Jane and Her Master

by Stephen Rawlings

  Half distraught the poor girl lashed the bundle of harsh birch rods with all her strength, sending the tips at the speed of bullets into that vulnerable soft vulva spread before her. Three times she struck, with hardly a pause, and three times Diana emitted a strangled shriek as the buds went home, penetrating her lower lips, which opened like a flower under the assault, letting the subsequent strokes fall full on the innermost tendernesses and the delicate button of the clitoris that Patricia had so often attacked with the softer weapons of her pink tongue and delicately probing finger. It was brutal, but it was enough. The Countess announced herself satisfied.

  “Well done Patricia,” she declared. “You have shown you can behave towards your inferiors as a Lady should. Now get Miss Rivers off the horse and be prepared to take her place.”

  When she was let down, Diana would have left the room, but the Countess made her wait to see proper punishment inflicted on her accomplice. Nor was she allowed time to dress but had to wait to one side, kneeling, for she was too much weakened to stand for a while and sitting on the raw meat that was her bottom was out of the question.

  Having stripped in her turn, Patricia went almost joyfully to the block, happy to purge her own guilt in suffering, and to no longer have to inflict pain on the woman she loved. Her mother dealt her out a measured dose of a dozen strokes, each laid on with impressive force, drawing squeals from the daughter, the cuts carefully spaced that she might draw the most benefit from each one. For the last two, she ‘whipped in’ with such skill she had the girl give tongue and writhe like the proverbial worm in so far as her tight bonds would allow.

  It was two very sore young women who went to their (separate) beds that night. For my part, lying next to Diana as she told her tale, I cringed for her as she described her thrashing, but also felt the horrid green devil of jealousy rasing its ugly head as she spoke of her lover, an unnecessary and ungrateful reaction, since the girl was now far away, married off soon after to a much older groom who would keep her disciplined firmly, her belly ploughed until it bulged, while it was I that Diana pressed her lovely naked form against as she told her story.

  Oriental Savagery

  St John now devoted himself to his great obsession; the determination to take the Christian message to benighted peoples of the Orient and deliver them from their superstitions and devilish practices.

  In this work he recruited my services, more as a conscript than a volunteer, but I could not stand against his determination, my nature bending as always to a stronger will. He was determined that I should accompany him as his wife, though I told him repeatedly that I did not love him and, hence, could not consent to marry him, but he accused me of frustrating the Lord’s work and other such unworthy motives.

  I argued that I loved him as a brother but he would have nothing of it, saying we were not actually of that relationship. I even offered to live with him as man and wife, but not to marry, but, rather than accept my sacrifice, he pronounced himself shocked, and said nothing but Holy Matrimony would do for a missionary. Eventually, worn down by his superior will, I agreed to all he demanded and it was understood that I would marry him before we set out for the East.

  In the meantime he required that I equip myself for the venture by learning one of the languages of the region, and something of their customs. Since he intended that I should promote the work among the women, where a man might be denied access, he procured a number of books on the subject, including a most illuminating volume, just published, being the experiences of Lady Baring while travelling in her husband’s train. He was an Emissary Plenipotentiary of the Honourable East India Company, negotiating with Nabobs and Rajahs on behalf of the Company. As a woman, she was given access to the Zenanas, or closed houses of the women, of these rulers, and had written an account of what she found there.

  At this point I must warn my readers of tender sensibilities, that some of the matters I read, and must refer to here, are not for the delicate or faint hearted, but I must quote verbatim from some of the chapters if there is to be a clear understanding of how matters stood, and young ladies of such a disposition should take care to read this chapter in the company of an Aunt or older sister, so that they may be given sal volatile or other stimulants should they find themselves overcome.

  The picture she paints is of the utmost in luxury mingled with a strictness of discipline, and cruel punishments, that may only be described as barbaric. After describing the silk hung apartments, the gorgeous dress and food with which the ladies of the Zenana were constantly provided in apparently limitless quantity, Lady Baring goes on to tell something of the rigid celibacy and isolation in which they dwelt when their Master did not call for their presence, and the terrible fates that might overtake them if they made any attempt to provide relief for their boredom and frustration themselves.

  Since the authoress is a Lady of title, we may accept that her account is both full and accurate. For example, she speaks of the fate of those caught attempting adultery:

  ‘On one occasion, during my stay in the seraglio of the Rajah of __, there was a great commotion when one of his favourite concubines was found to have been having conversation with a young man of romantic disposition through a small barred window opening onto a side lane by the palace. Although adultery in any literal sense was manifestly impossible, the Rajah’s honour had been impugned, and the young woman must suffer for it. If she had been any but the enchanting and lascivious creature she was, whose charms the potentate remembered from among all the multitude of women that were brought to his bed or pleasure couch, she might have been simply flayed alive and her body burnt, but he was unwilling to deprive himself of such a prize. She was therefore handed over to the older wives, with instructions she was to be allowed to live, and that she should eventually be capable of being returned to her former duties. I was present at her punishment at the hands of these women, whose righteous indignation of the dishonour done their Lord was not mitigated by her outstanding beauty and the favour shown her above other women of his house.

  ‘The young woman, the possessor of a tall, lissom body, with a skin like golden silk, rounded limbs, tall upright carriage, and proud bearing, was brought into the pillared and screened boudoir where the bulk of the resident females customarily gathered. She was stripped, revealing an exquisite figure, with proud breasts set above a gently swelling belly, and delicate waist, which flared gently out to hips and buttocks like twin calabashes. She made no resistance, although she was well aware of what her fate would be. For the past hour she had been set to work in the kitchens pounding the fresh seeds of a great quality of red peppers, until she had prepared above a quart of fiercely hot paste. She was made to lie on the floor under a beam equipped with hooks, and silk cords were fastened to her ankles. Several women seized her and lifted her feet, until the cords could be fastened to the hooks, leaving her suspended upside down, her legs widely parted. Her hands were then taken behind her back and tied with more cord. Now a tapered tube was thrust into her anus, and the pepper paste forced through, to fill her lower bowel with a fiery burning that soon had her jerking and groaning. Her distress was magnified when the tube was transferred to her vagina, and her whole sheath was packed tight with the agonising paste, pressing against her womb and increasing her suffering twofold.

  I was given to understand that, under other circumstances, a male executioner might have been introduced at this point, and the girl flogged to her death, but this girl was to survive and therefore no man could touch her, even with a whip. The honours were done by a middle aged senior wife who took a martinet made of half a dozen thin but hard cords. With this she commenced to lash the unfortunate and ill-advised favourite, starting with the insides of her thighs, and proceeding by degrees to lacerate the breasts, the belly and the soles of the suspended feet. When she grew tired, another took up the many tailed whip and flogged the girl across her back and her buttocks, finally driving the cords into the unprotected vulva, raising the poor young
woman’s screams to new heights. Several others also took a turn, until there was no part of her body that was not criss-crossed with angry red lines, some of them oozing stickily, sending thin red trails down the girl’s flanks. When all who wished had made their contribution to her punishment, or had their mead of jealous revenge, she was left suspended for a further half hour before being cut down in such a state of distress she could do no more than crawl, her position not helped by the continued pinioning of her arms. I was informed later that she was confined to her room in that state for twenty-four hours, before she received any attention to her wounds or even release from her bonds and cleansing of her rectum and vagina which, all this time, had been suffering the torments of the damned from the action of the pepper paste, which renewed its attack on her tender membranes with her every movement. However all concerned seemed convinced she would recover fully, given time, and commented on the Rajah’s unwarranted leniency.’

  I have quoted this, and subsequent examples of the cruelties practised there, lest any reader be deceived into thinking that what was practised was no more than the widespread and healthy discipline of our own schoolrooms and domestic surroundings. That it was intended as clemency for a favourite, one may judge from some of the other punishments meted out. For instance Lady Baring writes of the treatment of girls caught giving each other that pleasant and sociable comfort that we find so natural with our bosom friends as to be almost too commonplace to remark on.

  Nor was that the sum of Lady Baring’s catalogue of horrors. Besides the more conventional, to Western ears, whips and canes for regulating the females of a household, these Eastern women were subject many harsh punishments and disciplinary treatments from the agony of cords twisted so tightly into their flesh that they sank out of sight, to the kiss of the branding iron. She also described graphically the use of the anal wedge, a short thick cone of ebony on which the girl is made to sit, her own weight sinking the cone into her fundament which is stretched almost to rupture before her cheeks touch the bench and save her from the last sphincter-splitting expansion, and there left, tied helplessly, for hours at a time, sometimes throughout a night and a day. She also gives details of a most curious and devilish device known as the ‘Kang’. Let me quote again from her instructive and edifying work:

  ‘The Kang consists of a circle of heavy wood, about two inches thick and some three feet in diameter. The disc is split along its diameter, the two halves hinged at one end, the other equipped with a hasp for a crude form of padlock. Along the edges of the split are three semi-circular cutouts, the centre pair larger than the outside ones which, when the device is closed, form circles of their own, a larger one big enough to close round a girl’s neck without throttling her, the smaller suitable for a woman’s delicate wrists. With the Kang locked on her, a woman must keep her hands at the level of her neck, and may not use them in any way. The device is very uncomfortable in its own right, the weight of the wood chaffing the neck and wrists, while the posture imposes a painful strain on the arms and neck in the long term, for the device is often locked on for days at a time, but its real terror for the women that wear it is that they are totally vulnerable and helpless. With their arms restrained they can do nothing for themselves, not feed, not wash, not protect themselves from any that might seek to abuse them. Whipped and naked, a girl turned out into the streets wearing the Kang advertises her own disgrace and availability and, unless provided with either a jailor or some other shelter, will not long survive. Even within her own household she is dependent on others for everything. She cannot obtain food, attend to the calls of nature or cleanse herself after, without another’s goodwill, and is vulnerable to any with a score to settle. It is a very common means of punishment, nor is it totally confined to the lower orders. A man may well humiliate a haughty wife, or a disrespectful daughter, by forcing her to wear the Kang, naked, as tradition dictates, though usually in such cases she may at least rely on the protection of the house which she would not normally be forced to leave.’

  I drew St John’s attention to these barbaric practices, illustrating them with the above quotations and many more, and remarking how it would be an act of great charity to rescue the women from such cruelties, but he was quick to correct me.

  “Our mission is to save their souls,” said he, “not their bodies. It would be improper to try and change the customs of an ancient society and, besides, I thought we were as one on the need for women to live under a sufficiently firm discipline if they are not to be a menace to themselves and all around them.”

  I saw at once that he was right, and applied myself again to my studies. Lady Baring went on to touch on some of the more delicate and private aspects of the relations between men and women, explaining the different attitude in the East, where what we hide in the bedroom, they celebrate in their temples, giving vivid descriptions of the carvings to be found in many, showing men and women so intertwined as to be difficult to separate, or taking their pleasures in the most extreme attitudes, many of which she assures us, would call for the skills of a contortionist to accomplish, but all showing the act to be one of both pleasure and beauty, something to rejoice in and not hide away as a dark secret.

  Moreover they have a number of manuals, she mentions particularly one called the ‘Karma Sutra’, which describe, with detailed instructions on how to proceed, all the possible ways to give and receive sexual pleasure, enhancing it for both men and women.

  I pointed this out to St John as a possible compensation for the women, for the harsh regimes to which they were submitted, and he instantly took me up on it.

  “We are not put into this world to have pleasure from it,” he declared, “but to prepare ourselves for the world to come. Such practices are an affront to the Christian God and I shall make it my business, once launched on my mission, to stamp them out.”

  “But they are an integral part of their societies customs,” I protested, “and you have just said we must not interfere.”

  “Foolish and wilful girl,” he chided me, “can you not see the difference between the two. The one involves suffering that tempers the soul, and any man of God would commend, while the other is sinful indulgence which is the devil’s work, and his chief means of ensnaring souls.”

  I bowed before his superior intellect and dismissed my erroneous ideas from my mind.

  A New Virginity

  Committed now, I applied myself to the study of the language and the customs of the peoples to whom St John would bring the fear of the Christian God, and submission to His will, using me as his chosen instrument to approach the females of the race, where men might not be allowed free access. One day, as I was engaged on this work, he came into the room and ordered me to put my book aside and pay attention, for he had something of the utmost import to discuss.

  “I have just had occasion to visit that town where, you tell me, you were arrested and whipped last year, before we found you at our door. They remembered the event clearly, giving me graphic accounts of your flogging, and exposure in the pillory, remarking on the freshness of your body and your well-formed breasts. They added another piece of information too. Is it true that you were examined by the midwives?”

  I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, but acknowledged it was true.

  “And that they pronounced you no virgin, but whore, and one but recently engaged with a man’s member, and leaking his seed?”

  I could not deny it.

  “But I was raped,” I offered, and told him how the coachman had taken advantage of my vulnerability, there in the middle of the waste, tearing off my clothes and forcing himself into me.

  “I will believe you, but you could have been no virgin, even then, else the midwife would have noted your torn maidenhead, and reported so to the Magistrate.”

  “It is true,” I admitted, “I was no virgin. I was ravished at a tender age by Mr Brocklehurst, and after him one other, but I was made to submit by the man’s strength, and had no choice in the matt
er.”

  St John paced up and down the room, deeply disturbed, then halted and turned his fiery eye on me.

  “I cannot wed an impure woman, nor allow her to conduct work in the Lord’s name, it would be sacrilege, and an offence against religion, but the work must be done. Since, to do it, I need you, and you may only accompany me as my wife, you must be purged and restored, so that I can wed you.”

  “How restored? How purged?” I cried, overwrought with feeling. “A virginity once ruptured is gone for ever.”

  “Not so,” he declared, “you shall be cleansed with fire, and purged by pain.”

  I looked at him aghast, but he did not explain further, but left me sitting, frozen by shock and fear.

  A week later, the ceremony took place. We assembled in the large living room we shared, St John, his sisters, and my terrified self. St John was dressed in his parsonical black suit, with the white bands at his throat, his black bible in his hand. Mary and Diana stood, like widows at a wake, dressed all in black, with black veils covering their heads. I was naked, save for a similar veil, but mine was scarlet, as befitted my sins, and I saw all through a red mist.

  Before the hearth stood a small trestle no more than two feet high with, set in its top rail, a metal socket, part of an old barn door bolt, forming a slot about two inches long by three quarters wide. In the fire was the iron bolt of the same section, and about eight inches long, that fitted the socket. Mary knelt by the fire, working the bellows to make the wood roar, until the iron glowed white hot from end to end.

  St John began the prayers.

  “We are met together in the sight of God to purge this impure vessel of her defilement, restoring to her the symbol of her chastity through the healing power of thy pure fire, and cleansing her soul with the inner fire of pain.”

  Through all his entreaties of the heavenly powers, Mary had continued to heat the iron, the roar of the bellows punctuating his discourse, and inflaming my fears as much as the iron.