For the second time in a week I stood in Madame Thackeray’s study bedroom but today being Sunday I was dressed in my finery. I wore my hooped, green silk dress with several layers of starched petticoats to make it stand out. The neckline was low so my breasts were prominent and on my feet were matching green silk slippers.
Although it was just an hour after lunch the light coming through the window was a dull grey. It was snowing again and already the mountains surrounding the Venus School for Young Ladies were capped with white. While it was surely cold outside, a roaring fire in the hearth kept the room more than comfortable given that I was fully dressed. My fellow pupils were either in their rooms or in the drawing room engaged in quiet pastimes, but I knew I was to experience more energetic activity.
I stood patiently while Madame read from the report presumably written by Beatrice and the other senior girls who had observed me. They had watched as I had entertained young Albert. For an hour each day for the last week my task had been to excite him, draw him to the edge of an orgasm and keep him there in delicious agony of anticipation. I had not been successful in every respect. I knew I was going to be punished but I hoped the girls had been charitable to me.
Madame laid the papers on her desk, took off her spectacles and looked up at me.
“Well, Victoria, I see that you disobeyed my instructions,” she said sternly.
“I did?” I enquired, uncertain of what response was required.
“I told you not to touch yourself and yet you did; on three occasions.” I recalled the three times that the senior girls had called out as my hand wandered between my legs.
“Yes, Madame,” I acknowledged sadly, realising that my colleagues had not spared me from my fate.
“For those lapses you shall be punished. I also see that you failed to control Albert five times. Five times he ejaculated when you were charged with merely keeping him excited.” “Yes, Madame, I am sorry, but he is so, ah, high-spirited.” “Nonsense, girl, it is your skill that is wanting.” Her stern expression softened a little, “However I note from Beatrice’s report that on the last day you succeeded in keeping him erect for a whole hour without orgasm. That certainly suggests that you have some talent. Beatrice also notes that you used your initiative in utilising your whole body to retain his interest.” My memory was that Albert’s hands and mouth were all over me, caressing my bosom, my buttocks and especially my feminine parts. He gave me intense pleasure while also ensuring that his interest was maintained.
“Thank you, Madame.” I curtsied in acknowledgement of her praise.
Madame’s hand smoothed the large ebony phallus that lay on her desk then moved to lift the leather crop. She gripped the handle in her right hand and caressed the supple leather at the other end with her left.
“I think that under the circumstances that will lessen your punishment to six strokes.” I felt a little faint and gulped saliva.
“Yes, Madame, thank you,” I said weakly. The memory of the four strokes she had given me earlier in the week was all too fresh in my mind and imprinted on my buttocks.
“Now, Victoria, undress if you will.” “Yes, Madame, but could you assist me with the fastenings, please.” Madame Thackeray rose and came around her desk to stand behind me. She deftly undid the buttons of my dress and helped to pull it from my arms and then over my head. The dress was followed by the petticoats, one after another. At last I stood in just my slip. I pulled that off too and stood before my headmistress completely naked. The merest hint of satisfaction seemed to pass across her face. It was the first time she had had a full view of my body. Her eyes looked me up and down, alighting on my ample bosom and perky nipples that now hardened under her gaze. Her eyes descended to the bush of dark brown hair that covered my mound and a small smile passed across her face. Then she picked up the crop and pointed to the elephant stool that stood at the foot of her large bed. I took the steps towards the stool slowly and reluctantly.
The padded leather seat of the stool came up to my waist.
When my pubic hair was just touching it, there was a prod in the middle of my back and I was forced to bend right over so that my head and arms fell forward over the other side of the elephant. I balanced with my bottom elevated. The first time that Madame had beaten me I had just rested over the stool, and so I waited for my beating to begin. I was surprised when Madame gripped my right wrist and wound a black silk cord around it before tying it to the nearest leg of the elephant. She repeated the action with my other arm and my ankles. I struggled a little but found that I could not move neither arms nor legs or shift my position on the stool even an inch. The cords, though soft on my skin were as strong as ropes of flax.
“There is no point in trying to move, Victoria. You are bound tight. I do not want you shifting while I select the site for my stroke.” Immobile, I felt completely defenceless and exposed.
Nothing happened for some time except for rustlings behind me. I wondered if Madame was moving my clothes from where they had fallen. With my legs secured wide apart and my hands also tied firmly I was not comfortable but knew full well that my comfort would decrease considerably very soon. Then I heard Madame’s soft breathing behind me and knew that my punishment was about to begin. I tried to clench my buttocks but with my legs forced apart knew that my crack was wide open.
“I want you to know, Victoria, that what you about to receive is not a punishment,” Madame spoke quietly and calmly, “It is a part of your training. You will acquire the skills that we teach here at the Venus School for Young Ladies but you will also learn that pain and humiliation are a powerful tool in the arts of sexual pleasure. Today you will suffer the pain and humiliation; soon you may be administering it.” I had no idea what Madame was talking about. I had thought that our lessons were to give us skills for pleasing the men who would be our husbands. Did some men like to beat their wives or even be beaten by them? These thoughts were swept from my mind when the first blow arrived. The air screamed and my right buttock exploded in a foot long strip of pure pain. I yelped; in fact, I more than yelped, I shouted, not words, but an animal noise that I did not know could emerge from my mouth. The heat began to subside just a little before the second stroke came, this time on my left cheek. I screeched again and sobbed and begged.
Erotiske noveller skrevet af Angela Meadows