"In utter amazement he sat in his large dark oak chair looking at me, his hands clutching the two lion's head arms. Behind him loomed the massive bed with its rich red baldaquin trimmed in gold.
"How dare you!" he said.
"He stood before me in an instant, took the axe and hurled it with ease so that it crashed into the stone wall opposite. Then he picked me up and threw me towards the bed. The entire bed shivered, baldaquin and draperies as well. No man could have made me span that distance. But he had done it. With arms and legs flying, I landed on the pillows.
"Despicable monster!" I said. I turned over, steadied myself and drew up on my left side, glaring at him, one knee crooked.
"He stood with his back to me. He hand been about to close the inner doors of the apartment, which had been open before and therefore were not broken. But he stopped. He turned. A playful expression came over him.
"Oh, what a vile temper we have for such an angelic countenance," he said mildly.
"If I'm an angel," I said, drawing back from the edge of the bed, "paint me with black wings."
"You dare knock down my door." He folded his arms. "Need I tell you why I will not tolerate such from you, or from anyone?"
"He stood gazing at me with raised eyebrows.
"You torture me," I said.
"Oh, indeed, how and since when?"
"I wanted to bawl. I wanted to say, "I love only you."
"Instead I said, "I detest you."
"He couldn't help but laugh. He lowered his head, his fingers curled under his chin, as he stared at me.
"Then he extended his hand and snapped his fingers.
"I heard a rustling from the rooms beyond. I sat up petrified with amazement.
"I saw the long switch of the teacher come slithering along the floor as if a wind had sent it hither, and then it twisted and turned and rose and dropped into his waiting hand.
"Behind him, the inner doors slammed shut and the bolt slipped into place with a loud metallic clatter.
"I drew back in the bed.
"It's going to be a pleasure to whip you," he said, smiling sweetly, his eyes almost innocent. "You may chalk it up as another human experience, rather like cavorting with your English lord."
"Do it. I hate you." I said. "I'm a man and you deny it."
"He looked superior and gentle but not amused.
"He came towards me, and grabbed at my head, and threw me face down on the bed.
"Demon!" I said.
"Master," he replied calmly.
"I felt the nudge of his knee in the small of my back and then down came the switch across my thighs. Of course I wasn't wearing anything but the thin stockings that fashion decreed, so I might as well have been naked.
"I cried out in pain and then shut my mouth tight. When the next few blows came, walloping my legs, I swallowed all the noise, furious to hear myself make a careless impossible groan.
"Again and again, he brought the switch down, whipping my thighs and then my lower legs as well. Enraged, I struggled to get up, pushing vainly on the covers with the heels of my hands. I couldn't move. I was pinioned by his knee, and he whacked away without the slightest deterrent.
"Suddenly as rebellious as I'd ever been, I decided to play games with this. I'd be damned if I'd lie there crying, and the tears were coming up in my eyes. I closed my eyes shut, gritted my teeth and decided that each blow was the divine color red and that I liked, and that the hot crashing pain I felt was red, and that the warmth swelling up in my leg after was golden and sweet.
"Oh, that's lovely!" I said.
"You make a fool's bargain, little boy!" he said.
"He whipped my harder and faster. I couldn't keep my pretty visions. It hurt, it bloody hurt.
"I'm not a boy!" I cried.
"I felt a wetness on my leg. I knew I was bleeding.
"Master, you mean to disfigure me?"
"There's nothing worse than for a fallen saint to be a horrid devil!"
"More blows. I knew I was bleeding from more than one place. I would surely be bruised all over. I wouldn't be able to walk.
"I don't know what you mean! Stop!
"To my astonishment, he did. I curled my arm up under my face and I sobbed. I sobbed for a long moment, and my legs burned as if the switch were still hitting them. It seemed the blows were being laid on over and over, but they weren't. I kept hoping, Let this pain die away to something warm again, something tingling and nice, the way it felt the first couple of times. That would be all right, but this is terrible. I hate it!
"Suddenly I felt him cover me. I felt the sweet tickling of his hair on my legs. I felt his fingers as he grabbed the torn cloth of the stockings and ripped it, tearing it off both my legs very quickly, leaving them bare. He reached up under my tunic and tore the remnants of the hose.
"The pain throbbed, grew worse, then a little better. The air was cool on my bruises. When his fingers touched them, I felt such terrible pleasure that all I could do was moan.
"You going to break down my door again?"
"Never," I whispered.
"You going to defy me in any way in particular?"
"Never in any way ever."
"Further words?"
"I love you."
"I'm sure.
"But I do," I said sniffling.
"The stroking of his fingers on my hurt flesh was insupportably delicious. I didn't dare raise my head. I pressed my cheek against the scratchy embroidered coverlet, against the great picture of the lion stitched into it, and I sucked in my breath and let my tears flow. I felt calm all over; this pleasure robbed me of any control of my limbs.
"I closed my eyes, and there came his lips on my leg. He kissed one of the bruises. I thought I would die. I would go to Heaven, that is, some other higher more delicious Heaven even than this Venetian Heaven. Beneath me, my groin was alive with thankful and desperate and isolated strength."
Copyright © 1998 by Anne O'Brien Rice.
