Victoria Learns Discipline
by Angela Meadows
The oil lamp gave me a ghostly appearance in the long
mirror due to my white-stockinged legs, white satin
bloomers and corset, and the white skin of my face and
exposed breasts. The only contrast was my brown hair
and my small red nipples.
For the first time since I had arrived at the Venus
School for Young Ladies some six weeks earlier, I stood
in the study of Madame Thackeray, the Principal. Why I
was there I wasn't sure. Somehow I had displeased her
while pleasuring young Albert during the evening's
lesson. Now I stood patiently awaiting her, standing
beside her desk and looking at my image. To my right
was a large bed, as this was Madame's bedroom as well
her office. The bed had heavy wooden head- and footďżľboards with pineapple-shaped knobs at each corner. At
the foot of the bed was a strange, waist-high stool. It was
in the form of an elephant standing on four sturdy legs.
Its trunk and two curved tusks pressed against the bed
and it had a broad, padded leather back.
I turned my gaze to Madame's desk. It bore just four
items, two of which were framed photographs. One
showed two ladies which I recognised in the dim light as
being Madame Thackeray herself and Madame Hulot, her companion and assistant. They were dressed in light
blouses and dark skirts and carried parasols. The other
photo was a different style entirely as it showed a naked
woman facing the photographer with a fine scarf
suspended lazily from her right hand. She appeared to
have no body hair whatsoever. I peered closely and was a
little astonished to confirm that the figure was Madame
Hulot.
The other two items on the desk also seemed rather
incongruous for that of a school principal. One was a
black leather riding crop and the other was a magnificent
ebony phallus. I bent to look at the latter more closely. It
was broader and longer than the glass instruments that
Madame had given us to practise with, and it had a pair
of fist-sized testicles at one end. The other end was a
helmet-shaped knob so large that I thought I would
barely be able to get my hand around it. I could not
imagine what use such a tool could be put to, but further
examination was prevented by the scrape of the door
opening. I stood up straight.
Madame swept in, circled me and sat at the chair
behind her desk. Although surely in her early forties she
was a handsome woman with long fair hair piled up on
her head. She rested her hands on the leather desktop and
looked up at me.
"What is your purpose here, Victoria," she asked
curtly.
"To study the arts and sciences required to manage our
future husband's household and affairs and to satisfy him
in any way that he desires," I recited the oft-heard
catechism of Madame Thackeray's school.
"That is correct, Victoria, but you disappoint me. You
have shown great aptitude for the arts of love but it seems
that you cannot resist taking pleasure yourself." But, Madame," I protested, "You taught us to find
pleasure in being touched and how to arouse excitement
in our private parts."
"I did indeed and valuable lessons they are, but what
you have not yet learned is that there is a time to indulge
your own pleasure and a time to devote to servicing your
lover. Caressing and coaxing the male member requires
all your attention, not least in preventing him from
reaching a climax too soon. Instead of using both hands
on your man you had one hand up your fanny."
"I am sorry, Madame."
"You will be, Victoria. However there is another
matter and that concerns Albert. He has a marvellous
attribute and will be a great asset to us here, but he is
inexperienced and spurts far too readily. As well as
learning your own lesson you must teach him restraint." I
was nonplussed; what did Madame mean? She answered
my unspoken question immediately.
"You will spend an hour each day before supper,
handling Albert's magnificent cock. You will ensure he
retains his erection for the whole hour without
ejaculating and you will refrain from fingering yourself
in that time. A senior girl will observe and record
transgressions. Next Sunday you will report to me at
three of the clock and we will examine your progress.
Each failure will be rewarded with a stroke of this."
Madame raised the crop and brandished it at me, "And
now I will give you a taste of what to expect if you fail."
My heart beat faster as I realised that she intended to
beat me.
"Remove your bloomers if you please, Victoria." I had
little choice but to obey Madame. I tugged on the ribbon
at my waist. The bow undid and the garment duly
dropped to the floor. I stepped out of it. "Now bend over the elephant." The purpose of the
strange stool had become apparent. I stepped slowly and
fearfully towards it. When my thighs rested against the
cool leather, Madame pushed against the small of my
back with the riding crop. I bent forward until my
stomach was resting on the padded back of the elephant.
My arms and my hair dangled down.
"Further," Madame urged. I raised myself up on the
tip of my toes and found myself delicately balanced on
the elephant's back. I felt Madame's slippered foot slide
between my ankles and push my legs apart. My feet lost
contact with the floor and I really was lying across the
stool. I was very conscious that my buttocks were as
exposed as they could be, as were my most private parts.
I lay there listening to Madame's soft breaths as some
moments passed. Not even my dear, strict father had
beaten me before so I had no idea what to expect. I
trembled in anticipation. There was a fizz through the air
and my left buttock burst into flame. I yelped, but before
I could take a breath there came another screech of the
crop and my right buttock exploded.
"Please, Madame," I appealed, but to no avail as the
crop scorched across my left cheek a second time. I tried
to struggle off the stool.
"Be still, Victoria," She was breathing deeply now,
but her energy was not expended as the crop came down
again on my right buttock. I screamed out, as it felt that
both my cheeks were aflame.
"That is enough for now," Madame said soothingly. I
remained thrown over the whipping stool like a sack of
potatoes over a donkey. I sobbed but the pain began to
subside a little.
I felt a pressure in the small of my back, a finger that
began to slide between my cheeks. It lingered, circling around my arsehole. Despite the smouldering fire in my
buttocks the touch was like an electric shock. It became
the centre of my attention. The finger moved on, parting
my lips and slipping inside. I realised that my juices were
flowing. The finger delved deeper and was joined by its
neighbours and by a thumb that felt for and found my
swelling button. I groaned as the pleasure competed with
the pain of the beating. In fact the pleasure seemed
greater than I had ever experienced. In a few moments I
was moaning as pulses of indescribable desire rippled
through my abdomen. My thighs shook uncontrollably
and I came with a gasp and cry. The hand withdrew.
"There, that will teach you something, Victoria. Pain
and pleasure complement each other, the former raising
the latter to a new plane of sensation. You may dismount
now."
A little wriggling shifted my weight so that I slid off
the elephant and onto my unsteady legs. I turned to face
Madame. She was standing holding the door open, my
bloomers dangling from an outstretched finger.
"Don't forget – five of the clock each evening, in the
drawing room. Return to your room now." I grabbed the
under-garment and fled from the room and up the stairs.
When I reached my bedroom I flung myself face down
on the bed. My bottom still burned but my thoughts were
of the ecstasy that Madame had given me. Barely a few
moments passed before there was a knock on the door,
and a whispered voice asked, "Victoria, are you there?" I
recognised the French accent of my friend, Natalie.
"Come in," I called, my voice breaking somewhat.
The door opened.
"Oh, Victoria, what has happened to you?" Natalie
approached me and I could see her wide eyes staring at y bottom. "Has Madame beaten you? You have a cross
of red marks on your smooth, white bottom." I explained
what Madame had said and the punishment I had
received. Natalie laid her hand gently on my bottom.
"Ooh, I can feel the heat still," Then I began to
describe how Madame had caressed me.
"Do you mean like this," Natalie's finger traced out
the same path as Madame's and again my loins trembled
with the delectable pleasure.
"Yes, just like that," I moaned. Natalie pressed her
hand between my swollen lips.
"You are indeed excited, Victoria. I am sure that just a
little movement like this," her fingers rubbed in and out
of my vagina, "will make you come."
"I … I think you are correct," I gasped as the
tremulations increased to a climax.
Afterwards we lay together on the bed and discussed
the strange way that the beating I had been given seemed
to make me quicker to achieve orgasm.
"Perhaps, Madame will find occasion to use her whip,
on me," said Natalie almost wistfully.
As the clock in the hallway struck five, I entered the
drawing room. My room-mate, Beatrice, one year my
senior, was sitting on a couch, sewing in the light of the
sun that was about to set beyond the mountain peaks. As
I stepped towards her I heard footsteps behind me and
turned to see Albert joining us. Bea put down her work
and looked at each of us.
"Good afternoon Albert," Albert nodded his head in
greeting, "Hello, Victoria. You know what you have to
do." I turned to face Albert and pressed a hand against
his groin. His cock was already hard and straining at his
lederhosen.
I ma sorry end story will so more
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