'It is difficult, as I said, to decide what to do with you now that you have begun to question my authority,' she murmured. 'This vacancy, which solves the problem, is undoubtedly tempting. And the prospectus Mrs Brace has sent me is extremely attractive... Come here, Richard: sit on the arm of my chair, and we will look at it together.'
He obeyed; brought close to her, his hip brushing her shoulder, he breathed in the faint, intoxicating perfume of her body. He gazed down at the cover of the brochure, seeing a group photograph of a dozen depraved-looking youths and as many sullen girls ranged in rows against the background of a high-walled quadrangle and flanked by eight or ten powerful-looking women in loose white smocks and little caps.
'There are the inmates and the staff, Richard,' said Harriet. 'The woman on the right is Mrs Brace herself... You see, of course, what she has in her hand?'
Richard had already noticed the portly, imposing figure, the bulldog face, and seen the heavy whip doubled in her grasp. 'Yes, miss,' he mumbled, filled with horror before this realisation of what seemed to him an evil dream.
Harriet turned the page. 'And there is a morning "class",' she said. 'The boy on the block is not in an enviable situation, is he?' Stirred by the picture, she found her breath coming a little faster.
Richard took in the scene of public correction for an instant; then he closed his eyes. 'Oh, please... please, miss...' he stammered.
Harriet laughed softly. 'You do not relish such a prospect for yourself, I see. I can hardly blame you... But look: look here.' She turned another page. 'Is that not ingenious? Look at that wretched girl! This, I imagine, is something specially ordered for her... She has a wicked, abandoned face, has she not? And here is something else... Look, Richard, at the boy on the stale. He is having a good whipping, is he not? Ah, and there is another excellent idea. That boy, on his knees before the headmistress and in that room: what a curious humiliation!'
Richard was trembling, almost nauseated. He tried to close his eyes on the shameful pictures which Harriet was remorselessly displaying; but as if at the bidding of some sickly impulse in himself, he was unable to do so, remaining fascinated by this parade of scenes illustrating a veritable inferno of cruelty and indecency. Beneath him, Harriet's voice continued its gentle murmur.
'Ah, Richard,' she said, her voice trembling slightly, 'this book is indeed a temptation for me! What guardian with a problem like mine could be unmoved by all this, could not indulge her vision of her own charge figuring in these scenes, enduring these stern and wholesome punishments?'
She looked up; noting his white face she closed the prospectus abruptly and laid it on the table. Putting her arm around the boy's waist she felt the tremors that were racking his frame. 'There now, Richard, that is enough,' she said kindly. 'You must not be upset, my dear. I do not think there is any immediate necessity for sending you to Green Garden. You will not oblige me to do so, will you?' As she spoke, she crumpled the spurious letter from Mrs Brace quietly in her hand and tossed it into the fire.
But Richard, no longer able to control himself, had fallen against her shoulder, shaken by a fit of sobbing. All the tension of the past week, the uncertainty and remorse, the sense of having forfeited his governess's love and regard, and the new terror of being sent away to this terrible school, had come to a head and was discharging itself in an orgy of hysterics.
Harriet waited for a few moments, holding his hand tightly. Then she rose suddenly to her feet. 'That is enough, Richard!' she said sharply. 'You have nothing to fear. Stop it, sir.'
But now, with his whole body twisted by dry, strangulated sobs, he had lost control over himself altogether.
'Richard!' said Harriet. 'Did you hear me?' The next instant her open palm struck him a stinging slap on the cheek, making him stagger and catch his breath. 'No hysterics, sir!' she said. 'Come now, that is better... You must not behave like that. What I have just shown you was only meant as a lesson, in case you should ever resist my authority again. I hope you will never force me to send you away.' She smiled into his pale, quivering face. 'Indeed, it would be painful for me, too, to know you were suffering at the hands of someone other than myself... And I should miss you, too, while you were away, you know.'
He turned on her an imploring gaze. 'Oh then, please, please, miss... do not send me away! Only keep me with you... I promise I will never disobey you, I will do anything, anything you bid me - from now on...'
'Then you are sorry for having resisted me?'
'Oh, yes, yes...'
'And you will submit to me in all things?'
'Yes, miss.'
'Very good.' She sat down again, arranging the folds of her flowing white robes with a graceful, almost coquettish air.
'I will put your sincerity to the test...' She gave a little laugh. 'While I was in Paris this week I made a number of purchases for you, my dear. You will find one of them on the cabinet there. Bring it to me, please.'
He moved unsteadily to the cabinet; his eyes fell on the instrument lying on it, and he drew a short, deep breath. It was a thin, curling whip of black Russia leather.
'Yes,' Harriet murmured. 'You see, I had not ceased thinking of you... Well, what do you think of your new whip, sir? Do you think it will assist you to behave yourself a little better in future? Bring it here to me, I said.'
Trembling, he picked up the whip, noting its lightness and balance: little more than two feet in length, with a stiff handle that gradually became supple and tapered off to a fine short threaded lash, it combined the features of a dog-whip and a lady's riding-crop; the sheen of the leather and the silver mounting gave to its cruel lines an air of distinction and elegance. He handed it to her silently.
'Thank you. I see you have nothing to say about it. Possibly your opinion of its merits has yet to be formed... For my part, I only trust that it will help re-establish the proper relationship between us. You understand me?'
'Oh, yes...'
'Then we shall lose no time.' Reversing the instrument in her grasp, she raised it slowly, her loose sleeve falling back to reveal the strong, beautiful arm as far as the elbow. 'First, we will try it on your hands. Kneel down and hold out your palms, please. Very good... I notice your hands have become very soft, Richard, so I shall not be too severe this time...' Her arm remained raised, poised, for several seconds, as she studied her pupil's expression, noticing the trepidation of his gaze which shifted agonisingly from her face to the whip and back again, drinking in with pleasure his familiar reaction to her old method of keeping him in suspense. Then she struck.
She heard the clean, sharp report of the leather butt on flesh, saw the sweet wincing movement of the delicate face, its eyes closing, its cheeks abruptly wrinkled, as the red lips drew back and a short breath, half groan, half hiss, escaped them. She paused, her left hand on her bosom, her narrowed eyes glistening, feeling for an instant almost dizzy with the exquisite pleasure of once more inflicting pain on the boy; then she controlled herself, and began to strike the proffered hands - slowly, alternately, with an even, luxurious rhythm.
But after the first shock Richard hardly felt the pain. He was filled with a strange sense of lightness, of fiery exultation, that made him impervious to anything but the sensations of his own joy; with every stroke of the whip his eyes moved with utter absorption, mechanically, from the lovely, flushed, intent face of his tormentress to the rounded bare arm that rose and fell, rose and fell with such lazy inevitability. He was enraptured, carried beyond himself, and yet curiously, vividly, alive to certain details; first, he saw the little quiver and shake of the muscle in Harriet's upper arm, and then he noticed, with an indescribable thrill, how the lash of the whip, its end having escaped her grasp, was at each stroke wrapping itself around her forearm, imprinting on the white flesh an ever-deepening spiral of rose; watching the wayward little piece of whipcord at its work, he became fascinated, rapt, before the beauty of an accident which seemed to bring them closer than ever before, to make this pain, of whi
ch she seemed entirely unaware, a part of his own, involving them in the intimacy of a simultaneous physical suffering, a communion of their very flesh.
As for Harriet, she indeed felt nothing. But her heart was so full that after less than a dozen strokes she paused, unable to resist the ecstasy of love that swept over her, the whole extent of her passion for this youth kneeling before her; she grew aware, then, of the beautiful face raised to hers with an expression of loving submission, the dark-blue eyes filled with a simple adoration, the exquisite young mouth parted in an eager, tremulous smile. The sight was too much for her; she dropped the whip and held out her hands, and the next moment governess and pupil were in each other's arms, clasping each other with the passionate frenzy of two lovers who have been long apart. Without a word, Harriet devoured the boy on her knee with kisses, her mouth seeking his neck, his cheeks, his hair; and he, almost fainting with emotion, found the marks on her forearm and fastened his lips to them, imprinting them with the seal of his limitless devotion.
They remained thus for nearly a minute, silent, entranced, shaken by sighs, their entwined bodies faintly illuminated by the light of the dying fire. The room was almost dark before Harriet stirred and raised her head; her eyes felt heavy, her mouth soft, her whole body was lapped in the warmth of a rich sensuality; long tremors seemed to be passing through her from head to foot. She clasped the boy's body to her convulsively, then released him and gazed at him with swimming eyes.
'Take off your clothes,' she murmured.
She followed his movements with dreamy fascination; when he stood nude before her she could barely control herself. With a sharp effort she resisted the impulse to throw off her own robe and join her bare limbs to his - recovering herself, realising how close she had been to a total surrender. Surveying the rosy nudity before her, noting the boy's uncertainty and downcast eyes, she had a sensation of relief. - If he had made a move towards me, she thought, I would have been lost... Who could resist such a face and figure? Ah, thank Heaven I have trained him so well to the habit of respect.
Richard was aware of her languor falling away from her, of her air becoming suddenly firm, determined. But he had no sense of lost opportunities, or advantages missed; he was simply hers, in any character she wished him to adopt. Seeing her pick up the whip, he accepted now the role which that movement betokened as unquestioningly as he would have assumed, at her bidding, the role of her lover.
Harriet had already risen, her eyes had begun to gleam. She advanced and stood close to him, face to face. 'And now you are going to be punished,' she murmured, 'Properly punished...' She put an arm around his neck, smiling into his eyes. 'Do you still think you are too old for a whipping, Richard?'
'Oh no, miss, no! Forgive me...' Suddenly his voice broke. 'You shall whip me when - whenever you wish...'
Harriet, still smiling, kissed his smooth neck. 'Yes,' she said slowly. 'Yes, I shall. I promise you that.' She raised her mouth to his ear. 'And you would like me to,' she whispered. 'Would you not?'
Suddenly seized by a curious excitement, he met her eyes for an instant. 'Yes, miss,' he whispered back breathlessly. 'Oh yes, please.'
Harriet's eyes flickered strangely, and her face flushed. Then she stood back, looking at him intently, concealing her pleasure in his admission under a sudden change of demeanour.
'I am glad of that,' she said. 'It shows you are sensible of your own needs. And in return for that admission, I will allow you a privilege - a privilege I have had in mind for you for some time, and to which your age really entitles you.' She paused. 'From now on, when we are alone together, you may address me by my first name, Richard. In public, of course, you will continue to call me "miss" - but in private, as we are now, I shall be - Harriet. Do you understand?'
His heart leapt up. 'Oh, yes,' he breathed. 'Yes - Harriet.' Never, he thought, had a sweeter sound passed his lips.
She gazed at him for a few moments, dissembling her own emotion at hearing for the first time the syllables of her name on the lips of the youth she loved. Then she hardened her glance. 'And now - we will begin.'
Harriet sighed deeply, luxuriously, drawing the whiplash through her strong slender fingers. 'It is a long time, Richard,' she murmured. 'A long time since I whipped you, is it not?'
His reply, as softly uttered, fell on her ears like a caress. 'Yes, Yes, Harriet...'
And then in this room, warm and dimly lit as if for the celebration of lovers' rites, there was heard the sibilant whistle of the whip and the sound of its burning kisses - kisses at first soft, gentle as if given by a passionate mouth, then growing sharper, keener and more urgent, filling the air with the music of a unique passion, a voluptuous ecstasy answered and accompanied by the chorus of sighs and moans breathed from two pairs of lips, like another and sterner orchestration of that motif which was still unspoken by either and which had joined them in a dumb, inarticulate rapture only a few minutes before... Ah, there are many languages for love to use! But this, this wordless music that quivered in the air between Harriet and Richard is perhaps the most eloquent of all...
In the semi-darkness Harriet was listening to it like a poem, her flesh throbbing in a slow crescendo of passion, her knees weakening with the sweetness of her sensations, her arm gradually losing its strength. Her blows came more and more slowly, and all at once they ceased; she swayed on her feet for an instant - and then, pleasure threading her body like a tongue of fire, she sank back on the low ottoman, her knees pressed together, her breath exhaling in short sobs.
For a second only Richard gazed at her; then he sprang forward and threw himself on her, joining his lips to hers, pressing his naked body against the white robe through which the convulsive movements of his governess' body answered his own.
They remained clinging to each other for several minutes, shaken and exhausted by the beauty of the experience.
'Miss... Oh Harriet,' murmured the boy. 'I am sorry...'
'Richard—' said Harriet; for a few moments she was unable to say more. At last she sat up, gently disengaging his arms. She tried to assume an air of disapproval, but found herself smiling. 'Very well, Richard,' she said quietly. 'Now go, leave me... It is time you were in bed.'
He rose obediently, devouring her with a supplicating gaze. 'Then - then you are not angry?'
She looked at him with a strange, enigmatic smile. 'No, I am not angry - not yet.'
He had a moment of boldness. 'And will you - will you kiss me goodnight in my bed, tonight? Oh, please... Harriet.'
'Yes, Richard. I will kiss you goodnight. Now go.'
It was late the next morning when Richard was roused, from the happiest of dreams, by the grasp of Harriet's hand on his shoulder. He sat up quickly, the smile on his face fading as he confronted the stern regard of his guardian.
'Get up at once,' she said curtly. 'At once, if you please!' Her open palm, making a stinging contact with his cheek, awakened him completely.
He stared at her, dumbfounded before this alteration in her manner from the night before.
'Did you hear me?' she said, her nostrils dilating.
He sprang out of bed and began his toilet. But that morning his haste and anxiety to please availed him nothing: less than five minutes went by before an occasion was found for further blows. Before he was dressed his cheeks were pink and smarting, and he was in tears of pain and bewilderment.
'Wretched boy!' said Harriet. 'I should like to give you a good flogging, here and now.'
But she did not do so.
What, we may ask, was the reason for this apparent ill-humour of hers, this severity so much at odds with her tenderness of the previous night? To answer this, we must know the course of the young woman's thoughts and actions since she had kissed her ward goodnight.
After quitting Richard's bedroom, Harriet had had time to consider soberly the events of that evening and to realise the danger she had been in, the danger not only of yielding to her feelings for this youth, but of having been close t
o abandoning herself to him altogether. Lying in bed, with the fever of her senses temporarily allayed, she had become alarmed as she understood the narrowness of her escape. Now, for the first time, she grew aware of the possibilities inherent in the situation in which she found herself: alone with Richard in a public hotel, unable to humiliate and tyrannise over him without causing comment, she was exposed to all his adolescent attractions and to the intensity of their mutual passion. It was, she saw suddenly, only a question of time before she would destroy, in a moment of weakness, her whole far-reaching plan for their future life together! We must leave this place at once, she thought: yes, it is time to accept Helene's offer of the chateau. The occasion has arrived sooner than I had thought.
Early the next morning she had sent off her telegram. An hour later the reply had arrived. She read it with a rush of relief and satisfaction, and thrusting it in her bosom she went up to rouse Richard in the manner we have described. And only now, seeing the boy reduced once again to his condition of abject submission, was she able to relax. 'Come now,' she said to him with a faint smile. 'Dry your eyes and we will go down to breakfast.'
She was silent and preoccupied during the light meal; when they had finished she broke her news to him. 'You will have your clothes packed in an hour,' she said. 'We are leaving before luncheon.'
He stared at her open-mouthed for an instant; then, seeing her brows draw together, he lowered his eyes. 'Yes, miss,' he said hurriedly, 'I will pack at once... But - but where are we going?'
Harriet did not reply immediately. She had drawn out her friend's telegram and was re-reading it. A little sigh escaped her, the thin sheet fluttered in her fingers as her eyes drank in the message once again:
THE CHATEAU IS YOURS FOR A MONTH BERTHE AND ANGÈLE MEET YOU AT THE STATION AMUSE YOURSELF WELL.
HELENE
- Berthe and Angèle, she was thinking luxuriously: I could not have hoped for their assistance. Yes, we shall amuse ourselves well, very well...
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