Phhhh-wrlpp!
TWELVE!
As the last, and worst, of my count slogged into my writhing underbum, I jerked on my frame like some gaffed trout trying to shriek but making no sound.
What a frightful flogging. How thoroughly had it penetrated my every fiber and overcome me. I was in the German term "hewed." Every pore of me exuded pain; every inch of my flesh seemed to ache from the ministrations of that merciless ivory cane.
As I rocked in my bonds I heard him moving behind me; there was the sound of removed clothing, falling to the floor. Then that sonorous voice close up behind me, almost in my ear: "Jane, you certainly look as if you felt warm. Well—so do I!" It was my master . . . Edward Fairfax Rochester.
12
When a girl was awarded Detention at Lowood, her name went up on a board at noon and she presented herself that day, at three o'clock in the afternoon, to the Duty Room. The award was usually for one hour or, in extremely unlucky cases, two; if three or more were awarded, they were paid off successively. On certain occasions it was possible to amnesty oneself off an hour's Detention by application to the Duty Mistress before lunch; she might then exchange this Demerit for a tight six of the best, but it was up to the mistress to decide. Generally, since they had to be on duty through the afternoon, they liked to have three or four girls to torment—as who did not at Lowood? But the best would be for me to describe, without further preamble, my own first Detention—as a typical sample. It was to be the first of many. Three girls in all were up that afternoon: a Major called Bunty Tree, a really hefty brunette of the name of Priscilla Stevens, and humble me. Scotch Miss Smith was the presiding Duty Mistress.
"Just so long as she doesn't get out that beastly barrel," said experienced Bunty Tree as we waited disconsolately in the corridor outside the Duty Room. "I hate that."
"What I can't stand is the carrot," Priscilla opined. "Ugh! It goes so horribly deep."
I had learnt of the latter and was about to inquire of the former, when we silenced as one; steps were approaching and presently Miss Smith appeared, carrying the customary swishy cane and followed by two mischievously grinning tall maids. We dropped into curtseys, they went inside, and we waited dolefully, listening to their laughter. Then the door was thrown open and Miss Smith beckoned us in, smiling, "Come on in and make yourselves comfortable. Take all your clothes off except your shoes and stockings, and put your knickers in that barrel over there."
The first thing I saw was a polished wood water barrel; the second was a rank of three frightful "carrots," of which I had heard Aunt Reed referring to Mr. Brocklehurst. We shivered as we stripped, the maids occupying themselves with dismaying preparatives at the side and the mistress swinging her stick. It was said that much of the ritual of Detention had gone by the day I got to Lowood. There had been an infamous Black Box, it seemed, and certain chips of wood, and frightful shoes with spikes under the heels in which you had to walk. Perhaps some of the apparatus had passed into disuse; there was still enough to vex us horribly—thin jets of scalding water, and methods of suspension that were ingenious and ignoble in the extreme. Detention was meant to be a deterrent, and was.
When we were ready, Miss Smith called our names and announced an hour for each. Then she said briskly, "Stand out, Bunty, and bend over with your palms on the ground."
Bunty Tree duly received five whistlers, right in the fold, then Priscilla four, myself three. While we stood rubbing ourselves, Miss Smith said, "Now then. I advise you three to co-operate wholeheartedly. If you do not I shall have no hesitation in awarding you a Demerit and helping you to pay it off tonight, over the board. You are not here to enjoy yourselves and we shall begin by seeing how you like sitting on one of our special stools for a matter of twenty minutes or so. Rose, Catherine," she called to the maids, "are all the carrots eight inches?"
"Or more, Miss."
"Put them on, then."
We approached the three stools, ranged one behind the other, most gloomily. Their purpose was all too plain, even if we had not known it, from hearsay, already. Each stool was more a saddle than such, low and with its wooden seat flanged out to separate the hinds. From the center reared up obscenely a thick black meatus or prick, already coated with grease by the maids. These monstrous dildoes with their bloated heads had but one errand—to go up us, deep.
Bunty Tree straddled her carrot first, thoughtfully. Before she lowered herself on it her wrists were secured high up her back behind (a woman's can go much higher than a man's) and the shackle secured to a bit between her teeth, which held her head well back. Then she squatted slowly, each maid holding wide her hams. The dildo divided her, sinking slowly up her gut; suddenly, when it seemed half up, the maids yanked at her ankles and with a grunted cry she impaled herself helplessly on the thick false prick. Her ankles were then fastened under the stool so that no purchase on the floor was possible. The girl was potently pierced. It was the turn of big Priscilla Stevens.
Poor Priscilla made a frightful fuss, begging off piteously until well and truly bitted. Her great blubbery buttocks were quivering like those of some mare in heat as she lowered herself, squatting. The cobra knob entered the anal dimple, grotesquely distending it, then she uttered a shrill squeak as the malicious maids yanked back her ankles and visibly, before my aghast eyes, the girl's weight slowly impaled her on the greasy pole to its very root. Her buttock cheeks squashed sideways on the twin wings of the stool and, with knees parted, her ankles too were brought back and secured beneath the frightful seat. My turn was next.
"Big enough for you, Jane? I think you'll feel you've got something up you in a moment. Count yourself lucky it's greased."
The edges of my lips were now being treated to a little of the same crude oil—preparatory to the biting —for they were not cruel at Lowood.
"Right down on it now."
My legs were astraddle the awful thing. I began to squat, distaste writ large on my writhen features. Though my head was back, I could just see in front of me the broad fat back of my predecessor; sweat was slipping down the furrow deeply drawn between her shoulder-blades and she was making hopeless efforts to wriggle up off the cruel skewer dividing her. Then the cold knob prodded at me. Ah God! The head slipped in, the thick corona popping into the ring of muscle there, and then the wicked maids caught me up under each buttock cheek, holding my legs behind the knees. I knew what they were going to do and squirmed lustily, legs off the ground entirely, and impaling myself more in the process. They let me have a good long slide down the dreadful dong and by the time they had secured my ankles beneath me, it was splitting me in two.
How would you, gentle reader, care to sit for twenty minutes in this pose, with a stout plug up your guts? I thought it a rotten way to treat a girl, and still do. Our breathing came fast, our lips drooled; Priscilla was making a regular snoring sound in front of me. After what seemed a century Miss Smith said cheerily, "You have had one minute, girls."
My seat was soon slippery with sweat; the more one tried to squeeze up off it, the more soundly did one seem to impale oneself on the "carrot." I had a constant feeling of wanting to "go." We were all breathing like runners when the mistress said quietly, "Increase penetration. One inch."
Mad groans of protest from Priscilla. It was done, by some mechanism beneath the seats. And it was done once more before we were finished. Finally, to our terror, the command was given to the maids to rotate the things within us. The great fisted heads started to revolve within our depths. Then the groans of the damned truly began. Never had I known such griping. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead; a steam arose before my eyes. The rotation was slow but solid, probing to the depths of our clenching intestines. At last the smiling face of the Scotch mistress with the red hair appeared in the mists above me and I realized I was being raised by the two maids. I arose shakily, to the accompaniment of a long suctioning sound completed by a loud pop. I fell on my side on the floor somewhere, bumping my head into Priscilla's base there
; it was a softish bump. We all lay panting, our sweaty flesh heaving, still cruelly bitted and bound, while the next atrocity was prepared for us.
For there was never any respite in Detention. Up it was—the creamy fat before me streaked with two blue lines for slowness in rising—and over to the celebrated "bar."
From another wall, at about chest-height, protruded a number of ebony rails, each about as long as a stout walking stick and no thicker than it; each was serrated or notched atop, and grease had been put here too. We were allotted fifteen minutes astride these fiendish seats, being mounted in turn.
Facing the wall, still bitted and bound, I had to stand on two stools either side the bar and stride it. Then I must lower the most tender portion of my anatomy and take my horrid "seat." A maid made sure one's lips were well parted and that the bar sank fully in each vulnerable vulva. We hung thus helplessly, our legs each side, as the stools were taken away. Finally, a rod was extended from the wall which pushed back our shins; in this way the seat was made more cruel than ever. We were hinged like three parallel bows, frowning at the wall and sweating like mad; it was impossible to shift or swing one's weight in any way thus, so as to mitigate the dreadful pressure on the cunt.
I think I minded this the most, though I did hear the dull thud of a cut as Bunty Tree got a beauty for something. Though heavy, Priscilla made less protest than she had on the carrot. Each girl had her personal dislikes. Again an aeon seemed to pass, when behind us we heard, "For the last five minutes, the weights."
The shin-rods were removed and heavy weights affixed to our ankles. This was quite excruciating and I for one began to babble and shout. Judging from the sounds about me the others did so, too. All else that could be heard were the rich chuckles of the maids, watching us. When we were let down, we veritably huddled on that floor like so many slaughtered birds of prey, sides still palpitating, but that was all. There was, we surmised, one more ordeal possible in the time allotted. I prayed it would not be the high platform which, like that hoisting at Mrs. Reed's, attacked some sensitive portion of my soul.
For the final fifteen minutes—the preparations filled in the rest of the hour—we were crucially stretched or racked. First, we redonned our corsets which were breathlessly tightly laced. Then, in line, each of us was stretched in parallel apparatuses horizontal to the floor and a few feet above it. Cuffs at ankles and wrists were hauled excruciatingly taut. I felt that my bones were being pulled out of my sockets and began to sweat again. Each of us was blindfold for this rite. The racking was such that, with the corset on, it was impossible to control a muscle of one's body anywhere. One was helpless, at the mercy of the mistress presiding. I heard my fellows groan and gasp. Smith ordered trays set beneath us.
At last, when I hoped it was over, I felt the maids parting my legs by the mechanism. When they were wide spread something was slid into my entrails. It felt softer than the dong—and then suddenly it did not. The intruder was being inflated! I began to burst, writhing. Useless to try to clench my buttocks against it—no effort of mine had any effect on my muscles there. Suddenly I panicked. Cries sounded either side of me. "Hou!"
"Au!"
THE THING WAS BEING HEATED! I was in a perfect frenzy of ecstasy as the heat grew within me, then suddenly the frightful snake was slipped out. Involuntarily, as from another part of myself, I felt myself empty itself, in spasmic gusts of exusion. Lusty thumps from right and left accompanied my own. Much merriment from the maids. Miss Smith said, "Look what that Priscilla has done. Tis worthy of a Guardsman, I declare. Rose, do you remove the trays and Cathy, please wipe them clean."
When we were released we were bathed in sweat and no strength was left in us at all; but the worst was to come.
Thoroughly defeated, and meek as mice, we were herded at the far end of the room. The beastly barrel was at the other now. Our knickers lay within it. Miss Smith addressed us:
"You have now had an hour's Detention. Next time I shall make it stiffer. We shall conclude by a little target practice. The loser will receive ten cuts from the winner—over the board." During this ominous announcement I noticed the maids, and the mistress herself, arming themselves with short feathered darts. They looked heavy. "What is a bull's-eye, Bunty?"
"Arsehole, Miss," came the disconsolate answer. "Right in one," returned Miss Smith warmly. "But an 'inner' can be awfully uncomfortable too. Now line up and get ready. So. In that barrel are your knickers. You ought to know your own smells by now. The winner is the first girl to get her knicks out and sit herself on a carrot again. Are you ready?" I began to realize the enormity of the thing. We were not bitted, but our hands were bound behind us. The barrel looked a long distance away. It would clearly only be possible for one girl at a time, so fettered, to insinuate her upper person over the edge and pick out the necessary morsel of material—in her teeth. As the maids readied their darts I also realized she would have to bend double to do so. Holy Mother in Heaven. Ten cuts! Three had been agony ... oh God oh God. . . . "GO!" We leapt forward as one. Priscilla got ahead, buttocking forward heavily and shoving Bunty off stride. I saw Miss Smith make a feathering motion, something whooshed softly past me in the air, and I had time to see a dark thuck into Priscilla's bounding left buttock, crimsoning instantly as it lodged there. I had time—before I straightened with a strangled cry as a wasp bit inside my left thigh. I looked down. The dart had bounced off, leaving a stab of blood. As I stopped in terror, however, another whucked home into my braced right hind, sinking in an inch or more. The pain was unspeakable and I bounded forward with a yell. Another struck my corset and fell off harmlessly. Our three tormentors were laughing and congratulating each other as they threw. What heart-lessness! Thwuck!
"Good shot, Rose!"
A beauty drove into Bunty's left. What would happen when we b-b-bent over. . . .
Bunty and Priscilla were barging at the barrel, myself beside them watching. Sheer weight won and Priscilla plunged her torso, hands bound behind her, into the dark depths of the barrel, kicking one leg up, perhaps in some hopeless effort at protection. Whsssh. . . whssssh. . . . whhhhhlck! Three darts thudded into the thick meat of her cheeks. One dropped off but the other two drove in, oozing blood at once She wriggled frantically while darts whizzed through the air, then purple in face came up with a pair of knickers in her teeth. Rose-red! Mine!
In fury she flung them from her with a toss of her head, hoping to make it hard for me to get them while she amassed her own; but by this time Bunty had cleverly climbed over into the barrel before her. I saw no more. I only felt. Two frightful bites inside my thighs were what I felt as I bent for my knicks and then I was racing back with them to skewer myself on a carrot. I was the winner.
Priscilla was the loser. Despite the fact that she was pitifully wealed and runneling blood behind from the dart-marks, I had to put her over the board and give her ten with Miss Smith's elastic cane. As adjunct to this first instruction in rodding, the mistress stood behind me and each time I did not cut hard enough in her estimation, she gave me a razor-slice with her switch. The big fat buttock, well bent, was a tempting spectacle indeed and I must confess I whipped it with a will. The skin seemed particularly tender low down and it was there I worked her best, extracting grievous cries by the end.
Such, then, was my first hour's Detention; like all our corrections at Lowood, it made me realize how little I was, and in need of reminding of my position.
True, reader: I am a defective being, with many faults and few redeeming points. Yet I still feel a strange sense of attachment for Lowood and never cease to cherish the memories of those first tender excitements than animated my heart, and made of pain a pleasure. Those joys I was to satisfy, later, with Mr. Rochester.
The years passed quickly, as young years do, and a kind fairy saw to it that my uniform life was relieved by rising to be the first girl of the first class.
Then I was invested with the office of teacher, of a junior sort, a task which I discharged with r
elish, especially when it included thrashing some blubbering girl for a nothing. For, yes, I became expert in use of the rod, chiefly under the tutelage of the French mistress, Madame Pierrot, who gave me long lessons (invariably ending in ecstasy) in application of the strokes. How assiduously did I practice my art on special bolsters and leathern horses, striving to exact the ultimate smart from each stinging stripe. No fencer ever tried harder!
Finally, however, I felt I was perfect and knew I needed freedom—freedom to indulge my long-trained, new-found fancy. I would go to be a governess and get a charge and whip her to my heart's content. Such were my silly fancies at the time.
Miss Temple it was who told me how to advertise. And lent me the money for it, too. I directed my plea to the editor of the Herald, put it in the post, with answers to be addressed to J.E. My advertisement ran thus:
A young lady accustomed to tuition [had I not been so!] is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private family . . . she is qualified to teach the usual branches of a good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music.
A. N. Dedeaux - An English Education Page 18