Anonymous - Grushenka. Three Times a Woman

Grushenka was now laid on a table with her legs apart. Katerina saw that the marks of the switch were clearly visible in red-violet welts. “She has a softer skin than all of them,” thought the old housekeeper, but not with pity, rather with a resolution that she would thrash the girl more often in order to get her used to it.

Grushenka was trembling nervously as Boris, with his scissors, cut the long curls from her Mount of Venus and below. He then soaped her with his brush and expanded the skin with two fingers of his left hand. There followed the soft grating of the knife, that cut the hair closely to the white flesh. He started to put his fingers between the folds as if to extend the skin better, but Katerina tapped sharply with her stick and he thought better of it. A wet towel was now applied and the job was done. Katerina called out to the sewing rooms next door that a couple of dressing girls should come in. She had Grushenka dressed up in one of the Princess' outfits to see whether she would really do as a model for the new summer wardrobe.

Long silk stockings were applied, a chemise with golden threads was put on her. Long trousers, fitted and closed with ribbons on the ankles, came next. A crimson bodice without stays was tied on. (Stays were worn in Western Europe at that time, but not in Russia, where the elegant women liked to show their breasts with the nipples sticking out above their dresses.) A tunic, which took the place of the skirt and blouse, was then hooked and buttoned, and over this fell a long loose cloak, leaving the arms underneath bare. During this procedure all the girls of the tailoring and sewing departments had left their work and watched eagerly. When Grushenka was ready and was told to walk up and down the large room, turning and displaying the costume and herself, the watchers clapped their hands and stamped their feet.

“That is our Princess!” they cried. “Just like her! Can you imagine?”

Katerina heard this outburst with satisfaction. Yes, she had found the clotheshorse for her mistress. Grushenka was instructed that she was to be used from now on as the fitting model for Her Highness. Then and there started for Grushenka a long period of waiting and dreaming, dreaming and waiting until some dressmaker would come around and fit some garments on her, turning her around and around, trying on, admiring his own craftsmanship, or cursing the sewing girls who had done a bad job. These try-ons were at first very displeasing to Grushenka, because all these workers, men and women, some of them serfs, some of them free people, who called themselves artists, touched her body all over and took many liberties with her. This was all the more so because she was such a perfect counterfeit of her Madame, before whom these men crawled on their bellies. Thus it was fine fun for them to paw her breasts, to pinch her nipples and to play around quite abundantly with her privates. This last Grushenka hated especially and she tried to shove them away, only to be stuck painfully with a needle in the buttocks or in the breast. So she got used to it, especially when she found that when she resisted she was plagued much more, but if she kept still, the men were not so insistent. Months went by this way, first in the palace in Moscow, then at one of the great estates in the country; months of dreaming and waiting. Of course, Grushenka, meanwhile, got well acquainted with the great household. She listened to the gossip about the brutal and drunken Prince, whom the Princess hated, but played up to; of the young lover the Princess had taken; of the way she had her bed-maids make love to her to satisfy her everlasting cravings. But Grushenka heard these tales without taking notice and nobody seemed to take much notice of her. It was hard to say of what she was thinking, maybe of the clouds which passed along or of a bird in the big tree outside the window. Then came the day which changed her whole life. The Princess had been out to a party and it had turned out badly. Even her lover had neglected her, nay, had flirted openly with a rival. The Princess had drunk too much, had had an argument with another lady, and her husband, the Prince, furious at such misbehavior, had slapped her face violently while driving home.

Nelidowa was wild. She accused everybody but herself. She let the whip fly freely on the backs of the girls who undressed her and still was not able to ease her rage. When she saw her brocaded gown with the silver stripes lying on the floor, she suddenly remembered that Grushenka had modeled it for her approval that same afternoon. In her crazed state, she imagined that this gown and thus the girl who had displayed it, were responsible for her misadventures. It was two o'clock at night and Grushenka was fast asleep, when she was dragged naked from her bed. Drunk with sleepiness and knowing of no fault she had committed, the girl was taken before her mistress. The Princess, now in bed, accused her in the vilest terms of having induced her to wear an unbecoming dress and ordered one of the chambermaids to lash Grushenka over her bare back with the leather whip which lay always ready for this purpose on the toilet table. Another maid stepped in front of Grushenka, turning her back toward her, took the arms of the frightened girl over her shoulders and bent forward so that Grushenka lost her foothold on the floor and lay helplessly on the back of the chambermaid. The whipping started at once. The strokes cut whistling through the air. The shoulders, the back, the behind were hit and hit by a rain of blows. Grushenka did not know that the whipping girl applied the punishment with great craftsmanship, cracking the whip loudly but taking care that the lash cut the flesh as little as possible, for this girl was angry at her Madame and sorry for the innocent victim. In spite of this fact, Grushenka underwent awful pain and screamed and kicked her legs as well as she could. The Princess lay in her bed, her teeth bared in rage, her fingers with their long nails held in the form of claws as if she wanted to scratch the flesh off the girl's bones. Although not told to, the whipping girl finally ceased beating as if she were exhausted from swinging the lash and Nelidowa did not command her to go on because she felt suddenly sick from the liquor she had drunk. Grushenka was now lowered to the floor and, putting both her hands to her aching behind, she walked straddle-legged from the room. At this moment the eyes of the Princess fixed on Grushenka's slit, which, having been shaven as usual, was entirely open to sight. The Princess stared hard at this because it was formed differently than her own, while the girl was supposed to have a body similar to hers. Nelidowa did not say a word about this dissimilarity, but she kept the thought in her mind.

How was it that Grushenka had a nicer love spot than she herself? One afternoon, when Nelidowa lay idly on her couch, she made up her mind to find out and forthwith sent for Grushenka. She made the girl take her clothes off and was glad to see the blue and red stripes which the whip had left, especially on one side of the body where the end of the strap had cut the flesh. She asked Grushenka to come very close to her, straddle-legged, so that she could inspect her. Of course the slit was very finely made; the Princess had to tell herself that in spite of the anger she felt. The lips were thin and rosy and cut the oval of the Venus hill in an even curve which did not stick out and puff up like her own. With her eyes on the girl's spot, but without touching her, Nelidowa started to question her. “When were you laid last?” she began. Grushenka hardly understood the meaning of the question. But the Princess insisted, “How long ago is it, since you were poked by a man?” Now Grushenka knew what was meant and answered quite firmly, “No man has ever touched me, your Highness. I am a virgin.” “Oh!” thought the Princess. “Of course. When I was still with the nuns my pussy was probably like hers, but since that old bastard (by which she meant of course the Prince) every so often puts his damned machine in me…” But aloud she said with laughter, “I'll fix you up my child, and that right now. Still a pimply virgin, eh? You lie down here now and we'll soon attend to you.” She got up from the couch with some spirit. She enjoyed this splendid idea. It would pass the time piquantly. Who to get for the job? Oh, yes, there was her riding groom, that broad-shouldered fellow with the big bush of tousled hair. His blondness would make a good match for Grushenka's deep black hair. Nelidowa had looked sometimes with longing at Ivan (she had a habit of calling all male servants Ivan) and had more than once glanced over his muscular arms and legs and rested her eyes on his trousers. She would have tried him herself, but she had no desire for the brand of brutal male love which her husband supplied. However, this was just the right man to rape that stupid lump on the couch.