked across my face. Her hairy mouth soon touched mine. "I shall punish you with that," she said. "You have been whipped enough."
The pressure was so great that I used my hands to lessen it.
"Get up," she cried; and tying my hands behind me with her dainty handkerchief, she soon had me underneath her again, but now altogether unable to help myself. I knew where my duty lay and I performed it. The event happened. I was still held.
"Have you swallowed it all?" she asked, lifting up her petticoats so as to uncover my head and give me a welcome sight of her shapely thighs and limbs encased in the wide pink satin drawers, the make of which left what I had been kissing and the insides of her legs naked.
I had a full view of the Mount of Venus and of the bushy wood in whose recesses dwelt the spring of her being. The thickness, strength, and luxuriance of her black hair both astonished and alarmed me. Then slowly carrying my glance upwards from her exquisite navel to her face and looking into her mischievous eyes, I answered with my mouth all sticky: "Yes, dear Mademoiselle, I have swallowed it."
"All?"
"Yes, all."
"Very well. Now I shall give you something to wash it down with."
She wriggled in the sofa as she said this, and slipping quite to its edge I again felt the weight of her divine form oppress my head. I dreaded what was coming; I shuddered but dared not move or protest. She carefully removed her drawers and chemise from about my face and head to prevent their being wetted. Then she rubbed herself about me until she had parted the hairs and placed the wet lips of the mouth with a moustache against mine, holding me fast with her thighs meanwhile.
She did not content herself with mere contact, but continued with firm determination to press me until my mouth was wide open and she felt her clitoris against my teeth and tongue. I at once tickled it with the tip of my tongue and she gave a gentle movement or two plainly denoting satisfaction.
But as the horrible idea struck me that possibly she intended not to restrain herself and meant to drench me in that position a feeling of deadly sickness spread over me. I broke out into a cold sweat, and made an involuntary attempt to escape. Down on my back under my governess, held by her strong thighs, my hands tied behind me, this attempt was abortive, and only increased the strictness of her grasp.
I felt the taste of her warm and liquid flesh in my mouth and its rawness. The rolls of flesh unfolded themselves more and more each time she rubbed me. I knew how she was exciting herself and the pleasure she enjoyed both by this expansion and by the quick breathing which accompanied it. Little love calls and exclamations of rapture, dulled by the clothing over me, also stole upon my ears.
Suddenly was a longer breath than usual; then another-in fact, a sigh. I had hardly begun to tickle her again with my tongue, when, while it was yet extended, the floodgates were opened.
I endeavoured not to swallow and my mouth consequently was soon filled and it overflowed into my nostrils, my eyes, and ears; choking, blinding, and drowning me. I was compelled to cough and splutter and swallow a quantity to save myself from suffocation. I struggled, but Mademoiselle held me deliberately and rigidly. She gathered up her skirts to prevent their being drenched, but kept me fast until she had quite finished.
Mad, exasperated, and sick, I gulped and gulped, and, willy-nilly, swallowed mouthful after mouthful. A large quantity ran on the rug, on to the floor, but quite a stream was forced down my throat.
"There," she said, triumphantly, "how do you like that? I do enjoy pissing upon you above all things; it is the only thing you really seem to mind. It does take it out of you and punish you."
I spat and spluttered, too disgusted, too horrified, and too angry to speak, too much tamed to show any anger.
"Now," continued Mademoiselle, looking complacently at me, "I shall try an experiment which has been recommended to me by a German friend as a capital means of curing bad boys' indulgence of uncontrolled passion."
CHAPTER 3
I continued to cough and splutter and wished to spit, but I dared not. Mademoiselle, with refined severity quietly waited, for she had noticed my coughing up what I could, until I was obliged to again swallow what I had coughed up.
Then, with a wicked smile, she directed me to walk over to the wash-hand-stand. Upon it stood a jug whence she poured a quantity of musky-coloured water into a tumbler and placed it to my lips, bidding me drink it. I protested. I said I could not possibly hold any more, but Mademoiselle was inexorable, and holding my head by the hair, forced the rim of the tumbler between my lips (my hands were still tied), and its contents-warm mustard and water-down my throat. I was made to drain the glass. It was an emetic, intended to make me sick. To that in itself I did not object, but the idea of the passage of all that wine up again through my throat and mouth made me feel very bad indeed.
Then Mademoiselle made me kneel down. She placed a pot in front of me, and stood opposite. I noticed she had in her hand a long quill pen with feathers on both its sides. I was not long left to wonder what use she intended to put it to.
"Now, Master Julian," she said, standing over me with her left hand resting on my bare shoulder, "throw your head back as far as possible and open your mouth as wide as ever you can."
I already began to feel qualms and did not at once comply.
"If you do not immediately do as I tell you," observed Mademoiselle very sternly, "I will gag you as you have been and then try again."
I meekly threw my head back and opened my mouth.
"Now," said Mademoiselle, her left hand upon my forehead, and proceeding to tickle first the roof of my mouth, then the palate and sides, then the uvula and throat, making occasional dabs down it with the feather which soon made me retch, "now you must submit to being punished by me. It is doing you good already; that male factor between your legs," she cried, glancing at it, "is not half the size he was when I commenced."
"Ugh-ugh! I shall be sick."
"Hold your tongue and keep your mouth open."
I knew I must soon vomit. What a diabolical idea! What a horrid, disgusting mode of treatment!
"When Julius Caesar-no, you must not attempt to catch the feather with your teeth"-giving me a slap in the cheek-"visited Cicero, the latter was extremely flattered by Caesar's taking a vomitory before dinner. He regarded it"-I felt I should faint; a deadly paleness, a cold sweat, a fearful feeling of sickness possessed me; Mademoiselle's words seemed far off-"as an earnest good fellowship, as an assurance on Caesar's part that he intended in good faith to do full justice to his hospitality. Now you will please vomit. Yes, here, before me into that vessel as a punishment, in obedience to me, your mistress; and to show the good disposition you have to do honour to the bread and water which is all you will have for the next few days, unless, indeed, it should again enter my head to give you some other beverage, and"-looking fiercely at me-"perhaps some other food, too."
She could not mean-she would not dare! My condition, the constant retching, prevented my continuing unbroken any thread or sequence of ideas.