by Victor Bruno
There was one bright spot in my life. The intense pleasure of my Mother at my continual progress. Such was her delight, I never had the heart to tell her of all that I had to endure to achieve the ends she so much desired. She knew that I was subject to corporal punishment, naturally - for it was the normal thing then - but she would never have dreamed of the extent of it. And here I must make a confession. As I have just said, as time passed I was able to develop a more manly attitude towards punishment. However, beyond that, there even became an element of pleasure in being punished by Madame Maxine.
Of course, it was still a painful process, and I suppose the pleasure was in the mind.
To be so dominated by so beautiful a woman sometimes gave me the most intense feelings of delight. These feelings came mainly before and after a beating, with the actual physical torment in between. Often I would be brought to erection at the thought of being punished by my Governess; there were other times when I would achieve erection whilst actually being chastised by her.
She must have seen my state... but never did she make any comment on it, nor did she take any action about it.
More and more, I idolised my lovely Madame Maxine. She became even more of a Goddess to me. Had she not transformed my whole life? Virtually made a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? There were many times when I may have not enjoyed the means of that transformation but it could not be denied that it had taken place. And for that I found myself truly grateful.
Yes... my ‘Belle Dame Sans Merci’ did indeed hold me in thrall!
***
When the time came, I passed my Higher School Certificate (as it was then known) with considerable ease. Honours in two subjects... Latin and French. Perhaps you will recall how much I had once hated Latin!
The success was something I would never have dreamed of eighteen months previously. You might as well have told me I was capable of flying to the moon. And it had all been brought about my the will and discipline of Madame Maxine. Admittedly, through the months, my bottom had borne the brunt of her determination to make me succeed. But that repeated stimulus had been transmitted to my brain. It was like a flame set to dry grass ...
Flames! Flames of pain! Yet creating a mental conflagration all the same.
I went to University. My dear Mother was overwhelmed with delight. Madame Maxine expressed the minimum of congratulations. There was a somewhat smug look on her classically cold features.
“I told you I would make you do it, Spencer,” was all she said, “and I did.” Then her face hardened slightly and her dark eyes flashed in the way I knew so well. “You will continue with your efforts. Don’t forget that, though I am not there, I shall be watching for your results.”
“Yes, Ma’am... yes... “ I stammered. Though I was nineteen, and quite a man, she was still capable of making me feel like a young boy. I remember how I flushed as I stood before her for the last time in that study. The study I had once dreaded so much. “Thank you. Thank you, Ma’am... for all you have done,” I managed to stammer.
Those slim black eyebrows arched. “All?” she queried, with a little smile.
I flushed more deeply. “Yes... everything, Ma’am,” I replied.
She inclined her head. “You may go, Spencer,” she said. “But don’t forget what I said.”
I left that study, as I had done so often before, feeling my tail was between my legs. That domineering contempt of hers always made me wilt. Even when I had cause to be satisfied; even when I could be counted a success, she was capable of making me feel that way.
Perhaps the only thing that can be said in compensation of that final exit of mine was that, at least, I did not go stiff and wincing, fighting back tears, with burning bands of pain encircling my bottom!
***
Arriving at University, I found the absence of Madame Maxine an almost immeasurable loss to me. It was as if part of my own being had been suddenly removed. I felt both lonely and sad. Soon I had become introverted. Just to have seen her in the distance would have been a delight to me. To have been summoned to her presence would have filled me with joy. Even if I knew she had summoned me for a thrashing. Indeed, often when I thought of Madame Maxine thrashing me, I felt a lustful heat in my loins... and in a strange way, I knew I wanted her to thrash me.
Sometimes I told myself I was ‘in love’ with her. Then, even as I thought it, a hot flush would go through me. How dare I presume to think of my divine Madame Maxine in that way? It was arrogant of me. An arrogance which might justly be punished. Yet... oh yet... I could not deny that ecstatic emotion I had for her. In the end I was able to transmute it into a desire to serve her, in whatever way she wished. To do that, I told myself, was all I dare or could ask.
As a result of this distant adoration, which filled my whole being, I had nothing at all to do with girls of around my own age. They seemed to unworthy when compared to Madame Maxine. My stand-offishness made me unpopular (naturally) and many thought I was a homosexual. Not so, need I say.
All the same, it is understandable I had to have some form of sexual outlet, and I continued to masturbate with some frequency, as I had done in the days when I was at the private school. On every such occasion Madame Maxine filled my fantasy world.
Another result of this lonely introversion was that I could concentrate on my studies. Whilst doing so I was further encouraged by the thought that, by doing so, I would ultimately please my ex-Governess. My tutors, all male, became delighted with my progress - though one or two suggested I should ease up occasionally and take more exercise. But I had no inclination for the robustness of University sports and games. Perhaps I looked so ‘pale and loitering’ they may have thought I was heading for a nervous breakdown.
Once, greatly daring, I wrote to Madame Maxine, to tell her something of my progress. I thought she would be pleased - but received no reply. I grieved for weeks over that.
In the Vacation I would sometimes think of visiting the ‘old school’, but could never work up sufficient courage. I could just imagine the cool disdain with which I might be treated.
“What do you think you are doing here, Spencer?” I could almost hear her saying.
Not until my third year did I actually decide to make a call. I was on the verge of my Finals... and felt a last stimulus from Madame Maxine might be of benefit. To my shocked horror, I found the school closed. The place I had so much once dreaded entering was shuttered and silent! What enquiries I could make elucidated no information as to what had happened, nor of Madame Maxine’s whereabouts. I almost felt bereaved.
However, it determined me to do even better on her behalf. I won a First - in Ancient and Modern Languages.
Then, at twenty-two - and still a virgin - I came down from University.
The world was my oyster ...
Or was it?
The difficulty was, where could my talents be put to the best use?
I had no desire for the teaching profession - and my abilities were of scant use in the commercial world, it seemed. In the end, after long discussions with my Mother (who was now becoming both old and ill) it was decided that one of the higher echelons of the Civil Service might suit me best. There was always a niche for a man with a First - especially in so esoteric a subject as Ancient and Modern Languages!
However, drawing on her life savings, my Mother insisted that I have a six-month holiday before I did anything else.
“You owe it to yourself,” she said. Perhaps I did. “In any event,” she added, “I can make no use of the money at my age and in my condition.” That was true too.
I took the money and, without any preconceived notions, headed for the Continent. Paris, Berlin, Rome... I would sample them all at my leisure. Why... I might even lose my virginity!
Chapter 6
It was in Paris that I ran into Madame Maxine again. Having sampled Berli
n and Rome - and some of the Provincial cities - and finding myself a little bored, I headed to what was then thought of the ‘naughtiest’ city of them all. Perhaps there, at last, I should be able to prove my manhood. The thought of it still made me feel guilty. As if I would be doing something without the permission of my Governess, you might say! How absurd that must seem to some. Yet such was the mental and psychological hold she still had over me.
The meeting place was a lecture hall, where I had gone to hear some learned professor expounding on Oriental Languages - which were beginning to interest me. There were perhaps a score of us there, all seated on small gilt chairs set before the lectern... and I recognised her first from the rear. There was no mistaking that swan-neck, that austere profile, the straight set to her back, the air of controlled power she always seemed to exude.
Quite literally, my stomach seemed to turn a complete somersault. I first felt sick, then somewhat faint. My desire to flee the place was as strong as my desire to remain rooted to my chair, gazing at my Goddess. In short, my whole being had been thrown instantly into a turmoil. One moment I was hot, the next cold. My hands trembled and my knees felt weak as the professor droned on, unheeded by me.
Then, perhaps ten minutes after I had first spotted her, Madame Maxine turned her head a little to one side. She favoured me with a faint but recognisable smile of recognition.
My heart was pounding like a steam-hammer. There, so near, was the woman who knew me more intimately than perhaps any other. Physically I had no secrets from her. Time and time again she had reduced me to a blubbering wreck. My respect for her authority had been limitless, my obedience to her complete.
Would it not be best to leave before the lecture ended? The thought of facing her filled me almost with terror. Yet I wanted to meet her again so much! I felt utterly ridiculous and unmanned at this clash of emotions. Then it occurred to me that Madame Maxine might even ignore me at the end of the lecture. Perhaps that would be even worse than anything.
So, in the end I remained where I was, sweating with anxiety, not even daring to turn my head to look at my Goddess.
Suddenly it was all over. The professor had got down from the lectern. People were on their feet. Me included - legs rubbery. Then Madame Maxine was before me. Her eyes riveted me. My own could not hold their intense gaze, and I felt myself actually shudder as I flickered them away.
“Well done, Spencer,” she said in her calm, controlled way. “But it was no more than I expected of you.” She seemed completely unconcerned by the unexpectedness of our meeting.
“Th-thank... y-you, Ma’am.” I managed to say. Nothing had changed. Still I felt like a small boy standing there before her. A small and guilty boy waiting for her to make all decisions.
“Your Mother wrote and told me you were attending these lectures,” she said.
My brain seemed to buzz. So... the meeting had not been entirely accidental. Indeed, Madame Maxine seemed to have contrived it! A pleasure so intense went through me that it almost hurt. At the same time, idiot-like, I found myself blushing crimson and could not control it.
“I think this occasion merits a drink,” said Madame Maxine. Then she turned and walked towards the exit. In a kind of daze I followed the undulating swing of her superb hindquarters - still under the familiar tight black skirt. Perhaps she had put it on deliberately, as some kind of reminder of former days.
But things had changed. No longer was I her pupil. I was a grown man. We were, in one sense anyway, equals. It would have been unthinkable for her to have suggested we should drink together a few years previously. I began to feel light-headed, yet at the same time intensely nervous.
Then I found us seated at one of the Paris side-walk cafes. In the Champs Elysées, I think we were. Glass partitions had been put up to keep out the chill of the evening air. The place had an intimate, almost cosy, atmosphere and was very full, with everyone chattering away and ignoring those around them.
“Garçon ...” Madame Maxine snapped her fingers imperiously and a waiter appeared immediately at her side. She was that kind of woman.
“Monsieur - Dame?” enquired the man obsequiously.
“Two créme de menthes frappés,” said Madame Maxine. It hardly occurred to me that she had not consulted me. I would not have expected it. “I suppose you drink, Spencer?” she added.
“Yes... Ma’am... a little,” I said. I was already beginning to feel awkward. It was really absurd that I should be calling her Ma’am, yet I just couldn’t help it. Also I tried to tear my thoughts away from the voluptuous lovliness of her body. She seemed to have matured to an even greater beauty. Even now only about twenty-eight, I realised hotly. A woman, not a Governess! And me now a man in every sense. In every sense but one, that is.
Madame Maxine favoured me with a big, generous smile. “I think,” she said, “we can now drop the Ma’am, nice though it is to hear it again. For a while, anyway. What have you been doing, John?”
I began to tell her about University... but she stopped me.
“I know all about that. At least I know your results, so you must have worked long and hard. As I told you, too. No, since then.”
“Not much,” I replied, just stopping myself from calling her Ma’am. Then I gave her a brief account of my continental journeying.
“You have not once mentioned the subject of women, John,” she said when I had finished.
Once again I began that ridiculous flushing. “I... I haven’t had... much to do with g-girls, Ma’am,” I said. Damn it, I’d fallen back again.
She smiled again. “If you want to call me anything, call me Miss Dee,” she said. “Madame Maxine was a name I used when I was acting in my teaching capacity.”
Again my nerves flared. ‘Madame’ implied marriage, yet I had never thought of my Governess as married. Now it seemed I had been right. Miss Dee... it seemed so strange to think of her as that.
“So you are still a virgin,” she said, nodding her head.
My confusion increased. It seemed unbelievable that we could be sitting there talking about such intimate matters. Yet everything about my one-time Governess had always been somewhat unconventional, to say the least.
“Your silence is sufficient answer,” she said. She nodded again. “But I am glad to know it.”
Glad! Why on earth should she be glad? My head was again in a whirl. The green liquid remained untouched.
“Because, John,” she said, “a second stage of education is beginning. You are going to learn how to become a man.”
She smiled yet again. “Or rather,” she added, “you are going to learn how to please a woman.”
I could scarcely credit what my ears took in. The implications of it were far beyond my wildest imaginings. My heart seemed to be filling my throat to choking point. If the floor had opened up beneath me I could not have been more surprised.
“Come along, John,” she said. “It is time to go ...”
In a daze I rose from my seat and, stumbling, weaved my way between the crowded tables behind her.
***
A large and luxurious apartment. In fact, a penthouse in a tall block just off the Boulevard Raspail. Warmth, low lights, womanly scents, an electric atmosphere ...
Miss Dee, relaxed in a chair, shapely legs crossed, skirt riding high ...
Me, trembling inside... enthralled, mystified... alternately excited, alternately fearful... wishing to show a manly boldness, yet displaying a boyish shyness ...
“You may sit down, John,” she said.
I had still not lost the habit of standing in front of her. I sat down on the edge of a deep, soft armchair.
“I have kept in communication with your Mother, John,” said Miss Dee. “In view of the way I trained you earlier, she has complete confidence in me.” I could understand that. “So I must inform you th
at I have her full approval for the second stage of your education. Higher Education, I think we might call it.”
Miss Dee smiled faintly.
I still could not believe or properly comprehend what I was hearing. Education? To learn to become a man? Incredible! Yet I could not deny a deep-down burning delight that I was again this woman’s ‘pupil’. That had been a lack in my life for all too long now.
“Your Mother is concerned that you should not go astray with flighty girls. That you should not become dissolute... and so waste your strength as well as your talents. So it will be my task to implement these wishes. So you are going to stay here with me ...under my control and direction... under conditions of the strictest discipline... for a year. After that, the matter will be considered again.”
My heart bounded joyfully. There was a sudden, flooding heat in my loins. Yet at the same time, I felt an awful dread. Those words... ‘control’, ‘direction’, ‘discipline’... could mean but one thing. For who knew better than I of Miss Dee’s methods!
“Is that clear, John?” she asked quietly.
“Yer... ess... yes... I think so, Miss Dee,” I replied.
“Of course,” she continued, “our relationship will be on a quite different footing from our previous one. This will be a relationship of the greatest intimacy. Understandably so, in view of its nature. However, that dos not mean you will be permitted to take any liberties whatsoever. You will be as subject to me, and as obedient to me, as ever you were at the school. You will not question my reasoning, my actions, or my authority. All will have a proper purpose behind them, even though that may not always be evident to you at the time. If you behave, if you progress as I wish, all will be well for you. Or reasonably well, should I say. If not, you will suffer to such a degree that my little school will seem a Paradise by comparison. Am I beginning to make myself clearer?”