Gynecocracy

Now this was very embarrassing to me. I had not become aware of any alteration in my anatomy, or, indeed, of any revolution in my ideas. What Lord Alfred Ridlington had done, had, in fact, been disappointing, or I was disappointed that he had not done more.

In what had taken place I had had no active part. I had been passive only, I had not received or actively acknowledged the receipt of anything. In fact I had felt acutely the want of the anatomical apparatus necessary to conceive. He had given me various sensations, resulting, as I knew, in nothing; for when he had so opportunely left me what he had given me was disposed of by me.

And he had done no more to me than what Mademoiselle had done on the first of June, than what Elise had done on the first dry day that I was under her; than what my mamma had done in her bedroom at the hotel when she had screwed that flexible tube into the ivory bulb which had been inserted into me during our journey up to town; but, of course, having all this done by a man to me in the character of a girl, had a queer, perplexing, and very exciting effect on my temperament. He had wooed me in the most approved fashion and had sought and obtained all that as a girl I had to give.

"I see," said Mademoiselle, "you should have had a honeymoon with your lover. You desire seclusion and quiet-an opportunity to compose yourself, to recover from the first shock of intimate acquaintance with a man!" (I shuddered and blushed.) "But come, Julia, there are no secrets between you and myself. Will you not confide in me? Has he-"

Naivete, a delicious simplicity, and artlessness always characterized me. I therefore answered candidly.

"Oh, Mademoiselle! I was not dreaming of Lord Alfred Ridlington, I was thinking of Beatrice."

"Of Beatrice!" ejaculated Mademoiselle. "Of Beatrice!" and I know her thoughts ran upon all sorts of things in connection with that damsel.

"Mon Dieu! What are you dreaming of Beatrice for? Look at those cushions, look at that ottoman. They tell a tale, I want to hear about that!"

I blushed again and looked at her. There was nothing for it but to give her a full narration and I summoned up my energies for the purpose.

I sat down beside my governess under the absolute conviction that I was a girl like herself and I abandoned myself to the feeling while I hugged my petticoats about me as friendly things, the exponents of the truth regarding my sex. I felt very naughty and very happy. The happiness was due to the charming influence of my governess upon me and to the close proximity into which I felt drawn to her.

"Sometime ago," I said, looking into Mademoiselle's eyes, "I always wanted to be a boy for you, and now it seems so delightful to be the same as you are-a girl like yourself!"

"Well," said Mademoiselle, after a few seconds' pause during which we both followed out our thoughts, "Well?" and she moved her legs 310

underneath her voluminous skirts in a peculiar manner. "Has that thing been cut off then?"

"No; only you assure me that I am a girl."

"Yes; certainly I do. It is punished by your being made to feel so." And she turned and looked into my eyes with an expression which searched the depths of my being and covered me with shame.

Mons. Priapus at once grew and all other feelings gave place to an ardent longing to be embraced and lost in that ample bosom, engulfed and annihilated by those firm round strong thighs.

"Oh, Mademoiselle!" I cried, my cheeks flushing.

Mademoiselle laughed.

"So you think, after all, you will want a girl to console you sometimes, Julian?"

"Julian!" I exclaimed.

"You see," she exclaimed, "you have the advantage or disadvantage of being both masculine and feminine, both Julian and Julia. You have a dual part to perform in life. You have to satisfy men and women. I wonder which you will consider the pleasanter task?"

And she again moved, tightening her skirts across her shapely limbs. "Sometimes you will want a lover, sometimes a mistress. That is why you were dreaming about Beatrice," with a slight pout. "But I," she continued, "am determined by developing your feminine proclivities, to tame and counteract your formerly too aggressive masculine characteristics. You will," and she spoke more sternly and looked severely upon me, "always be under the petticoat. Now do you like what the petticoat exposes you to as a consequence of wearing it?"

I sat silent for some minutes, gazing at Mademoiselle, wondering, thinking, perplexed; very conscious of my pre-eminently feminine tea gown, headdress and general bedizening of the slender ankles belonging to long legs encased in stockings undoubtedly a woman's, and of the little feet shod in shoes also indubitably made for the gentler sex. And yet under all Mademoiselle's remarks lay a quiet tacit assumption that I was masculine. Her assertion of my double sex was made with an air that convinced me of its insincerity.