His Little Courtesan

"The purpose of these lessons is not just to
teach you about the joy a man and woman can experience together," Usha
said. She gestured to a bench in the garden. "Please, sit."

"That's easier said than done," Lynette
whined, lowering herself next to Jane.

"You earned those bruises on your bottom because
you were disobedient again. I do not wish to hear your complaints," the
Raj's first wife said sternly.

"I was not complaining. I was merely making an
observation. Why am I here, anyway? I have learned the art of lovemaking
already," his youngest of four wives grumbled.

"Our husband felt it necessary that you be
reminded of the physical and mental discipline that comes with instruction. He
wishes all of us to learn the skills of a courtesan."

"What exactly is a courtesan?" Jane asked,
as she glanced at her scowling friend. "Forgive my silly questions, but
the Kama Sutra and your culture are still very, very new to me. We did not have
such things back in England."

"What a dreary place you hail from, Janie,"
Lynette sighed. "I was there once as a child, long before I met Raj Rama
and became his wife. I instantly missed the color and music that was
here."

"India is definitely more vibrant in its
culture," Jane said, squeezing her friend's hand. "But England has
beautiful, rolling countryside that lights up with flowers in the spring. The
gardens are breathtaking, and each one is different."

"Do you miss the English gardens, Jane?" the
older woman asked with concern.

"Yes. I have many fond memories of the one Philip
and I used to play in when I was a girl. Never mind that. Please tell me what a
courtesan is."

"One
must put personal prejudice aside when dealing with other cultures," Usha
explained, thoughtfully. She paused to study the young, red-headed English
girl, who had recently become an honorary member of the royal family. "You
and Philip were raised in a country where words like prostitute and mistress
are considered degrading to a woman's character. It is not so in all countries,
and certainly not here. We are taught that every wife is to be a courtesan, a
woman of sexual and sensual strengths, for her husband—but not every
courtesan can be a wife. Do you understand?"

"Not
really. How can a woman of questionable behavior be viewed with honor through
her husband's eyes?" Jane wrinkled her forehead.

"Again,
that disposition is taught through your social upbringing, Jane. Courtesans
were revered and considered an honored part of society in ancient India. Their
company was sought by the wealthy and educated men and, for a long period of
time, they were the only women who could actually be seen in public at
gatherings and community events. They were known to be highly educated in
current affairs, languages, the arts and sciences, and, especially, in the art
of love."

"What
she is saying is that when you are in the bedroom, you are to give your body
and your mind to your husband in the way of a trained prostitute. Hold nothing
back from him in the art of pleasure and the stimulation of thought,"
Lynette explained.

"She
is correct. I wish to teach you to be a
 
Ganika.
That is the term for
a courtesan who is virtuous, generous, and
devoted to her lover."

"She
doesn't want you to be a
Kumbhadasi
, whose aim is the acquisition of
wealth, physical comfort, and an easy life," Lynette added. "Although
having those things are not necessarily bad…"

Usha
cleared her throat, giving the younger, gregarious woman a look of warning.
"May I continue? Thank you. There is a list of the qualities desirable in
a courtesan. Among them are inner beauty, youth of the spirit, sweet speech,
appreciation for the virtues and accomplishments of her man, the desire for
love and physical union, consistency of mind, honesty and frankness in her
dealings, and not being driven by the desire for material wealth."

"That
is quite the list," Jane exclaimed.

Lynette
rolled her eyes. "Beware of lists, my friend. Usha adores them."

"Since
you are so intent on interjecting comments, would you care to tell Jane what
characteristics a courtesan does not possess?"

"Not
really." Lynette pouted.

"A
woman of true character does not beg—"

"Unless
her lover desires it," Lynette said, and giggled loudly.

"She
abstains from raucous laughter, does not speak ill or cite the faults of
others, is neither covetous, disrespectful, nor fickle minded, and does not
interrupt another's speech,"
Usha said,
ignoring the obvious sinking in Lynette's posture.

"So being a proper courtesan is about exercising
manners?"

"There are other, more practical reasons, to
share these lessons with you. My culture believes that the words in the Kama
Sutra teach us how to direct our sexual energy not just for pleasure, but to
better our relationships. The lessons are both mental and physical, and require
focus and discipline to accomplish. It is very spiritual, the art of
lovemaking, and if you prove to be a good student, you will learn to not only
control and direct your own body, but become attuned to the needs of others by
observation and intuition."

"Usha? How can teaching me about sex make me
attentive to people other than Philip?" Jane asked, rapping the fidgeting
Lynette on the thigh with her knuckles. "Sit still, please. This is new to
me."

"My bottom still hurts," Lynette whined.
"And this is boring."

"The Kama Sutra teaches us awareness," Usha
said, narrowing her eyes at Lynette, "and respect for our partner's needs.
Kama is the enjoyment of objects, like
the flesh, by the five senses—hearing, feeling, seeing, tasting and
smelling, and the consciousness of pleasure which arises from those objects.
 
We use our senses to discover his desires, and we use
our minds to discover how to how to meet them. As you learn, I expect you to go
home and practice the techniques you were taught. Do not go beyond that lesson,
though. You will be tempted."

"What she is saying is that you can't fuck Philip
until you get to the lessons about insertion." Lynette scowled.

"Lynette! Go fetch a switch, and be quick about
it!" Usha commanded.

"Aw, come on," Lynette rolled her eyes.
"I was only joking."

"Must I call Rama?"

Jane watched her new friend stomp off in a huff.
"I was not offended. Please don't punish her."

"Self-control and self-discipline of both body
and mind are necessary in order to become proficient. Lynette lacks both, and
disrupts the harmony of our home. My husband indulges her because of her youth.
I will not."

Jane watched silently as Lynette handed Usha the long,
thin stick, and bent over with her palms on the marble bench beside her. Usha
lifted the sari skirt from the girl's backside and pushed the material up past
her waistline. Jane lifted her hands to her mouth as she observed the criss-crossed
bruises that remained from Lynette's strapping two nights before.

Lynette squealed as the switch sliced across her
backside, leaving behind a narrow, raised welt. She yelped as it struck her
again, this time connecting with the backs of her untouched thighs. No part of
her bottom or upper legs were safe from the First Wife's rapid application of
the nasty stinging switch, and it descended over and over again, until the
slender lines were no longer distinguishable one from another. Lynette wagged
her backside, and danced on her toes to avoid further lashes as the switch's
flexibility allowed it to wrap cleanly around the girl's ample bottom. Jane
shook her head in disbelief; both awed and intimidated by the degree to which
Usha reinforced her position in the household. She was certainly ensuring that
the youngest of the wives would think twice the next time she was tempted to
challenge her!

The switching ceased at about the count of
twenty-five, and only because the switch finally broke in half. By then,
Lynette was sobbing pathetically into her hands, and begging forgiveness for
her disrespect to both Usha and their guest as she clutched her discolored
flesh.

"Go to Rama and tell him of your behavior,"
Usha ordered.

"No, please! He will punish me again! I beg
you," Lynette sobbed, grabbing Usha's hand and falling to her knees on the
soft grass.

Usha stroked Lynette's wet face. "He will do what
he feels is necessary. Go now," the older woman said softly.

Jane fought back tears as Lynette left them.
"Usha? She is so bruised. Would he really spank her again?"

"No, I do not believe so. Rama is a just man, and
she must trust him to make decisions which are for the best. He will probably
console her." Usha shook her head with disapproval. "Let us return to
the lesson. Sit upon the grass and lift up your skirt."

"My skirt?"

"Yes. I want you to look at your feet."

"My feet?" Jane's mouth hung open.

"You looked surprised," Usha laughed
lightly. "Never forget that every inch of flesh is to be made love to. Do
you remember when I cured you of the hysteria?"

"Yes. Vividly."

"When I placed pressure on your feet, you
responded by relaxing. You also relaxed as you were being spanked. We cannot
assume that only one expression will served our purposes. We must
explore."

Usha took Jane through a series of stretching and
balancing exercises associated with different positions in the book. When not
giggling hysterically at the awkwardness of the positions, Jane moaned and
grimaced.

"I feel like a wishbone," she said.
"I'm stuck. My legs simply will not split apart in that way, and I can't
move."