The Education of Victoria (16 page)

‘Did you find it easy to get Eric’s thing in your mouth?’ she asked.

‘Well he has got a big penis, but I suppose I’ve got a big mouth,’ I chuckled.

‘I tried putting my brother’s in my mouth a few weeks ago, but I couldn’t get it in.’

‘Oh, your brother must be quite big, then,’ I said.

‘Oh yes it’s at least as big as Eric’s.’ I tried to imagine a boy the same size as Lydia but with a massive cock. The image was quite troubling.

‘What did you do?’

‘Well I sort of licked it and just sucked the tip. My brother liked that.’

‘I’m sure he did.’

‘He spurted over me like Eric did over you. It tasted salty.’

‘Hmm, yes. Does your brother do anything else?’

‘Well, I like it when he puts his fingers inside me.’ I rested my hand on her smooth, hairless mount and slid my fingers down her crack parting her lips.

‘Like that?’

‘Oh much deeper than that.’ She spread her thin thighs for me and I dug deeper. My fingers slipped into her hole. Her crack was slick with her juices. Two, three, four of my fingers entered her. She was hot. I rubbed my thumb against her tiny erect knob. She began to pant and move against my hand buried up to my wrist inside her.

‘Is that it?’

‘Yes, that’s nice.’ I rubbed harder and her breaths came faster. Leaning against her I could feel her heart beating more quickly. Her thighs began to tremble and I felt her come with a gasp. She subsided and I withdrew my hand. She put her arms around me and rested her head on my left breast.

‘Is that all your brother did; just used his hands?’ I was beginning to worry about what she would say next.

‘Well, sometimes he would put his head between my legs and lick me like Eric did to you.’

‘And did you like that?’

‘Oh yes, very much.’ I confess that Lydia’s tale had made me wish for a tongue on my clitoris. ‘And once he put his thing in my hole.’

I gasped.

‘You mean your brother fucked you.’

‘What do you mean?’ I realised that Lydia was a complete innocent regarding the arts of love and had no knowledge that she had been engaged in an incestuous relationship with her brother. For her it was all just play.

‘I mean, your brother placed his penis inside your fanny.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘Oh, he pulled it in and out for a while and he got excited. And afterward it went small again.’ Lydia really did deserve a red corset for having engaged in intercourse, but with her brother! What could I say?

‘Did you like it?’ was all I could think of.

‘Well, it hurt a bit and I was a bit sore afterwards, but he said he enjoyed it a lot, so I would have done it again.’

‘Here you’ll learn a lot more about what men and women like to do with each other, but I don’t think you should tell anyone else your story, Lydia. And perhaps you shouldn’t let him put his penis inside you the next time you are home.’

‘Oh, he won’t be doing anything any more.’

‘Why?’

‘My father has sent him to Australia with my uncle. I won’t see him ever again.’ She sobbed and flung her arms around me. I wondered if her brother’s departure was anything to do with his relationship with his sister. Would the parents know? Perhaps they thought their children were very close but would they really suspect what they got up to together? Did the parents know what Lydia would learn at the Venus School for Young Ladies? I suspected not. Lydia was still sobbing gently and making my chest damp. Our bodies were entwined.

‘Don’t be upset, Lydia,’ I soothed, ‘you will soon make a lot of friends here and you’ll get those nice feelings you had with your brother from the other boys and girls.’ I took her hand and placed it between my legs. ‘Perhaps you’d like to touch me …’

Chapter 15
Victoria Discovers the Dark Arts of Pleasure

The six of us, each dressed in our red ensemble of corset, stockings, slippers and gown, mingled in the hallway. It was our second day back at the Venus School for Young Ladies and we had already commenced lessons in bookkeeping and poetry reading, but this was our first evening session and we did not know where to go. The white-clad new girls were in the drawing room awaiting instruction by Madame Thackeray. We were expecting Madame Hulot, the deputy, but there was no sign of her. Instead we meandered around chatting to each other.

Madame Thackeray emerged from her study and looked in surprise at the mêlée.

‘What are you doing here, girls? Madame Hulot is expecting you.’ As the newly appointed head girl, I decided that I should be our spokesperson.

‘We don’t want keep Madame Hulot waiting, Madame, but we don’t know where to meet her.’

‘Downstairs of course, in the cellar. Get down there now.’ Madame Thackeray pointed to a low, narrow door under the stairs which, if I had noticed it at all previously, I had assumed was merely a cupboard. Freya was closest to it and, turning the handle, tugged it open. A flight of stone steps descending into the dark was revealed. Taking the lead again, I lowered my head to pass through the doorway and carefully negotiated the steep and uneven steps. The other girls followed close behind. At the bottom of the stairs I stepped into an open area interspersed with stone pillars and with an arched ceiling of stone that supported the floor of the main house. The floor was dusty, hard earth. Flickering candle flames partly illuminated one end of the crypt.

‘Ah, there you are. Bon.’ Madame Hulot appeared out of the shadows in front of me. My eyes opened wide in surprise. Madame Hulot was a short, stout lady who normally, in our daytime lessons at least, wore dull grey linen dresses that covered her from neck to foot. She was not wearing a grey dress this evening. The trunk of her body was encased in a black leather corset that reflected the candlelight. The top of the corset was shaped so as to support, but not cover, her ample bosom. She wore black leather boots with a narrow heel that added at least four inches to her height. Above the knee-high boots were the tops of black silk stockings fastened to straps at the bottom of her corset. She wore no drawers. Her fleshy buttocks and her black curl-covered mound were exposed for all to examine. A long whip was coiled in her right hand. She frowned at us.

‘Those gowns will get in the way, girls. Take them off.’ Each of us slipped the light garments from our shoulders and looked for somewhere to hang them.

‘Just drop them on the floor, don’t waste time.’ We did as we were told.

‘Come this way.’

She led us into the illuminated part of the cellar and for the first time I was able to see clearly. What I saw took my breath away. A man was bound between two of the pillars. His arms were outstretched and his wrists were held by steel rings fixed by chains to the top of the pillars. His ankles were similarly confined and his legs pulled apart so that he apparently balanced on his toes. He was naked. We saw first his rear. He was not one of the young men who worked in the school. This man was in his forties, his waist thickening and his buttocks sagging. His body was hairy but through the hair his skin was pink wherever one would expect it to be clothed and covered with tiny white curlicues that formed a lace-like pattern. As a group we walked around the pillars to survey the front of the suspended man. His chest, abdomen and legs showed a similar pattern of white threads. His testicles dangled between the outstretched thighs but there was almost no sign of his penis, shrunken and shrivelled as it was. The man’s head was covered with a hemp bag.

‘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?’