0 comments/ 25449 views/ 2 favorites The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 1 By: Grace_Lady I will begin with explaining that there is nothing extraordinary about me. I was born into a modestly wealthy family of a reasonable social class. Having lost my parents rather early in life, I was shipped off to my grandmother’s where an army of servants and sycophants could ensure my proper education. In person, I am a tall woman with a dark look about me that has always ensued comparisons to gypsies or the fey. I am somewhat statuesque and have always maintained a wardrobe of jewel tones to highlight my coloring and figure. I matured rather earlier than most women; I have now learned and of course, am left to wonder if my early maturation had anything to do with the course of my life. I am a courtesan. I make my living by providing pleasure to others. Arranging pleasure, in some instances. The lifespan of the professional-client relationship can be simple or complex, and neither has an accurate idea of how long it will endure. I have had clients come to my door swearing that this visit will be their first and last, only to become the most constant of regulars. Others come and make all sorts of promises about their longevity as my employer, and come only a few times. I have bragged in my more whimsical moments, that not a single client came only once. Double entandre intended. My reign as a courtesan is rather different than most. As I mentioned above, I was born to wealth and title, using both to their most natural advantage. I have received a wonderful education, both in the classroom and boudoir. What I may have lacked in innocence or naivete, I tend to believe I have made up in tact and determination. None of these set me apart from my counterparts, of which there are many, other than the single solitary fact that my clientele is, and always has been, entirely female. Oh, there was one gentleman client, but when it is explained fully in context, I am sure most would agree that he belongs to a most special category of clients who were never lovers. That does happen, you know. Does that surprise you? I remember the first time I learned that women could be responsible for their own pleasure. My Grandmother had been staying in London for the Season, leaving me in the capable hands of my new tutor. Eleanor was a woman of thirty, incredibly cultured and beautiful. She had traveled most of Europe and spoke several languages, which is presumably why my grandmother had hired her. Grandmother had also hoped that Eleanor’s worldly refinement would rub off on the very impressionable young woman that I was in my youth. Grandmother was correct in some fashion, as Eleanor most certainly rubbed off on me. Not exactly as expected, of course. I had been lying in bed trying to fall asleep for hours before I decided to explore the house. Most of the servants had gone with Grandmother to London and so this rare opportunity was too good to resist. I was particularly interested in checking in on my new tutor, who had infatuated me from the first. Clad only in my nightgown, which was ridiculously childish for my age and figure, I made my way through the large country estate to the servants’ wing. Creeping down the hallway, I was surprised to hear the sound of groans coming from Eleanor’s room. I opened the door a small way, just enough to see her beautiful body caught in the throes of passion, the fingers of both hands hidden between the folds of her cleft. She knelt on her bed in front of me, swaying and arching in passion. She finally climaxed and her naked body fell backward on to the bed, her legs open towards me. I was not so naïve as to be unfamiliar with the ways of sex. We did live in the country, giving me many opportunities to see animals mating. I had even watched an older cousin of mine on all fours in the barn, taking it from a stable hand in a most noisy fashion. My cousin had the same look and smell of passion as my dear tutor did that night. I walked into the room, closing the door behind me, startling her. Being the fearless chit I have always been, I crossed to her bed and demanded that she show me how to do what she had just done or I would turn her over to the housekeeper. Instead of being upset, Eleanor seemed almost unsurprised to find me there. She sat up on her bed and watched my stubborn body tremble. Eleanor smiled gently, spreading her legs even further apart. “That won’t be necessary, Margaret. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.” Eleanor let her hand trail down her breasts to her cleft. She opened the folds and lightly stroked the petals of her sex. “Have you ever touched yourself like this?” “Yes,” I stared enraptured as her fingers disappeared into her vagina. “But not inside.” “Oh, but inside is where it feels the nicest.” “Can I do that?” I asked, watching as Eleanor continued to finger herself. My Grandmother, as women of her station had for eons, filled my head with all sorts of nonsense about sex. Most notable in these particular circumstances was the raising of my maidenhood to near biblical proportions and importance. I was firmly of the belief that were I to lose my virginity, Armageddon would surely occur. “In a limited fashion, darling. Too strenuous application will take your precious virginity. I can teach you many other wonderful things.” She took the hem of my nightgown in her hands and raised it over my head. Naked, I stood before her, nipples hard and my cleft damp. I believe Eleanor chuckled at that point, but it might as well have been a purr, as those two intersect when coming from her throat. “You have a beautiful body, Margaret,” she said. She reached behind my back and undid the ribbon holding my braid in place. Pulling my hair over my breasts, she ran the back of her hands over my full breasts. My body jumped as if I had been hit by lightening. I moaned, letting my eyes close and head fall back as she continued to fondle my breasts. After a time, Eleanor laughed and hugged me tightly. “Margaret, what a delightful surprise! I thought I would just show you how to masturbate, but I have something much more wonderful in store for you.” I shivered under her hands and swayed until she laid me down on the bed beside me. Eleanor pressed her body over mine, her breasts pushing against mine. She watched me carefully for several moments before she lowered her mouth to mine. I was such a shy thing, I did not realize that Eleanor meant to teach me more than the subtle art of masturbation; she was going to become my instructor in the art of female lovemaking. I cannot recall how long she tongued my untrained mouth, but I do remember that at some point she licked down my neck to my breasts. The first stabs of her tongue over my nipple were enough to make me arch against her mouth. When she finally sucked on my breasts, pulling the nipple inside her mouth I cried out, overwhelmed with the feelings my untried body was experiencing. Still sucking on my breasts, her hand placed mine on her breast. I was so terribly hesitant that first night that I could only think to flick my thumb over her breast. She responded by lowering her hand down my body until it rested on top of my thighs. A slight pressure was all that was required for me to move my legs apart. Her quick hand stole inside and gently touched my mons. I opened my legs wider; gasping at the sensations her hand was giving me. She rubbed between my outer lips, which only made me strain harder against her hand. “Darling Margaret, you are drenched with passion!” “Why is that?” I asked her, gasping. “It means you like what I’m doing to you, that you are preparing yourself for me.” “I don’t understand…” my confused words broke off as she stuck her finger inside me. My body arched against her violently. “More, oh please, more!” “Margaret, you have such a strong veil, I could finger you for years and not take your virginity. Do you feel this?” She moved her finger inside me to indicate my hymen and explained the nature of a virgin’s hymen. She cautioned me that unless I was careful to stretch myself, I would have a most unpleasant deflowering. She explained to me about the parts of my sex, rubbing each part until I could tell the difference in each. Her forays deep into my canal to rub my sweet spot made me shake in her arms. She added another finger to my moist passage, her thumb rubbing like crazy against my clitoris as her mouth sucked violently on my nipple. I could only withstand a minute or two of this until I felt my first orgasm claiming my body. Eleanor only chuckled while I screamed, arching wildly against her hand. My dear Tutor gave me a few moments to catch my breath before she began again, this time she lay between my legs and secured her mouth to my cleft. Several moments of her quick tongue on my clitoris brought me to another orgasm. Again, she only gave me moments before she began again, this time sucking hard at my breasts while she rubbed them. Again, I came in her arms. That night Eleanor taught me all the ways I could enjoy my body without breaking my tough little hymen. I received no sleep, and come the morning light I found myself lying under her, her breasts rubbing against my back as she thrust her mons against the curve of my behind. One of her hands was buried under my body, her fingers inside me as the other rolled my nipple between her forefinger and thumb. Her mouth was ruthless on my shoulder, biting me wonderfully. She paced me, withdrawing as I was on the verge of my orgasm several times before she rammed three fingers inside me, causing me to scream into the sweat-dampened bed sheets. She gave me a few minutes to recover before pulling me off the bed. “Do you hurt?” She asked, brushing my wild hair over my breasts. “I marked you nicely, Margaret. You must make sure to bathe alone or the maids will think you’ve been making love with the stable boys.” Her thumb brushed over a particularly dark love bruise on my breast and another on my shoulder. I shook my head. My breasts felt wonderful, only my vagina ached and I told her so. She smiled and embraced me. “Come again, tonight. I’ve more to teach you. Your cunt will be fine after a quick bath.” Eleanor, as it turned out, was telling the truth. A bath filled with oils set me to rights, so much so that I decided to try out my newfound skills on myself several times before I left the bath. I found that I liked the feel of water falling over my clit as well as the feel of my fingers inside me. I felt my hymen for myself, wondering at its resistance to my probing. I wrote all about my night with Eleanor in my journal and have often chuckled myself at the fact that this was the first entry I had ever made in the book. Each entry, of course, has been a continuation of that first one. That next night, Eleanor taught me to pleasure her. How to kiss, to press, to fondle. She taught me the vocabulary for what we did, explaining that many women liked cursing, but others detested it. In the next few weeks, she taught me about lingerie and how to wear it for sex and how to seduce and be seduced. Later, she even arranged for gymnastic lessons for me, which made me wonderfully flexible and limber. One night she opened a chest at the foot of her bed with a key and showed me all the toys and accruements of passion. Most could not be used on me, but some could and I found them delightful. After a careful set of cautioning, Eleanor placed a harness around her hips and set a round phallus to it. She laid me down on the bed, drawing my knees over her elbows. She placed the round phallus tip between my nether lips and rubbed it over them. I groaned and bit my lips in sexual agony. Her next trick was to place the phallus between these lips so that the tip rubbed my clitoris. She continued to thrust carefully, so that it did not enter my body. I came so hard that night; I ripped the bed sheets with my fingernails. Another night, she placed the harness on me, this time with a larger phallus. This time I was able to mount my dear tutor, delighting in her hoarse screams. That night was a turning point in our relationship, as all vestiges of shyness were now gone. There were more memorable nights of passion. Lessons about the proper use of her tools, lessons about eroticism and seduction. The courses on positions for phallus play were delightful and Eleanor explained how different positions made for different experiences and how to fix the harness to take the added pressure of many of them. She even shared with me the story of her own deflowering. She was a penniless, but beautiful young woman being educated in a college on a generous scholarship from a distant relative. One of the limitations of the scholarship, however, is she was not housed with the rest of the students, but rather had to stay with the maids. She was surprised to find out that the maids were holding regular orgies in their cold quarters and one night, one of them seduced her after giving her some wine stolen from the kitchens. Her first taste of passion was when one of the maids had the other girls hold Eleanor down as she brought her to orgasm with her mouth. Eleanor writhed and struggled half-heartedly, since she had desired to be brought into their games. Soon after that first night, a woman pushed her hand up into Eleanor’s body, breaking her hymen and fisted her to an orgasm, as another two maids sucked on her breasts and another french kissed her. Some nights Eleanor would be awoken by fingers reaching into her vagina, in which she lifted her hips to receive until she whimpered in ecstasy. She would then fall asleep never knowing which of the girls had awakened her. Nights such as these were her favorites, and the maids made sure to approach her in her sleep often. Fingers were thrust into her vagina from behind if she slept on her stomach. Or if she were asleep on her back, she would keep her eyes closed so the maid making love to her would be anonymous. One night, Eleanor awoke to realize someone’s tongue was in her anus and their fingers in her vagina and a thumb applied to her clitoris. This continued for a while, and then the unknown lover began to thrust her finger into Eleanor’s her anus and vagina at the same time, while tonguing her clitoris until she climaxed. The night before graduation, they tied her down while all of the maids took their turns bringing her to orgasm while she was blindfolded. In a single night, she was sucked, fingered, licked, fisted and mounted to repeated orgasms. The later occurring since one of the maids had found a somewhat phallus shaped statue in one of the rooms and mounted Eleanor with it until she passed out from the pleasure. She woke up alone, the phallus statue at her side, which she took with her. From that moment on, Eleanor had devoted herself to learning all the ways a woman could be pleasured. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 2 Every so often Eleanor would challenge me to seduce one of the maids. It wasn’t long before I first succeeded. I chose one of the servants, a chambermaid, whom I knew was of a looser nature than the others. I followed the maid as she snuck out of the house to the stable to meet her lover. After some time kissing and petting each other, they sank into the hay. The maid took the stableman’s pants off, and then jacked him to orgasm. I waited until he had pulled her loose nightdress over her shoulder to bare her breasts and began noisily sucking on her breasts before I disturbed them. The stableman leapt to his feet, trying to right his breaches. I bade him go, even as I ordered the maid to follow me to the drawing room. By the time I had locked the drawing room door behind us, I had my plan firmly in mind. I gave her several drinks from my grandfather’s old scotch, as I explained that I understood that women had needs to be filled and asked her to tell me what the stableman had done to her. She began nervously, but soon warmed to her task. It wasn’t long before she was feeling very warm, very relaxed and very excited. When she shrugged, the nightdress slipped over her shoulder, baring a large breast. I covered it with my hand, asking her quietly if this was what the stableman had done to her. She proceeded to tell me in explicit detail what the stableman had done. “Ah, yes, that’s the way. Suck it right into your mouth, hard like.” The maid writhed and buried her hands in my hair; I increased the pressure from my mouth. “He’d take his teeth to my tit, biting me,” she breathlessly reported, and I obliged her. “Aye, mistress, bite me harder.” I obediently nipped at her, bruising her large pale breasts. “Then what did he do?” I asked her, murmuring against her breast. “He’d put his fingers up me.” I drew up her nightgown and gently pressed my finger into her wetness. She bucked against my hand and whimpered. “Aye, right up me snatch, but his hands are bigger than that…” I pressed several more fingers into her, watching her bite her bottom lip. “Ah, aye, give me more!” She implored, grinding her hips against me. “I likes it hard and fast…” “You are a slut, aren’t you?” I asked her, amused by her gyrations. I did not mean this in a derogatory sense, but rather spoke in her street vocabulary. “Aye, I’m a slutty bitch,” she agreed, raising her hips faster. “Then that dirty bastard would stick his prick in me mouth.” I reached behind the couch, where I had hid a phallus early that afternoon. I quickly pressed it against her mouth with my free hand, and she sucked it greedily as I continued to violently thrust my fingers. When she had thoroughly wetted it, I plunged it into her vagina. She screamed “fuck me, aye, fuck me, now!” I thrust it quickly into her, sparing her nothing. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as she gasped loudly. The maid was very foul mouthed, cursing a blue streak the entire while. My eyebrows rose several times as she surprised me with inventive combinations. She raised her knees over my shoulders and began to shake. “Mistress, fuck me harder, I love a prick in me snatch. I’m going to explode, don’t stop now, mistress.” I needed only a few minutes until she screamed, coming so powerfully I had a hard time keeping her on the sofa. When her eyes began to clear, I pressed her belly against the sofa and thrust the phallus back into her. She moaned and rubbed her clitoris against the sofa arm. I ordered her to continue telling me what the stableman had done to her and when she would not I smacked her sharply on her ample bottom. “Ah, I likes that. Harder now, mistress,” she gasped before she continued to tell me each and every thing any man had ever done to her. Although her social circles were limited as a chambermaid, I should not have been so shocked to learn that the servants had quite a fair litany of experiences to which they shared most generously with each other. My grandmother’s travels, it seemed, had broadened quite a few horizons. I was mildly surprised by a few of her stories and made a mental note to try a few of them out on her and Eleanor at some later time. My proposition was probably the first she had received from a woman, but her passionate nature was more than up to the challenge. Making love to another woman was an odd experience and I felt like I had betrayed her. Eleanor had always taken the upper hand with me, and so being the aggressor was wonderfully foreign to me. I left the maid to go to Eleanor and was surprised to find her awake, lying in bed having a drink while she waited for me. She insisted that I tell her everything and I was actually shocked when she was turned on by my seduction story. I continued the tale, watching hotly as she masturbated with a phallus before bringing me to orgasm with her mouth as I completed the tale of the maid’s seduction. My studies with my tutor were judged complete and I was to be sent off to a private school to continue my education. Grandmother dismissed Eleanor rather perfunctory, and I was heart broken to see her go. Eleanor and I wrote each other constantly. I told her tales of my continued seductions of the maids and she wrote back about her masturbation scenarios. It wasn’t long before she started to find new toys and those stories were enough to drive me mad. Eleanor was always able to find work as a tutor or instructor and so did not lack employment opportunities. I was excited to read about her travels with a wealthy family for the entire summer. My Grandmother remained blissfully unaware of my dealings until one evening when she walked in on me and one of the aforementioned chambermaid. I had the older woman bent over a side table, her skirts over her back, one hand holding the collar of her uniform so that she could not avoid my thrusting hips. We had agreed to this scenario earlier in the day, when she had come to my room an hour before I began my day. I had pulled her breasts over her bodice and bit them hard enough to leave bruises. She was leaning on both arms, bracing herself on the table. At each thrust, her large heavy breasts swung back and forth. My own skirts were tied up on either side of my waist, as I was wearing the harness Eleanor had helped me make and had strapped on one of the largest phalluses in my tiny collection. The chambermaid was cursing in the coarsest gutter language I had ever heard at that time, as she demanded to be mounted harder and faster, interrupted only by her hoarse groans. “Fuck me snatch faster now, mistress, ye know I likes it nasty,” she gasped, harshly. My Grandmother covered her gasp with a frail hand at the maid’s words. Never pausing in my thrusts, I smiled at my grandmother and sharply slapped the chambermaid’s round posterior. She jerked, gasping then begged me to do it again to which I readily provided another sharp swat to her posterior. “Aye, mistress, I’m a nasty bitch,” she gasped, writhing. The combination of the large phallus and my careful administration of pain threw her over the edge and she screamed beautifully, causing my grandmother to pass out on the DuBois rug. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 3 When my grandmother was revived, I was quickly dispatched to a boarding school for young women. Little did any of us know that all her plans were for naught, as I was surprised to find Eleanor was the new Head Mistress of the school, having known where Grandmother planned to send me from her first day a my Tutor. Her glorious hair was pulled back sharply from her face and the dour garments the school required her to wear made her really quite intimidating. In her eyes, however, was the same sparkle of wit and passion that I had come to adore. I believe that first morning at the school was when I fell in love with her. I later learned that several of the maids had tearfully admitted that they too were my lovers, which caused my grandmother to have a severe heart attack, which left her weakened. If I had felt anything for that cold, cruel woman before that, I certainly felt a tiny twinge of guilt then. I tried to reason that at least I was a man and hadn’t left the maids pregnant and so my grandmother should at least be thankful for that. Being the headmistress was a wonderful position for Eleanor. She had been able to get several large new toys, several of which were mechanical. My favorite was a machine that vibrated a small wand. Eleanor had several attachments for this, which she plugged onto the machine and set it going on my clitoris or even just inside my vagina. I experienced orgasms at every level of its intensity and used it often when alone. One very memorable night when all the girls were gone for the holidays, Eleanor gave me alcohol for the first time. (I of course had not been invited home, as my grandmother was afraid I would continue seducing her servants.) We lay around drinking; lying naked together on her bed, taking turns masturbating for the other. I adored watching Eleanor use phalluses on herself and could barely wait for my turn to masturbate. After some time, she stopped me and called for a new lesson. She strapped me to the bed on my stomach, the vibrating machine’s wand between my legs at my clitoris and proceeded to turn it on low. The steady vibration was driving me crazy and I was completely surprised by a well-lubricated fingertip being placed against my little rose. Eleanor gently pushed until she gained entrance, soothing me with words of instruction. I bore down on her finger and was able to take her entire finger into my virginal rose. She gently moved within me for a few moments before withdrawing. I was very surprised when she went to do it again, this time with a very thin phallus. She explained that I would enjoy it and so once again, I bore down and the slim phallus entered me. She turned the machine medium and then to high, causing great wracking spasms of my body as she moved the lubricate phallus in and out of my rose. When I was at the very brink of orgasm, she thrust the phallus into me violently, causing me to scream as I came. I reciprocated for her later that night, using a new harness that allowed for two phalluses, one for her vagina and another for her rose. The vibration machine whined at her clitoris and her screams of pleasure were fantastic. In later experiments, Eleanor strapped the thin phallus to her harness and gently inserted it into my rose, pressing down with her hips in a thrusting manner, while simultaneously fingering my vagina as the vibration machine buzzed away at my clitoris. Although I had violent orgasms when she did this, they were so intense I rarely requested the combination and so Eleanor saved it for very rare occasions. Eleanor instructed me in the fine art of discerning a woman’s preference. Within my second year there, I was seducing the cream of London’s finest young women with an almost alarming pace. Close to half of the student body would ultimately find themselves in my bed, many I merely pleasured but on several occasions I deflowered my fellow classmates after their repeated demands and bribes. I soon learned that if I allowed my attention to wander away from my lovers, they would soon shower me with gifts. The gifts allowed me to create my own collection of sexual toys and accessories and I was always amused by their insistence that money could overcome my feigned reticence to take their virginity. Most of the young women who were my lovers were as casual as I was about sex. A few were not, although all realized I could not be had by only one woman. I would lie in their arms, harness still affixed to my hips, phallus still moist with their wetness and listen to them praise my beauty and stamina. Some would offer me greater allowances with their bodies if I would only be their lover. Some would masturbate me to orgasm, then themselves, asking nothing of me but to witness their deeds. Others promised me gold in exchange for fidelity. These were always the most laughable, since I had long since realized that as soon as I trained one girl in the arts of love she would be off finding another girl to teach them to! After seducing each new student, I would go to Eleanor who kept incredibly specific notes on each woman. Our book provided me with the specific nature of each woman’s likes and dislikes in bed. The recitation and note taking would enflame us both so much, that we always ended up tangled on Eleanor’s sheets, pleasuring each other until dawn. Years later, it and others like it would be provide a charming reminder and refresher course when they came to me as clients. At present, I have several dozens of these books, with which I shall do with them I hardly feign to know. The day I received word that my grandmother had passed away, I went to Eleanor and asked her to take my virginity. I explained that without my grandmother’s determination, I would not marry, having been secured a very nice fortune at her death, most notably several properties. Eleanor was delighted and strapped on a beautiful new phallus for the task. She made sure to bring me to orgasm several times, before setting me up with the vibration machine to my clitoris, set to medium. The first time I felt my vagina invaded by the smooth width of the phallus, my eyes flew open in shock at the pleasure of it. Eleanor thrust against my hymen gently, getting nowhere and causing me great discomfort. The width of the phallus filled me wonderfully and I moaned from the pleasure of it. She removed it to add oil to it and again flexed her hips, sending it into my tight little passage. It took several extremely hard thrusts to penetrate my hymen and I screamed in agony and ecstasy both as I came. Eleanor, of course, knew no mercy and continued thrusting into my wounded vagina until I came again, this time raising my hips to her thrusts. I screamed her name and fell exhausted to her bed, Eleanor's name on my very satisfied lips. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 4 Soon after my grandmother's death, Eleanor decided that I needed to be taught in the ways of dominance. As the headmistress, it was a simple thing for her to get me hired on to an infamous opera singer. Eleanor cautioned me to play the part of the virgin, which I did with complete perfection. When Madame arrived at the school, she appeared thrilled with her new charge. I had taken special pains that day to wear my school uniform and braids, giving me the charming appearance of innocent youth. She inquired as to my age, and having learned I was over eighteen, a faint sweat appeared on her brow. Once under way, Madame offered me a sip from her travel flask. After several such sips, I pretended to be inebriated and allowed myself to admit to several very personal masturbatory explorations from her less than delicate questioning into that arena of my education. Madame quickly moved across the carriage and began to mimic my recollections, which although factual were also greatly embellished for her benefit. Before the carriage reached the train station, Madame had given me the first of many orgasms. From then on, Madame seduced me quickly and efficiently, caressing my breasts in her dressing rooms, fingering me under my skirts in carriages as she had that first day, sucking me to orgasm on trains despite my many protestations. She ordered me to bare my breasts whenever we were alone, even made me do my daily exercises naked while she masturbated herself. I remained a ‘virgin' up until the Madame and I arrived in Vienna. It was in Vienna after a performance that Madame drew me down onto my knees in the conservatory and bent me over the piano bench. Madame was extremely thorough and most pleased to see a small bit of blood on the phallus she used, which didn't surprise me at all given the voracious with which she thrust into me. To this day, I have never come close to experiencing the power of her hips with another lover, although the duchess did come close and of course, the machines. Madame took me soon after to her favorite shop and requisitioned me in an entirely new set of lingerie. Most of which seemed to have split seems between the legs. After seeing the shop owner caress my buttocks several times, Madame offered me to her. The shop owner introduced me to the delights of mutual oral sex, under the careful eye of Madame, who sipped tea in an easy chair a short distance away. The French certainly have a way with their mouths, not to mention their hands. The shop owner took a seat next to Madame afterwards and I was then introduced to the delights of multiple simultaneous partners, as the shop owner's very knowledgeable female staff took me in hand. I was laid on the floor, while the ladies divided the duties among them. One of them kissed me, another two sucked on my breasts with their sharp little teeth barely covered, the last one fingered me while she rubbed my clitoris until I screamed in pleasure. Since then, I have spent many a beautiful evening remembering this day. Madame was always quite generous with me, giving me both lavish clothing and numerous delightfully wicked partners. That night when Madame and I returned to our suite of rooms, her lovemaking was nearly violent but very satisfying. I can only believe that watching me with other women enflamed her, as she continued to give me to her female friends, always watching out for my safety but allowing me to come to new heights of sensual delights. Thinking back to that night, it was the most thoroughly submissive night of my life. "Take off your clothes, Margaret," she ordered. I removed my clothing slowly, with deliberate shyness, watching her dark eyes the entire time. She murmured her satisfaction at the myriad bruises the French women had made upon my body and asked whether I was bothered by unease or pain. "No, Madame," I replied, shyly. "They make me feel quite decadent," I whispered. Madame nodded, satisfied. She waved her hand to the cabinet where she kept her sexual apparatus, telling me how to set the scene for this evening. According to her instructions, I placed several bottles of oils on the piano. The bench had been cleverly made and was quite unique. Once the cushion was removed, there was a grooved notch to which a phallus could be inserted. I did this at her instruction, pretending all the while to be shocked at her orders. As I stood there, waiting, Madame went to the cabinet and took out a long-handled phallus of the type Eleanor preferred when she was in a dominant mood. Madame laid it on the piano bench, before binding my hands behind me. She took me in her arms, pressing my naked flesh to her stiff velvet. I shuddered delicately, loving the feel of my skin against such textures as her expensive clothes. She captured my mouth readily, willing me to submit as I always did to her ministrations. Placing us before the mirrors, she held my head when I pretended shyness at watching our movements. It was only after she threatened to blindfold me, that I boldly watched us in the three mirrors across from us. Her hands made quick forays over my breasts, drawing shuddering sighs from my lips. As her painted mouth moved to the tip of one breast, I felt the phallus begin to move against my outer lips. She guided it skillfully just outside my vagina until I was shaking for release. I begged her, shamelessly for entrance, but she denied me, chuckling delightedly. A few more movements, her teeth applied without mercy to my nipples and I succumbed to pleasure, calling her name repeatedly as I shook within her grasp. "Did I give you permission to have an orgasm?" She demanded, playing the part of the outraged dominant. "No, Madame, you did not." I agreed, readily. She roughly turned me around so that my front was again facing the mounted mirrors. Madame made me look at myself, describing the changes in my body to her before she pressed me against the cold glass. One hand held the back of my neck, as the other forcibly rubbed the phallus between my legs from behind. "So you think I'll give you another one, do you, slave?" Madame hissed in my ear, her own voice harsh with passion. I nodded, knowing my role very well by this time. "Is this what the slave wants?" Madame asked, pushing the phallus a few inches inside my now drenched passage. I panted loudly, trying to thrust my hips to receive more of its length, which proved impossible, as I was still plastered to the mirror. Madame chuckled again, this time delightedly. "Say it, what does the slave want?" Madame ordered. I blushed prettily for her, a rare talent in a courtesan I have been told but one I was always able to display on command. I lowered my eyes demurely and whispered in a pained voice. "The slave wants more of the rod inside her." Madame obliged, thrusting the phallus slowly into me. I bucked despite myself, for her talents in domination were quite extraordinary. I could not help the faint sheen of sweat that gathered on my skin. I bit my lip and moaned as she began her slow, gradual thrusting. Madame slid her index finger into my mouth, ordering me to be quiet. I sucked obediently on her finger, pretending to try to curtail my wild cries as she quickened her pace. She managed to get her free hand between my breasts and the glass, pinching me wonderfully. I have always been enflamed by a carefully administered measure of roughness to my breasts and responded wantonly. "The slave begs permission to have an orgasm," I cried, trying to hold back my pleasure as she continued to thrust the phallus between my legs. Madame gave me another round of pinches to my tight nipples, which drew forth another set of sharp cries. "The slave may have an orgasm," Madame agreed, digging her fingers into my breast as she doubled the force of the phallus within me, pushing faster and harder into my depths. It was not long before my orgasm raged through me, as I groaned her name repeatedly. She released me afterward, leaving the phallus on the piano. She went back to her chair after pouring herself a large drink. "Madame orders you to masturbate on the bench," she said with all deliberateness. "Rub your breasts with oil, slave, they're really quite damaged at present." Although my breasts were red from being pressed to the glass for so long and bore marks from several lovers, they were hardly damaged. In fact, they felt quite wonderfully sensitive. I straddled the bench, directly behind the mounted phallus and began to rub oils into my breasts. Madame nodded her satisfaction, watching me. I tipped my head back and began to rub my clitoris against the phallus, even as I continued rubbing. Madame called out various instructions as I continued to masturbate before her. I obeyed her every command, in either word or action. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when she finally agreed to let me mount the phallus. I lowered myself to all fours, hands resting on the edge of the bench, as I lowered myself onto the phallus. The firm feel of it pressing into me was delicious and reminded me pointedly of Eleanor's true deflowering of me. I bit back my tutor's name as I rode the phallus on all fours, until Madame instructed me to sit so that my hands were free to squeeze my nipples again. This continued for some time, as I was at this point really rather tired and almost uninterested in another orgasm. After a very full day of most satisfactory love making, it was almost too much for me to consider. Sensing this and being wonderfully demanding, Madame came to me and nonchalantly began to caress my breast, sipping delicately at her sherry. With my suddenly free hand, I took up the neglected phallus she had used on my earlier and used it to rub my clitoris. Madame rolled my nipple between her satin-encased fingers as I rode myself to a screaming orgasm. Still sipping her sherry, Madame excused me for the night and as I dressed to go to my room, I watched her consider the wet phallus for some time before leaving her presence. In her careful tutelage, I learned the delicate and deliberate ways of her craft. I also made a wide array of business contacts from which the tools of the trade may be discretely purchased. I owe a good deal of my business to Madame's careful application of the rod and switch. Although I have many fond memories of Madame, I was never able to fall in love with her as I had m dear tutor. I had naively thought that given enough time, even pleasure, love was destined. Madame could be tender, gentle and almost affectionate, and inexplicably deliberate, dominating and ruthless. It was a very heady mix. Perhaps her extreme determination to become a world famous opera singer had forced her to become such an extreme personality. We kept contact over the years, Madame often arranging for my time when she was in town for an engagement. Figuring out the pricing of my time when she took me to her friends was an invigorating exchange. Madame was under the thought that since I always the most submissive in those exchanges, and often the focus of several women's sensual attention at one time that I could hardly dare to ask my full hourly rate given the pleasure I received. Our arguments often ended with me straddling a phallus over the bench, Madame watching patiently as I obeyed her every command, bound and blindfolded and agreeing that being the submissive to such pleasure certainly called for a different rate. Madame's piano bench was a favorite of ours since my supposed deflowering and figured prominently in our scenarios. Many years later, at her death, Madame's instructions left the piano and its bench to me. A lovely reminder of our summer together, I was very touched to have received it in her will. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 5 At the end of the term, Eleanor and I left the school to start my new business. My grandmother's London townhouse became our new home and we bedecked the place as befitting a rich member of London's Elite. An entire wing of the upstairs was for my work as a courtesan. But unlike nearly every other courtesan we had ever heard of, I catered exclusively to women. Some were students from school, namely the very rich women I had deflowered who had since married old rich men who could not pleasure them. Others were women who had made the right discrete inquiries to find me. A few were sent by a particular doctor friend of Eleanor's, who sent them to me to deal with their ‘women problems'. My neighbors merely thought I was a most popular member of the Ton, and extended many invitations. It was rather amusing to find myself in the best homes and the best parties, surrounded by my clients and their unsuspecting husbands. I seduced new clients in dark hallways and deserted rooms during those years. It became a challenge to see how many different ways I could seduce my clients within the same houses as their husbands. One I am sad to report I rarely get to indulge myself in given the sorry state of society at this time. I was shameless and was once able to seduce the hostess herself, which somewhat backfired on me. I laid her out on her husband's desk and brought her to orgasm quickly. When she begged for more, I became creative. A very nicely proportioned wooden carving of a dolphin on his desk pleasured his wife many times at their parties. I've often wondered if he ever realized his dear prim little wife loved having the dolphin thrust into her, her knees pressed to her ears, as she demanded I tell her what a dirty bitch she was. Or perhaps he saw the dolphin and wondered himself what kind of noises his cool bride would make if he were to do to her what I was with it. That client subsequently came to my town home the next day and fell in love with being tied up and violently mounted at least once a week by me in my tightest black leather outfit. She was an amusing if vulgar lover as she always insisted each visit was the last and yet was my one of my most regular customers. Pain and degradation seemed to turn her on the fastest and I had my hands filled with trying to come up with more and more deviances for her. The more violent, risque and fetish laden the interludes were the more she liked it. The day I strapped on a double harness with phalluses for both her vagina and rose, she orgasmed so violently she fainted. Imagine my surprise as I am thrusting away at the cool blonde duchess, vibration machine buzzing on high at her clitoris as I slapped her pale behind repeatedly only to have her shudder uncontrollably, scream and then promptly pass out in the swing where I had bound her.When she awoke, she insisted on pleasuring me for the first time in our association. I was very hesitant to allow this, as I did not share her predilections but I must say she was very good for a beginner, loving the feel of the now single phallus strapped to her hips as she thrust into me. She paid handsomely and left each session raw from our sex, as she refused my every attempt to use oils to lubricate her or to be gentle with her. She was probably my most demanding client, come to think about it. I would have given quite a bit to introduce Madame to her, but rather considered that I would lose my best client to Madame were I to do so. More than once I made love to a woman whose husband watched us, having secured my talents for her. Several of these husbands did so as a gift to their wives, but many did so to watch their wives orgasm for the first time under my ministrations. I like to think the men learned something, although a few of them masturbated watching our lovemaking, which could not have been conductive for learning techniques. Nearly all of these women became repeat clients of mine, coming to my townhouse secretly behind their husbands' backs after these exchanges. Many of these women, I'm delighted to report came to me for the unique experience of having a woman thrust into them and not having to worry about me having an orgasm before they had to the chance to. Teaching these women to masturbate was a joy and Eleanor and I often considered holding workshops for such. I even toyed briefly with the idea of holding workshops for men, but decided it was too dangerous. Given their places in society, these women were hardly in any position to gossip about their lesbian tendencies or me. My secret life as a courtesan was more than safe in their collective grasp. The closest we came was holding a very special workshop series for two women had recently become lovers and wanted to learn more about lesbian lovemaking. Eleanor and I were exhausted and drenched with sweat at the end of every workshop and left the two women to try out our techniques for themselves, while we went to another room to continue by ourselves. Breakfast that next morning was a wonderfully bawdy affair, as the women shared their experience with us over champagne and pastry. After they left, Eleanor and I looked at each other for several moments before breaking into laughter and racing each other upstairs for an encore performance. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 6 Some of my clients were most puzzling, like the duchess who loved pain. One woman only wanted to have me watch her masturbate, others wanted to watch me masturbate before them. Some wanted to seduce me, which really amused me. The intricate scenarios they enlisted to ‘seduce me’ were quite refreshing. I would receive a written set of instructions, giving me advice on what clothes to wear, what name to register under at a hotel, how to respond to a set of lines. One, who was most satisfactory, was a woman who ‘hired’ me to be her female companion on short vacations. Once the train was in motion and we were securely locked in her private train, she would change into male clothes. From then on, I was to pretend my client was a man, which brought out a hereto-undiscovered part of my profession. Acting. She would run her fingers through my hair, gently unpinning it as I pretended to be a terrified bride on her wedding night. She wore a phallus strapped under her breaches and some nights she would take the fantasy to its longest form. Those nights it could take hours before she gently pressed the phallus into my ‘virgin’ passage, as I shuddered in ‘horror’ and wept my fate or moan in ecstasy, depending on her wishes. Other nights she would press me onto my back or belly and take me roughly, with few if any preliminaries. A few special nights she would order me to strip and dance for her, dressed as a harem girl. These were always interesting, since my training did not include this form of dancing and the waltz tutor Eleanor hired had probably never even considered this style of dancing. Each evening was a little bit different than the last, and although her needs were simple enough, they could be rather exotic, too. Unlike many of my dominant lovers, she did not wish to watch me masturbate and forbade me to do it during these trips. If I wished to have sex, I went to her and asked for it. Depending on her mood, she would either comply with abandon or a theatrical nonchalance that made me crazed with desire. The first of these exchanges was arranged with such complete attention to detail that I rather thought it was like a military engagement. Her letter had been very succinct and very specific. I was to meet her at the train station, dressed in white from head to toe, ready to be the scared innocent bride she desired. She took care of all the arrangements and it was not long before we were safely ensconced in her rail car. She excused herself for a half an hour, coming back dressed as a well-heeled gentleman of the ton. I had slipped entirely into the character she had provided for me, and so was sitting on the lone bunk, pretending to be apprehensive. In truth, I was very excited and of course, very curious as to this new client of mine. She sat down on the bed next to me and ran her hand over my hair. Murmuring affectionate endearments, she lowered her mouth to mine. Her kiss was very gentle and I had no sooner thought this was going to be a long night then she began to cup my breast. I drew away in mock horror, pressing my hands over my chest. She chuckled, sounding rather masculine. It took only moments before she leant over me, pressing me backwards onto the mattress. She explained that what was going to happen was natural and she would love me all the more for my acceptance and willingness. I relaxed against her taller frame, running my hands over the foreign male garments she wore. Her mouth plundered mine as she moved her body against me. I raised my hips several times toward her hips, only to pull back and feign surprise. I may have been working under the guise of an innocent, but my experienced body was clamoring for more. The thoroughness of this client was unparalleled, and I was always amazed at her ability to live the role she had created for herself. We continued on this vein until I lay naked under her, her mouth sucking delightfully at my breasts while I protested half-heartedly. When her mouth finally lowered to caress between my legs, I gasped and protested again. A few extraordinary movements of her tongue over my nether lips and I forgot the charade. Her arms held my hips tightly as she seduced me with her mouth. I shuddered, arching against her ministrations. It was not long before I came, crying out loud. She gave me only a few moments to catch my breath before she moved up my body until our hips were even. She kissed me again, telling me how much she loved my body, my response. When the phallus she wore began to press against me, I let my eyes fly open in exaggerated horror. The wicked smile of delight turned suddenly gentle again, as she assured me all would be well. I bucked obediently as she began to enter me, trying to hold back my natural enthusiasm. I even twisted against her, as if to forestall her entry. It took several minutes until the phallus was firmly inside me as I numbly threw my head from side to side. Her gentle hands caught my head so she could kiss away my reticence. I fought her for some time, before growing quiet again. At this point, she slowly pulled her hips back, then forward again. I gasped at the delicious sensation, forgetting again my role. Her mouth moved tenderly over mine as she continued her thrusts. It took almost a half an hour before my orgasm came, as if my body remembered the role better than my mind did. Afterward, I curled up in her arms, allowing her to placate me with romantic poetry. Depending on her mood, we would continue with the ‘honeymoon’ or try a different version the next night. Either way, my handsome client was more than interesting. Despite the many times we recreated her fantasy, it never grew old. Nor was she ever discovered to be a woman. I often wonder what incident in her life had helped mold this scenario for her and of course, if my awkward attempts at acting fully satisfied her tastes. The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 7 What might surprise people to hear I allowed was the first and only male client I ever accepted. Now, of course, I did not let him touch me or make love to me since I was sure Eleanor would leave me in a rage if I did so. Besides, after fifteen years of making love to women, I had no inclinations to make love to a man. Or perhaps I did. It’s rather hard to say now. Natural curiosity is one thing, losing one’s lifelong partner for curiosity’s sake is quite another. The doctor who sent me so many clients sent me a man once. I was loathed to explain that my practice was strictly for women, but it turned out the doctor was right after all. He was a young Chinese inventor who specialized in inventing machines for helping women who suffered from hysteria. At the time, orgasms were thought to reduce hysteria in women and I became his tester to ensure that his machines would reliably create orgasms. He assured me this was in the sake of science and even offered me the opportunity to wear a dress during the sessions. I wore what had become my standard uniform as a courtesan. The bodices of each dress were made in such a way that they could be pressed or folded down below my breasts to free them without removing the entire dress. The front of my skirts could be tied up on either side of my hips, displaying fully my feminine charms. I would discretely go to his workshop where he paid me handsomely to allow his machines to bring me to orgasm; the most delightful were the machines that allowed you to lie in place while a phallus was thrust into you. Given my profession, I was often rather amused to lie there complacently, doing no work at all as I came. Many a lovely afternoon was spent lying on his leather benches and chairs, screaming in ecstasy as I drenched his wonderful machines. My favorite was a sort of thrusting saddle, in which you knelt with your knees on pads while it moved like a broncing horse beneath you sending the phallus deeper on each bronc type thrust. He made me my very own machine of this type, which I brought home and enjoyed many times. I even let a few of my favorite clients use the machine, although I was careful to suck and bite at their breasts during their usage, lest they think to replace me with a similar machine! Because of his generosity, I was rather guilt ridden when he asked if he could become my lover, or at least, one of my clients. Before then, I had graciously allowed him to masturbate as I tested his machines, having suggested it myself after he had made several bizarre running trips to the water closet during our sessions to do so in private. Allow me to take a moment to share one of my most delicious memories of this inventor. I remember the first time he masturbated in front of me. He had denied my request to stay instead of running off, and I decided to try my well-practiced seduction on him. I removed my clothes entirely, which shocked him. Instead of being thrust upon by his machine in a relaxed, supplicant state I instead was very active. I writhed on his cot, moaning, and repeatedly begging him to make it faster (which he refused) as I rubbed my clitoris to a shuddering orgasm. I even called his name during my orgasm. Instead of waiting for the next round, I continued to masturbate, while he watched me thrust my fingers deep. I caressed, cupped and pinched my nipples while begging for more. For the first time, he set the phallus at the opening of my vagina before turning it on and this time to the faster speed I had begged for moments before. He even made sure to guide the phallus arm into my vagina, which I had been lifting my hips towards the entire time of the exchange as I caressed my breasts and pinched my nipples. I lifted my hips for each of the repeated thrusts of his wonderful machine and watched him the whole while through hooded eyes, gasping his name. He finally removed his clothing and sat on a nearby chair, rubbing himself so violently I was sure he would damage himself. After watching him masturbate, I had a weak moment and almost considered having sex with him. As I’ve mentioned before, having never slept with a man, I was somewhat curious, but felt the dangers far outweighed the benefits. I explained that as a client, I couldn’t allow him to have sex with me (which was a lie, I allowed the most sexual of my women to pleasure me with the harness and phallus) although I could pleasure him with my toys. I went so far to gently explain that my personal sex, as opposed to courtesan sex, was strictly for Eleanor. This surprised him, as he did not at that point realize that I only slept with women. Instead I found a compromise that suited us both, which involved him strapped to one of my tables as I thrust a thin phallus into his anus. We did this rarely, although as a special move I made sure that all subsequent trials on his machines included his masturbating to my extremely dynamic show of masturbating myself while his machines pleasured me so beautifully. I even insisted on many occasions that I have another go at a machine we had just tested, which surprised him greatly, since his habit was for me to test one machine once per session. My mad inventor continued to enjoy our private sessions and our new testing regiment. He even created several most special gifts for both Eleanor and myself in return. I tend to think that he believed that since I wouldn’t have sex with him, the least he could do was being a part of my personal sex with the gift of these machines. All of which were machines that could pleasure both of us at the same time, as we faced each other in a variety of positions. Our favorite was one on which we sat as the machine thrust phalluses into our vaginas, vibration wands at our clitorises as we frenched kissed and caressed each other’s breasts. We invited him to watch our first time on this machine and despite Eleanor’s grave misgivings, I invited him to masturbate as we did so. Our combined cries of ecstasy were really rather musical, considering the three of us had very different voices.