The Education of Victoria

by Meadows, Angela

  Chapter 18

  Victoria’s Term of Servitude

  I trudged up the mountain track, my feet sinking into the snowdrifts with a biting easterly wind cutting through my thin woollen coat. The Venus School for Young Ladies could just be seen above through the veils of snow ahead of me. I had used the last of my money in getting to the village and I had nothing left to pay for a sleigh to carry me up to the door of the school in style. However, I did not have a trunk full of luggage to accompany me; I carried just a small cardboard suitcase packed with a few skirts, petticoats and blouses.

  With the final light of day fading I came at last to the main entrance to the school and tugged on the bell pull. After a short delay, Eric opened the door. He looked at me for moments before recognising me.

  ‘Victoria, what has become of you?’ He opened the door wide, and invited me into the hall. I shook snow from my coat and shoes. Madame Thackeray emerged from her study bedroom.

  ‘Who was that at the door … oh. Hello, Victoria. We weren’t expecting you. You had better come into my office.’ I put my case down and Eric made to pick it up.

  ‘Leave that, Eric,’ Madame commanded. ‘Victoria will not be staying in her accustomed room.’ Madame returned to her study and I followed. She sat at her desk leaving me standing in front of her. With the warmth of her log fire the snow and ice in my clothes began to melt and drip onto the carpet.

  ‘What are you doing here, Victoria?’ Madame asked.

  ‘I have come for the next term, Madame.’

  ‘But your father has not paid your fees to my agent in England.’

  ‘My father is dead, Madame,’ I said, noting that a look of sympathy passed briefly across Madame’s face to be replaced by the stern visage that I found unfamiliar.

  ‘I am sorry, Victoria. You must be sad. But who will now pay your bill?’

  ‘No one, Madame. My father’s money is all gone and I have no one else.’

  ‘But you cannot be a pupil here without paying. We are a school not a poorhouse. You will have to leave.’

  ‘I have nowhere else to go, Madame.’ Tears welled in my eyes and I began to sob.

  ‘Stop your snivelling, girl.’ She passed me a handkerchief. ‘You know we don’t suffer that kind of weakness here. We teach you to be strong, independent women.’

  I blew my nose and dabbed at my eyes. ‘I know, Madame, I have tried. I’ve dealt with coalmen and bailiffs and solicitors but I have nothing. I couldn’t think what else to do but come here.’ There was silence for a few minutes while Madame looked at me, searched my face for the truth of what I said and contemplated. When she spoke again her voice was softer.

  ‘You have obviously had a trying time, Victoria, and it would be hard of me to send you back out into the snow to perish in the cold. I will see what I can do to find you a position suited to your skills and talents, and in the meantime you can be my maid.’

  Her words cheered me. ‘Oh thank you, Madame. I will serve you with all my energy.’

  ‘There is a problem, however,’ she mused, ‘we don’t have any rooms for maids.’ Indeed the men carried out all the tasks around the house under the supervision of Madame Hulot. There were no maids. ‘But, there may be a solution.’ Madame rose from her seat and walked around her bed to the far end of the room. There was a door which she opened to reveal a small room, a box room, barely more than a cupboard. It was cluttered with trunks, packing cases and other items of luggage.

  ‘This could be cleared and a bed made up for you. It has the advantage of being close to me if I should have need of you. There, that’s decided.’

  ‘Thank you, Madame.’

  ‘That is all right, Victoria, but I want you to remember that you are no longer a pupil here so you must not talk to the girls, and nor must you treat the men as your servants.’

  ‘No, Madame.’

  ‘Good. Now collect your case and start clearing out that room.’

  The little room that was to become my home was soon empty. It was bare of furniture and as it had no fire of its own I relied on the little heat that spread from Madame’s study for warmth. Still, with a mattress and blankets, I expected to be comfortable enough.

  Having warmed up a little I stripped off my wet clothes and was hanging them to dry when Madame called for me.

  ‘I shall be retiring shortly, Victoria. Your first task will be to warm my bed.’

  I looked around for a warming pan but could see nothing that would suffice.

  ‘With what shall I warm your bed, Madame?’

  ‘Why, yourself, of course. Take your clothes off and get under the covers. I will be back shortly.’ She left the room and I hurried to remove my remaining underclothes. I slid under the bedclothes, feeling comfortable for the first time in many days.

  I was actually asleep when Madame returned.

  ‘Wake up, girl. Help me undress.’ I stirred and slipped naked from the bed. I assisted Madame in removing her silk dress and petticoats and then unlaced her corset. Soon she was naked too. She went to the bed and I began to move towards my little room.

  ‘Where are you going, Victoria?’

  ‘I was going to bed, Madame,’ I replied.

  ‘I did not dismiss you.’

  I hung my head, ‘No, Madame.’

  ‘Then come here. I need some warming.’ She lifted the covers and I slipped into the bed beside her. She pulled me to her so my head rested against her firm breasts. I lay still as I was unsure of what Madame required of me.

  ‘Your body is comforting,’ she said quietly, ‘but my hand needs warming.’ She pressed a hand between my legs. Her fingers pulled at my lips until they could slip inside. I spread my legs a little.

  ‘Not too wide. I want to feel the warmth of your thighs on my hand,’ she whispered. Her fingers dug further, pushing into my crack. Her thumb found my clitoris and made me gasp. Her fingers were inside me now digging deeper and deeper. She pushed and twisted her hand until her fist was within me. No cock was ever as thick as a balled fist but Madame ensured that I stretched to accommodate her. I felt as if my womb was full and that I was the dummy which she controlled. With her hand motionless inside me she leaned forward and took a nipple in her lips. It was erect because my whole body felt charged with electricity. She played with the engorged nipple with her tongue and closed her teeth on it. I cried and she released my breast but rammed her hand up my vagina hard. I gasped.

  ‘Keep quiet, girl,’ she hissed. She took hold of my other nipple in her teeth and bit hard. I struggled to keep silent, clenching my teeth.

  ‘Yes, I see our arrangement is not without its benefits,’ Madame whispered in my ear. She pulled her hand from my fanny. ‘Go down on me, now.’

  I slid down the bed beneath the suffocating covers. She parted her thighs and I crawled between them. A hot and strong sexual odour emanated from her fanny. I extended my head and pressed my nose between her lips. I pushed my tongue into her crack and lapped up the juices. Now it was her turn to moan. She tossed her head from side to side as I worked on her, forcing my face harder against her quim so that I could reach further into her hole with my tongue. Then I moved up and grasped her long clitoris in my lips and began to suck and play with it with my tongue. She thrashed around, sometimes grasping my head with her thighs, sometimes opening her legs as wide as she could, pushing me away while gripping my head in her hands and urging me on. Through it all I kept my grip on her knob until her orgasm began to subside. Finally she released my head.

  ‘You can go now,’ she whispered. I crawled out from the covers and went to my own bed to fall into a deep sleep.

  The following days fell into some kind of routine. I rarely left Madame’s study but waited on her, helped her dress and undress and warmed her bed. Many nights she demanded that I pleasure her and I soon found the moves that brought her to a satisfactory climax in the minimum length of time. I was disappointed that I did not see my former school friends. Madame Thackeray forbade me from mixing
with them in the drawing room or going upstairs to their rooms. One evening, however, she sent me to the kitchen to collect a cup of hot chocolate. As I passed the stairs, my friend Natalie was descending with the other girls. They were dressed in black corsets, stockings and ankle boots and obviously on their way to a session in the cellar with Madame Hulot. When Natalie saw me she ran to me and flung her arms around me. The other girls clustered around us.

  ‘Oh, Victoria, how wonderful to see you. How are you?’

  ‘Shh,’ I said, ‘Madame Thackeray must not hear us talking.’

  ‘She said that we mustn’t speak to you,’ Natalie whispered. ‘She said that your father is dead and that you have lost your fortune.’

  ‘That is so and it is why I am reduced to being Madame’s maid.’

  ‘But I miss you, Victoria. I miss our kisses and the touch of your hands on my body. I miss you when Madame Hulot is instructing us.’

  I nodded in agreement. ‘I know. What are you doing this evening?’

  ‘How to stop a man getting an erection,’ Freya said.

  ‘How strange,’ I commented, ‘why should you want to do that?’

  ‘Apparently Madame has some instruments which perform the task,’ Natalie explained.

  ‘Come on. We’re going to be late,’ Bertha said, urging the other girls towards the door to the cellar stairs.

  ‘We must find a time to meet and talk,’ Natalie called out as she was dragged away.

  ‘Yes, we must,’ I replied, suddenly very sad that I was not part of the group any more.

  They disappeared in a huddle through the narrow door and I continued to the kitchen. Johann was stoking the range. Blond and well-muscled, he was the quietest of the menservants.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve come for Madame Thackeray’s hot chocolate.’

  He nodded to the jug on the hotplate. ‘Don’t you want something too?’ he asked, standing up straight and coming towards me. I poured the hot liquid into the cup waiting on the kitchen table.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Shut in that room. You haven’t had it for weeks, have you?’

  ‘Haven’t had what?’

  ‘This.’ He pulled his erect cock out of his flies and stepped closer to me.

  ‘Perhaps I don’t want it,’ I offered. He grabbed my arm.

  ‘You didn’t used to say that. You’re not one of the fancy girls now. You don’t decide any more.’ He pushed me back against the kitchen table, tipping me so that I fell onto my back. He shoved my legs apart and pushed my skirt up to my waist. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me towards the edge of the table, towards his arrow-like cock. I struggled to push myself up on my elbows.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Johann? You have endless opportunities to fuck the girls. Why force me to have intercourse with you?’

  ‘Because I can. You’re nothing now. You have no wealth. If you don’t do what we say Madame will throw you out.’ His manhood was at the entrance of my sex, forcing the doors and barging into the corridor.

  ‘So this is about control, is it? You think you can control me because I’m just a servant now.’

  ‘You’re not even a servant. You’re Madame’s slave. She only keeps you so that she can have her way with you. If you stop satisfying her you’ll be out and done with.’ He gripped my buttocks and rammed his penis into me hard. I gasped as he pierced me, but forced myself into a sitting position.

  ‘So what about the girls who stroke you, suck you and open their legs for you. What are they?’

  ‘Sluts, devil women, whores of hell.’ For a quiet man he suddenly had a lot to say. I felt his penis thrusting deep inside me.

  ‘And what does that make you?’

  ‘Damned. Damned. Damned.’ On each word he thrust in and on the last I felt him come, semen filling my womb. He withdrew and sank to the floor sobbing. I slid off the table, smoothed my skirt down and picked up the cup of chocolate. I stepped over him and left the kitchen. I felt a trickle running down my leg.

  The next morning, Madame brought me an envelope. On the outside it said simply ‘Victoria’. I tore it open and read the letter inside. There was just one line that read ‘I am sorry’ and it was signed Johann.

  ‘What is it?’ Madame asked. ‘Who is sending you letters?’

  ‘It is from Johann, Madame.’

  ‘Johann. He has disappeared. Eric says he walked out late last night and has not returned. What have you had to do with him?’

  I cried and sank to the floor. Bit by bit I explained how he had raped me and called all the women dreadful names; how he despised us and himself.

  ‘He always was the quiet one,’ Madame mused. ‘Well, he’s gone and we will have to replace him. What it does show is that you must not speak to the men. You must stay in here unless you are accompanying me or Madame Hulot.’

  ‘Yes, Madame.’

  My service, or slavery as Johann had called it, became something like a gaol sentence as I was not permitted to leave the room or speak to anyone other than the principal or her deputy. However, I could see no alternative. I had no money to travel anywhere or to provide the essentials for life so I threw myself into my tasks. I served Madame and pleasured her whenever she required it. I came to know every part of her body, where she liked to be caressed, the time to spend sucking on her nipples, the pressure to apply when licking around her arsehole, the precise spot in her vagina where a finger could bring her to orgasm. Often she would strap on a dildo and pump me until we both achieved a climax. Satisfying her needs became the meaning of my existence.

  On a few occasions I was not required while Madame Thackeray spent the evening with Madame Hulot. I thought they were talking school business but Madame Thackeray returned flushed and her hair untidy. She did not partake of my services for a few days afterwards. Later I found marks on Madame’s body as if she herself had felt the weight of someone’s hand, but she never spoke of it and I refrained from mentioning it.

  One afternoon in early March, Madame said she had business to attend to and that I was to stay in my little room and close the door. I did as she said but some time later I heard cries coming from the study. I pressed my ear to the door to hear well. There was the swoosh as a cane or crop sped through the air, the crack of the implement on flesh and the cry of the victim. Madame was punishing someone. I opened the door a crack and peered through. It was Lydia, my former room-mate, bent over the elephant stool. Good, I thought, she was often insolent and deserved to be taught a lesson of contrition. The beating stopped and now I watched as Madame Thackeray, herself naked, caressed Lydia’s fundament. I felt strange. Of course, Madame always followed the pain of punishment with pleasure. I realised that I knew what was going to happen next and the acid bile of jealousy filled me. When Madame picked Lydia up from the stool and laid her on the bed and began to kiss and caress her small, childlike body, fury grew in me until I could stay behind the door no longer.

  I burst out of my cupboard, flew across the room and tried to drag Lydia off the bed.

  ‘No, that’s my duty,’ I screamed. ‘Only I can give Madame pleasure.’ I had Lydia by the arms, tugging her, but she was fighting back and kicking out. Madame fell on me with her arms around my waist and dragged me off. She held me up as I shouted and kicked and waved my arms.

  ‘Get, Madame Hulot, now! Go, girl,’ Madame cried.

  Lydia ran out of the room naked. I continued to lash out but gradually I subsided into sobs.

  Madame Hulot rushed in, red in the face.

  ‘What is the matter, Grace?’ I had never heard Madame Hulot, or anyone, refer to Madame by her Christian name. Now hearing it, I sagged in Madame’s arms.

  ‘The girl has gone mad. I think she feels that only she can answer my needs. Foolish girl. Take her away and punish her.’ Madame Hulot grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back. Madame Thackeray released me and Madame Hulot marched me out of the study, across the hall to the small door
beneath the stairs. All the girls had come out to see what the commotion was and they watched as Madame Hulot pushed me down the stairs to the cellar.

  She led me to a small room, a dungeon. She flung me onto the dusty floor and went out, locking the door behind her. I lay on the floor and sobbed. A short while later Madame Hulot returned carrying chains and manacles.

  ‘Take off your clothes, girl.’ I did as I was told and stood naked in front of her with my head hanging.

  ‘Give me your hands.’ I held out my arms. Madame Hulot locked steel cuffs around my wrists, linked together by a few links of chain.

  ‘Kneel!’ I knelt and Madame tugged the chain until she could fasten it to a ring fixed in the middle of the floor of the cell. The chain was just a few inches long so I had very restricted movement. I could kneel, I could crouch, I could stand so long as I bent double, but I could not get away.

  Madame Hulot stepped back from me and unrolled her long black leather whip. I tried to retreat from her but I was well within her range. She cracked the whip and the lash fell across my buttocks and thighs. Again, and my back felt the fire of her stroke. She used all her skill to land blow upon blow on my body no matter how I wriggled and strained against my bonds. She circled around me seeking her target. Eventually, I could no longer move and lay on the floor while she lashed me from my soles to my neck. I fainted.

  I awoke in the dark. My wrists were still bound and my body was still aflame from the whipping. A long time passed before someone entered and laid a bowl of water beside my head. I stirred myself and lapped at it like a dog. The cold water on my cheeks was refreshing. I returned to lying flat on my stomach so that there was no pressure on my wounds. Later still I began to feel less sore and so twisted myself into a sitting position with my legs apart and the ring to which I was attached between my thighs. I passed the time sitting there in the darkness fingering my quim, the pleasure that I gave myself overcoming the pain of my beating and the fear of what was to become of me.