The Education of Victoria (14 page)

Bea welcomed him with a kiss on his cheek and he blushed.

‘Welcome, Neville. This is Victoria. She is going to help us out today.’ He took my hand and kissed it graciously. We exchanged greetings and I began to anticipate the feel of his soft hands and lips on my skin.

‘Let’s go upstairs and make a start.’ Bea turned and mounted the stairs with Neville and me following. All three of us entered Bea’s bedroom and she closed the door behind us.

‘Now, Neville, let us get you undressed.’ There was something about Bea’s tone that surprised me; she wasn’t acting as if she was getting ready to pleasure this young man. She helped him out of his jacket and shirt and let him remove his shoes and undo and pull down his trousers. He stood in front of us in a pair of drawers and nothing else, while neither Bea nor I had made any move to remove any clothing whatsoever.

‘Let’s get rid of those too, shall we?’ Bea pointed to his underwear. Self-consciously he pulled the garment down and stood naked in front of us. He had a neat cock which nestled against his balls but showed no sign of interest in any action.

‘Now, before we make a start we will have to hide that, won’t we, Neville,’ Bea continued but I was at a loss to understand what she was talking about. Neville nodded, however, and Bea reached into the trunk and pulled out a roll of bandage. She wound it around Neville’s waist and then passed it down between his legs and up between his buttocks. She pulled tight and his penis and scrotum were pulled up and back. She wound the bandages around and between his legs a few times and then tied off the ends. Now Neville stood before us with no sign that he possessed a manhood.

‘That’s better, isn’t it, Neville? No dangly bits to spoil the appearance.’ Neville smiled thinly. Bea reached into the trunk and pulled out a white satin corset, ‘Would you like to wear this one today?’ Neville nodded and at last I realised what we were about.

‘Oh, I see. Neville wants to dress up as a lady,’ I said aloud, laughing. A cloud descended over Neville’s face, and Bea glowered at me.

‘It’s not funny, Victoria. And Neville doesn’t want to just dress as a lady, he wants to be a lady, don’t you, Neville?’ Neville nodded.

‘I’m sorry I laughed,’ I said, rather taken aback by Bea’s fierce support for the strange young man. Then I remembered that Neville was probably paying us handsomely for the day’s activities.

Bea held the corset around Neville’s torso and began to do up the laces.

‘Help me, Victoria. Let’s see how tight we can get it.’ Together we pulled on the laces, cinching Neville’s waist. I was sure it must be hurting a great deal but apart from one or two grunts he did not complain at all. It was obvious that he had worn a corset before. At last, when he was fastened from buttocks to shoulder blades, we had reduced his waist to about twenty-four inches and I wondered whether he could breathe. Bea stuffed some cloth into the bosom completing his S-figure. The rest was straightforward, stockings, a number of full petticoats and an elegant white high-necked dress. Neville was beginning to look feminine. As we added layer after layer he looked in the mirror and gradually began to smile with approval. We placed dainty silk slippers on his feet.

Bea asked him to sit at her dressing table and she got to work with powders and creams, turning his male features into a passable imitation of a woman. The final transformation was a wig of long blonde curls that cascaded over his shoulders. At last he took one final look in the mirror then stood up and faced us. He spoke is a soft, higher-pitched voice.

‘Thank you, Beatrice and Victoria. You have done a marvellous job. Now you may call me Amelia.’

We went downstairs and sat in the drawing room while Bea’s maid brought us tea. I noticed that Neville, or rather Amelia, took only a few sips of hers. Amelia explained that he or she, I was not sure how to think, had from a young age desired to be female. Now that he had inherited from his deceased parents he was learning what it meant to be a woman in our age.

‘Perhaps one day I will dress as a woman all the time,’ she ended. ‘Shall we go out now?’

‘Out,’ I said, ‘you want us to go out with you dressed like a woman.’

‘Of course,’ Bea said calmly, ‘that was always part of the day’s plan.’

‘But what if someone sees us?’ I asked.

‘What will they see?’ Bea shrugged.

‘Three women,’ Amelia said, ‘or to be more precise two beautiful young ladies and an older woman acting as chaperone.’ I looked at Amelia closely and realised that she was correct. In her costume with the wig and Bea’s expert make-up she did indeed look like a smart, mature woman.

With Amelia carrying a parasol to provide some shade from the midday sun, we walked arm in arm along the promenade. Passing ladies nodded a greeting and men doffed their hats but it was quite apparent that no one took us for other than three ladies out for a walk.

We entered a tearoom and were shown to a table by a polite waiter. As we ate a light lunch of cucumber sandwiches and fairy cakes we chatted about the things that ladies chat about – the fine summer weather, the latest fashions, the comings and goings of famous names.

Afterwards we continued our walk out onto the pier. We looked at the crowds on the beach taking their annual holidays. In the pavilion at the end of the pier a small orchestra was playing music for dancing. We entered and took seats around the edge of the dance floor. It was not long before some young gentlemen came up to us and asked Amelia to give her permission for us to dance. As I waltzed around the hall with my partner I tittered to myself wondering what he would say if he knew that our chaperone was a man in disguise. When we returned to our seat we found that Amelia herself had been invited to dance. Bea and I watched in admiration as she performed the female steps with skill.

It was around teatime that we at last returned to Bea’s home and rested our weary legs and feet. Amelia announced that reluctantly she would have to depart soon as she was expected to attend a function that evening as Neville. We returned to Bea’s bedroom and helped Amelia undress. I found that during the day I had come to accept her as another woman and at times had almost forgotten that she had a penis and testicles confined between her legs.

Now that Amelia’s dress and petticoats had been removed and her torso released from the confining pressure of her corset she stood before us again clad only in the bandage that hid his manhood. Bea untied the knot that held it and unwound the cloth. As his genitals fell free from their bondage Neville’s penis swelled. It pleased me to see that it was an admirable size. I reached out a hand to caress it.

‘No thank you, Victoria. This swollen thing appals me.’ I withdrew my hand hurriedly.

‘But would you not like relief?’ I asked.

‘Only if I could experience intercourse as a woman,’ Neville replied.

‘I know what he would like,’ Bea said moving to her dressing table. She took out a leather-covered box and opened it to reveal a glass dildo. She removed it and covered it with cold cream. ‘Bend over the bed, please, Neville,’ she commanded and he obeyed.

She stood between his splayed-out legs and parted his buttocks with one hand. Then wielding the dildo in her other hand she pressed it against his puckered hole. The glass rod slid into his arse and he gasped.

‘Oh, yes. More!’

Bea pushed harder until it was in up to its flared end. She moved it in and out and from side to side and in just a few moments Neville groaned and shook. Bea withdrew the implement and stepped back. Neville stood up and turned to reveal a slack but dripping cock.

‘Thank you, Bea. That was most satisfying.’ He began to dress in his male attire. I must confess to being somewhat unsatisfied. The sight of his sex and the violation of his anus had made me considerably excited. When we had shown Neville out of the front door I confessed as much to Bea. She too admitted to having similar feelings and dragged me back to bed where we flung off our own clothes and had a great deal of fun exploring each other’s bodies.

* * *

We entertained Neville/Amelia on more occasions during my stay with Bea, but promenading with a man dressed as a lady was not my most unusual experience. One morning at breakfast, Bea made another announcement.

‘I have a client for you this morning, Victoria.’

‘Oh, is Amelia joining us today?’ I replied misunderstanding her news.

‘No, it is not Amelia. It is Colonel Baxter, a friend of one of my patrons. He will be arriving at eleven to spend the day with you and he wants you dressed.’

‘Dressed?’ I asked mystified.

‘Yes, as a boy.’ I couldn’t understand for a moment why a man should want me to dress as a boy but Bea confirmed that the Colonel was prepared to pay handsomely for the service. I followed Bea to her bedroom where she had laid out on the bed a set of clothes for me to wear. She told me to undress.

When I was standing naked in front of her, she looked at my bosom.

‘We’re going to have to flatten you, Victoria.’ She picked up a role of bandage, possibly the same as Neville used, and wound it tightly around my chest. It was quite uncomfortable squeezing my breasts so, but Bea was determined that my figure should resemble a man’s. With my bosom as flat as a pancake I pulled on a pair of men’s drawers and tied the cord around my waist. Bea handed me a rolled-up pair of stockings.

‘Stuff these down the front of your drawers,’ she said. I did as she suggested and looked down at the bulge at my crotch wondering what it would feel like to have a penis and testicles. Then I donned a white shirt, brown tweed breeches, woollen knee-length socks, a pair of Oxford brogues on my feet, a cravat around my neck and a tweed jacket to match my trousers. I was conscious of how thick and heavy the clothes were – I was already perspiring in the summer heat– but the freedom of movement that I had without the encumbrance of a tight-laced corset was quite liberating. Bea had me sit while she plaited and tied up my hair. A touch of make-up darkened my complexion a little and I was ready. Bea placed a tweed cap on my head as I gazed into the mirror scarcely recognising the handsome young man that I saw reflected.

‘Don’t forget to take the cap off indoors,’ Bea reminded me. ‘You had better sit in the drawing room to await the Colonel’s arrival.’

We were only just in time as shortly after I had seated myself and experimented with crossing my legs, the bell rang and the maid showed the Colonel in. He was obviously well into middle age because the hair on his head and the full moustache on his upper lip were more grey than brown, but he still retained a military bearing. Bea rose to greet him.

‘Ah, Colonel. So pleasant to see you again. May I introduce, um, Victor.’

‘Good morning, madam,’ the Colonel replied, in a gruff but cheerful voice, ‘and hello young man.’

‘Good morning, sir,’ I said lowering my voice as much as possible. I could feel the Colonel’s eyes inspecting me.

‘Is all to your satisfaction?’ Bea enquired.

‘Hrrumph. Yes, indeed, madam. Victor, you will be my nephew for today. You are the youngest son of my dear sister, down from London for a day’s visit. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Right, well we’ll take our leave then. I’ll return the lad to you this evening, madam.’ I giggled a little at this and Bea gave me a dark look.

‘Very well, Colonel. Enjoy your day.’

I followed the Colonel out on to the street and as the door closed behind us I suddenly realised that I had no inkling of what my purpose was to be. The Colonel set off at a quick march along the promenade and I ran to catch him up. He immediately began telling stories of his exploits overseas with his regiment. I tagged along, occasionally asking a brief question, while looking around at the passers-by. As with Neville/Amelia, the numerous holidaymakers did not give us a second glance. We were obviously a boy out with his uncle.

We had walked about a mile along the seafront and I was feeling very hot in my tweeds. The Colonel stopped, swung about and crossed the road to the entrance to a public house.

‘I think we need some refreshment, lad,’ he said. He pushed the door open and I followed him in, and for the first time in my life entered the male-only preserve of a saloon bar. It was filled with tobacco smoke and men of all ages and states of drunkenness, obviously enjoying their vacation. Some were playing cards, dominoes and shove-ha’penny. Others were standing talking loudly. The Colonel drew the attention of the landlord and acquired two half-pint jugs of brown liquid. We found a couple of chairs by a table next to a window and sat down. The Colonel placed one of the jugs in front of me.

‘There, lad, get that down you.’ I had sampled wine and sherry, and at school we sometimes had a small glass of pils but this was my first experience of English dark bitter beer. I sipped it experimentally. It was indeed bitter, and warm, but I found it quite refreshing. The Colonel downed his in one gulp and called for more. He took a large cigar from his top pocket and lit it expertly. He took a few satisfied puffs. The smell was a lot more pleasant than the harsh smell of the cigarette and pipe tobacco being smoked by most of the other men in the public house. The Colonel offered the cigar to me.

‘Go on, my boy. Take a puff. Clean out your lungs.’ I placed the cigar to my lips, sucked and immediately began coughing uncontrollably. The Colonel took back his cigar and chuckled while I recovered my composure.

After the second glass of beer I was feeling quite relaxed and beginning to find the Colonel’s stories quite amusing. He ordered a plate of bread and cheese for us and more beer. The food was welcome even though the bread was more gritty and heavy than I was used to. But after the third half pint I realised that my bladder was in need of some relief. I indicated my need to the Colonel.

‘Ah yes, boy, I think I could do with a piss too, you know. Come, I know where we can go.’

We left the drinking house and walked a hundred yards or so back along the promenade.

There on the sea wall was a small cottage-like building built, so a plaque recorded, to commemorate the Queen’s jubilee. It was a public convenience. We entered the gentlemen’s section. There were a couple of men standing at the urinal pissing into the drain. The Colonel went to join them.