You had to poke him. I understand that. When his father gave me a job here some twenty years ago and the son started to poke me, I couldn't object either. Then he married me. That big brute! But never let it happen again. Will you promise me that? Swear it to me!”-and Grushenka swore it. “All right then, and if he tries again, you run away and come right downstairs. I'll fix him up. Understand? You'll not work for him again downstairs. You start tomorrow in the woman's department-and keep away from him or next time I'll break every bone in your body!” And making a gesture showing that she would tear her to pieces, Madame left the room with resolute steps. She had more energy, thin and small as she was, then Grushenka had expected.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grushenka was somewhat downcast with this verdict. It would have been better if she had received a good beating and had stayed in the men's department. First of all, she liked men and not women; secondly, Madame Brenna was quite severe with her girls. She had mostly serf girls working for her and their backs, buttocks and thighs often showed signs of harsh treatment. What should Grushenka do-quit? Then what? She gave in and reported at the women's department the next noon. The equipment of this bathing hall was almost the same as that downstairs, except that on the floor and in the cabinets were some runners and rugs. Madame Brenna sat behind an elevated desk where she sold tea and cakes instead of beer and vodka. But she did not stay behind her bar as her husband always did. No, she ran about all the time, seeing to it that cabinets were cleaned after a customer left, chatting and gossiping with the women in the tubs and ceaselessly admonishing the girls to keep busy. With her commanding words usually went a pinch on the arm or on the buttocks. The girls lined up at the door when a customer came in. Each tried to get as many as possible because of the tips. The customers were the same kind as the men, middle class women of all ages. Many came only for a hot bath because there were no bathing accommodations in the houses of the middle class of that time.
Some wanted a massage and a rest, and many of them, not having any serfs at home, wanted something more. But all of them used the attendant bath girls as their private property, as serfs, rented for a time and on whom they could let their fancy go as it would.
Grushenka realized this with her first customer. This patroness was a young girl whose father had recently made some money with a pottery business. While this father refused to allow his family an elegant household with servants and the luxury of the upper class, there was enough cash available for his daughter to behave like a thorough snob when she was outside her four walls. She was decked out in a cloak with golden threads woven into it, her shoes had big silver buckles and she looked like a real lady. When she came in she eyed the ten girls who stood there naked and smiling. She took her lorgnette and slowly and carefully looked them over. Grushenka felt a chill when the eyes of this young girl wandered from her breasts down to her belly and then down her legs. She was not so happy when she was selected. She did not know why, because this young girl had a harmless and friendly face, though around her mouth were lines of haughtiness and disgust. Grushenka led her customer to a cabinet, closed the door and began devotedly to undress her. The girl stood perfectly still and did not make a move, not even opening a ribbon or slipping out of a single garment. Grushenka found it best to admire loudly all of her wearing apparel although the only answer with which she was met was that it was very costly and that Grushenka should lay each piece out or hang it up with great care. The girl demanded her hair undone and braided, so that it should not get wet. Meanwhile, she sat before the mirror studying her face and her decidedly good figure. After her hair was done, Grushenka asked whether she desired a massage and which way she wanted it. Instead of an answer, the girl turned around and began to study Grushenka's form and features. She became jealous of Grushenka's full and even breasts, her subtle waist, her straight belly and her good legs. Of a sudden, she put a finger into Grushenka's love-nest, shoved it all the way in and, drawing her nearer, asked: “All the men are crazy about you- aren't they?”
“Oh, no!” answered Grushenka instinctively. “Oh, no. Men usually don't like me.” “Not much, you liar,” sneered the fair patroness, and, letting her finger slip out of its lodging place, she gave her a resounding slap in the thigh. Grushenka drew back, holding her smarting thigh with her hands and groaning: “Oh, oh, please don't do that!” “Why not? Why shouldn't I give you a sound spanking if I like to?” retorted the girl with a sneer. “Didn't I hire you for my pleasure? Since when can I not do with Madame Brenna's girls what I like? Shall I call her in and ask her?” “Please don't call Madame Brenna,” answered Grushenka timidly. “I'll do everything you want me to- but please don't hurt me. You don't need to pay me if you don't want to,” she added. “We'll see about that, you little serf-girl,” replied the customer. “Now come here and turn around and bend over-yes, so-that's right. And don't dare move away or I'll teach you!” With that remark, she began to pinch Grushenka's bottom.
First she took the flesh of the right cheek between her thumb and index finger, squeezed the soft flesh firmly and turned her hand around. Grushenka put her own hand to her mouth so as not to cry out aloud, for it hurt her terribly. She leaned forward, trembling in her legs. The girl watched with pleasure. The pinched spot first turned snow white and then deep red. “Now you look all uneven,” she remarked. “We can't stand for that-“ and she pinched the left cheek in the same way. Not content with that, she attacked different points above and beneath the bruised area and admired her handiwork with laughter. Grushenka suffered under each pinch as if fire burned her buttocks. Between pinches, the girl reached through Grushenka's legs and pulled the hair of her Venus' Hill, not very hard, but hard enough to make her groan aloud. Meanwhile Grushenka had the feeling that she had to pass water. But she was afraid to do so over the customer's hand-Madame Brenna's whip would have been the consequence. Now the girl got bored with her doings. “Sorry,” she said, “that we haven't a whip or a switch here. Otherwise I would erase the nice design which I made on your bottom.” Grushenka straightened up and turned around. The girls' eyes were fastened on her full breasts. “How I'd love to whip your breasts,” she went on, “with a small leather strap, the one I have at home for my lap dog. It would be a pleasure to see your breasts, of which you're so proud, prettily striped with the lash. You see, I don't like to hit you with my hands because that hurts me and wouldn't go through your thick skin anyway, you slut.” Nevertheless, she made Grushenka hold her breasts with both hands while she struck her a couple of times with her bare hands. Grushenka was able to catch these slaps with her hands, but it stung her anyway not a little. This over, the girl demanded her satchel, out of which she took a large artificial male organ. She laid herself on the massage table, opened her legs, had Grushenka stand close to her and gave her the pseudo-phallus. Grushenka opened the lips of the love nest with her left hand and with the right she carefully sunk the dildo into the waiting orifice. The girl now became very passionate. She put her right hand between Grushenka's thighs, near the cleft, and clamped her hand into the flesh, sinking the nails into Grushenka's soft skin. At the same time, she held her left hand tightly on her own well-formed bosom and worked her buttocks against the false shaft in a quick rhythm. Grushenka duplicated this rhythm by easing the artifice into the love nest up and down. The girl heaved heavily, whispered the name of her imaginary lover and moved her buttocks up higher and higher until, when she reached her climax, she rested only on her shoulders and on the soles of her feet. She then fell back on the table and lay motionless while Grushenka removed the intruding shaft and cleaned the girl with a wet towel. Grushenka was glad that it was over, but that proved a mistake. As soon as the girl came to, she had another scheme. “Give me the dildo!” she commanded. “And you go down and give my sweet little nest a good licking and don't stop before I tell you. Understand? No, that's not the right spot. Stick out your tongue, you stupid fool! Deeper. Yes, that's it”
Grushenka had her head buried between the thighs of this newly rich girl who revenged her own poor childhood with its many whippings and humiliations by taking it out on another girl. Grushenka had practiced using the tip of her tongue for some time, and, although she knew how she had formerly done it, she worked too quickly and pressed her mouth too hard into the opening, so that she soon was breathless and her tongue became sore. The girl had crossed her legs behind Grushenka's neck and pressed her tightly against herself. She was not yet excited because she had just come under the pressure of Master Phallus. This dildo she held playfully in her hands, placing it between her breasts, tickling her nipples, finally kissing it all along the shaft and then inserting it into her mouth and sucking it with delight. She did not concentrate on the feelings of her love nest beyond the agreeable tickling which Grushenka's tongue-play produced.
Grushenka stopped for a moment, getting her breath and resting her tongue, and, looking up, saw the shaft disappearing and re-appearing from the mouth. The fair patroness was not willing to let her have a rest, and hit her on the back with the soles of her feet.
Grushenka resumed her occupation. This time she held the orifice open with her left hand and, coming from
