by AnonYMous
Grushenka stood on the sidewalk. She was alone. In her hand were a few gold pieces. She began to cry. He had paid her. What a disgrace!
She knew the neighborhood well enough and started a hasty run along the houses, keeping in the shadows, until she came to an old, dilapidated two story house. She moved around the building to a back entrance which was open and ascended a creaking wooden stair, dimly lit by small oil lamps. On the top floor she stopped and knocked on one of the many doors which were around this landing. First she knocked faintly, then more boldly, with great fear in her heart that her only girl friend Martha might not live here any more. She had not seen her since she had gone to the Sokolows, in fact had never had the opportunity to tell her about her change in life. What would happen to her now if she could not find shelter with Martha? Finally there was a faint rustling inside and a terrified small voice asked who was outside. “Grushenka,” answered the girl, her heart leaping with joy.
“Grushenka, you little dove!”… and soon the girls lay in each other's arms, kissing each other's cheeks and crying on each other's breast to celebrate their having found each other again.
CHAPTER NINE
Marta's history can be told very briefly. It is a story of which there are many similar. She was born out of wedlock to a mother who was the daughter of a rich and independent farmer; her mother had been driven from home when she was heavy with child. In time, Marta had been given in servitude to a modiste. This modiste, Mademoiselle Laura Cameron, kept a fashionable hat and gown store in one of the few elegant thoroughfares of Moscow. Marta was not yet fourteen years of age when she became a servant of this sweet, lisping but keenly selfish woman who exercised parental rights over the little girl and abused her with hard work and harsh treatment. In exchange she paid her small wages which Marta had to deliver to her mother, who received the money by making her signature on a slip of paper. This signature consisted of three crosses, because mother and daughter could not read nor write. Maria's mother refused some offers to sell the girl as a serf. She had taken a room in the poorer quarters and had done such odd jobs as a woman could find, barely enough to keep them alive. Worried and exhausted by hardship, she had finally consented to die, leaving her little girl to shift alone.
Maria did not dare tell this to her employer, because she feared that Madame Laura would make a real serf out of her right away, taking her into the house where she kept a few girls already. Instead, she received the small wages and signed with the crosses as if her mother were still alive. This and many more things she told Grushenka, who in turn related her story. Of course, this all took several days-rather nights, because Maria went to her work early and came home at sunset. Meanwhile Grushenka stayed in the poor room, sleeping in the big bed and not going out for fear that she would be picked up by the police or by the searchers of Sophia. However, with the gold pieces which Mikhail had left in Grushenka's little hand, they had a wonderful time-together, eating and drinking what money could buy.
But it was apparent that this could not go on forever, so they decided that Maria should tell her mistress that a cousin of hers had arrived in the city and desired to enter her services. Moved by Maria's raving description, Madame Laura consented to take a look at Grushenka and thus they went one fine morning to the store of this commanding lady. Maria had bought Grushenka some clothes such as a farm girl might wear when she came to the city: a multi-colored blouse, a pleated skirt, a kerchief to be wound around the head, all very becoming to Grushenka, who, much to her advantage, displayed the tan on her cheeks which the country life on Sokolov's estate had left there. Maria-stout and stocky, with a round, good-hearted face, certainly not pretty, but young and unspoiled-hesitated several times on the way. Of course she had given her girl friend a description of Madame Laura and her establishment, and, of course, Grushenka had seen hard treatment in her almost twenty years of serfdom and did not expect to be treated with lad gloves. But had not Marta given too good an account of that which would be in store for Grushenka? To ease her mind, she told Grushenka frankly that she had suppressed many unpleasant features which the work for Madame Laura would carry with it. Grushenka, however, had decided to go through with it. What could she do? There were no labor markets where jobs could be found.
Labor was conducted by the members of a family in small enterprises; the bigger ones bought serfs. Some trades requiring craftmanship, such as carpentry or pottery, hired workers, but only through their own guilds. Furthermore, if Grushenka should really have the luck to be hired by Madame Laura, could not she and Marta live together and continue those heavenly nights, during which Grushenka could rave about her heavenly Mikhail? Work and mistreatment? Was Grushenka not used to that since early childhood? Marta made the sign of the cross and they entered Madame Laura's. Through a gilded door covered with fresh garlands of flowers they came info a huge salesroom with a low ceiling and elegant furniture. Grushenka's eye, trained through her work as clothes horse for the Princess, detected with pleasure the thick array of woman's styles, expensive materials, good craftsmanship-this must be a store for the very rich! Crossing the room, they entered the second salesroom, consisting of a small hallway which parted half, a dozen private rooms equipped with huge mirrors, easy chairs and couches. Of course there were no customers at this early morning hour, but a few attractive girls were busy cleaning and dusting. The third room on the ground floor was Madame's sumptuously furnished private office. Madame Laura was not yet in; in fact, she would not come before noon, and Grushenka went with Marta to the sewing room on the next floor. Fifteen or more girls already sat at their work, sewing, cutting and trying on the hats, gowns, dresses and underwear created under the supervision of two elderly expert modistes. Marta joined the workers while Grushenka sat modestly on a chair and watched, eager to do this kind of work so pleasing to her female instinct for beautifying. At last one of the girls came from downstairs, notifying Marta and Grushenka that they were wanted by the mistress. Madame Laura received the girls with her sweetest smile complimenting them on being two such lovely cousins.
She scrutinized Grushenka with sharp eyes, asking her whether she had learned sewing with “her dear mother” and asking many questions about her and Marta's home village, but not waiting for any answers.
Everything seemed to go well as the girls shamefacedly stuttered a few words but did not dare to glance at each other. But Madame Laura's keen sense of people, which had brought her her clientele and fortune, suspected that something was wrong. For example, where did this girl, supposed to have come from the country, get those silk stockings and those shoes? Then she detected the well manicured and soft hands, which surely were not those of a tramp from a village.
Madame Laura moved around to her desk chair of rosewood with brass heads on the arms. She had Marta close the door and put Grushenka in the full light opposite herself. She concentrated her attention all the more on this newcomer because the girl seemed to be unusually well made, obliging and certainly a business proposition if rightly developed. She wanted to see more of her, and demanded that Grushenka take off her kerchief and blouse, under the pretext of finding out whether she might be suitable as a model. Grushenka did as she was told without hesitation, thus adding a new proof that she was not a dumb country girl. In fact Grushenka discarded her skirt and drawers also, and Madame Laura had difficulty in suppressing her wholesome admiration: a perfect shape; straight legs, soft but firm flesh, a morsel for the appetite of the most refined taste of any man.
Madame Laura was a connoisseur. Procuring was her most important magnet for securing a clientele, and she made ample use of it. Who was this girl? Of a sudden she changed her tactics, the smile faded, and Marta was in for it! First Madame Laura asked her sharply to tell the truth. But fat little Marta stuck to her story, stuck to it even when Madame Laura's hand, manipulated on Marta's buttocks, caused her to emit many “Oh"' s and “Ah"'s. In Madame Laura's hand was a long needle which Grushenka detected as she stood helplessly aside in
her nakedness. After that, Madame Laura began to use stronger means: she opened Marta's blouse, took the girl's left breast from underneath the shirt and, squeezing the breast firmly, pointed the needle anxiously and, as Marta still held to her story, the sharp steel was pricked slowly into her flesh. Marta tried to suppress a howl as a big drop of blood ran slowly down over the milk-white globe. But she clung doggedly to her former assertion. Her face was twisted, tears streamed down her cheeks, but she did not dare tear herself loose and run away. Impatiently Laura rose, took from her desk a short leather whip and demanded that the girl bend over. She tore her drawers down and, as Marta's fat buttocks lay bare, demanded that she tell the truth or be whipped until her flesh was cut to the bone. '
Before Madame Laura could lay the first-smarting blow on the wide target, Grushenka threw herself between her and Marta, exclaiming that she would tell the truth because she could not watch her friend suffer on her behalf. She then related her whole story to the silently listening Madame Laura, who knew that now she learned the true facts.
Here was business for her! But she did not say a word of what was on her mind when Grushenka finally fell at her feet and threw herself at her mercy, imploring her to take her into her services. Instead Madame Laura behaved like a fury and answered that it was an outrage that this run-away slave girl wanted to make her a partner in her crime, reminding her that any person giving shelter or food to a run-away serf was liable to be sent to Siberia. Marta, who had tried to stop Grushenka and who had implored her to let her have her punishment, had to be dealt with first. Laura, who did not want to impair the working value of the girl, gave her six lusty strokes on the bare bottom and sent her away. Marta kissed the hem of her mistress's gown and went weeping back to her work, sending a last pitiful glance at Grushenka who lay sullenly on the floor. Madame Laura speedily got her up, though not without letting her have some lashes from the biting whip. She then led her to one of the empty dressing rooms, locking it resolutely from the outside. While Grushenka, crying helplessly, nude, awaited an uncertain fate between the four partitions of the small dressing room, Madame Laura wrote with her own hand a falsified billet-doux, which she sent away with one of her delivery girls. (We shall hear more about this document later.) As the hours passed, Grushenka stopped crying, having given in to her fate. Probably she would be branded now. They would brand her on the forehead if they sent her away to Siberia, but, if Sophia decided to take her into the whorehouse, she would be branded between the legs or on the shoulder blade so as not to mar her face.
They would lash her, put her on the rack, maybe break her bones… she must wait. She had done wrong. She should not have run away.
She lay motionless on the couch. She heard through the thin partition that the establishment of Madame Laura had become lively.
Deprived of her clothes, she got slowly up from the couch and started to move around in the small dark room. Some light filtered in through cracks in the walls, which she soon found to come from the booths which adjoined hers. She peeked through the crevices and discovered that she had views into the dressing rooms on either side. With the fear of her own fate in her heart, she began watching the happenings alongside of her. In the booth on her right sat an elderly gentleman, very correctly dressed in a long black coat, playing with his three cornered hat. Apparently, he waited for something. The rings on his fingers glittered with precious stones. Grushenka turned to the other wall A stony old woman sat in an easy chair. She was dressed in flashy colors; laces, ribbons and feathers hung all around her as if she were a young chicken. She supported herself with an oak staff, but, despite her old age and crazy dress, her bearing was impressive and commanding. Next to her sat a nondescript woman companion, while Madame Laura and one of her models tried to sell her a hat. The model and Madame Laura took new ones from white and cream colored boxes and described their beauty with sweet smiles and sentimental words, but the customer would not be satisfied. As a matter of fact, the old hawk rejected the idea of buying with the outspoken words which one would have expected from the mouth of an army sergeant. Madame, in turn, poked the model in the ribs and in the back, and, although the girl preserved her frozen smile, there was no doubt that Madame's finger held a needle which drove her saleslady to every possible effort to make the old lady buy. No such luck! She got up, remarking that nothing charming enough could be found to adorn her wrinkled old face, and shuffled out of the room. After Madame had bowed her out, she turned around and hit the model soundly in the face, leaving her to repack the expensive hats. The girl was accustomed to such happenings. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and went slowly but dutifully on with her work. Grushenka turned back to the peephole in the other wall and, as she expected, found Madame and the gentleman in animated conversation. It seemed that the gentleman had just paid a bill to Madame, probably for clothes which his wife had ordered. But he still had something on his mind. Madame knew very well what it was, but made a little play so as not to recognize his wishes too quickly- The gentleman, leaning from one foot to the other and stroking his mustache, finally said that he would like to see some styles, if Madame had a few models who could show him her newest creations. Madame smilingly asked whether he wanted to see the same models as the last time and whether it was not a good idea to show him her new line of underwear. The gentleman hastened to answer that the models the other day had been very lovely indeed, but that he would not mind seeing some others-all very lovely and very obliging, he was sure, if they worked for the famous Madame Laura-and that underwear was quite to his liking.
Madame responded that she would show him a few models, that he should act as Paris did with the Greek Goddesses but-Madame looked down at her hands which played with a few gold pieces. The gentleman smiled, assured her that the delicacy with which she handled the matter could not be surpassed by the most refined French woman-a compliment which Madame ate up eagerly-and he slipped her some more gold rubles. Madame Laura then left him to get her girls. The gentleman took off his long formal coat, displaying a waistcoat with silver buckles matching exactly his shoe buckles. No doubt this man was a dandy. His white wig with pigtail was immaculate, his black breeches and stockings of finest silk. He sat down on the couch and loosened the top button of his trousers with the beaming face of a man who knows that he will be taken care of. Presently Madame came back leading a flock of models, good looking girls with all kinds of figures, from the tiny blonde to the statuesque brunette. The girls wore all types of underwear but were uniform in one respect; they wore no stays, but small bodices, which hardly covered the lower half of their breasts and which left the nipples free. They had on embroidered shirts and long lace trousers, reaching to the ankles. While they walked around in a circle, through the open slits of their pantaloons one could get a glimpse of blonde, brown, or dark hair, an effect arranged that way by Madame, who understood showmanship. The girls hardly looked in the direction of the man; they did not want to attract his attention because they knew that he would pick out one of them for his purposes. He had them go around a few times, smacking his lips and looking them over very carefully. At last he pointed at two of them, both of them small girls without very good figures, at least in the judgement of the watching Grushenka. Madame dismissed the other girls, who left the room with an expression of relief, and, taking 'the two who remained into a corner, she whispered a harsh command.
The girls looked at her anxiously but seemed otherwise unmoved by what she said to them. Turning to the gentleman, Madame Laura now remarked that he had chosen two very obliging girls, but, should he have any complaint, she had a well-working leather whip which would change the mind of any stubborn little brat. Then, with a majestic nod, she left him. The girls sat down on the couch on each side of the man, put their arms around him and cuddled themselves against him with a faint, “Hello, uncle.” He, in turn, put his arms around their backs, grabbed then-breasts and was pleased with their behavior. “Now girls,” he started, “first of all close the
slits of your trousers and don't let that nasty hair peek out there. Sure, I believe that you have little nests down there, but who wants to get busy with such dirty little places?” The girls lapped over the sides of their drawers, closing the openings, and continued their dalliance. Cuddling him, one of the girls' hands passed the front of his trousers and he took hold of it and indicated that it was to open up his breeches.
Fumbling around with the buttons, the girls opened up the breeches and took out his instrument. It did not look too enticing to Grushenka. It was red, half-stiff and of a flabby fullness. “Kiss me,” said the gentleman to the other girl, “and put your tongue nicely into my mouth.” He then kissed her mouth, sucking it and glueing his mouth so hard to hers that she became breathless and red in the face.
“Oh!” he interrupted his kissing, “play better with your tongue, you little imp.” And Grushenka could see how the blonde girl made every effort to satisfy him. But she didn't succeed entirely. He let her go and started the same procedure with the brunette, who obediently was holding his machine in her fingers. “Let's see whether you're any better than she is.” She was. She had a broader tongue and rubbed it slowly and more firmly against his teeth and his tongue.
He grunted with pleasure. His sex feeling was swelling, but not his love instrument, which remained in its flabby state. It should be taken care of now, he decided. He arose and crossed to the huge standing mirror, which covered one side of the booth for the try-ons of the female customers. He threw one pillow in front of him, another behind him. Standing sideways before the looking glass, he told the girls to kneel down on these pillows. Of course, Madame had told them what to do, and, after they were on their knees, they pulled his trousers down to his ankles, rolled his gray silken shirt up underneath his vest and got busy. The little blond had Master Priapus before her. She took it in her right hand, put the left hand underneath the instrument and began to run her tongue over his belly, up and down the inside of his thighs, over the machine and its two (in his case, undernourished) companions, which hung limply between his legs. Finally she slipped the point of the shaft into her mouth and started, with easy movements, to slide her lips up and down the stalk-a stalk o which, by the way, was still not stiff. Meanwhile the brunette had opened the cleft of his buttocks with her fingers and, pressing her face firmly towards the cheeks, began to tickle the rim with her able tongue. Grushenka admired her work in that respect.