Dara

by AnonYMous

  He paused while the waiter placed on our table a pot of coffee and a plate of cakes. His tall, thin figure and elegant attire gave him the appearance of a man of some distinction. I must say I was impressed and a little overawed by the piercing dark eyes under a rather large forehead.

  Viewing the cakes with some distaste, it's a poor assortment,' he announced. 'Would you prefer something else?'

  On the plate were some 'Jumbles', thin crisp slices made from a mixture of treacle, butter and flour, and three-cornered puffs filled with sweet preserve.

  'Not for me. “Coventrys” are my favourite cake,' I said, biting into the puff pastry and letting the delicious warm jam fill my mouth.

  Handing me a steaming cup of coffee, he said, 'Now to business. I will give you thirty pounds a week for what you are doing for eight pounds.'

  Astounded, my mouth full of pastry and jam, I gazed at him in wonder, astonished that anyone was prepared to give me thirty pounds a week, just for exposing naked breasts. There must be a catch in it somewhere, I thought. 'Just for showing my breasts?' I exclaimed.

  'Well no. Not exactly. You will appear before my clientele with your skin covered in gold paint and completely naked but for a small piece of silk pasted over your vagina. For, make no mistake about it, you will be painted everywhere except on your back which will be covered by a rich, purple cloak, edged with white ermine.'

  I sipped at my coffee, taking time to clear my confused thoughts. The idea of appearing before an audience without any clothes on didn't trouble me a great deal. After all, I wouldn't be completely naked, with a piece of painted silk covering my private parts. 'What will the Lord Chamberlain say to me appearing without clothing?' I asked doubtfully.

  'He and his lackey, the Examiner of Plays, have no jurisdiction over medical establishments. There is nothing to fear from that quarter. We are not to be compared to a common playhouse,' he snorted with indignation. 'You will meet only the corps d'elite at my house in Pall Mall.'

  It was clear from his angry expression that I had committed a faux pas and that I had better watch my P's and Q's in the future. 'The Palace of Health and Beauty sounds a grand place,' I said deferentially. 'When can I see it?'

  Somewhat mollified by my change of tune, he replied, 'There is no time like the present. I will take you there now.'

  'Oh! But I have to prepare for this evening's performance at the theatre.'

  'Don't talk such nonsense, girl. They have no claim on you. You are working for me from now on. I will pay you for this week's work. Come along, there is no time to waste.'

  In a hired Brougham drawn by two fine bay horses, the doctor confided that the display of live statues at the Queen's Theatre had attracted many of his clientele. The result of this had been an alarming reduction in the number of people who usually attended his lectures on health and beauty. Sir Charles Cheyney, a close friend, had seen me on the stage and had returned to Hebburn House full of enthusiasm for my physical charms. In a long discussion with the doctor that had lasted until the early light of dawn, they had come up with the idea of a Golden Virgin, and had worked out all the details of how it could be presented to the upper crust of society.

  When the driver of the Brougham drove his carriage through the pillared entrance of Hebburn House I got my first glimpse through the foliage of the trees and shrubs of the impressive front of the Adam-designed mansion that was the Palace of Health and Beauty. On each side of the driveways that wandered across the spacious lawns of the front garden a number of elegant carriages were drawn up. Guarding the door were two very tall muscular porters wearing superb colourful liveries with large gold-laced cocked hats.

  There were several ladies and gentlemen, attired in the height of fashion, conversing in the reception hall. Every room inside was set out in the most lavish style with magnificent furnishings. The walls were hung with long draped, ornate gilt mirrors and oil paintings of languid nudes displaying their beautiful bodies in most provocative poses.

  A former banqueting hall was now used by the doctor for his lectures. About fifty carved mahogany chairs with rich red velvet seating faced a small stage at the rear of the room where there were two exquisite marble statues of the Greek goddesses, Hymen and Psyche.

  I was taken to a sumptuously furnished, large bedchamber on the second floor where two women, seated before a glowing coal fire, immediately rose to their feet as the doctor entered. One of them, a handsome woman about forty, was introduced as the matron and housekeeper. After a few words with Dr Kersley she took her leave of us with a polite apology for her hasty departure. I was to learn at a later date that she had the honour of sharing the doctor's bed and had his authority to dismiss any member of the staff who didn't meet with her approval.

  The other woman, Betty, was in her early twenties and a different class of person altogether. An overblown blonde, plebeian in looks and thoughts and, as I was soon to discover, prone to excitable, shrill laughter when a man was present. She was to be my personal maid when not working downstairs, so the doctor informed me.

  The next morning and during the days that followed experiments were made with various shades of gold paint on my skin to see which would shine most brightly when dry. My first ordeal was of having a triangular piece of silk pasted over my private parts and, later, the pain of it being removed. It was not to the doctor's liking as the covering showed a marked line beneath the paint. He refused to have any further experiments until all the hairs at my armpits and crotch had been removed.

  It took Betty and me nearly a whole day with small, metal tweezers to painfully pull out every hair on the parts affected. This harsh treatment left the skin inflamed and sore and another two days elapsed before I could bear to have the silk pasted on me again. The doctor was still not satisfied and, taking up the material, he cut out a small oval, pasted this miniscule of silk over my slot and insisted on a fold running down through the middle. The gold paint was then applied and he stood back, well pleased with his efforts to achieve the natural appearance of the nude female body and announced that invitations could now go out to the creme de la creme of high society for the first tableau of the Golden Virgin and her male attendants.

  'What male attendants?' I asked.

  'Two magnificent coal-black negroes wearing only brief loin cloths,' was the answer as he departed hurriedly from the room.

  In the early mornings before the ladies and gentlemen arrived, I was allowed to wander around as I pleased in the company of the ebullient Betty. Hebburn House was nothing less than a celestial paradise of sensuality, solely devoted to pleasing the sexual whims and vanities of the nobility. Health and beauty were its supposed aims but little attention was given to either. Private rooms for 'treatment' abounded everywhere. What went on behind those closed doors would have brought a blush to the face of Satan himself.

  All the staff had been chosen for being personally agreeable, blooming in health, sweet tempered and with a commitment to indulge the clientele in whatever they desired. They were attired in white, diaphanous chiffon robes drawn in at the waist by a gilt, chainlink girdle. Beneath their robes there was only a small loin cloth for the men and lace-edged pantaloons for the girls. The pantaloons were really two separate garments, one for each leg, and held at the waist by a silk tape.

  For ladies suffering from ennui but fearing pregnancy there were dildoe rooms where negroes, or white males, administered to their need for excitement and satisfaction.

  Young women with a rare talent for giving pleasure by massage served the noble gentry in chambers set aside for that purpose. The medical needs of the aristocracy were not entirely forgotten. Baths of warm sand mixed with aromatics and healing herbs gave relief to those with inflamed and swollen joints. The Hermippus technique of gaining new life and vigour by inhaling the breath of young maidens was very popular with the more elderly gentlemen whose hands were allowed to stray between the open pantaloons during treatment.

  Punctuated with bursts of shrill laughte
r, Betty went into lengthy details that left nothing to the imagination as she described these activities with obvious enjoyment. Although I liked the girl, despite her faults, the other members of the staff had a very poor opinion of Betty for being always ready to oblige any man who asked for it without thought of reward for services rendered. They considered she was as common as a barber's chair and just as easy to get into. What I liked about Betty was that she never had any reverence for titles. Dukes, lords, or randy porters were all the same to her; she made no discriminations. To her they were just men who had what she described as the 'necessary dilator' between their legs that gave her so much pleasure.

  With gold paint applied, auburn hair brushed until it shone like the gold on my body, I stood waiting to be called for my first appearance as the Golden Virgin. After Betty had tied the ribbons of the purple cloak around my neck in a neat bow, she led me to a full-length mirror. The transformation was such that, apart from the hair, I was unrecognizable as my former self. The mirror reflected a gold statue of lifelike proportions. Following out the doctor's instructions, I arched my back and straightened my shoulders. This stance brought a pert, upward tilt to my gold breasts, bringing a statuesque beauty and dignity to my naked body. The hazel eyes in the mirror reflected admiration and pride for the gold goddess image.

  The oily black negroes were about to lift me to their shoulders when the doctor hurried into the room with a many-faceted, highly polished piece of glass that sparkled like a large, cut diamond. With the aid of some very sticky substance he placed it firmly in my navel.

  Sitting high on the shoulders of the negroes, I looked down at the doctor as he slowly, with measured steps, led us into the lecture hall to the sound of a fanfare of trumpets. There must have been nearly a hundred people in the hall, all agog and impatiently waiting for my entrance. About fifty or more were seated in the mahogany chairs, the rest of the people standing at the rear and against the side walls. The sound of the trumpets ceased as I descended to stand on a raised platform covered in rich red velvet.

  At the first sight of my gold nakedness the audience were awe-struck, mouths agape and eyes nearly popping out of their heads. The men were gasping for breath and devouring every inch of my body with their lustful eyes. The ladies were admiring the muscular proportions of the negroes who stood at a lower level on either side of me. They were all spellbound for a moment or two, then quite spontaneously, they started to clap and cry out their applause.

  As soon as the excitement died down, Dr Kersley commenced his lecture. I thought it was very interesting but very few of the people seemed to pay much attention. The theme of his talk was fertility and virility. Using his cane to point out on my body the positions of various organs in the female, he launched into an attack on the faith some persons had in the aphrodisiac powers of Spanish Fly. He said more natural methods of arousal would bring about true happiness and conception.

  He then spoke of the 'Celestial Bed' that, until I arrived on the scene as the Golden Virgin, had been the main attraction of the establishment.

  'This bed of fertility,' he said with pride, 'is the only bed of its kind in the whole, wide world. It is my invention to stimulate any gentleman and his lady desirous of progeny. Twelve feet long and nine feet wide, it is supported by forty pillars of brilliant glass of the most exquisite workmanship, in richly variegated colours and surrounded by eight large mirrors whose reflections fire the limbs with greater energy.

  'We all know how virile and excitable a stallion becomes when taken to a mare. To bring vigour and warm desire to the gentleman, the mattress is stuffed with hair from stallions' tails that have a buoyance which is most helpful to the male in his efforts to propagate. To invigorate both parties the mattress has numerous inlets which are filled with ethereal spices and a pot-pourri of aromatized essences which give off, with each bounce, a most pleasing fragrance to stir the emotions of love.'

  Throughout the discourse his face remained at all times solemn and his voice extremely earnest. 'Primitive tribes in tropical climates have a form of contraception where the woman, after intercourse with the male, jumps violently up and down. My bed is designed to achieve the opposite result. It has a mechanism that, after coitus, tilts the lady's hips upwards to facilitate impregnation. The female desiring pregnancy must then lie in this position for at least half an hour to allow the spermatozoa to drain into the ovum.'

  Carried away by his own eloquence, he spread his arms out wide as if he was about to bestow a blessing on the audience. 'The superior ecstasy which the parties enjoy in the celestial bed can bring about the utmost satisfaction, for the barren are more likely to become fruitful when they are powerfully agitated in the delights of love Any gentleman wishing to spend an evening in the celestial bed with his lady wife, for a complement of a fifty pound bank note, may be permitted to partake of the heavenly joy it affords.'

  Night after night, for weeks, I had to listen to these lectures while the men explored every inch of my body with lust-filled eyes and the women speculated on the virility of the negroes flexing their muscles beside me. Nevertheless, it was an easy way to earn thirty pounds a week. There was little need or opportunity for me to spend my money as I was only allowed out for two mornings each week. The doctor didn't want me to mingle with his clientele.

  There was much curiosity as to my identity and Dr Kersley, knowing that a mystery is always an object of great attraction, added further interest to the enigma of the Golden Virgin by hinting that I was an illegitimate child of a European prince. Everyone actually believed that I was a virgin and some of the more wealthy gentlemen had offered the doctor considerable sums of money for the privilege of being the first man to bed me. He had to refuse these requests for the honour of depriving me of my maidenhood, for once it became known that I had lost my virginity I would lose my attraction as a desirable female.

  In the exciting intoxication of my life as the Golden Virgin, I had scarce given a thought to my value as the star attraction of Hebburn House. It wasn't until the end of June that I learnt from Betty that people were paying two guineas for admission to the lecture hall to see my naked, gold-painted body. It didn't take me long to work out that Dr Kersley was collecting over fourteen hundred pounds a week for displaying his Golden Virgin.

  That very evening, five minutes before I was due to appear in the lecture hall, I demanded a wage of one hundred pounds a week for my services. I was prepared for the angry consternation of Dr Kersley when I made a claim for more money, but not for the abuse that came from the tongue of his matron and housekeeper, Mrs. Murdock.

  In the convivial company of the nobility Mrs. Murdock was all grace and charm, aping their manners and speech but if any of the staff upset her she upbraided them with a stream of scurrilous obscenity. Lurking behind that sweet smile and snooty voice was a vitriolic, foul-mouthed harridan.

  'Shut your filthy gob, you cock-teasing, dirty bitch or we'll throw you back into the gutter where you belong,' she yelled in an intimidating voice.

  It was obvious that she had been nursing a jealous hatred of me for some time, and it was bursting to be released. In a blazing temper she made a swipe at me with an open hand and I reeled back as she screeched at the top of her voice, 'You've got a bloody cheek, you greasy-arsed slut. A hundred pounds just for showing your tits and buttocks? You brazen whore, who do you think you are?'

  My hackles rose and, looking at her with lips curled in contempt, I spat out, 'You are a two-faced hypocrite, coarse and disgusting and clearly not a lady. I only wish those people waiting in the lecture hall could hear you now. The stench from your filthy mouth turns my stomach.'

  She rushed at me, tooth and nail, ready to tear me to pieces. Before we could get to blows the doctor intervened, holding us apart at arm's length, and ordered Betty to take Mrs. Murdock to her room.

  With angry eyes wet with tears of vexation, she hurled further abuse at my head before Betty could get her through the doorway.

  Glaring
at me, the doctor gasped fiercely, 'Get down to the lecture hall at once.'

  I stood my ground and answered calmly, 'Not before I get your solemn promise that you will pay me a hundred pounds a week from now on.'

  He cast his eyes about the room as if seeking inspiration, took out his watch and looked at it anxiously and sighed in resignation at the stubborn expression on my lips. Alright, you ungrateful hussy. You have my word that's what your wages will be in the future.'

  My ears were deaf to the lecture that evening. I was too busy calculating how much money I had banked since coming to Hebburn House and what it would soon amount to. Seven weeks at thirty pounds plus two months at my new wage came to a sum exceeding a thousand pounds, which meant that within a short period I had risen from abject poverty to become a woman of independent means. I was cock-a-hoop at the thought of having enough money in the bank to keep me in comfort for at least three years. When you are flat broke you only have the choice of digging your own grave or getting back up on your feet, determined never to be penniless again. Money is a commodity you can depend on, which is more than you can say about men.

  Mrs. Murdock never ever spoke to me again but from that time on I knew she would be scheming to find some way of getting rid of me. It took her three weeks to find a girl who could stand in for me as the Golden Virgin if ever, as she put it to the doctor, I was ill or unable for some reason to take my place on the podium in the lecture hall. I could see how her cunning mind was working. With a substitute Golden Virgin waiting in the background I would never again be able to hold the doctor to ransom for more money.

  Mrs. Murdock's prodigy, Virginia Norman, was well-named but ill-equipped for the part intended because she was inexperienced, shy and, actually, was a sixteen-year-old, untouched virgin. I knew instinctively that in her innocence she would be unable to stand as I did, stark naked before the hungry lust of dozens of male eyes, and yet pose as an unruffled virgin, cool and confident in her superiority.