“Oh, I should like that!”
“I promise you we will do it. You always did enjoy being badly treated by me.”
“Oh! I like all you do!”
“There are men who enjoy being ill-treated, too.”
“Yes, I know. One of my best customers, who lives down here, Madame Rosenblatt, married to a German Jew, has got a lover, as her husband don't give her enough money for her dress. Her friend possesses that mania. He has got a German grammar and studies it. He is about forty years of age. He has a small apartment in Paris and he goes there first and begins to learn his lessons. Madame Rosenblatt soon appears and pretends to be in an awful passion with him. She boxes his ears, and makes him kneel down and say his verbs. Whether he knows them or not, he has to take down his breeches, and she beats him well. After that, he gets into bed with her and enjoys her. His birthday is soon due, and his mistress is going to give him a present: a little silk cushion for him to kneel on. I am making it and she is paying me well for it.”
“Has she never asked you to see her pupil, or have you never evinced any curiosity to view this strange correction?”
“Oh, no! But she wanted me to go with her one day. She told me he would like to be whipped and humiliated in front of a strange young woman, but I shall not go. I would not do such a thing.”
I am obliged to confess that this story excited me very much, and although I had never allowed a woman to domineer over me as yet, I almost thought that I should have no objection to play the unruly pupil, if the governess pleased me, just to see how it felt.
I held strong suspicions that Lilian had seen this pupil-lover, and that the cushion would be paid for by the man himself.
I still continued to be as dumb as a fish, or I should never have heard or learnt anything.
According to Lilian's calculations, Granny and the servant were now in bed and fast asleep, and it was safe for me to follow her into the house, I did so, stepping cautiously on the grass, so as not to let my footsteps be heard on the gravel, as I had done in August. It was raining hard. A pace or two to the right, and I was in the dark room, and waited there while Lily went to see if the coast was clear. She soon returned and, taking me by the hand, guided me into the warm dining-room, where we sat down on a little sofa under the window.
I took her in my arms and embraced her with great tenderness, beginning to put my hand under her clothes. She repulsed me, and told me that she did not see why she should give way to me, as I showed no desire to do anything whatsoever to content her.
“When you try to please me you shall have all you want, but until then: nothing, nothing, nothing!”
I immediately withdrew my hand from her calves-she had not let me get any higher-and releasing her waist as well, I drew myself entirely away from her.
“I guess what you are up to. These are the tantalizing tricks of a coquette. Possibly Madame Rosenblatt” — I did not dare say Papa and Mamma-“has given you advice how to behave with me. I can hear her saving to you: 'Never give way to men too readily, or they will think nothing of you. Hold the carrot in front of the donkey's nose, but don't let the animal touch it until he obeys you. Keep the chaps away from you and they will run after you all the more!' I understand all your ways.”
And I got up as if to go.
“Come and sit down by me,” she said, as she looked at me strangely, with a wondering look in her eyes, astonished at being read so easily, “and I'll be good to you. You know I like you so much, that really I don't know what I am about when you are near me.”
And she threw herself upon me, and kissed me as she had never kissed me before, begging me to suck her lips and tongue, and caress her in return.
She ruthlessly thrust my fumbling fingers from her, and told me she was “unwell.” Her monthly courses were now on.
I at once made a little mental calculation. She had begun her menstruation on the eleventh of November; that was the last date I had been able to note, and she was therefore due again on the twelfth of December, or thereabouts. Here we were at the seventeenth of January. Why so late? Now I understood Papa's letter regarding her health. No doubt there was the fear of being in the family way. Had he drugged her before his departure? Or was the old witch of a grandmother dosing her with her secret decoctions of herbs, so as to bring on her tardy “menses”? Is that why she is friends with me again? If she found herself really enceinte, did she intend to give way to me entirely, and declare all her trouble as of my making? There was some deep scheme, which I never got to the bottom of. She took me in her arms and pillowed my head on her breast as she sat at the end of the sofa, and her audacious hand pressed my stiff dagger outside my trousers. She pinched it.
“Do I hurt you, Jacky?”
“No!”
“And now,” pressing it with all her strength.
“No! I like that!”
“It does hurt, but you won't say so. I'll try again,” and she gripped the acorn top through the cloth.
“Ah! Now you hurt me! But I like the pain coming from you, Lilian!”
It was cozy in the pretty little room, and I was very comfortable in Lilian's embrace! My head almost underneath her arm; my delighted nostrils enjoying the odor of her armpits; the true coppery, wild-beast fragrance of a brunette, who, during her menstrual period, puts no water on her body.
She now began to undo my trousers. I put out my hand to help her.
“No! Let me do it. I like to arrange it my way.”
She unbuttoned the breeches, and drew out the little gentleman, who was as pleased as Punch to show himself and stood up bravely.
“Ah! here is my poupée! I love to see it and play with it! Are you happy, Jacky?”
“Yes, Lilian. I am so pleased to be caressed by you. I like you to see me thus, all shamelessly exposed to your gaze. Kiss me! Now look at it! Keep your eyes on it!”
She gently moved her hand up and down the shaft. She was more expert than when she had masturbated me in August.
“I want to see more of you,” she said, and I opened my trousers as fully as I could, letting them down a little and pulling out the testicles. These she caressed as well and passed her hand even lower down, tickling the neutral zone between the scrotum and the fundament. And then she closed her hand, manipulated me furiously for a few seconds, and when I moved convulsively, feeling that I was about to spend, she suddenly stopped.
“Why do you cease, darling?”
“I don't want to make you enjoy too soon. I am trying to make the pleasure last as long as I can!”
Lilian had been taking lessons, I saw plainly.
“Well, do what you like with me. But don't hurt me. Would you like to hurt me? Or violate me, perhaps?”
“Oh, no, dearest.”
“I should like to be quite naked with you, all dressed as you are!”
She molded my testicles, never taking her eyes from my weapon, and then once more firmly grasped it with her left hand, supporting me against her breast with her right arm.
For a little while longer, she continued her play, shaking it violently in her soft hand, and gradually going slower until her fingers became motionless. A wee caress of the wrinkled purse, an exploration of the perineum, and then back to the principal actor, who, no longer able to restrain himself, burst in delicious agony and sent a gush of semen on to my belly, followed by several thick clots, much to Lilian's delight, as I distinctly felt a thrill run through her frame, the unmistakable shudder of voluptuous pleasure, that I knew so well.