“Ridiculous. And excessive!” Vita was obviously angry.
“But Vita, you are different. You’re a woman alone, with a business to run—”
“Save your rationales for the garden parties, Miss. The only difference between you and me—”
“If you mean money and status—”
“Of course not! The difference lies in the fact that I’ve balls and you’ve none!”
“Meaning?” I felt indignant.
“Meaning that I’ve the guts to take the bull by the horns and do what I want with my life. You, meanwhile, cry in your tea each afternoon about how limiting the world is, when you’ve not the nerve to stand up for your own values!”
This was like a slap in the face. I was stunned to silence.
“And further, you can warm a hundred fannies, but you’ll never reach the place where you long to be. You’ve done it all backwards.”
“What? Being a ‘proper’ lady, marrying well, bearing children, growing old and dying with the same man. Is that your answer—”
“Of course not! You’ve got a brain too large for your skull, too many thoughts, and you can’t seem to sort through them. But let me hear the rest of your tale of woe.”
I sighed, reached for the tea, and instead drank the remains of the absinthe. “Basil found me, because I’d stayed so long, you see, apart from the crowd. ‘Dorian!’ he said. ‘You are upset?’ I was, by then, fairly under control, and told him so. ‘But I’ve come to comfort you,’ he said, in a whining tone.
‘Basil, you are awfully unjust. You come here to console me.
That is charming of you. You find me consoled already, and now are furious. How like a sympathetic person!‘ This upset him further. So much so that he pulled me to him and kissed my lips.”
Vita nodded in understanding.
“I’d never felt such passion directed my way, and it inspired me. Before I realized what was happening, Basil was undressing me in the little room. In time, I managed to blow out the candle so that once my trousers were down, he would see nothing.
“He seemed to know what he was about. But when I felt his hands on my body, I blurted out, ‘No. You must promise never to touch me with your hands. If you do, I shall flee.’
“His drive, apparently, made him conform to my wishes. He bent me over and I grasped my thighs just above the knees. Very soon, Basil’s rod poked at my bottom hole. The feeling was exciting and terrifying at the same moment. I had not anticipated that this opening could be used for anything but what my lifetime of experience told me it was used for on a daily basis. That anything could enter there…it was a new concept.
“Slowly Basil penetrated me. His cock is short, but thick. My opening burned and stretched and I felt much pain. But I also felt enthralled to be entered thusly, to have my cheeks exposed, even in the darkness, and to feel flesh enter my flesh. I found myself thrusting back against him as he thrust forward into me, despite the pain, which brought tears to my eyes.
“Basil was excited, and a few deep thrusts were all I received that day. Suddenly, he thrust very hard and deep and stayed inside me—I thought I could feel his organ pulsing. He moaned deeply. I felt…how can I say this, Vita?—”
“Owned?”
“Yes! That’s it! Owned. It was an extraordinary feeling.”
“And then?”
“And then we returned to the gathering. And, as it happened, several of the artists were interested in me in a variety of ways. Over the next week, I visited six of them and, using the same arrangement as with Basil, darkness and touch being forbidden, I was poked from behind by each, much to my delight, and theirs too, I assume.”
“The arrangement seems satisfactory. What happened?”
“Unfortunately, all but Basil live outside the country.
Within a fortnight they were gone, except for Basil. I began to come to his studio, as Dorian, and sit for a painting. Each session would be following by a session in the dark, Basil adhering to the rules, until the last occasion.” I then told her about how Basil had spanked me, and tried to touch me.
Vita poured me a second glass of absinthe, and with that came the telling of my adventures with Lord Henry and the stableboy, then with meeting Sybil. Soon I’d brought her up to date.
“And tell me, Miss, there’s something in all this that leaves you wanting.”
I thought for a moment. The green liquid, so reminiscent of the sea, so much like a child’s bitter candy, so enthralling when it weaves through the brain and causes the thoughts to clarify, then to dissipate like clouds on a windy day…
“How are you wanting?”
“They’ve all wanted me to be a man.”
“Well, you wanted that yourself, haven’t you? You go out of your way to dress the part.”
“Yes, because I’ve needed the disguise, else I could not have had any fun at all.”
“Pigs swill!”
“Vita, it’s true! How could I go about London by night as a woman? How could I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without my reputation being ruined? How could I paint and not be subjected to the wrath of my peers?”
“You look to what you can’t do and ignore what you can. I’ll give you that you’re inventive. You remind me of myself when I was a girl. But you’ve missed the mark, by a mile.”
“Then tell me what I must do, for I am certainly not happy now.”
“Alright, since you’ve sought my counsel, I shall advise you. It’s up to you, of course, whether or not you follow my rules. You’d be a fool not to give them a try, though, but perhaps you are a fool, and a weak livered one at that!”
Having Vita insult me penetrated my absinthe haze. I sat up straighter, prepared to launch into a defensive dialogue with her. She held up her hand.
“I’ve no need to give you advice. If you don’t want to hear it, just say so, and we’ll call it quits.”
I sat back and felt my mood alter. Vita might not have anything useful to say to me, but at least she had something to say, and no one else had. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Do go on.”
“There are three things you must do. The first is simple enough. ’Round the block, near the Marble Arch, is a shop that sells powders, temperas, from which paints are mixed. Go there today and buy yourself a supply of the primary colors, and a bit of canvas. You’ll need brushes too, and maybe some India ink, for drawings. Take it all home with you. Do you have a place where you might work alone?”
I told her of my small attic space.
“Fine. Go there and paint a picture or two. You’ve first to decide whether this is something you actually want to do, or something you’ve a fancy for but no real interest in or talent regarding.”
“Yes,” I said, “that makes sense.”
“And you’re to get over the idiotic notion that a woman cannot paint. There have been several, you know,” and she began to list off names I was familiar with, including Rosa Bonheur. “There haven’t been many, so far,” she informed me, “because it takes steel for a woman to walk her own path. But it can be done, and while some will scorn you, others will applaud, not that it matters. The rewards are what you derive from the activity.”
I thought for a moment and realized that she was absolutely right. I had yet to actualize my desires and could not yet determine whether or not they were real desires to create in the arts or simply fantasies that, upon seeing the light of day, would evaporate. “I shall do it!” I said.
“Good. That’s one thing. Next, you must promise me that you will not dress again as a man.”
“What? And why not? You, yourself, use a phallus—I saw you with one fucking the captain’s behind—”
“Such foul language for a lady!” Vita grinned.
Suddenly I was embarrassed. I could not imagine myself uttering the word I’d just used, and yet I did. “Perhaps you’ve infected me.”
“Oh, never the mind,” Vita said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “You’re too worried about convention.”
“Simply because you are not one.”
“Well, that’s obvious, but what is your point?”
“As a man, you will attract men yes. Men who are interested in men. You will also attract women—who are looking for men. Either way, you cannot really fill the bill. And what you’re doing will lead to disappointment, for all concerned. You must face the world as what you are, a woman, and find a way around what you perceive as limitations because of gender.”
Her words affected me greatly. Suddenly I realized that much of my bitter disappointment stemmed from just what she had said. Basil, and the other artists, even the stableboy, all treated me as a male. Should they have discovered my true identity, they would have been shocked, no doubt, and perhaps horrified. I could not fill the bill, and I knew that they would not be inclined to treat me in the same fashion, even if physically they could bring themselves to enter that same zone as well as the other. With Sybil, it was the same. She was attracted to me because she thought I was a man, or pretended she thought that way. Meanwhile, she wanted a real man, with a real phallus. Suddenly I felt utterly hopeless.
“Don’t berate yourself,” Vita told me. “Women, by far, have the greater license in this world.”
“But we have no phalluses!” I cried in despair.
Vita snorted and laughed. “You’ve a cunt, fool! And an anus too. And you can be fucked repeatedly for hours on end. What man can continue on without a pause? And the older they get, the longer the pause.”
This gave me some consolation when I thought about it.
“By dressing as a male, you’re cheating yourself and the others. As a woman, you’ve much more control than you realize.”
That statement wasn’t at all clear to me at the time. Later, though, I would grasp her meaning. I was about to ask for some clarification, but Vita was already on to point three.
“This last one will be impossibly hard for you, no doubt.”
“Say it,” I said. “What could be more upsetting than what you’ve already said?”
“Just this.”
She walked across the room and rummaged in a large leather chest there. From it, she withdrew a wide leather belt, very, very thick, about three inches wide and several feet long. It was a lethal looking tool. She handed it to me. The hide was raw, unstained, one side smooth, the other rough. Running my hands along it excited me. I looked up at Vita for an explanation.
“Give it to Sir Henry Wotton.”
“What?!? Just give it to him?”
“Yes. As a gift, if you like.”
“And then?”
“He’ll know what to do with it.”
“That’s all? Simply give this to him. And say what.”
“Say nothing.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too difficult.”
Vita’s fists went to her hips. She stood above, watching me for several minutes. Finally, she said, “Come, Miss. You’ve a lesson to be learned around my second point. Now’s as good a time as any.”
I stood on shaky legs—the absinthe left me wobbly and hazy, but I managed to follow her out the back door to the carriage house across the yard. Inside I found a peculiar space, filled with odd items, the likes of which I’d never laid eyes on before.
The downstairs was cluttered with apparatus that resembled nothing more than Medieval torture equipment. A bed with straps at the corners, for stretching no doubt. A chair with a metal seat. A cross, and another shaped like an ‘X’. And so many other things I did not have time to study, as Vita was already on the stairs, demanding that I follow her up further.
The second level loft had far less equipment. One item in particular seemed to be Vita’s object of desire. She led me to a type of bed, the frame exposed, the mattress a firm pallet, and said, “Strip and lie down.”
I felt no need to argue with her, and as quickly as the absinthe would allow, I peeled my clothing from my body until I was stark naked.
She pointed to the bed, not about to repeat her command, and I laid down. Immediately, she affixed straps with leather chains to my wrists and ankles, straps that did not hold me tightly to the bed, but allowed a movement of six inches or so.
I waited, feeling sleepy, while she moved about the room, doing what, I knew not.
Soon, though, she was back at the bed, fitting something to the sides, something that overlapped and went between my thighs. It was only when I felt my two openings being nudged that I realized what was what.
“I’m a virgin!” I exclaimed, not that I really gave a hoot at that moment.
“So you’ve said. And shall remain so. This is a short phallus, one that will only stimulate an inch at most. At least the first phallus. The other is another story.”
She fit the cock at my vaginal opening first, then moved that away and fit one at my anus, adjusting, until she had them in the correct position. Then she slid the bar forward between my legs.
My cunny was pierced just a little. But the cock at my anus buried deep in my rectum. I moaned in pleasure. I heard Vita adjusting screws until this tool was solidly fixed in place.
“You’ve almost a virgin bottom,” she said, as if this were something to be ashamed of. “I’ll go lightly, at least at first. Your job, Miss, is to bring yourself to orgasm, as often as need be, until I cease.”
“Cease what?” I asked.
“Cease punishing you.”
“Punishing me?” I said, horrified. “Whatever for?”
“For betraying yourself. For betraying your feminine spirit. I’m setting you on the right course.”
A shiver of terror ran through me. I’d seen Vita’s work with the Captain. Receiving her attention in the shop myself was one thing, but then I was a paying customer. Now, she seemed to see me as a protégé, in training, for what I did not know. I trembled at the notion that this was a different relationship entirely, and that I might suffer as never before at her hands.
Before I could say much of anything, although I did begin a protest, she stuffed a leather ball in my mouth, with leather bands attached, which she tied about my head. “I’ve a mind to blindfold you,” she said, “but I suspect you’ve been blind long enough all your life.”
I lay gagged, spread-eagled, waiting, my nether orifices impaled with leather cocks. It wasn’t long before Vita began putting into practice what had been only words.
A leather paddle came down smartly on one cheek, then the other. She paused, then gave each a sharp spank. Half a dozen later, I was writhing, trying to avoid the painful paddle. My writhing, I noticed quickly, stimulated my rectum and the bit of my vagina where the two leather phalluses were imbedded. Very quickly with the pain came excitement, and my juices began to flow. The restraints allowed me movement, and I found myself grabbing the top of the bed so that I might ride the cocks to my pleasure. And before long, I found that my pleasure overwhelmed me.
Oddly enough, while I orgasmed, the heat exploding inside me dimmer the fire at my ass cheeks for second. But once the orgasm had ended, I became aware once again of the pain, and now found it immensely pleasurable.
Vita adjusted the small piece at the edge of my vagina, adding an attachment that, when I moved, rubbed my clitoris in time as well. And then she used a riding crop on my behind, bringing me soon to a pitch where I rode the phalluses and rode them, bathing them in my juices until I felt my rectum and vagina squeezing hard and sending me into that state of rapture that I had only before tasted.
Vita worked on me all day, exchanging crop for leather shaving strop, exchanging strop for a leather belt, and that for a leather cane. My behind swelled in an agony that I adored, for it led to excitements that I had dreamed of but never believed I would actualize.
Overall, I lost count of my orgasms, although I know I must have experienced a dozen. Tears gushed from my eyes, cries from my lips and moisture flowed from my hot cunny and tight rectum. I “fucked,�
� as Vita would say, until I could barely move. Until my behind throbbed in screeching agony. Until I was virtually exhausted and could barely keep my eyes open, until I entered another state, one which I had not known existed, one where I felt receptive to all the universe, one in which I existed simply to please and be pleased.
At that point, Vita removed the leather from my mouth.
She freed me from the bed, pulled me to my feet and lay down herself. She was naked, her body large and muscular, but firm, hairy, and she had worked up a sweat. I loved looking at her. In that moment, she was the most gorgeous creature that had ever existed, a strong woman who knew her needs, and was in tune with the needs of others as well.
She spread her legs and raised her knees. Instinctively, I bent and crawled up the bed until my lips were kissing her hot pussy. She wrapped her legs around my neck. Her cunny opening was large and bright red. And coated with delicious liquid. She had a clitoris larger than any I could have envisioned, and I found it immediately, licking, nipping, sucking until Vita rolled and writhed in pleasure. I brought her to orgasm that way, but then began playing with her cunny hole, slipping my tongue inside, then my fingers, saving my thumb for her darling bottom hole, that opened so easily and admitted me.
I fucked her with my fingers, feeling her inside heat as her walls grasped at me and the moisture slid out of her. And when I grabbed her clitoris between my teeth again, she bucked and shook in wild orgasm, making me very happy, and also allowing me to see the fulfillment that was possible, if only I could myself reach it.
It was late in the evening when we finished—too late to shop for art supplies—so I rolled the leather strap tightly and placed it in my drawstring, then hailed another omnibus to take me home. Miss Pruit awaited me, with her tired hairbrush. I was in no mood for feeble attempts at stimulation. Now that I had enjoyed such magnificent training, and I could only think of my experience with Vita in that light, I vowed to myself that I would not settle for less again.
Any notions I entertained of forming a bond with Vita, though, had been nipped in the bud, for she told me quite directly that she had no shortage of trainees and that her list of waiting would indeed be long. To this she added, “And besides, Miss, you need something more regular, that is clear. And finding it is you task.”
Darker Passions: The Picture of Dorian Gray Page 11