Diane's Whip Angels is the journal of impossibly young Victoria, and concerns her indoctrination into a dark sexual underground. Victoria receives a harsh schooling at the hands of incestuous guardians--lessons in submission, cruelty, dominance, with little Victoria forced to keep a journal of it all. Diane Bataille's book sold rather well, eclipsing the notorious work of her husband.
How and where to begin?
I woke up so early that by the time I heard the distant sound of the
carriage wheels at the entrance to the drive, I felt as if a lifetime
had already passed! Things will be so different now—that is what I
thought as I rushed out of my room and, in my haste, almost bumped into
Mamma on the staircase. She asked me to run back up and find a
handkerchief; I did, but in my state of emotion I failed to come across
it anywhere. I am ashamed to admit that I was so vexed at not being
downstairs for their arrival that I quite lost control of myself and
when at last I did find that hateful object, it was with tears in my
eyes and a red face I confronted my dear cousins for the first time.
Aunt Margaret looks so much like Mamma I was fairly staggered. Except
that her hair is dark. She has the same violet-coloured eyes, and
creamy skin, and the smallest waist I have ever seen, except for
Angela's. She is much more gay than Mamma, and seems to say anything
that happens to come into her head, and she laughs all the time about
everything. Her eyes are very bright. She embraced me fondly and,
turning to Mamma, said, much to my embarrassment that 'This one will
surely be a beauty someday.' I could see Mamma was not pleased that she
had chosen to make such a remark in front of me.
I turned to welcome Uncle John, who is even taller than Papa and who
was saying to Mamma, 'Well, well, who would ever have dreamt you had
such a grown-up girl!' but when I saw Kenneth I forgot everyone else.
He is the most beautiful young man you could imagine, and now that I
know him still better he seems more beautiful still. I mean beautiful,
not simply handsome, even though handsome is the word one usually uses
in connection with men. He is very tall too with straight jet black
hair and large slanting blue eyes with rather heavy lids which give him
a dreamy expression, and dark circles under his eyes which make their
colour even brighter. He is the most romantic looking young man I have
ever seen. He stoops slightly when he walks, bending his head forward
ever so little, and always seems to be thinking. He does not much
smile, but his voice is warm and sweet, his teeth are white, and he is
very slender.
Kenneth, smiling, came forward to greet me... and I have never been
so intimidated in my life! Before I could find my tongue he bent still
further down and looking straight into my eyes said in a whisper that
went quite through me: 'You look as though you are a cry-baby. Eh? Do
hope so.'
My face went a flaming red. I felt it. I must have looked a sight
because Angela who was standing next to him kissed me and turning to
Kenneth smiled and winked at him in the most mocking manner. This was
more than I could endure, and just as I was about to burst into tears
before everyone, she hugged me affectionately and linking her arm
through mine, she said:
'Dear Victoria would you show me to my room?'
I was so happy to! And so grateful to her for helping me hide my
awkwardness. I felt almost consoled when, kissing me on the mouth, she
praised me for the lovely way I had done the flowers.
At that instant I thought of Ursula and, once again, felt unkind.
Angela is lovely. Her hair is very dark, like Kenneth's, only curly,
and her eyes are the same deep blue, with long black lashes that cast a
dark shadow on her cheeks. Her skin is just like a rose petal with the
same faint pink hue. And not a single freckle!
I didn't know what to say, and kept still, looking at her.
She sat in front of the mirror to take off her bonnet. Her reflection
smiled at me from the mirror. 'It is so warm,' she said, 'after all
that travel. Would you help me unhook just a little?'
I helped her undo the top of her dress. I was amazed to see that she
had nothing on underneath but a very tight white corset and, glancing
up at the mirror from behind her, I saw that at the top of the two
whalebones and level with the pink points of her breasts, were attached
two small pointed metal cones. I had never seen anything like that
corset and I don't know what prompted me to reach out to touch one of
the points. At that same moment Angela leaned forward.
With a sharp cry of pain—it must have sounded like a shot in the
silence—I withdrew my finger. It was covered with blood. I felt
thoroughly ashamed at my indiscretion and wondered what in the world to
say. but Angela only laughed and taking hold of my hand, much to my
confusion she began to suck my finger until my hand began to go numb
and I begged her to stop.
'Did it hurt?' she asked me. 'Oh, yes,' I said. Then she sighed and
leaning back in her chair looked as though she were about to faint.
I dashed to fetch her some water from the night table, marvelling at
the same time at her tenderness of heart. But when I'd got back with a
glass and the carafe, she had entirely recovered. 'It's so warm,' she
said and then, in an abrupt manner, bade me leave her alone.
What had I done to annoy her? I didn't know, but I wanted to
apologise. But I didn't dare and, fighting back my tears, with a
sinking feeling inside me, I tiptoed away.
My finger had started bleeding again without my noticing it and it
had stained my best dress. I had to ask Miss Perkins to help me clean
it and in spite of my protests she insisted upon bandaging my finger.
She was in such a flutter she did not ask me how it had happened.
I didn't see Angela again until lunch although I lingered for a while
in the hallway, hoping she would come down and that I could perhaps
show her my part of the rose garden.
Through the open window I could see Kenneth strolling thoughtfully up
and down the gravel walk in front of the lawn, talking with Papa about
the future and how he proposed to go up to Oxford in the autumn. The
very thought that he would be leaving so soon was truly unbearable. I
flushed when I recalled how he had just called me a cry-baby, and the
mere thought of my humiliation fetched tears to my eyes again. I wanted
to go down and join them, but my timidity was such I just couldn't.
What a relief to hear the dinner bell at last! And imagine my joy to
find I had been placed beside him at the table and had Angela on my
other side!
Mamma stared at me almost immediately and asked what I had done to my
finger. Something, I don't know what, urged me to lie. I told her I'd
pricked it while doing my lace-work... and I didn't even blush as I
told that lie. At that moment Angela, reaching across my lap put her
hand on Kenneth's knee. She did this so quickly I wondered whether I
had simply imagined it. Then I saw Kenneth nod in her direction, as
though this was some secret sign between them. How I wish I had a
brother I could share secrets with!
I tried to find something to say to Kenneth. But every time I opened
my mouth there was a lump in my throat, and I went sadly back to
swallowing the food on my plate. He must have sensed my dismay, for,
towards the end of the meal, when the conversation was very animated
about the native revolt and the Gloucestershire regiment and everyone
else seemed very gay, he took one of my hands and placed it on his leg.
'Feel better now?' he asked in that strong whisper of his. I nodded
that I did, feeling something at the same time soft and hard moving at
the bottom of his pocket, and wondering, in a sort of terror, whether
it might not be a pet mouse. But for Kenneth's friendship I was
prepared to bear anything, and I fondled it for as long as I dared,
until I saw Miss Perkins frowning at me for not keeping my hands on the
table.
After lunch we all went for a walk in the park. By the time we had
gathered on the lawn for tea, I had quite forgotten the time when my
cousins had not been there, and forgotten too Ursula's existence. But
there she was, so strange. She was very hot and cross, saying she had
looked for me everywhere during the last hour. I introduced her to
Kenneth and Angela. What did she do then but begin to show off in the
most disgraceful way until I was more than relieved when she finally
left. Ursula may be sixteen, just Angela's age, but I do declare they
have nothing whatever in common! And I am glad to say that neither of
my cousins paid much attention to her clowning.
At dinner I stroked Kenneth's darling mouse again. He seemed very
pleased with me and, during another discussion of the revolt in a place
called Amritsar, twice addressed me: 'Are you fond of animals, my
delicious little cunt?' he enquired with a delightful sparkle in his
eye and then, five minutes later, he turned again and, putting his face
very close to mine, said: 'And you are my delicious little
cunt.'
Classified
New Travellers Companion
