Whip Hands (24 page)

I was curious to give Douglas' loft a thorough inspection, but the poor soul seemed edgily impatient to get started. He kept sending nervous glances in the direction of the windows as if checking the state of the sun.

Both of us had marked the appropriate pages from which the scene would be improvised so there was no reason for not getting on with it. I would have preferred to block out the moves beforehand but already Douglas was stretched out on the stripped pine floor just as if he had been newly thrown from the saddle. He went straight into character:

HE: (gritted teeth) ‘Confound it, this is the very devil. What to do now?'

SHE: (meekly) ‘Are you injured, sir?'

HE: (indistinct mutterings to himself accompanied by grimaces of pain)

SHE: ‘Can I do anything for you?'

HE: (noticing her for the first time) ‘You must stand to one side. (to the dog) Down, Pilot! (to himself) If only I can rest a moment on this stile.'

SHE: (approaching nearer) ‘If you are hurt or want help I can fetch someone from Thornfield Hall. I cannot think of leaving you alone at this hour, sir, till I see you are fit to mount your horse.'

HE: ‘I think you should be home yourself. Where in this neighbourhood do you reside?'

SHE: ‘Just below, the house with the battlements.'

HE: (craftily) ‘Oh, so you must know whose house it is?'

SHE: ‘Yes, it is Mr Rochester's, but I have not yet met the owner.'

HE: ‘Can you tell me where he is, perhaps?'

SHE: ‘No, but I am told by his ward that he will return any day now.'

HE: (under his breath) ‘Ah, the governess. I think you may help me a little if you will be so kind. Could I perhaps lean on your shoulder to approach close enough to catch the horse's bridle. (rising) The animal seems in far better fettle than I.'

SHE: ‘Here, take my arm. I am stronger than you might imagine.'

HE: (miming) ‘Ah, at last I have the bridle. Now perhaps you could find the whip that flew from my hand. In the grass under the hedge?' (indicates the floor-length curtains)

SHE: (at the curtain where, to her surprise, there is a riding crop half-hidden) ‘Is this what you seek, sir?'

At this point Douglas clapped his hands authoritatively and suggested we break. Still in his cloak, he poured us each a glass of wine and we drank, with mutually admiring glances at the wall-mirror. There we could see our new selves, a handsome couple, dramatically lit by the dying sun. Despite the scene having finished it still felt like Charlotte Bronte's world where women must be compliant and men, in the most polished fashion, forceful and dominant.

As this thought crossed my mind, Douglas slapped his impressive boot with the ‘whip', just as I imagined Rochester would in a fit of impatience. He suggested we play an alternative version of the scene with Rochester as a more unprincipled character who has designs on a lone female in a remote place. One glass of wine doesn't usually make me so reckless, but I somehow felt quite safe with Douglas. So we tried it as he suggested.

Instantly Douglas became transformed, striding up and down as though he had forgotten all about the original Rochester's sprained knee and looking me up and down with smouldering eyes. It was a powerful performance. Minute by minute the room was becoming gloomier as the sun sank below the horizon. I cowered in fairly authentic terror as Jane, hoping to appeal to Rochester's better nature by my maidenish good sense.

Out of the shadows he strode towards me and grabbed me round the waist. With only token protest I found myself dragged towards the spiral staircase, now bathed in ghostly luminescence from above. I felt more and more like Jane than my usual self. These thoughts were rudely interrupted as Douglas, with a flourish, removed the loosely tied scarf and, in almost the same movement, lifted the dress over my head.

I gasped at this unexpected turn of events, managing only a feeble ‘Fie, sir!' or something equally unimaginative. My arms instinctively crossed in truly Jane-like modesty across my chest. Rochester came towards me, brandishing the mauve chiffon and, as if in a dream, I watched him quickly but lightly bind my wrists together. As we approached the staircase I thought I knew where we were going next.

But I was quite wrong. We did not climb to the upper level. Instead, I was now tied by the sash to an upright of the corkscrew stairwell. Rochester had me at his mercy, until, that is, such time as I decided to untie his artistic bow...

ARLENE (or is it JANE?): ‘What's happening, Douglas? Are we rehearsing for a porno film, or what? What does this lead to? (inconsequentially) I need more direction.'

DOUGLAS/ROCHESTER: ‘Be silent, Jane, and listen. Through pressure of distant business I was unable to interview you when you applied for the position. Now I intend to remedy that omission.'

ARLENE: ‘What exactly are you on about?'

ROCHESTER: (darkly) ‘Listen to me, madam. I am, after all, your employer and it is my ward you have in your care. I am concerned that Adele should be firmly kept in hand so that her education is sound.'

ARLENE: (catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, standing naked except for bikini pants in a shaft of silver light) ‘Why have you tied me to this - tree, Douglas? It's a staircase anyway, er, sir.'

ROCHESTER: ‘Now watch closely, Jane. If you ever find my ward inattentive to her lesson, this is what you must do.' (At this point Rochester slaps Jane smartly a few times on the outside of her thighs.)

JANE: (recovering quickly and rather smugly) ‘Well, sir, I foresee I will have no difficulty in administering this reprimand.'

ROCHESTER: ‘But this is just the beginning, Jane. My ward, I hear, makes frequent grammatical errors because of her French upbringing. This may be pardonable in a mere child, but now she is to be prepared for her place in society such lapses are less and less to be tolerated. I trust you will note this most particularly.'

JANE: ‘I will, sir. And what form of punishment, do you consider, should I give Adele for this fearful crime against society?'

ROCHESTER: ‘You did well to ask, Jane. I hope I can take this opportunity to teach you how the discipline should become more severe. It must be given to her on the hindquarters. Forgive me, but I must speak plainly on this matter, Jane.'

JANE: ‘I begin to understand, sir. But surely you don't intend to make a governess submit to such humiliation here in this lonely place?'

ROCHESTER: (melodramatic) ‘Madam, I must insist you yourself receive the same punishment in order to learn this lesson well. It is essential that you experience a caning in the flesh. I am surprised that you are so uninformed about this aspect of maintaining discipline in the young. A lesson from me will stay longer in your mind, I guarantee...'

I wasn't entirely sure what would come next. I'd heard of women enjoying corporal punishment from a partner, but I'd never dreamed of letting anyone actually do it to me. Now I was faced with a choice: either I free myself by untying the scarf or I let Douglas have his way. Would he really do it?

My mind was made up quickly. Douglas put a warm hand on my shoulder and ran one finger down my spine. In a second I was tingling. Looking down, I could see the angry blotches where he had slapped me. Now they excited me, a sign that my body could express hurt and anguish. I felt a strange need to be taken further, up to the point where I existed only in the intense pain passing from him to me. In such suffering Jane would surely discover the truth of her feelings.

The next thing I felt was a finger being hooked in the flimsy elastic of the bikini pants and down they slipped. I had become wet and increasingly aroused. I remembered how we had briefly been lovers those years ago.

Was my excitement at the prospect of making love to him again or at the idea of receiving pain from him? Or was I no longer thinking as Arlene but had become immersed in my role as a latter-day Jane? It was a distinction I had no leisure to muse on as Douglas subtly but firmly eased my hips towards him, away from the ironwork behind me. My back was arched and my cheeks made more prominent.

During this manoeuvre I felt the pants fall to my ankles. Instinctively I stepped out of them. Douglas instructed me to spread my legs more and keep them straight. I heard him removing his cloak and then a whistle as he tested the riding whip in the air. I shivered.

He came closer and ran one hand lightly over my buttocks, pausing just fractionally in the cleft. The tingling spread more intensely. I knew what was to come, yet all I could feel was half-eager, half-fearful anticipation.

There was a pause and I stole a quick glance over one shoulder at my image in the mirror. I was entranced at the figure so strikingly lit from above: quite a stage picture. I was beginning to admire my finer points, enhanced in the dramatic shaft of light and shadow, when I noticed out of the corner of my eye Douglas' arm upraised. The crop quivered in his hand.

Despite this forewarning the first stroke caught me unawares and he followed it with a second a very few seconds later. When I called out, Douglas only muttered, ‘Stay in character, Jane,' and slapped his boot with some ferocity.

By number three - for which he graciously allowed a pause of some ten seconds - I could feel the heat spreading, particularly on the right cheek which was taking the brunt. After six I begged him to use the left hand. A mistake, as I had forgotten Douglas was left-handed! He had begun with his weaker arm out of pity, he informed me.

He also quizzed me whether I was taking in this lesson, and whether I could recite exactly which youthful crimes deserved this punishment. Jane had to think quickly if this was not to go on for ever. She still received a further six before the lesson was learned. For the last two or three she pressed her stomach hard against the wrought-iron uprights in a futile attempt to reduce the ferocity of the stinging sensation. Her legs were quivering and rapidly losing their strength.

But, to my surprise, Jane never cried out, although she certainly bit her lip and made a soundless scream or two, and she never thought of releasing herself. She had to submit by nature to Rochester as her employer and also for his strength of will, which was bent on her mastery.

At last there was the twelfth. I heard the knock of the crop falling on the bare floor. Then a figure was beside me, untying the chiffon scarf and supporting me as my legs seemed unable to do anything quite so basic any more.

To my relief the figure was recognisably Douglas, despite the top-boots. He cradled me in his arms, crooning words of endearment and comfort, saying this was a fantasy he'd dreamed of acting out with me. He'd planned it so the sunset would form a backdrop to our role-playing. Then we kissed deeply and with a mounting passion.

I was once again myself, and the only way was up that winding stair and into the light of the room above. It might not be the bedroom, but this was the best way I could think of to find out.

I noticed that, ever the gentleman, Douglas allowed me to go first. His eyes, I'm sure, were feasting on the angry redness emanating from my buttocks.

The small bedroom was bathed in the last embers of the dying sun, one wall being almost totally occupied by a half-moon window. I gingerly sat on the edge of the single bed. Rochester was struggling out of his riding gear and turning into the Douglas I remembered from our student days. He had put on a little weight and his chest was more hirsute than I remembered, but he still looked very fit. He came close to me, wearing only his boxer shorts.

DOUGLAS: ‘Are you sure about this, Jane? I mean Arlene.'

ARLENE/JANE: ‘How you do presume, sir! As you know, I am a maiden still and unversed in the wiles of you men. You must tell me what you want of me.'

DOUGLAS: ‘Arlene, for heaven's sake. Can't we drop this now?'

ARLENE/JANE: ‘No sir. I find it a real turn-on and I want more of it. Are you going to remove those linen under-trousers, my master?'

DOUGLAS/ROCHESTER: ‘Oh, very well, Jane. I hope you won't fall into a swoon at the sight of my manhood.'

JANE: ‘Oh, show me, master. (he does) Why, it is a very large member, and it is pointing at me as if it wishes to tell me something. Oh, sir, where are you putting your hand? Surely you do not have designs on my modesty? (his hand spreads Jane's legs). Oh, I see you do.'

ROCHESTER: ‘Come closer, Jane, and lie full length on the bed. Now put your hand on my member. Yes, like that. Now you may feel what it is like to have control of your master. My desire and happiness lie in your hands.'

JANE: ‘You are a fancy talker, Mr Rochester, I do declare. What will happen if I take your member and put it here? (she spreads her labia) Would you take advantage of my innocence?

DOUGLAS: ‘Arlene, I need you, really need you. What is the Victorian for stop being a prick-teaser?' (he enters her)

JANE: ‘Fie, sir! You are importunate. But I just love it. Oh, oh, please don't stop! Douglas, you beast. Oh, God, that's wonderful...'

 

It was the following morning before I left Douglas' apartment and we had spent a wonderful night together. In his full-length bathroom mirror I looked at myself before getting dressed again in the Empire-style dress. Still visible were the twelve proud stripes, now purplish weals on the surface of skin a little tender to the touch, that I had endured on Jane's behalf.