‘You may not know our guest,’ Madame Hulot said, ‘but if I remove his headdress you may recognise him.’ She pulled the bag from his head and I gasped for I did indeed know the man. He was the carter who brought goods to the school and sometimes carried us to and from the village. His head hung down and he made no attempt to look at us.
‘Ludwig visits us about once a month to satisfy his lusts and this evening he is going to provide you with your first lesson in the dark arts of pleasure.’ She looped the whip around his scrotum and tugged, setting his balls swinging. There was the merest twitch from his cock. She turned to face the six of us who had clustered together like frightened wildebeest.
‘Over the last year you each learned how to give and receive pleasure. It was all very comfortable, jolly good fun and I am sure you took much enjoyment from it.’ We nodded in agreement.
‘Well, this year,’ she continued looking at each one of us in turn, ‘you will learn that there are other aspects to pleasing a lover. Some of you may already have discovered that a little pain prior to lovemaking can accentuate the pleasure one feels.’ I felt that her eyes had coincidentally fallen on me. I reflected on the beatings Madame Thackeray had given me. They were certainly painful but they had been followed by exquisite ecstasy as she caressed and manipulated my sexual parts. There was truth in what Madame Hulot said.
‘In our lessons we will explore the principle further. Similarly, restraint and humiliation can heighten sexual pleasure. You will discover that some of your lovers will desire the role of victim which implies that you have to be the mistresses of their excitement, while others will wish to impose their domination on you in order to achieve satisfaction. We will explore all the variations of relationships to prepare you for those that you will make when you leave this establishment.’
I was bemused by what Madame Hulot had to say. Pain, restraint, humiliation, what did she mean?
‘This may sound confusing at the moment, but I promise it will become clear over the coming months. But let us take the example of Ludwig here.’ Madame Hulot turned to look at the naked, bound man. ‘As you can see from his manhood, he is in no way excited by having seven partially clad women before him. Ludwig requires stimulation before his member shows any interest.’ She turned to face us again and held up the whip. ‘Stimulation with this or another instrument.’
She walked to the wall at the side of the cellar. There hanging from the wall were numerous implements for inflicting pain on a victim. I recognised a number of riding crops of differing lengths and thickness, whips, some with knots along their length, canes, straps, paddles, a cat o’ nine tails and a brush of birch twigs. She picked up each in turn, named it, gave it an experimental swish through the air and returned it to its storage position.
‘All of these may be used to good effect but I favour the lash,’ she said stroking the long leather tail of her whip. ‘Let me show you how to use it.’
She led us to Ludwig’s rear. We stood in a row behind Madame Hulot while she was about six feet from his bare buttocks. She dropped the coils of leather and took a firm grip of the handle. In a blur of movement she raised her arm and cast the lash. There was a crack as the end of the whip travelled through the air. Each of us jumped and Ludwig cried out. A curling red weal appeared across his right buttock. He flexed his legs and pulled on the chains that held his wrists but he could not move from his position. Again she raised her arm and another crack and cry announced the manifestation of another stripe on his back. Time after time she repeated the action until the marks criss-crossed his shoulders, back, buttocks and thighs.
‘Now, girls, it is your turn to wield the whip. Here, Victoria, you have a go.’ I took the handle of the whip from Madame Hulot and made a number of quite ineffectual strokes. The other girls also each had a turn. Bertha, a large, plain girl from Prussia, seemed to have some experience with the lash. She quickly raised fresh weals on Ludwig’s poor buttocks. Madame retrieved the whip and gave the man a few more strokes for good measure.
‘Let’s look at his other side, girls.’ We followed her in a line to gaze at the poor man’s front. What a change had taken place. Now his penis stood to attention, the purple knob glowing like a beacon. Madame Hulot flicked her wrist and the end of the whip coiled around his cock. She tugged on it causing him to pull at his wrist and ankle chains. He groaned.
‘Do you see, girls? The pain itself has excited him. A little more and he will be completely satisfied.’ She relaxed her grip and the coils fell from his cock. She raised her arm and again cracked the whip over his chest and abdomen. He cried out again but his penis grew noticeably and pulsed.
‘Now, Victoria. Finish him off.’ I did not understand what she wanted me to do, ‘Come on, you silly girl, use your hand or mouth to give him release or else I’ll have to beat him some more.’
I realised what she wanted me to do. I stepped forward and knelt in front of him then reached up and took his penis in my hand. It was rock hard and throbbing. I looked up at his bowed head. His cheeks were flushed and wet with sweat and tears and he panted. His lips formed into a word although no sound came. They said ‘please’. I pushed out my tongue and touched the end of the cock. It quivered in my hand. I licked around the small gaping hole. I had no chance to do anything else because a torrent of white fluid poured out, spraying my face and spattering my shoulders and breasts. I released the shrinking penis and Ludwig sagged in his chains.
‘There,’ Madame Hulot indicated, ‘you can see what little it took to bring him to a climax. That burst of pleasure makes up for the pain of the whipping but in fact Ludwig can only achieve orgasm after such a beating. So that is your first lesson. Tomorrow you will begin to gain some experience yourselves and you will be dressed more appropriately. Off you go now.’ We almost fell over each other in our haste to leave the cellar and I am sure each of us was terrified of what would happen in subsequent lessons.
The following evening we assembled at the bottom of the cellar steps. We looked at each other in wonder at our transformation. Each of us was now wearing a black silk basque that fastened with numerous hooks and eyes from our crotch to our breasts. Our bosoms nestled on the shaped wired top of the garment that did nothing to cover our nipples. We each wore leather ankle boots with a narrow high heel and sheer silk stockings that clipped to the straps at the bottom of the basques.
‘Ah, you are here, girls,’ Madame Hulot welcomed us into her lair. I had come to think of her as a dark, malevolent spider drawing victims into her web. She was dressed in the same way as the previous evening but was not carrying her whip. She guided us to a pillar that had chains hanging from it. There was no sign of Ludwig or any other victim this evening.
‘This evening it is your turn to learn how to wield the instruments of chastisement. Who shall be first?’ She looked along our row. Not one of us made a move to volunteer. Madame Hulot’s gaze returned to me.
‘Victoria. You have been chosen to be the head girl of your group. You shall take the lead.’
‘Yes, Madame,’ I stepped forward reluctantly.
‘We need a victim. Who shall it be?’ Again Madame Hulot appeared to be contemplating each of the girls in turn. ‘I know. Natalie is your special friend, isn’t she?’ She placed an emphasis on ‘friend’ indicating that she knew that Natalie and I often shared each other’s bed.
‘Let Natalie be your first victim. Natalie, step forward.’
My dear friend Natalie edged forward, a look of terror in her face.
‘Remove her clothes, girls.’ The other girls, now that they seemed to have escaped the intended punishment, eagerly stripped Natalie and helped Madame chain her to the pillar. She hung from her wrists ,her toes barely touching the floor.
‘Now, Victoria. Which instrument are you going to choose?’ I looked at the various weapons hanging on the wall. I did not want to hurt my darling Natalie. Which would be least painful? I reached for a paddle. It was a flat piece of wood with a short handle.
‘I understand your reasoning, Victoria. You think that a slap from a paddle will produce little pain. You are correct. To use a paddle is to make a gesture towards inflicting discipline. It has very little effect. Choose again.’ I placed the paddle back on its hook and took down a riding crop.
‘That’s better. Now get in position.’
I stood behind Natalie’s naked form. She was trembling with fear. Her beautiful small buttocks wobbled as she strained at her chains.
‘Begin,’ Madame commanded. I raised the hand holding the crop and swung. There was no swish through the air and no noise when leather met flesh. Natalie didn’t even cry out.
‘That was no good at all,’ Madame admonished. ‘Again, harder.’ I swung my arm faster and the crop landed across Natalie’s buttocks. She yelped. Madame did not look satisfied.
‘If you think that was adequate, Victoria, you can think again. If you want to protect your friend then you are going to have to give her a good beating, because for every stroke that I think is weak I will give two of my own. Now get on with it.’ Tears filled my eyes.
‘I am sorry, Natalie,’ I cried.
Natalie tried to look at me over her shoulder. ‘Do what you must, Victoria. Please don’t give Madame the excuse to whip me.’
I raised my arm again and swung as fast as I could. The crop sang through the air and fell on Natalie’s rump with a loud crack. She yelled and a red strip appeared on her skin.
‘Better, Victoria. Again!’ Madame commanded.
I swung again and again. After a while I did not hear Natalie’s screams. I got into a rhythm of deep breath, raise arm, strike, and found myself selecting my target and making patterns of the stripes on her rear. She cried and swung on her chains trying to avoid my blows but all she succeeded in doing was to present fresh flesh for me to assault.
‘That’s all, Victoria. You can stop now.’ I stood still looking at the livid weals on Natalie’s back, all caused by me. The crop fell from my hand.
‘Help me get her down.’ Madame and the girls unfastened Natalie’s ankles and wrists and she collapsed into Madame’s arms.
‘She is your victim, Victoria. Take her back to her room and look after her.’ Madame passed Natalie’s limp body to me, and turned away from us. ‘Right, girls, who will be next?’
Trying hard not to touch Natalie’s abused rear, I half carried, half supported her up the stairs to her bedroom. I laid her on the bed and hurried to the bathroom to get cool wet cloths to sooth her wounds.
‘I’m sorry, my love,’ I sobbed as I dabbed at each red mark, vainly trying to cool the heat.
‘Do not worry, ma chérie. Just make love to me.’
‘What?’
‘You heard what Madame said. Pleasure should follow the pain.’
I realised what I should do. Natalie was lying face down on the bed. I pushed pillows under her stomach to raise her bottom and gently parted her legs. Her sex was already swollen and a vivid red. I lay down between her thighs and reached out with my tongue. I touched her lips and she shivered. I wriggled forward a few inches so that my hair was brushing the skin of her inner thighs and pushed my tongue between her lips. Honey was oozing from her crack. A bit further and my tongue found her hole. I licked her out, savouring her special taste, then ran my tongue up to her arsehole. I licked around the puckered orifice and then ran my tongue down until I found her little hard knob. My nose rubbed her crack while I nipped and chewed at her clit with my tongue and lips. She shuddered and moaned, ‘That’s nice.’
I repeated the motion – up to and around her arsehole, down and deep into her cunt then rub her clitoris. She started to buck so I put my arms around the knees and held her firmly. I continued to stimulate her and found myself becoming excited too. At last she gave a huge groan and a great convulsion passed through her body after which she appeared to sag into the bed. I released her legs and moved to lie by her side. She lay across me and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Thank you, Victoria,’ she whispered, ‘that really was the best remedy for the pain.’ She dozed off to sleep with her head on my breast.
Over the next few days the marks of Natalie’s beating slowly faded and the rest of us acquired our own trophies which we compared with each other. I had drawn Bertha to administer my beating. During the previous year Bertha had been quiet and a somewhat reluctant lover. She did not seem to care much for oral and manual stimulation of the males nor for intercourse. It became clear that discipline was to be her forte. She showed skill in wielding each of the instruments of punishment and laid into me with gusto. Madame Hulot showed her satisfaction by clapping and shouting ‘bravo’ with every well-placed blow on my behind. When my ordeal was over, Natalie helped me return to my bedroom and did for me as I had done for her. As we lay together, my backside still tingling and my fanny throbbing, Natalie looked into my eyes and said, ‘Do you think Madame is correct and that men and women like to be beaten before making love?’
‘I am sure she is correct,’ I replied, ‘look at Ludwig. Swinging a whip also seems to get Bertha more excited than anything else we have done.’
‘I don’t think it is for me, although I will admit that the pain of the lash does increase my desire for pleasurable stimulation.’
‘It is the same for me, my dear. I have no wish to inflict pain on my lover, but if it is what they wish or if it is their desire to beat me then who knows. Love and lust can change one’s deepest convictions.’
‘You are correct as always, Victoria. No doubt Madame Hulot has more revelations for us.’ We reflected that discipline was just the first of her dark arts. We trembled as we held each other tight and wondered what future lessons in the crypt she would have in store for us.
Chapter 16
Victoria Learns Restraint
I was doing up the hooks and eyes of my black silk basque when my room-mate Lydia ran in.
‘Oh dear, what’s the time?’ she asked pulling her dress over her head.
‘I’m not sure,’ I replied, ‘but I imagine you are late for your evening lesson with Madame Thackeray. She won’t like it if you are not punctual.’ She shrugged, took her slip off and stood there in front of me naked. I was still surprised by her hairless body. She meticulously plucked out every hair that appeared in her mound and elsewhere. With her small stature and pimples for breasts she looked about twelve years of age, but acted fourteen and was supposed to be over sixteen. She started to pull on her white corset and I helped lace her up.
‘What’s all the fuss?’ she rattled on. ‘We’re only handling cocks again. I did all that with my twin brother. He showed me just how he liked his balls tickled and his foreskin pulled back and forth until he spurted. I must admit Hermann is a bit broader than my brother. And that Albert! He’s a lot to handle.’ I smiled, remembering Albert’s massive member, and regretted that it had been some time since we had had pleasure together. She grunted as I pulled her tight. Her waist was tiny.
‘I think these uniforms are stupid. Might as well wear nothing at all,’ she went on, tugging at the bottom of the corset. ‘Why do you wear black? You wore red outfits at the start of the term.’
‘We’ve moved on to the next stage,’ I replied cagily. ‘You’ll find out next year.’
‘And what are those marks on your bottom? Have you been beaten? Has Madame Thackeray punished you for something?’
‘She’ll be punishing you if you don’t get downstairs now. Off you go,’ I gave her a helpful shove towards the door. She grabbed her white stockings and slippers and ran out. I shook my head and followed her more slowly and, I have to admit, rather more reluctantly.
I met my other five companions at the bottom of the cellar stairs. We huddled together sheepishly as we feared what Madame Hulot had in store for us this evening.
‘Come on, girls, do not wait around,’ Madame appeared out of the shadows in her fierce black leather outfit, carrying a crop. ‘We have a lot to do.’
She led us to the
central space in the crypt. The chains on the pillars hung down unused but on the beaten earth floor there was a naked young man. He was kneeling over a steel box-like frame with his neck held in a clamp and his wrists bound by steel rings at one end. Rings around his thighs just above his knees held him to the other end of the open box frame. His ankles were also locked in steel rings and held apart by a steel bar. It was obvious that he could not move a limb but that was not the end of his discomfort. A small steel ring was fixed around the rim of his knob at the end of his cock. This was fastened to a chain which connected to the bar separating his feet. The chain stretched his penis beyond its normal length and made his glans look like a dark red plum about to be plucked from the branch. Two wooden battens about two inches square and two feet long rested against the back of his thighs and clamped his scrotum. His testicles were stretched and squeezed into a shiny taut ball. I could not imagine how much this pained him because he was prevented from making any sound other than a grunt by a muzzle of steel and leather that forced his mouth open.
‘Take a good look, girls,’ Madame Hulot said cheerfully standing at her captive’s head. ‘This is George, a young man from the village. He is demonstrating an extreme form of the art of restraint. You see that he is unable to move arms, legs or head. What is more, his manhood is stretched and squeezed into an unnatural conformation. His two orifices are open and available.’ She walked around to his rear end and gave his buttock a sharp blow with her crop. A livid red mark appeared but he did not, could not, move, and the smallest whimper emerged from his gagged jaws.
‘Restraint is all about control. Losing it that is. George has given up all control of his body to his mistress, that is me. Or it could be you.’ She pointed her crop to each of us in turn. She bent down and took the glistening sphere of his balls in her gloved hand. I watched and grimaced as she visibly squeezed, twisted and pulled. A cry emerged from George’s throat.
The Education of Victoria Page 18