Anonymous - Gynecocracy

I hoped however, it might be thought that I was engaged in a search for something which had fallen down, and I endeavoured to retain my composure. If either the stationmaster or the porter observed me, they preserved the most praiseworthy unconsciousness and stolidity. They were absorbed in watching Mademoiselle as she gave her imperious orders and her appearance seemed fairly to bewitch them-they flew 171

about, they changed colour, they trembled before the gaze and the words of this elegant haughty French damsel.

I trembled, glowed with colour one minute, and became ashy pale the next, in rapid succession. I had not a word to say myself-even walking into the station, whither Mademoiselle led me by the hand, was a severe trial to my terrible self-consciousness.

"Elise," said Mademoiselle, "we should have dressed him like a little boy, in knickerbockers; his frilled drawers would have showed then. Why did you not suggest it?"

I am sure some of the bystanders overheard, and I nearly sank down to the ground in shame.

Why did Mademoiselle lead me by the hand instead of allowing me to see to the baggage and get the tickets, as might naturally be expected of a tall youth of my age? She led me by the hand as though I was a helpless idiot anxious to run away. All my sprightliness, presence of mind, and assurance seemed to have vanished.

The idea of the vest and girl's chemise, the corset, drawers, and long stockings, of the flannel petticoat, which I had narrowly escaped having tucked into my trousers, haunted and reduced my mind to silliness and made me perfectly soft. But I felt a substratum of indignation. It was all very well in the precincts of Downlands Hall, in its gardens and in its terraces to be under Mademoiselle's thumb, but here, in public, at a railway station, with numbers of people to observe and to comment, it was quite another thing.

As we walked about the platform, I feared it would certainly be noticed that I had girl's boots on, and high heels, and that I was tightly laced up in a lady's corset, which could easily be noticed under my jacket.

As the light things had been removed from the carriage I had been curiously scanned, but Mademoiselle had given her orders where the luggage was to be labelled for and from that instant all interest in me appeared to have determined. I felt certain it would be noticed that the baggage was all feminine. I had not been permitted the honour of a portmanteau. A dress casket and an imperial; there was nothing else.

"Coachee," I heard one of the men say, "you have left the young gent's box behind."

At length with the bustle usual at places of absolutely no importance, the train ran alongside the platform. It drew up, and the stationmaster who gave me a very search-ink look, came to conduct Mademoiselle to the compartment he had reserved for her. What a relief to escape into the privacy of a railway carriage from the quizzical gazes and the prying eyes of these people. Mademoiselle had spoken to one or two acquaintances, and the amused stare they gave me, a kind of intelligent look, was positively insulting and maddening.

With great deference the stationmaster led Mademoiselle to the carriage, and I had yet bitter dregs to drain in the humiliating cup. She made me jump in first just like a child.

Mademoiselle pointed out the seat I was to occupy-the centre one with my back to the engine. She took the far seat opposite to me, next the window.

Elise sat at my left. The door was shut; the station-master nodded to the guard who was beside him, he blew his whistle, held out his arm, the engine gave an acquiescing scream, and we were off.

"What a noodle, what a nincompoop, what a fool you are, Julian. I longed to smack your face on the platform," and she gave me a sharp pat with the back of her gloved hand on my mouth. If anything was needed to complete my abnegation it was this.

Mademoiselle relapsed into a reverie, her shapely legs crossed, her chin resting on her hand, her ankles displayed.

We soon reached Ipswich, the run of twelve and a half miles from Stowmarket thither taking only seventeen minutes or so. The platform there was crowded and there was great commotion and many people, Suffolk farmers, talking and dreaming in beery fashion of oxen. It was market day of course. No one invaded our sanctuary although many looked in with more curiosity and openly displayed admiration than I considered polite, and at which Mademoiselle laughed heartily. Her high spirits were contagious, and when we were again under weigh, I felt myself emboldened to utter some joyous remark, and warranted in an effort to throw off my restraint.

Mademoiselle gazed at me for a moment during which I felt my courage ebbing away and I became terrified at my own audacity. Then she spoke as I shrank into my shoes. "This is not a pleasure trip for you, Master Julian. How dare you give yourself that insolent air and impudence, and attempt to treat it so frivolously; do you not know you are to be taken to London for serious punishment? Have you already forgotten the fault, the crime you have been guilty of?"

"Shall I punish him, Mademoiselle?" asked Elise, looking significantly at her mistress.

My blood ran cold. "Oh please, oh, please, Mademoiselle," I cried, clasping my hands, "I did not mean anything, I did not intend to be naughty." I dreaded being punished there in the train.

"Yes," replied Mademoiselle, moving. "Yes, Elise, punish him," she said, dwelling on the word, "and then sit upon him, until we reach Colchester."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I exclaimed, wriggling.

"Be quiet, you little ass," said Mademoiselle. Elise arose and took her bag down from the rack over her head, and opening it on her knees, having again reseated herself, drew out a handkerchief which she folded and placed between her teeth.

Mademoiselle looked on intently all the time. Elise then caught me by the wrist, drew me up, and made me stand before her. There was no occasion for her to slip her other hand, as she did, violently between my legs, hurting me a good deal, and exciting me more.

"Now, Elise," said Mademoiselle, threateningly, as she observed what Elise did.

Elise then turned me round and fastened my hands together tightly behind me. She next encircled me with her arms, unfastened all the buttons in front of my trousers, undid the braces, and there, in that public railway carriage, and before Mademoiselle, promptly took down my trousers.

"Now," she said, making a lag, "you, young rascal, lie down across my knee."

My cheeks flushed scarlet with shame. I dreaded being whipped. There was the exposure. The people in the neighbouring compartments would certainly hear, and I should be publicly disgraced.

"Oh, oh!" I besought. "Don't whip me. Don't. They will hear in the next carriage. Oh, don't!"

"It would serve you right if they did," rejoined Mademoiselle, shaking with laughter. And then she continued: "You are not to be whipped this time, Julian. I am going to see if I can really impress upon you, that you are a girl."

Elise nodded acquiescence as she said: "Come, no nonsense," and drew me down. Reassured, but wondering, with some consternation, whatever was about to be done to me, I lay down.

Elise put her right leg across mine, and her left elbow between my shoulder blades. She opened the drawers behind, and drew up my chemise. Then she took something out of her bag which was on the seat beside. Next I felt her hand on my bottom which she pressed and fingered, advancing gradually towards its centre. Horror! She had something cold and hard in her hand, which the motion of the carriage jerked about; but, terrified at her attempts, lying there on my stomach across her knee, I grew more scarlet, more ashamed, than ever.

"What a pretty bottom," observed Mademoiselle. "I really do not think I have noticed it before."