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O-A Little Later

By: parawa



O, a little later...

The address on the card in my hand turned out to be an apartment on the 3rd floor of a slightly tatty 19th century building. Ile de la Cite was still a fine Parisian address and spoke of old money. The staircase was once of fine quality, with flakes missing from the paint on the walls, while the iron balustrade was in need of a clean.

The woman who answered the door was elegant and calm, but would not have made you look twice if you saw her in the street. Her clothes were of fine quality and she moved easily in them, yet nothing was overtly sexual in her way of dressing. Her blouse was buttoned to an ordinary level, her skirt was of knee length, not tight and her shoes were flat heeled. Her calves were fine, slim and firm, which I could see as I followed her to the salon. A woman used to fine things, yet not arrogant or pretentious in her manner. 

The apartment was much finer in its furnishings and maintenance than the stairway to her door. 

We sat at an ormolu table, in chairs that were more elegant than comfortable, no doubt antiques of great worth. I shifted until I found a reasonable position. I asked to record our talk, she said 'As you wish'. Her voice was low and slightly husky, in excellent but accented English, with a light Scots lilt to be heard in occasional words. The Nagra recorder was the state of the art for 1978, yet the tape reels could be awkward to fit exactly, to get it wrong meant poor sound.

'Firstly I want to know how your life has progressed since the time that Anne's book was set. That would have been around 1954, I believe?' I tried to sound professional, despite being in the presence of the woman who had filled my nights for years.

'Oui, my first time at Roissy was at the end of January that year. It was the start of my real life. The events in her book are very accurate as to time, though she invented some things that never happened and concealed other things that did occur.' My interest rose at her words, they promised honesty and new insight into a famous true story. She spoke quietly and clearly, her eyes focused on the fire across the room. 'Ask what you will, my life is open to any who would know me'.

'Talk me through the main events of the years since the books, what happened with the men in the books?' I had prepared many questions, yet I wanted to start her talking and see where she took me. It was not hard, as she was ready to speak freely.

'Sir Stephen retained me close to him through the following winter, though I felt his conquest of me had become so complete that he found no challenge in it.' Her voice was low and calm yet had force and clarity. 

'My body and soul were so completely his that there was no resistance in me to whatever he demanded. He used me often as a gift to business acquaintances, to sweeten their deals with him. This use became less personal as time went on. Often his driver would bring a card from him, to go in the car, to whoever he offered me to. These visits could last an hour or two, or a weekend, or once for 8 days, when they took me away.

'A single man had formed an obsession with me- in the book he is named Eric. I think Sir Stephen found it amusing to put me in his hands to use, as he knew I detested his manner with me- a mix of child and brute. Eric made it his business at first to punish me fiercely for my loyalty to Sir Stephen. In that first year he came to Roissy when he knew I was there, and took me to his rooms for days at a time. He used a bullwhip on me one night, which has left scars I wear today. He used me harshly, with anything that was to hand, his fist, a bottle- he once impaled my sex on the bedpost and used my rear for his pleasure. I said nothing, though screamed often. Sir Stephen would ask me to describe what Eric did with me, with detail and showing the marks I bore from him. I think he liked to hear how freely I was used and with what utter submission.' O's voice trembled as she spoke of this time.

'As Eric's passion for me grew, Sir Stephen became more distant and used me rarely. He still kept me close much of the time, naked at his feet, with his hand idly caressing my breast or back. I was often his desk toy and I cleaned his hand with my mouth when he was done probing inside me. 

'By the second year, Eric began to change in his manner to me. He remained forceful, yet the intensity of his brutality faded. I think that he chose to work on my heart to break the bond that Sir Stephen had for me. This was helped by the long trip Sir Stephen took to Indonesia in early 1956. Eric asked him if I could be left with him during his absence, to which Sir Stephen agreed. I later found that money had changed hands to seal the arrangement. The night before Sir Stephen left, he took me many times, and whipped me in a particularly harsh way, directly on my sex, which he had never done before. I remember hearing my irons squeak as the whip fell on me. When I awoke I had no memory of the end of that beating. It was so brutal I could not walk for some days. I never saw him again after that night. 

'During the first few months with Eric, I found I was with child. Eric believed the child was his, but I knew it was not. I had always believed I was sterile, yet I was convinced the child was Sir Stephen's, who only ever used my rear, yet his seed often dripped out and across the opening of my sex. He loved to push his fingers inside me, more so after Eric's rough use of my sex with his whole hand had made me more open than ever. So many other men used me at those times that Eric had only a slight chance of being the father. 

'Eric kept me naked at all times, he took me to his bed each night and tirelessly rutted with me, both fore and aft, while stroking my growing belly. He seemed to want my pleasure, which was strange for me, after two years when only my acquiescence and suffering was sought and taken. I think he wanted the child to grow in pleasure within me. My moans seemed to satisfy that need within him. He could not forgo whipping me, though. To be honest I would not have wanted him to stop that- the whip was my release, to lose its touch would have left me empty inside. He kept me to himself and I saw no-one else during that time, not even his servant.

'When labour began he watched me endure the pain, smiling with each contraction. He ran his hand through the fluid that ran down my legs, and brought his other hand to me as the blood flowed from me. As the head came forth, he held my irons aside, to prevent harm. Shortly after my daughter was born he returned in a vile rage, seized my irons and tore them from my swollen nether lip. He picked us both up and bundled us out his door, dropping us naked in the garden in front of his house. Sir Stephen's features were clearly on the girl, not Eric's.'

End of Chapter 1.

Your votes will determine if there will be a second chapter.

O-A Little Later Ch. 02



I made her stop at this point, so I could replace the reel on the recorder. It took a few minutes to do this, I remembered to label the reel as I put it in the envelope, but was desperate to hear the next stage of her story. The light from the window was fading gently as evening advanced. 

O went to add wood to the fire from a coffer beside the hearth. It burnt cleanly, with strong heat and little smoke. Her face was pink from the warmth as she turned back to me. Her eyes briefly met mine, then dropped. The pinkness deepened more. I sensed it was time to alter the interview.

Before she could sit in her chair again I took a cushion and laid it on the floor in front of me, I gestured for her to kneel on it. She did so immediately, falling with seeming gratitude to kneel with her knees apart and her hands clasped behind her. Her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her, near my feet. 

I went to the mantelpiece and lit the candles in the silver candlestick there. The story was not to continue under electric light, too harshly bright for such a dark romance. To my mind Desclos' story was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Soon the candelabra gave more light than the window. 

"So, O you were naked, bleeding and cast out of Eric's house. How did you cope?" My voice was strange to me after hearing her for so long. She breathed more deeply as she remembered that time. 

"Oui, Monsieur, I was a poor wretch, it was freezing, before dawn in the early spring in Paris. I fed my daughter, and wept. My pride in bearing Sir Stephen a child was ebbing as the misery of my state took hold of me. I must have slept for a time, for when I woke I had a blanket around me. I think Eric's housekeeper must have brought it, there were croissants and a mug of coffee beside me as well." Tears glistened on her cheek and she trembled slightly. "I think we might have died without her help. She was risking her job to help us- yet I never knew her name or what became of her." She shifted slightly on the cushion, I saw her knees spread a little wider, to the limit allowed by her skirt. A question began to form in my mind, but I pushed it back, too soon for that, yet.

She began again, in a firmer voice. "While my own life only mattered in as much as I served another with it, my daughter was my new work. To protect her and raise her was my mission. I drank the coffee and ate, while I tried to think of a plan. The blanket would allow me to go about the street like a clocharde. I forced myself to my feet and walked to the gate. The bleeding had stopped, though my legs were filthy with blood and fluid from the birth and soil from the garden. I hoped the blanket would cover enough to keep me from the attention of the flics". The Parisian gendarmes were notorious for their evil treatment of the underclass of street dwellers.

"I was very weak from the labour and misery I had earned myself. I had had no real idea of how Eric would react to the birth, so had prepared for the worst. In the event, he had behaved both better and worse than I might have expected. His rejection of me was a mark of the betrayal he felt. I knew he had been feeling love and tenderness toward me before the birth, only to have me reject him for Sir Stephen yet again."

I was surprised to see a small wry smile play on her lips at this, and asked her why. "As I limped on the gravel drive to the avenue and turned toward the river, a red Alfa Romeo saloon came to a stop beside me. The door swung open and Anne-Marie stepped out. She was carrying a large army style overcoat which she wrapped around me, and pushed me onto the back seat. 'So this is the child you have produced for him? I can see why Eric threw you out, though why he would imagine it could be his is beyond me. Let us get you cleaned up and warm, then we will check her health, though she looks sound enough'. She held my daughter who was making small mewing noises and moving a little. I took her back and wrapped her in my blanket against my breast. It must have been Eric who called Anne-Marie, I decided later. That morning I was only grateful for a caring face and to ride in a car." The interview was taking turns I had never expected. This woman who had inhabited my dreams for so many years had depths and experiences that had never occurred to my imagination.

"I was put to bed in Anne-Marie's house at Samois, but in a part that I had never seen before when I had been there for my training and marks. She had a small clinic behind another door from the street, where women came for treatment that was discreet and safe. I think the room she put me in was attached to that, for those that needed to stay following their surgery. It had less decoration and was the territory of a short-haired stern woman in a pale dress, who I was told to call Irene. 

"Anne-Marie checked my daughter thoroughly and pronounced her healthy. She and Irene then put me on an examination table. They inspected me carefully and commented to one another on my body as if I was not there, or as if it did not concern me, which may have been closer to their view of my position. I was so utterly enslaved as to cease to have any privacy or ability to say no to my handling or treatment by them, or indeed anyone else. 

"A steel speculum was inserted within my sex and both peered within at length. No lasting damage was seen. Irene stroked my brand at length, running her fingertip through the grooves either side of my rear. She seemed fascinated to see the extent of my submission. To my surprise they each took a deep suck on my breast, and pronounced my milk to be satisfactory. They then kissed each other passionately across my naked flesh. 

"Anne-Marie, after cleaning my sex thoroughly with swabs and iodine, stitched the torn flesh where Eric had ripped my irons from me. The bleeding had stopped, but it was an ugly wound that could infect if not treated. Irene handed Anne-Marie the sutures and swabs in a manner that spoke of long experience. The pain was intense, yet I had so little energy that my cries were breathless and hoarse. I expected no mercy, and was given none. Anne-Marie's hands were swift and sure, I had faith and comfort in her handling. To demur or complain never occurred to me.

"Irene gave me food and drink, with medicine, then returned me and the girl to my bed. As the two walked off down the corridor, they discussed my situation, my recovery, and how to put me to use. I longed to ask what she knew of Sir Stephen, if he was in France or knew of the child. I did not dare to call out to them". She was weeping silently again, which I found odd.

"Surely," I spoke dismissively," you must have known that Sir Stephen had sold you to Eric when he left France the year before- he cared nothing for your welfare or even survival, as he knew what a brute Eric was to you. Why would you think he would be interested in the fact you had given birth to a child?"

She drew herself a little straighter on her cushion, and spoke with certainty. "He loved me, even if he could not keep me himself, he provided for me in his way. I am his slave, and always will be. My child is his also, as the child of a slave has always become the property of her owner. If nothing more, she is my gift to him." 

The second reel on the Nagra was running out. It was fully dark outside and time for me to leave her. I told her I would return earlier the next day, to get to the next phase of her life story. The book that would come from her words would be stunning.

I packed my gear, she watched me with an unreadable expression, never meeting my eye. She stood by the open door, to farewell me formally. 

As I went down the stair, a lively and gorgeous young woman came briskly up, her black hair flowing down her back, and I heard her cheerful "Salud, Maman!" She went in at the same door. 

My mind worked overtime as I went back to the pension.



O-A Little Later Ch. 03



I was short of sleep that night, thinking of the possibilities that seemed to be open in my meetings with that woman. My glimpse of the girl on the stairs also made me curious to know more. The mediocre coffee and pastry at my pension seemed harsh and dry to me as I swallowed them without much interest.

The walk from the Metro to her building was too slow for my feelings. I had not said when I would return, just that I would be earlier. It was warmer outside, with the sun lighting the front of her apartment as I arrived there.

She did not answer the door when I knocked, so I knocked more loudly, then turned the handle and pushed. It swung inward and I walked into her rooms, closing it behind me. After she had accepted the kneeling position yesterday I had confidence in my position regarding her.

I was still amazed when I found her kneeling beside my chair from yesterday, dressed in the yellow and grey taffeta described in the book. Her hair was dressed and glossy, with clips and long pins holding it back from her face, yet flowing part-way down her back. Her face was made up, with crimson lipstick, dark eye shadow and dramatic highlights. If she had done this herself it was a work of brilliance, to emphasise the gorgeous woman that was within the plain one I had met previously.

The dress was in the style of an earlier generation, with wide skirts and underskirts that flowed in a circle across the floor around her. The bodice was very tight and pushed her breasts up beneath a lace shawl. She was breathing deeply and steadily, making her shawl move in a fetching way. Her eyes were downcast, and fixed their gaze near my knees.

It took me some minutes to take in this scene, so much was changed by her choice this morning. The question that was in my heart came to my dry lips. "Have you chosen to offer yourself to me in this way? Or is this some way to help you to recall the past? Please explain yourself."

Her voice was clear and calm as she replied. "I do not offer myself at all. My role is as it always was since my first time at Roissy. I exist to serve, to be accessible to any that may desire to use my body for their pleasure. I cannot be raped, my consent has been long since given to any use or punishment that others put me to. This was made clear to me by Sir Stephen, that I had no independent will, just the acceptance that I was his to use, to torture or to offer to his friends. I have lived by that consent to serve since that time. I felt that you might be interested in seeing me as he made me, with this dress that was part of that life for me in the early time."

"Please stand up and close your eyes" I spoke and went to stand closer to her. She did so, using only her legs, without needing her hands for the action. She clearly had learned much and had maintained suppleness, poise and strength. Her breath came more quickly and colour rose in her cheeks. My finger stroked down the side of her cheekbone and across her lips, which were moist and slightly parted. She held her breath for a moment, before taking a deep intake. 

My hand reached for the long pin that held the ends of her lace shawl together. As I fumbled to unpin it, the sharp point scratched the skin beneath, making her gasp. The shawl fell away to reveal a superb chest, with firm breasts of modest size but classic shape. Her nipples were coloured a deep passionate red and hardened as I watched. She was trembling and breathing in short but deep intakes. The scratch was obvious, with a drop of blood forming on it. My hands stroked her, then gripped her breasts strongly as her breath came in gasps and strong colour rose in her skin and face. 

I released her after squeezing her nipples that were now long and rigid. "Turn around please, and place your hands on the chair". The dress rustled as she obeyed. Her rear was toward me and I parted the slit in the folds of her skirt to reveal a beautiful rounded bottom. At first I did not see what I expected, then looked lower to find the brands- bracketing her anus rather than higher on her buttocks. A fitting site, I decided. My fingers stroked the deeply burnt 'S' on one side, 'H' on the other. She flinched as I did so, her legs parting a little more. There were many light silvery lines across her bottom, old scars, I guessed.

I ran my hand down between her legs, where I touched warm wetness. Her lower lips were engorged, with a very prominent clitoris erect at the far end. She sighed as she spread herself for my hand. A lush handful of pubic air showed droplets of moisture near her vagina. I could not resist sliding two fingers inside her. She moaned and flexed her hips and I felt her tighten around my fingers, with a powerful grip. Had she always been this sexually charged, or was it a product of her training and years of use? 

"How long has it been since a man touched you like this?" She was not able to speak until I withdrew my fingers and then her voice was weak and breathy. 

"You are the first in nearly 8 years, for a number of reasons." I gestured for her to stand upright again, then I sniffed my fingers, which smelt very richly of her arousal. I then pushed them between her crimson lips and felt her tongue eagerly lick them clean. My sex was aroused, yet I had come for a business purpose- recreation must wait. I bade her follow me and walked through into the adjoining room. There was a carved Art Nouveau desk against the wall, beautiful rich timber, yet spindly legs. I pushed on it to be sure it was strong to serve my need today. I pulled up the chair and sat towards one side of the desk and made her sit on it within reach of my right hand. "Pull up the skirt and spread your thighs. I want to touch you while you continue your story." She complied with a will, raising one knee to facilitate my access to her sex. 

'You were newly arrived at Samois, with your baby, you had both been checked by Anne-Marie and fed. This was a new phase of your life and a different person was in control of you. How did you feel at the changes forced on you?" I was struggling against my desire to throw her on the carpet and ravage her. No wonder men desired her- she radiated sexuality and submission in her every movement, gesture and look. In her forties she was glowing, mature and very desirable- the years of submission had polished her like a jewel to shine in this way for me. 

I could not believe my luck, yet could not forget my mission. This was the real woman behind the book, whom I had come to interview for the story of a lifetime- both hers and mine. I settled for a hand on her thigh, close to the moisture- I needed to concentrate, after all.

She began more clearly, pausing from time to time for the memory to refresh in her mind's eye. "I did not consider my feelings, nor did Anne-Marie. To be under the control of another was my normal state and I was grateful for the warmth, the bed and the roof above me. The alternatives I had been considering a few hours before were much harsher and colder. I had my daughter to care for, and this was at least a safe haven for a while.

"For the first week I was left to myself, to feed my girl and recover from my experiences, and my lip was healing well." 

At this I was curious to see the evidence of the rings and Eric's violence, so looked at her groin more closely while turning her lips with my fingers. There was long-healed damage to the left lip of her sex, with a tear down to near the base and some ragged edges. A savage wound, yet borne with the same calm submission that she seemed to apply to all that befell her. The lip that I felt was slick with her arousal, and she opened herself a little more to my gaze and fingers. 

"I ate my meals in the kitchen, with the housekeeper, a woman in her thirties who wore a severe uniform. She did not speak to me, just laid my food before me and cleared the dishes away afterwards. I decided she must be deaf and tried to use signs to ask her questions. She was embarrassed and shook her head, I did not know why. At that moment Irene came in to the kitchen and saw the situation. She went behind the housekeeper and seized her head at either side. She said 'Open your mouth and show your shame, Gestapo whore'.

"The poor creature blushed deeply and complied, revealing a horror within. Many of her teeth were broken, yet worse was the writhing stump of her tongue which was behind them. Irene went on; 'She had a luxurious Occupation while true French men and women suffered and went hungry. She welcomed the Boche with open arms, mouth and legs, living the high life and rewarding many of them with her body as they tortured and killed our people. 

"'I found her outside their barracks at the liberation, bleeding and barely alive. Her beautiful Allemande lovers had cut her tongue so she could not betray them and the mob who looted the building had beaten her near death. They made sure she could never attract a man again.' Irene lifted the wig from the woman's scalp, revealing burn scars that would never bear hair. 'I saved her and she repays me by serving here. She is not a slave, she is just a useful item in the kitchen. She must obey all here, no matter their status. If she was to go from here, her life would be short and painful. She needs regular treatment from Anne-Marie for her injuries. There are also many outside who know her and remember her behaviours. The Boche had taken her to their torture rooms and executions as entertainment. The survivors remember her face.'

"As the pathetic creature restored her wig and rushed to the pantry weeping, Irene said to me 'come to the front of the house, we have a plan for you to pay your way here'. 

"I followed her upstairs and through the door that led to the part of the house that I knew from my first time there. It was overcast and cool outside. Anne-Marie was sitting by a blazing fire, her dog at her feet. She signed for me to stand near her and I was grateful to be close to the fire. My nakedness was uncomfortable sometimes. My breasts were uncomfortably full, as my child had slept for several hours. They hung more heavily on my chest which was a new feeling for me. I was disturbed to feel drops of milk leak from me as my body responded to the warmth and thought of my girl. Irene saw this and licked the drops, then each woman took a long suck. They giggled and kissed each other passionately with the milk still on their lips. My moans as they sucked my breasts seemed to excite them. I felt weak with pleasure as they sucked.

"'We are going to use you for our mutual well-being as well as pleasure. This property takes a great deal of money to keep it up. We will keep you here for the time being, and put you to use to generate a new income. The housekeeper will care for the child while you work for us.' I assumed they would prostitute me for money, as at Roissy, where my body had suffered and served to earn cash. While this proved to be true, later, at this time Anne-Marie had a different plan in mind." 

Anne-Marie and Irene stood up on either side of me."' When you have fed and put the he child back to sleep, put on the coat that is on your bed. We will go on an errand to Sir Stephen's house'" As she said this I felt her open herself a little more and lubricate richly. That man's name had an effect on her. I slid a third finger inside and she stopped speaking, with her mouth agape. My thumb rubbed her slimy lips, touching her clitoris with each stroke, she flexed and moaned slightly as I did this. I withdrew a little as I had a mission to complete, I needed her to speak.

"I wore the fur coat from my room which came to my knees, and was warm and lined with satin which quickly warmed against my bare skin. We went in the Alfa to Sir Stephen's town house, where the three of us went to the door and rang the bell. After a time, Norah answered and ushered us into the drawing room. She pulled dust covers off the furniture so the women could sit down. Anne-Marie gestured to me to stand near her, and stroked my thighs and bottom while she spoke. 

"' I believe you were responsible for dealing with O's property when Sir Stephen left?' Norah's eyes were on mine, reminding me of the punishments she had given so fiercely in the past. Her dark-skinned hands were spare of flesh, yet strongly muscled. Norah spoke quietly, 'I sold most of her possessions and sublet her apartment. As my master had instructed I collected her cameras and studio equipment and they are stored in the basement here. Is that what you would like to take away?' 

"The four of us went down to the basement where we found my cameras, lights, backdrops and the few props that had been in my studio. In a large chest she had placed my dark room chemicals and enlarger. Anne-Marie bade me take the cameras and some film. Irene seized a light standard and we returned to the front door. Irene told Norah that a van would come for the rest of the gear in the next day or two. Norah replied, 'I am always here, for two years I have managed his house faithfully and fulfilled his instructions. That has not changed.' As we drove away I regretted the fear that prevented me from asking about him- was it my fear of punishment or fear of Norah's answer? If Norah's service had not changed what had changed- his life, or health?" She looked as if her mind and feelings were many miles away. It made her look even more desirable.

I had had enough. I stood, pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard on her open mouth. She moaned and opened it very wide. My hand was buried within her sex, so I pulled it free, spun her around and bent her forward with her breasts on the desktop. Her dress fell down and she pulled it back up with one hand- making herself freely accessible. I opened my pants and freed my hard phallus. I drove it straight into her wet sex, where it met little resistance until I could feel the very end. She gasped, panted and moaned "thank you thank you thank you" as I stroked deeply while I gripped her breasts and used them as handles to pull her back onto my cock. The rougher my treatment the more excited she became. So wet had she become that there was little friction, so I pulled out of her and pushed it between her brands. She squealed as she was stretched by my invasion of her rear. She was so tight as I drove in, her grip on my sex stimulated me to my climax in only a few strokes- she moaned as I grunted and spilled my seed deep in her bowels. 

I fell forward onto her back, as my cock softened inside her. After a couple of minutes I stood up and pulled free of her. I let her go and she slipped to the floor, where she wrapped her arms around my knees and sucked my penis into her mouth, licking and sucking it until it began to harden again. I pulled it free of her, she made a sound of disappointment, then whispered "thank you Master, please use me for your pleasure. I am yours." 

I knew what needed to be done next. I hauled her to her feet by the arm, and pushed her roughly over the back of the chintz couch and threw her skirt over her back, She spread her legs wider to allow me to enter her again- her sex was dripping with arousal, her anus was slightly ajar and wet with my seed. I pulled the old soft belt from my trousers, stood a pace back and laid it hard across her buttocks. She screamed as her lust was punished shockingly. Three more strokes followed as her screams increased, the surprise replaced by true pain. The skin of her rear showed bright red stripes that began to swell as I replaced my belt. 

"Thank me!" I said sharply, and she did so fully. 

"I thank you gratefully for your loving punishment, sir. The pleasure I took in your use of me deserved your correction"

I returned to the other room, put some more wood on the fire and sat again on my chair. I waved for her to sit on the floor beside me. Her makeup was smeared, sweat could be seen at her throat and on her arms. 

The next phase of her story would be more strange than I could have imagined.

*

To my small group of loyal and tasteful supporters- Thanks! 



O-A Little Later Ch. 04



O spent a moment settling herself on her knees at my feet. She arranged the skirts of the taffeta dress around her in a circle as if her goal was to create an artistic scene of beauty. Once this was done her hands went behind her back, where the wrists crossed in a way that looked both familiar to her and strangely comfortable. 

Her face and the tops of her breasts were flushed and warmth radiated from them. My penis felt wet from her mouth, anus and sex, while the moisture still on her lips made me aware of the fluids that would be leaking slowly from her under the dress, between her wide spread thighs. Her nipples were on display, firmly erect and her breathing was starting to slow to a more normal rate- disappointing, as to watch that beautiful bust move was stirring me again. I reached down and caressed her breasts with my left hand. She inhaled, which pushed her flesh into my palm. She was hungry for my touch and leaned further to increase the contact. 

"Continue your story, how did they put you to use?" My voice sounded harsh and broke the spell that the physical indulgence had created. She sat straighter which withdrew her breast from my touch, until only the nipple brushed my hand, moving with her breath.

"It was the Music Room at Samois that was to become my studio. Two girls were due to arrive at Anne-Marie's the next morning and my job was to take their photographs as they were opened and tortured. There was a closet to the left of the dais that was to be where my cameras were to be kept. The light was set up on a stand across the room with its focus on the space between the pillars. Irene sat in that space and I took several photos to test the lighting and angles. She posed mockingly, spreading her stockinged thighs and drawing up her charcoal skirt. My beloved Hassleblad camera was still working, though the shutter mechanism felt stiff and I was concerned that the film was old and had not been stored properly. 

"I asked Anne-Marie if some fresh film could be obtained before the girls came. She made me write the specific brand and specification of film on some notepaper. I asked also for some equipment to develop the film. While my chest at Sir Stephen's had the essentials, I would need fresh chemicals as well as rubber gloves and apron to work safely. I dared not ask if I would be working naked- that had always been the rule here, but was I now taking a different role? The miserable housekeeper was clothed. 

"Irene adjusted her clothing, took the list and departed. Anne-Marie said to me 'you do not need to know what purpose the photographs will have, your job is just to make the best images you are able to. For the time being you will be invisible to the girls that come to me, you will be silent in the room and only photograph them while they are blindfolded. Your camera has a loud shutter, can that be silenced?'

"I replied that it needed lubrication and would become quieter with use. The special lubricant was in the chest with my other things. She gestured for me to follow her to a small room at the rear of the house that I was to use as a darkroom. It had a large old table and only a small high window, so could easily be adapted to the purpose. At that time I heard my daughter crying in the distance and my breasts began to leak, I bowed my head in shame. The housekeeper knocked and entered with my girl and I gratefully took her to my breast while the two women looked on. I could not read their expressions but could guess the emotions playing on each face.

"When she had suckled from me enough milk to fill her belly and relieve the tension in my breasts, my daughter returned to sleep. The housekeeper took her gently from me and went back through the door. Without speaking, but with a tight expression on her lips, Anne-Marie bade me follow her back to the Music Room. There she took straps which she quickly wrapped around each wrist and hooked on to rings high up on each of the pillars. My arms were stretched wide apart, I was on my toes as she tightened the straps. She silently reached into the closet and took a multi tailed whip which she immediately laid on my back with her full strength. This was to be no subtle whipping to gain my submission, but a brutal punishment for whatever dark feeling had risen within her as she watched me with my daughter. 

"I screamed fully and long from the very first lash- the pain was fierce and she worked with a fury from my thighs, over the buttocks and up my back. The pain was an old friend and I was in a way comforted by its return. My status was being made clear again. Anne-Marie stumbled as she stepped around the pillar to my front. Tears ran down her face and she attacked my breasts viciously with the lash. After three slicing blows she wrenched herself away and fell back against the wall, panting and sweaty.

"As I rode the waves of pain that washed through me, two thoughts came to the surface. On one level I feared that the whipping may have damaged my breasts so feeding would be affected. There was also a greater fear that Anne-Marie resented my daughter's place in a slave's attention and would vent her anger on me. The urbane, languid Parisienne had a darker core that I had now seen. I felt blood trail down my back and a colder feeling trickle within me as I remembered my utter powerlessness in this house.

"I hung from the straps for an hour or more, as the watery sun moved across the floor beside me. My shoulders and arms ached from the weight of my body and I could see my wrists turn purple as they lost sensation. I moved as much as I could to ease the tension and could feel the blood on my skin harden as it dried. My calves trembled with the strain of my position, yet I felt strangely content as the intense pain of the whipping eased to a feeling of calm and warmth. I remembered and loved that sensation. I was a slave of the whip rather than the one who used it on me. 

"Irene came in with several large bags of shopping, which she placed on the floor near the closet. She walked around me, slowly, as if admiring my submission and the fresh marks. Her hand went between my thighs and found me very wet. I moaned as her fingers entered me roughly. 'Tonight we will remove those sutures, but first let's get you down. We don't want to damage the goods. ' 

"Irene loosened the straps and I was able to stand normally, while my arms and shoulders hurt more as they were freed and blood returned to them. I rubbed my wrists to ease the marks of the bindings. She returned with a bottle of iodine with which she swabbed the cuts on me. That stung, but did not take away the deeper reward I had gained from the whip. Her hands massaged my shoulders, arms and wrists for a few minutes, then she surprised me by taking my head between her hands and kissing me deeply, probing my mouth fiercely with her tongue. She rubbed her breasts hard as she sat on the edge of the dais and pulled up her skirt.

"'Give me pleasure with your mouth, little whore, repay the attention given to you'. She eased her green silken underwear past her knees and spread her thighs. Her sex was shaven and she wore a ring like that Eric had torn from me, though perhaps thicker and more brutal in its appearance. I gently took it in my mouth and sucked on it, as I had always loved to feel Jacqueline do to mine. This one had no tag attached and I was briefly curious of its meaning. She pushed my head hard on to her sex, so I had no time to wonder, as my face was soaked with her fluids. She moaned and writhed under my lips, tongue and teeth for a very long time before she finally had her release. My jaw was strained by her demands, she seemed to need very intense sensation to finish. I was biting firmly on her sex's lips and small nub before she finally climaxed, gushing into my mouth and across my face and chest. I was glad to be naked, for once. 

"Irene took several minutes to recover her senses. 'Anne-Marie did well to rescue you. You are a talented and skilful slave, and we will make much use of you, both in service to us and as a source of money and influence. Now take these goods and prepare your equipment. The van will deliver the rest of the equipment from Sir Stephen's house before supper. You must have the lamps and camera all ready before you sleep tonight. Your work will begin as soon as the girls are delivered.' She took her silk underwear from around her left ankle and wiped my face with the smelly article, then the tops of my breasts and her own groin, before balling them and pushing them in my mouth.

"'While Anne-Marie has trained you well, you have made great progress in this skill on your own. You are clearly one of our sisters, whether you know it or not. You are happy to be used by men as well, yet women are all you will ever love' She caressed and gripped my breasts and bit my nipples long enough that I moaned around the offensive ball in my mouth. She did not suck from me this time. I would never tell her that my love was given to Sir Stephen forever, as I had no choice but to obey Irene or Anne-Marie and anyone else that wanted to use me. To be praised for giving service was warming me, in the same way that the whipping had warmed me inwardly.

"I hurried to look over the contents of the bags. All was in order, as I had asked. To be working at my beloved profession was going to be a pleasure. The pornographic images that I had no doubt were to be my product would be mission. I would be proud to produce a portfolio that would become a classic in those select circles that would see them, a chance to produce art that would show my love of the life that I had taken as my own. That I would have unlimited access to beautiful and superbly submissive models made it much easier. The absence of any modesty meant the images could be utterly explicit.

"I worked long, with a break to be fed in the kitchen by the servile woman. After the food, Anne-Marie brought me a brightly coloured woven cloth, like a very long shawl. She showed me how to tuck and tie it so that my baby could be wrapped and carried on my back, with an easy swing to bring her to my breast. 'That was how the women in Madagascar cared for their child while they worked. It seemed to be convenient, so you can do this until we make a more lasting arrangement.' There was no sign of her dark emotion that had burst forth earlier. My baby suckled for a long time then smiled as she went into a doze. 

"The cuts on my breast from the whipping earlier did not seem to affect the flow of my milk. Only one had broken the skin on my right nipple and it had hurt as she sucked, as when Irene had bitten it earlier. The blood had stopped and had not started again. I asked the housekeeper for iodine to disinfect the cut. I carried on working, with the girl on my back. It was good to feel her close to me, with no worry of her crying alone and unheard in the other room.

"As my meal was finishing, the housekeeper gestured me to follow her to the Music Room, where the lights and equipment chest had been delivered. I returned to my labour, loving the feel of the tools of my art. I spent time dismantling the camera and working the shutter until it was quiet and smooth again. I shone the lights on the dais, but pointed another at the white wall to one side where light would wash indirectly on to it. I was forming ideas for images. 

"The two of us fell into bed as the moonlight was rising in the skylight. I was asleep in a moment, with no dreams that I knew of. Some time later the housekeeper shook me awake, and made me follow her down the chilly corridors into the front rooms of the property, where she opened Anne-Maries' bedroom door. The two women were in the bed, and Anne-Marie gestured me to come forward, opening the bedclothes for me. 

"There were no words or niceties, she just pushed my head down to her belly. Irene's hand was there before me, and probed my mouth as I began my work, then moved up to caress and pinch her lover's nipples. They spoke about me as I worked. It was clear that Irene had told Anne-Marie of my skills that afternoon. The white nylon gown was lifted just far enough for me to work. 

"From being icy cold shortly before, I was sweating as if in a sauna after just a few minutes. This was clearly not the first such attention Anne-Marie had received this night, she was slimy with her sexual fluids, which had moistened her thighs and matted her pubic hair. The smell was strong and sexual, yet not unpleasant. She drove me on with her hands, and words, spreading her legs and saying 'Put another finger inside me, push them harder, work them around inside, yes there! There!' As she said this her sex gripped my fingers painfully, despite the slippery walls of her vagina. Her climax was loud and persisted for some time, rising and falling through several peaks.

"I continued to stroke her vulva as she calmed down. She responded again, which was a relief, as to go beyond what was instructed was a gamble for me. Another serious whipping was perhaps too much for me. When Anne-Maries' crisis had come and gone, Irene drew me to her own fully naked body, where she had me lick and suck her breasts before pushing me down to her crotch. There was no fresh odour or slickness there, though I was quickly able to gain that response from her. A question about the real nature of their relationship occurred in my mind as I worked. 

"I must have slackened my effort, as Irene slapped my cheek and said 'Do your proper work, whore'. I remembered the way I had won her climax earlier and began to nibble her lips and that crest at their juncture. When my finger worked into her sex she slapped it away- clearly that was not part of lighting her fuse. She then seized the finger and placed it on her anus, which easily yielded to my probe. That produced a greater motion from her pelvis, which stirred memories within me. I licked furiously around her labial ring and her opening, until her hips writhed strongly. She reached her climax soon, then drew the covers over her, away from me. She curled up next to Anne-Marie, who was quiet and breathing evenly. I had been dismissed, as not needed any more, without any need of a word.

"I found my way back to my room, where the baby was beginning to grizzle. She woke at my return, so I fed her, but this time she remained wakeful for several hours. I held her and stroked and jiggled her to calm her. Nothing worked, until as the first pale light of dawn was visible in the skylight, she finally slept. My deep sleep was disrupted again by the nameless housekeeper's hand shaking me. The light was strong in the skylight so I guessed it was after nine. The coming day would be enough of a challenge on short sleep, without missing breakfast as well. The girl slept deeply in the bed. I rose, washed quickly and went downstairs."




Your appreciation is keeping this going- there are many more ideas yet to come, if ratings stay high!



O-A Little Later Ch. 05



As O had been speaking I had been watching her face, and the body language that went with her story. My hand had been on her breast, playing with her long, firm nipple, enjoying the movement of her breathing. I had risen a couple of times to put more of the sweet apple wood in the fireplace and had changed the tape reel.

The day was moving into afternoon, with a fine cloud cover softening the sunlight. I made her stand, which she did slowly, as she had been kneeling in an uncomfortable position for over an hour as her amazing tale had unfolded from her lips. 

"Come here, present your breasts to me." She pushed them towards my mouth, until my lips could suck in their tip. My hands pressed around one and I sucked in as much as my mouth could take- she sighed and her head went back in rapture as she pushed forward more to ease my use of her. My left hand went to her skirt, found the slit, went inside to feel her wet lips. Her crest rose and firmed to my touch. I ran my fingertip on the rough scar of the damaged lip, wondering what the original had looked like.

"Was there a photo of your rings? I am curious, to see how they looked on you." I admired the wetness on her breast that was close to my face. There was something odd about the nipple near my eye- had it been pierced at some time? The bodice had a small gusset that supported her breasts and pushed them outward. I wondered if the bodice was over a corset- her waist was small enough for this to be true. 

"I want to take you to bed now. Where is it?" She drew in her breath and stood more erect. She moved smoothly, like a dancer, towards the door to the study where I had used her body previously. 

"Suivez-moi, s'il vous plait, monsieur" she asked and glided through that room to a short hallway, where she opened a door on the left. She went to the large iron-framed bed opposite the door, where she turned down the covers and lit the small ornate lamp beside the bed. The drapes were partly drawn and the room was dim. She stood beside the bed, awaiting instruction. Her eyes were cast down, but her breath was coming quickly and her face and chest showed a pink glow. 

"Hang this up, then I need to use your toilet. Where is it?" She took the jacket I gave her and put it in the closet that was behind the door. She gestured for me to go through the door on the side wall, where a bathroom was, with a large tub and a Turkish-style squat toilet. Between the bath and toilet were a bidet and a hand basin, all with ornate turn of the century plumbing fittings, robust and likely to last several lifetimes, but not pretty or feminine in any sense. 

She knelt beside the toilet and took a small towel from a shelf nearby. I was a little surprised at this, but went along for now. The difficulty of using this type of toilet was perplexing me, when she softly murmured, "My Master usually passed water in the bidet, monsieur. Forgive my suggestion". I thanked her for her timely advice and did so, with relief. She then reached out with the towel and dried my member, taking time to ensure it was thoroughly done. She then used the tapware expertly to clean the bowl. I was becoming a little aroused again, then remembered a phrase from the book.

"I would like you to remove your dress and hang it up, then come and use the toilet. Are you wearing a corset?" She nodded so I said "keep it on, for the moment, please." She rustled through the door to comply and I followed to see how she would be revealed to me. The dress was unhooked with a small difficulty at the side, coming free from her body with ease once unfastened. She placed it over a valet stand where a man's suit would normally rest. As she stood straight again I drew in my breath. Truly this was a magnificent woman, the years had not diminished her glory. Her legs were slim and firm, with narrow ankles, enhanced by the slight heels on her shoes. Her hips were like a violin's and her bosom was an artist's dream. Between was a very narrow black satin corset, tight and shiny. Her waist was narrower than the dress had shown and the skin at its upper and lower edges was clearly under stress.

Her breasts still stood proudly, I was pleased, as childbirth and feeding can take their toll. She walked proudly past me, though her eyes remained downcast. I went to sit on the edge of the bath and watched as she squatted on the toilet. She was slow to begin her stream, and blushed fiercely as she eventually drained her bladder. I passed her the small towel, which she used and cast into a hamper. She went to the basin, where she found a small vial into which she dipped her longest finger and touched it expertly to her anus. She then washed her hands well and dried them on another small towel. 

The complete submission that she showed was enhanced by the clear signs of shame and humiliation that were visible on her skin. She could hide nothing, privacy was only for the free, not her. That she still had shame was a small surprise to me, considering her story so far.

She walked before me to the bed, where I asked her to lie back and spread her thighs. As she did so I took off my trousers and placed them on the chair near the bed. My shirt and underwear followed. I undid the clasps on her shoes, which I threw across the room; "you must be completely naked for me, when the word is given to you". She nodded and did not ask about the corset. I turned her as I looked closely at her sex. The scarred lip was ugly, with a ragged edge that hung below the other, yet it was of healthy flesh. Her pubic hair was a very dark brown, reflecting that on her head. Her armpits were also furnished with hair, a French style that would be sad if lost.

I inhaled her scent- strongly sexual and heavy with pheromones, yet I could still smell the perfume she must have applied those hours before when she prepared herself for me. What a gift she was offering me. On every visible centimetre of skin were those tiny silvery lines from years of whippings. A tempting thought grew in me. I buried my face in her vulva, sucking that wounded lip into my mouth as she began to move her hips beneath me. I nibbled at her lips then worked to her clitoris, while pushing a pair of fingers inside her. My lips, then my teeth began work on her swollen crest of flesh, drawing rising moans and gasps from her mouth. 

I added a third finger, she was so wet and slippery that it went without in without much resistance, and gained a stronger, higher moan from her mouth. I withdrew my fingers again, the fourth finger had to be driven in more firmly, her muscles were tightening to resist me, yet there was no real attempt to defy me.

I lifted my head to improve my ability to work harder on her body with my hand. On the far side of her bed, on the wall were arranged the tools of her torture three whips and a crop, as placed by Sir Stephen those many years ago. I was shocked, and stopped my work- could this place be the very same apartment as that in the book? Then I looked closer and saw that the handles were hung from an ornate rack, in the same art nouveau style that many of the apartment's fittings used, rather than the nails mentioned in the 'Story'. Maybe not so, then. My temptations flowered violently at the sight of them and a decision began to take root in me.

I removed my hand, which had penetrated her to the base of my thumb. Her sex was so slippery yet tight that I felt that further exploration would leave my hand in discomfort. My member was in need of her body's sensation- I made her move to her hands and knees, a little further down the bed. I lay flat on my back and drew her mouth to my sex, which she hungrily accepted in those sensual lips. She had great skill and experience, yet I had other intents. I grabbed the back of her neck and drove her mouth on to my shaft, driving for the back of her throat. She struggled a little and gagged, yet did not resist me, accepting her role, as of long experience. The tightness of her had me quickly approaching my crisis, but I withdrew before completion.

I grabbed her head again and drew her up to kiss her mouth deeply. She seemed shocked and breathless, yet opened willingly. When I had finished exploring her with my tongue I moved around and drove myself deep in her vagina. She was still tight, despite my forcing of that path just minutes before. I could feel her muscles grip me firmly- whether from training or sheer talent I did not care at that moment. Her anus glistened and moved sensually as I worked, so I drove two fingers in there, made easy by her addition of lubricant. Her moans deepened at this and her hips worked more wildly. The spasms in her vagina brought me to completion, with several groans and shuddering in my muscles. I pushed her flat on the bed and kept my penis inside her as I lay on her. My sex softened and slipped from her.

Our sweat was soaking into the sheets, as was the fluid her vulva had emitted at the point of her pleasure. My hands were drawn to her breasts again, to tweak and squeeze them. As I became more forceful and drove my fingers deeper in the flesh she moved so they were pressing more into my hands. Though there must have been pain for her, she seemed to relish it. 

"Now I want to know about your photography at Samois. What was the process when a girl came there and what were your photos like?" I had abandoned the idea of recording her words- the story was so memorable that the tape was superfluous. 

She responded by asking if she might show me the results, rather than speaking about it. I agreed, then let her rise from the bed. She reached into the closet and drew out a robe which she held out to me. The air was cooling as the afternoon was getting later, so I was glad of it. She also must have sensed that I did not want to dress again yet, as I was not done with her for this day. Her skin still shone with sweat which was rapidly cooling though her upper thighs were still moist.

She led me back to the room with the fire, which had burned low, yet held its warmth. She added two logs to the fire and it soon increased its output of heat. 

She asked me if I would like to eat, and I realised I was very hungry. She pressed a hidden bell, and soon an old woman's head came through the door. She briefly ordered a light meal with fruit to follow. The woman withdrew silently.

O went through another door and returned shortly with a large art folio, which seemed heavy. She laid it with care on a larger table, and opened the cover. Inside were large prints of monochrome photographs. I moved over to look closer, as she stroked the images, although she took care to only touch the edges.

The first photo was of O herself, as a young woman, leaning back with her buttocks on the edge of a table, which pushed her pelvis forward, exposing her vulva which was shaved. Her rings were clearly revealed, brutal irons, thicker than I had imagined and larger in diameter. A finger could easily be hooked into them, the two oval rings that ended in a silver disc. It was not possible to read the inscription, though the crossed whip and crop motif were discernible. The quality of the print was of the finest, the clarity and framing were superb so every fold and surface of her body was beautifully visible, yet without harshness.

The striking thing about the photo was not the brutality of the rings forced through the most sensitive, intimate part of a beautiful girl, but her expression of rapturous submission. Her eyes were downcast, her lips moistly ajar and her hands together out of sight behind her, whether tied or not was moot. Her breasts were proffered forward, her nipples proud. Any man would seize and possess her just from that expression alone.

"This shows my irons, taken a few months after they were fixed to me. This picture was added to my file at Roissy." I gazed at her younger form until the door opened and the older woman silently glided in on felt slippers, carrying a tray with petit-fours, pastry and a steaming quiche. "Would you like a drink, monsieur?" O said, I asked for café au lait. The woman seemed unaware or unconcerned by the nudity of her mistress and the obscenity of the photo clearly visible on the table. She vanished again, and O cut the quiche then passed me a dish with several delicious items. I was starving- it had been a long time since breakfast. I ate while wondering what the images within the folio might show me.

As I ate, she stood to one side and made no move towards the food. I put my plate down and put a few items on a dish. I took a petit-four on my palm and offered it to her mouth. She ate it gratefully and kissed my palm. I offered her more and she also devoured it. I poured a glass of water for her and gave it to her. Her hands stayed behind her as she drank.




I think there may be one more chapter to come, thanks for the support, folks. Glad you have found this to your taste.



O-A Little Later Ch. 06



We stood side by side as she showed me her pictures. I felt a little embarrassed, the image of her naked submission was so graphic and degrading that I had to look to see her response to my viewing. She kept her eyes down, yet she was standing proudly naked beside me.

"How do you feel about these images, O? This one of you is humiliating, it shows every part of your body and the suffering in your eyes, yet you do not hesitate to open it and the others to me and you seem to want to talk about them. They are of girls experiencing pain, being submitted to torture and being marked as possessions." I felt that to ask was an invasion of her minimal personal space, yet she did not hesitate to respond.

"I am proud of my status and what I have done to show the work at Samois. I have long since abandoned any pretence of ego or personal privacy. These images will be immortal to the tiny elite that have been able to know them. Many of these girls are no longer in the life for various reasons. The life itself is no longer what it once was- so much has changed. I knew all these girls and shared their time at Samois. Their suffering and trained submission was a crucial time in their lives, as it had been in mine. The record I kept is a celebration of submission and the gift that a slave makes of her body and essence to serve another." She spoke clearly and calmly, with utter conviction underlying her words.

"Older slave women had been seen by me at Roissy and were often broken in spirit as well as body- it was a hard life I had chosen. To be fair though, I had also seen two women who were still proud and generous in their submission who gave me hope. One had a master who was much older, she took responsibility for his body needs and his affairs while still subservient to him. The other was part of the Roissy ménage, helping the valets with girls, managing the housekeeping of the Chateau and occasionally lending herself when someone wanted her. 

"As I told you earlier, you are the first man to use me and take pleasure in my body for many years. The background to that is something that I wish to offer up to you, but there are a number of things that I need to make clear to you first. Will you bear with me as I follow my story, please?" She looked toward me with pleading in her face- a surprise considering the gentle, acquiescent manner that she had shown until now. 

I nodded my consent, as many other questions boiled up in me at her words. Patience was to be my lesson, for now.

Her initial picture was a full folio size, monochrome with her in full frontal figure, from knees to head. The subsequent pictures of the other girls were of differing sizes, with differing body parts displayed. While they were either headless, or with faces turned away in the early sections of the folio, later there were faces clearly visible in the later ones- clearly the anonymity was discarded as time progressed. The ones with no visible face were very graphic in their display, yet the ones with face displayed were more shocking- the emotions and pain etched in them made them immediate and obscenely shocking. They were all utterly pornographic, in a way that consensual photos could never be, regardless of the quality of acting. 

She began to explain to me the girls and their stories that unfolded with each opening page. "One of the first girls to arrive was Nathalie, who was sent by the man who had taken her. She was still girlish and showed the naïvete that I remembered from the first time she had revealed her love to me in the villa in the south of France where she had learned of my enslavement". She went on to tell me that Rene had returned her to her parents on our return to Paris, and had gained a promise that she could accompany Jacqueline the next summer as well. She returned to her Lycee for which Jacqueline's modelling work was paying. The impatience she had was ultimately satisfied that following summer when Rene added her to the ménage at the same villa. Any resistance that Jacqueline may have had at having to share Rene with her sister was silenced by the time she had spent at Roissy earlier that year. Her arrogant manner had been quelled as she had been shared, forced and whipped by the members. 

The photos she showed of Nathalie's petite form were faceless, yet showed the treatment that Anne-Marie was so good at- opened and whipped on the dais, walking naked in the garden, then ultimately having a single ring inserted in her nether lip- not with the second ring and disc that O had been laden with, nor the brand on her rear. The only feature that was unmistakable was long black hair, her face was invisible in all the shots.

"Tell me, O, were you able to use Nathalie during her stay there? Did you whip her? What did you feel when you saw her?" She was silent for some time while she considered her response.

"She was taken to bed by Anne-Marie and Irene on several occasions. I was able to caress her while she was tied open in the Music Room. I sometimes drew the number that meant I was to whip her, which I did with relish, then I lay with her for a long time afterwards. To help her learn the link from the whip to sexual pleasure was my mission. She gave every sign of loving me yet was in complete submission to the man who had taken responsibility for her. She preferred to give me pleasure than to receive what I could give her. She was tiny, so it was a daily challenge to insert the phallus into her rear to stretch it. I drove it with a mixture of savagery and love which was irresistible to me. Her suffering was beautiful to behold and she bore it with pride.

"These two others were on their second visit to Samois, you can see that their markings have been done- the tattoo across the pubic bone of the blonde, the Cross of Lorraine branded on the buttock of another girl. Her man was strong in the Resistance, I believe". All told, there were some twenty-five girls shown in the folio, all that had passed through Anne-Marie's hands in that year. 

All were beautiful, with some unmarked, skin clear except for fresh whip cuts, while others were heavily pierced, lower lips, clitori and nipples all bearing metal. O's photos had some sequences showing the action of the piercing, including the face of the victim as the pain was done to her. Such an intensity of pain and visual eroticism was hard to see, yet there was no thought of rebellion in any of the faces that I could see.

She finally closed the folio then went to the same room and brought back a large bound book with a plain black cover and glossy photographic paper. "This is the book that we had made by a very exclusive printer in Montmartre. The print run was 250 and we sold them for the price of a luxury car- yet no-one to whom we offered a copy refused or even hesitated. I believe that these now are traded within the community at many times their original price. Anne-Marie took half the proceeds and gave me the other half. I made investments, which continue to provide an income for me and my daughter. I have taken on other similar projects since those days, which have kept me involved with the Society of Roissy. Many men wished to record their possessions, with the ephemerality of a slave's beauty captured at its height, or in their most intense passion. 

"Mine is a clandestine art, I will never exhibit to great audiences, nor can my patrons or models be named openly, yet I have all the fame I would want among a tiny elite."

She placed the book beside the folio on the table, adjusting their alignment to be precisely parallel with its edge. This seemed to be a ritual, or was it to cover an agitation that was occurring within her?

I moved over to stand behind her, took her hands in mine and crossed the wrists behind her back. She leaned back against me with a sigh and I held her to me with a hand cupped to her breast while the other held her wrists. "Close your eyes, please" I whispered, then turned her and propelled her before me towards the bedroom again. The images and story had stirred me and I could not get the mistreatment of those young women from my mind's eye. 

In the bedroom I bade her stand in the middle of the floor, in the exact centre of the Turkish carpet's pattern. I unlaced her corset then unhooked it from around her. I wanted her fully open to the beating I would give her. I went to the dresser, where I found a black scarf, which I tied around her eyes. 

"Put your hands on your head please, and keep them there. I intend to whip you now so will put the choice to you- which whip should it be? You could not answer Sir Stephen then, so answer me now." I could feel her tremble as I spoke.

The four tools were there clearly visible on the wall across from the bed. The many-tailed lash with its knotted cords, the narrow green riding crop, the bamboo rod and the long dog-whip were part of her day- she must have seen them as she woke, and last thing at night for all those years. I wondered if the rather grand light fitting suspended from the middle of the ceiling had ever been replaced with a simple chain.

She spoke at once, without any doubt in her voice, "the dog whip again, s'il vous plait, monsieur." This was a decision she had imagined many times in her past. Whether it was a wish to imagine the hand of Sir Stephen beating her again, or that she loved the special bite of that vicious narrow braid, I would not ask her- it mattered little and I was not sure if I wanted to know her answer.

I crossed the room and took it from the hook. The lash was nearly two metres long with a thickly braided handle. I felt the softness of its leather, someone had cared for it with oil on a regular basis. I wondered if that was the silent woman's work, or if O herself had made it her ritual, against the day she might feel it on her again.

I went close to her, so close I could hear her heart pounding and her ragged breathing- anticipation was a big part of her sensation. I used the handle to guide her legs apart to shoulder width and caressed her moist lips, which drew a gasp from her mouth. Her other lips were dry from the stress and rapid breathing.

"Stand straight, with your shoulders back and keep your legs apart. This will be a test of the quality of your training- do not disappoint me." I stepped a long pace from her, turned and struck firmly, watching the lash wrap around her waist, where the skin was still embossed with the pattern of the corset. She let out a long breath which she must have been holding. The mark went from white to red in a second or two. The second stripe went around her hips, at the top of her buttocks, wrapping nearly to her pubic hair at the front- she gasped and flinched, yet quickly straightened again for the next stroke.

I drew a little further back and laid the whip with all my strength on the full flesh of her rump, which twitched as she struggled to keep her stance. She issued a low moan and drew herself straight again. Two more close to that one, above it and below turned the moan to a strong cry as I admired the results. Her breaths had turned to sobs, jiggling her breasts which were yet pressed forward, so I moved a quarter circle around her and laid the whip across them from the side, twice. Her voice rose to a loud cry as the sensation penetrated deeper within her. Her face was tilted back with a look of rapture, yet tears flowed from beneath the scarf. The last mark crossed both nipples, which must have been intense for her. She was trembling and looked as if she might fall.

I held her by the waist and threw her forward across the bed, then drew her back until her bottom was at the edge. I opened my trousers and drove myself into her rear without preparation- she opened easily to my member and moaned constantly as I worked within her. I gripped her hips and was driven to higher pleasure as a little blood oozed from the marks I had placed on her. She writhed constantly and spread her thighs wider, her moans rose towards her crisis which seemed to overwhelm her. The muscles of her bottom gripped me firmly as I spilled within her. I pulled her off the bed to her knees and made her clean my penis, which she did with enthusiasm. As she did this, I noted the white counterpane was streaked with pink, from the welts on her chest and belly which oozed a few drops of her blood.

I left her on the floor while I went to use the bidet, again. When I returned she had resumed her kneeling position, with hands behind her. "It is very convenient that I do not need to tie you for a whipping, your servility is well advanced, my whore." She blushed a deep red and adjusted her position to spread her legs wider and thrust her chest forward. As well as physical pain, she required regular reminders of her humiliating role. 

The day was wearing on. The autumn sun was weakening in the window as we returned to the other room and it was good to feel the warmth of the fire again. My needs had been satisfied and the bond that had been forming between us had strengthened. 

I returned to the point at which we had digressed. "While you were recording the girls at Samois, what was happening with your daughter? She must have been a disturbance to the household and its work, surely? And what had happened to the girl Claire that had been at Samois before?" I was beginning to clear some of the minor questions in her story and other clues that I had observed in this household.

"The business of preparing the material for the book took more than a year. Anne-Marie was exacting in her standards- I was often whipped for failing to achieve the quality she felt was vital. My daughter was cared for by the housekeeper, Clothilde, who you have seen here, and by Irene at times. Irene had another job that took her away from Paris for weeks at a time. I never asked, but I think she was a nurse for women in the military, which was a new innovation. Those poor girls had to allow that lesbian to handle their bodies with no right of objection." 

I was taken aback by the link with the silent housekeeper- I should have guessed. That Irene had found herself a position of power where she had access to many young women's bodies was unsurprising, I had been raised in the Catholic faith.

"At the time that my girl was taking her first steps, and needed my breast less often, Anne-Marie came to me with her thoughts. After that first outburst of punishment she had retained control of those feelings well, though at times her abuse of me had been focussed on my breasts, especially after I had fed the girl. She said 'you may remember Claire who was part of my household when you were first here? She is no longer mine. She asked to be allowed to find happiness away from the life that surrounds us here. I granted her that freedom- to have an unhappy or unwilling slave is of no value to me, though others seek that quality. 

"'That was two years ago, she has found a young man that she says she loves and they are living in a village near Paris in a house with a garden and a dog. He goes to some Bureau in the Elysee Palace each morning on the train and returns to her each evening. I imagine her meeting him at the door with an aperitif and a kiss. 

"'He does not know that at least once or twice each month she returns here to me for a whipping- her man does not fill that need in her, He trusts her utterly, does not know the debased slave that she really is. She is two women, the angel of the daytime village and the needy slave that I know. She tells me that he is a little shocked at her sexual hunger after she visits me here, but never has noticed the marks on her. I fear he never sees her naked skin, though she has introduced him to the pleasures of her mouth and buttocks, which offended him at first, yet now he revels in their use. Perhaps there is hope there after all?

"'I had sterilised her before I sent her to Roissy the first time- a pregnancy was of no value to me. The need she has told me of is to be a mother. She willingly consented to the procedure I carried out on her, as further proof of my mastery of her, yet later came to see the lacuna in her life in the village. Her husband thinks she was sterilised for a genetic weakness in her line.

"'Your girl no longer needs your body's nourishment and your work here has become more demanding. The book is nearly completed and another project awaits you. I have seen your need to work and that you have gained great satisfaction from this book and what we do here. This work is to continue and expand while you remain with me, but of course you always have the option of asking to be released. 

"'What I propose to you is that your daughter shall go to Claire to be raised as her own, to complete her rural idyllic life. There is plenty of money and a healthy environment. In that place she will learn all those sports and pastimes that used to be normal before the war. Claire and her man will be good parents to her. I want you now to go and spend time with your girl, consider what your futures will be. I have arranged for you to meet with Claire later this week, then again with her husband if you wish to go ahead with the arrangement. 

"'I will tell you, O, that I myself was raised by an adoptive couple who had no children of their own. They were loving and kind and gave me many opportunities that my natural mother could not. She was raped by a German in the Great War and I was a source of terrible shame to her. Her family of established farmers and minor landowners cast her out so she became a prostitute in the slums outside Clichy. The chance to have me adopted was quickly grasped.

"'My education was a surprise to my mother when we met- I was one of the earliest women to qualify in medicine in France. My parents explained my birth to me when I was sixteen, yet it was many years later that I sought my true mother for the first time. I had suffered a similar fate at the hands of our occupying force and my child was born then taken from my breast and murdered in my sight by the Nazi officer who had taken me as his prize of conquest. I have never let a man touch me since, and can never forgive the scum who came here.'

"Her face was turned away from me. Her voice was thick with emotion. I longed to reach for her and hold her and with trembling fear, I did so. She returned my embrace fiercely, then broke off, saying 'Go, make your choice'. I found my girl playing in the kitchen, took her in my arms and carried her out to the garden, where spring was taking hold with real vigour. I was so used to being naked at all times, unless Anne-Marie had me corseted or I was aproned in the darkroom. 

She had easy access to my breasts and fed often. I liked the warm sun on my bare skin and it helped my thoughts to flow steadily. She needed me less and less each day for milk, and the housekeeper and Irene cared for her other needs. She was never in the front of the house while girls were there being prepared for their future, but I could imagine a toddler curiously opening the Music Room door and suffering the sights within- not fair or safe to a child. Should the woman so displayed be her own mother then so much the worse.

"I could remember Claire well, she had often comforted me as I lay tied and exposed after a whipping, even if it had been her hand that had flogged my open thighs. Her caresses were kind and her voice was soft- I felt she might indeed be an answer for my child. I began to feel a rightness in this possibility, but there were many issues around it. 

"First in my mind was the responsibility to her father- I was Sir Stephen's slave and responsible for his daughter. Should he seek me out I must be able to show her to him. Her welfare and success were my life's mission.

"Secondly was the need I had of her touch and the feel of her in my bed at night. She eased my heart and stilled the craving that rose in me for abuse and torture. Would I become more needy of violent attention from men and women without her? This resonated with my first need- if I was not in good condition I could not meet him again to lead him to her. 




O-A Little Later Ch. 06



"Thirdly I longed for the joy that the book project had given me. The opportunity to record the corruption and debasement of so many lovely young girls in a high quality format was a source of deep fulfilment to me. I felt that only one with my perspective could do justice to this subject.

"So I resolved to pass my lovely girl to Claire's care, but I would ask for conditions. I wanted to keep contact with my child, to observe, even from a distance, her growth and activities. I wanted her to be given the full truth about her birth mother at the age of 16, and to have the choice to meet me or not. Lastly, I had not named her in any formal sense, yet I knew there was only one name possible for her.

"I went back and found Anne-Marie in her study, with Turk at her feet. I told her of my thoughts and conditions and she considered them, then agreed that they were worthy. She was to meet Claire the following week. I would accompany her with my daughter, for the meeting so this discussion would proceed then. She said, 'you shall be the girl's Tante O!, How sweet that will be!'

"Anne-Marie then told me that she had promised me for a special commitment elsewhere to start in two weeks. She did not give me any further information, so I was left to wonder at the future that this would bring me. This aspect of my slavery was always most challenging to me- that I was sent, used or ignored with no advance warning. I still found it amazing that I needed no luggage, and had been delivered naked to an address on several occasions. This made me doubly aware that another controlled my life. To react submissively in a sudden situation was the only option left to me.

"I could never have imagined the bizarre months that lay before me." 

There turns out to be at least one more to come, O my loyal followers...



O-A Little Later Ch. 07



The Sculptor...

"A fortnight later, the weather had warmed further and much had been resolved. The book had been through its final edit and we were pleased with it. A few months would now pass before we received the proof copies. The negotiations with Claire and her husband had gone well. They were a delightful couple, he was an educated man with a bright future in the Civil Service of the Republic, and indeed rose to head the Ministry in which he served, some years later. We visited their home which was plain yet tasteful and set in a delightful rural village. Claire's youth had included a love of outdoor sports and ponies, as had my own, I had come to accept that this was an excellent choice for my daughter. 

I walked away from the new home I had given her to, with mixed feelings in my heart. While they had accepted my requests for contact, name and disclosure, there were many possible difficulties in this situation. 

We returned to the city in Anne-Marie's red Alfa Romeo. When I emerged from my reverie I saw we were not at my apartment. We had come to a place I did not expect. We drove into an industrial courtyard where there were cheap workshops and some apartments that were run down and grimy. A few workers were crossing the yard at the end of their work day, and looked tiredly at the alien luxury car in their zone of commercial camions. I was surprised, and looked to her for reassurance. She looked across at me while she came to a halt in front of a light industrial building that seemed to have an apartment above the workshop. She said 'get out of the car please, then remove the dress, gloves, hat and shoes then place them on the seat you were using'

"Far from reassuring, this frightened me intensely. This was an area of the city with many migrants and much crime. To be naked here was a direct threat to my survival. Of course I did as instructed. The light summer dress joined the other items in the car and I stood naked before the truck-sized door. Anne-Marie cheerfully told me that I would not need any other items as the man who would shortly meet me would have all that was required. 'Stand exactly where you are until told to move.' I wore only my iron ring. She then waved and drove away. I listened fearfully to the rasp of her exhaust echo out of the courtyard and into the distance. 

"I stood for what seemed to be an age, with the workmen's voices rising, as they noticed me and came to investigate. I wished for release from this threat, though a part of me felt that these rough men could do no worse to me than I had already endured in my slavery. To be raped was no terror to me, even by all of them, to be sodomised likewise, nor to have them use my mouth. I had no pride or privacy to lose. 

"The real fear was that they might cause me permanent harm that could affect my future. Whatever was to happen to me I must face it with calm and acceptance, as I had no real choice- I had given that up those years before when I offered myself before Sir Stephen and Rene. In essence I was facing discomfort and some dirty men's use of me, which was a common experience to me. The fear I had felt before was melting away, I was protected by the debasement of my state.

"The men gathered around me in a group, and drew closer. Many were foreigners- swarthy of skin and with guttural and broken French, in which they argued about me, calling me a whore and degenerate. One older man stepped closer to me, and I tensed for what was to come. He took his grimy overcoat and wrapped it around my body, turning to the others with contempt in his voice. After a sharp burst in Arabic, he spoke at more length in rough French, shaming them as being like dogs sniffing at a bitch's rear. He reminded them of their wives and daughters at home. 

"The men began to shuffle and lose their bravado, though two younger ones argued back and looked ready to fight. My saviour was much older and alone in his defence of me, yet seemed to command respect. I became aware that a loud vehicle was approaching from the street outside the courtyard. The noise increased until a battered Citroen panel van appeared and swerved toward the small crowd, driving directly to the group which made way as it slowed to a stop in front of me. A small powerfully built man leapt from the sliding side door and came around to me. He greeted my rescuer and invited him to come in for a cup of tea. 

"He thanked the man, Farouq for his help of the new model he had hired for his project. He unlocked the big door and ushered me inside. The group of men began to shuffle and disperse. Farouq declined the offer of tea, but came through the door to stand waiting politely. The short man found a rough blanket and gave it to me, so I removed the coat and took the blanket for my covering. I folded the old coat and handed it back to Farouq. As I did this I succumbed to a sudden urge and fell to my knees and kissed his boots in gratitude. He jerked back in horror, and scuttled away quickly. 

"My new master, if that was to be his role, pulled me to my feet and shoved me towards the stairs at the side of the workshop. He then went back to the van outside, restarted the noisy engine and drove it inside. In the left seat was the pale face of a woman, clearly terrified by what she had seen. He reclosed the high door and locked it. The woman stepped out and gathered the shopping from around her feet. She looked at me with pity, which I was used to from other women. 

"In the rear of the workshop space was a huge object, wrapped in canvas. Near it were ladders and a platform on wheels, also tables with a wide range of implements. None of them looked to be torture tools, but I was aware that an imaginative mind has always been the most fearsome source of suffering.

"They made their way up the stairs and I followed. Above was a rough apartment, with places for cooking and eating, a potbelly stove and an area with several couches and low tables. Through a sliding door at the rear I could see a tiled space I took to be a bathroom. The woman went to the kitchen and began to busy herself, the short man came to me, removed the blanket and asked me to raise my arms and turn around slowly. 

"'You are everything I was expecting and more, cherie. Your pictures are exact and yet the reality exceeds their promise. You may call me Gorodish, or Maitre. You are to be my model for a work of art that is for a very select market, that which you know well'. At these words he took my hand and kissed the iron ring that was my sole possession, yet symbolised that I was in turn the possession of another.

"'You will stay here with me until the work is well advanced. You will be fed and kept, but you are to follow my instructions as you will those of my woman, Jeanne. I have spent time in the house at Roissy, where I learned of the proper treatment of slave women. I am told that you were there at the same time as I was, though I don't remember possessing your body. I will do so here from time to time. You understand those methods, so just accept that you are not free here, though the formality of that place will be relaxed here, much of the time.

"I will immortalise your body and the spirit of your slavery in stone. It will take some months to make it succeed and your obedience will be tested to the limit of your endurance. But now, sit at the table and Jeanne will serve the dinner she has made for us. We will start early in the morning tomorrow and work hard each day to meet the deadline. We will live and work together. When I do not need you to pose for me you will have assigned tasks to support the work or run this home.'" 

O stopped her tale, the light was fading from the window. I asked, "is your daughter coming here soon? Do we need to break for the day?" 

She shook her head, "Non, Monsieur, she is with her family, being Claire's daughter again. I think we should eat again, then I will take you to visit that which we produced. It will save ten thousand words and take only an hour or two." She summoned Clothilde once more and gave her instructions for a tasty meal with grilled lamb and potato, together with salad and a rich Burgundy. The meal was ready soon, and soon eaten. O drank just a half-glass during the meal, while serving me attentively. She ate well, though I noted that she waited for me to begin before starting herself.

I was still not used to her nudity at the table or in general, though she seemed to feel it normal, and Clothilde yielded no expression that I could detect. I asked how far we would travel to see the object and how we would go there.

"Monsieur, if it pleases you, I have ordered a car to take us there, which will arrive shortly. The trip is less than one hour, though the traffic can be difficult at this time."

She made no further comment, so I took charge. "Let me look at your clothing, to select what you may wear for the trip." She led me back to the bedroom, to the closet that stood near the door. She opened the double door and stood aside to let me see the contents. I pulled various items from the rack, looked them over then returned them. I was not sure what I wanted on her, until I saw it- a soft grey dress that was low in front and showed her back, with a high slit at the thigh. "Here, put this on to show me". 

She quickly obeyed and stood straight in front of me. Her breasts were beautifully moulded by the soft wool, her nipples proudly apparent through the fabric. I nodded approval and she went to the dresser to find stockings that she rolled up her smooth thighs. The effect was electric- her nudity had been matter-of-fact, but this light clothing was sexually charged. The front was low to display the upper curves of her breasts and the thigh slit revealed the top of her stocking when she moved. The motion of her breasts and rear as I had her walk around was fascinating. Her arms and her back were bare, which looked fine, but would be cold out in the autumn evening.

"Fix your make-up and hair before we go. You will need a coat outside, do you still own a fur?" She sat to her mirror and began to repair the perfection that had suffered during our day together. She was deft and rapid with the brushes and colours, then did one of those magic shrugs that French girls learn early in life, to release her hair to flow around her face and shoulder. A tortoiseshell comb appeared and was slid in at one side of her hair- the result made her look like a film star of the fifties, ready to face the press. This rapid preparation, I knew, was a product of the many times she was required to be ready urgently for the men who she was to please, at Sir Stephen's request. I was rapt as I struggled with the thought of possessing her.

Clothilde appeared by O's elbow and gestured to the floor. "The car has arrived, Monsieur. Clothilde, please bring my fur." O affixed diamond earrings as she stood, found some simple black shoes and put her arm through mine. My heart filled as she moulded herself to me-such a woman! 

The housekeeper helped her in to the rich soft pale fur at the door of the apartment, and we descended to the street where a dark Benz S-class waited, double parked. The sun's glow was fading in the west as the yellow street lights came up. From the end of the street came the dull roar of traffic. The driver held the door for us, she ducked and went into the leather interior, moving to give me room. He closed the door, and went to the front where he sat and looked expectant. O spoke briefly to him in French, when she was done, he nodded, started the engine and touched the switch to roll up the glass between his seat and ours.

"The Chateau of Roissy is no more, and the Society is fading, as its members age and die. The property was acquired by the Government when they wanted to expand the Aeroport, even the power of its members could not resist that. The activities that were done there have moved to other venues with new players, with surprising openness. The beauty of the sacrifices that were made have been forgotten." She was speaking without bitterness, but with clear regret in her tone. The car was negotiating the heavy rush hour traffic, so we had plenty of time to speak.

"I am taking you to see some souvenirs of Roissy that I salvaged before the wreckers went in, in 1968. There is one in particular that you need to see. It is the product of that time with Gorodish and his woman" 

I asked her to slip off the fur, and pulled it across us as a blanket. The evening was cool, though the car was warming up. I held her to me, my hands roamed her body out of sight of the driver and pedestrians on the busy boulevards. I had many questions for our journey.

"Eight years ago, O, you withdrew yourself from men's hands. Tell me why, please?" 

She drew in a breath and began. "At that time my daughter turned sixteen. Claire and Jules fulfilled their bargain and told her of her true parentage then gave her the choice of meeting me with the new understanding. She had always known me as her Tante O, we had met often through her childhood, with visits to the zoo, the circus and once a trip to the seashore overnight, where we had shared a room with the sound of the sea loud all the night. I loved her and was deeply proud of the adolescent she had become. I feared that she would feel betrayed by our arrangement, and wind up hating both Claire and myself. 

"I should have trusted her more. She proved herself to be wiser than we knew. She told me that she had suspected the truth from years before- that she had no siblings, unlike her friends and the 'aunt' that had the same dark rich hair and deep brown eyes as her, while Claire and Jules were blonde. A book she read when she was twelve had the same arrangement in the family of the girl hero- she loved the mystery and romance of it. 

"She asked that she might come to stay with me in my Paris apartment for weekends until she came to know me. Claire and Jules graciously consented, so I bought her a train pass that would give her the freedom to come to and from at will. The key she still wears around her neck was given to her then. Her birthday was on Wednesday, our meeting at her home was on Thursday and she said as I left, "See you Saturday, Tante Maman!" She kissed me, then stood with her arms around her parents as I went back to my car.

"The impact of her parting words hit me as I was driven back to Paris. I had one day to conceal the truth about my life from my girl. The fear of her finding the whips and other implements scattered in my home was sharp in me. While she had a merry spirit and had coped with the news with love and trust, my dark secret was too much to risk. I had always been careful to hide my marks from her, though I had had to cancel a trip to the theatre with her once, as my face was marked from an incident.

"I asked Clothilde to come to my apartment for the day, Anne-Marie lent her to me at times. We put all those items in a locked storage room, then set up the spare room for her stay. The more challenging task for me was to contact the man that was due to visit me for Saturday evening. Our arrangement did not allow for flexibility on my part, as you might imagine. I managed to convince him that I was unwell, though he tried to be solicitous. I did not care for his offer of help as that was not what I needed from him.

"I did not have him or any other man for the next eight years, as my daughter grew and I saw her more often. My secret photographic specialty was in increasing demand as my fame grew, and brought me surprising income, as my silence was also bought. The money I had invested from the book gave me a comfortable life, and my daughter was a joy to me. I was deeply happy with this life, and thought that the needy beast within me was buried for ever. When you wrote to me, that fire relit, and when I consented to your interview there was a dream growing in my heart. After your first visit I asked Clothilde to find the equipment we had put away at the girl's birthday. We worked on it together, with a passion. "

We were travelling more easily now, out of the city on the Autoroute to the southeast. A full moon was lighting the hills to the east in silhouette as we took the off ramp and slowed to enter a small town. This brought an end to her story for now. The driver seemed sure of his direction, he must have been here before. O was watching the view avidly, and smiled as we drove into the circular gravel drive of a large bourgeois house. 

O found a key and opened the heavy oaken front door and we went in. The driver leaned against the car and lit a cigarette, carefully looking away from us. The engine ticked as it cooled.

Inside the house was stuffy and dusty, as if it had not been used for some time. Sheets covered much of the furniture and all the blinds and drapes were closed. She turned on lights as we went through the rooms. She stood by a double door, which she swung open to reveal the Music Room from the story. 

"This is that house, where so much of that life happened to me and around me. I was strapped to that dais for my whippings, and watched and shot so many others in the same pose. This house is mine now, Anne-Marie no longer needs it.

"This is not what we came for, though. Please come this way." She led on to the conservatory that faced out to the darkness beyond. She did not light the lamps, though and my eyes soon adapted to the moonlight coming in at the glass. The garden outside was bathed in it, showing an overgrown but classic set of plantings, surrounded by a high hedge. At its centre was a pale statue.

O took my hand and guided me through the French doors and across the paving towards the statue. As we drew closer, its' true nature became clearer.

It was white marble, a little larger than life size, which seemed to glow luminously in the moonlight. We were approaching it from the rear- a slim woman's form, kneeling with legs splayed and head thrown back, stone hair trailing down her back to near her tied wrists.

As we came around to the front, I began to recognise the breasts and hips that were O's. What stilled my breath was revealed- the woman was shown impaled on a shaft that entered through her vagina and exited from her mouth. The carved expression was of ecstasy, of utter abandon and transcendence.

"I modelled for seven months as Gorodish made the carving and his assistant hated me. I spent weeks with a shaft inserted deeply within my sex as I knelt spread before his eye. He made a framework above to which he affixed a shaft for my mouth, to be sure of the alignment between the two parts of it. I am sure that he would have truly impaled me on a single rod, to be sure of the precision of the piece, but was forced to be content with the illusion. He was driven to seek perfection in his work. 

"I can still taste the cold iron bar that invaded my mouth and throat- it was a piece of waste he picked from the floor and welded in place. All those men who had used my throat for their pleasure had trained me to breathe around it, I was grateful to them.

"His assistant, the woman Jeanne, was jealous of me. The artist took me to his bed the first day, putting me between him and her, both physically and sexually. He insisted that she perform acts on me while he watched, or even while he penetrated me from behind. She did so, but cruelly, with teeth and sharp nails in my most tender parts such that I often bled when she was done. Gorodish neither noticed nor cared, except once when I stained the damask cloth covering the plinth that I knelt on. Jeanne was triumphant when she took it to be cleaned.

"The man did not sleep, he rutted with us both all night, showing a truly depraved imagination. At one time he took me, naked in his foul-smelling van, to the Bois de Boulogne late at night, where he opened the rear door in a quiet corner, then stood back in the shadows to watch as men came. At first they came singly, to lie with me on the thin stained palliasse, then moved away when finished. The word slowly spread among those who were there for that purpose, and soon there were handsful of men at a time waiting to use me.




O-A Little Later Ch. 07



"As dawn was staining the eastern sky he closed the rear door and drove back to the studio. I was left exhausted on the floor, covered in seed, saliva and worse. Their fluids leaked from my bruised mouth, sex and rear, both of which were stretched such that they would need hours to reclose. 

"He took me in this state to the plinth and began to work in a frenzy. I think he saw a sexual glow in my abused state that he wanted to capture. He did not include the marks left on me by the fingers, fists and belts of those that had taken me that night. He carved for a couple of hours then snatched some food and fell dead asleep on his bed. I eased myself down from the plinth and its phallus, found some food and crawled to wash myself before wrapping myself in a rough blanket and falling into unconsciousness. Always I had Jeanne's cold eye on me, looking for my suffering".

As she was speaking I was moving my hand across those parts of the statue that I could reach, caressing the entry point of the shaft, the wide-flung thighs and the brand marks I knew so well in those stone haunches. The sculptor was a genius, clearly he knew that the sexual abandonment he subjected her to would be transmitted to the art work.

I was in a reverie and it was some time before I realised that O had stopped speaking. I turned to look for her, and once again lost my breath.

She had laid her coat on the dewy grass and was kneeling naked in the pose of the statue, facing to the moon and showing that same rapture. I went to her, crouched down and ran my damp, icy fingers across her breasts, shoulders and face. I dragged my fingers through her thick rich hair. Her skin was dimpled with the cold, her nipples were like rocks and a tremor was beginning in her core.

I shoved her roughly back on the lush fur and tore open my pants. Her thighs opened wetly and I drove into her. After my initial violence was spent, I took her slowly and with gentleness, to which she softened and responded until we climaxed as one.

"Monsieur," she breathed, when we had recovered a little," today is 15 Novembre, my forty-seventh birthday. As my gift, I offer myself to you in that most complete way. Despite my slave's heart, I have wealth, property and a body with which to worship you. You have seen the depths to which I have been plunged, yet you seem to understand the meaning behind my life. All I have done and endured has been by my own choice, with my consent to be used

"I have come to realise that Sir Stephen had become a dream that I had pinned my hopes to. He will never return to me, had probably given me up at the time he passed me to Eric's hands. Earlier this year Rene came to visit me and my daughter at my apartment. He was much greyer, yet he stirred that need within me- I had to sit stiffly to avoid throwing myself at his feet begging to be used by him. He told us that Sir Stephen had never returned to France to avoid the consequences of some business arrangements and was now dead of a gunshot in his home in Indonesia. 

"His will had made Rene his executor, and mentioned the daughter I had borne him. He was there to offer my girl the benefit of the large estate, and to tell me that his apartment I had used was now mine. She is to pursue the career she has chosen in photography, and will study in Scotland for the next two years, in the town house she now has to use.

"I know little about you, except that you are the firm master that I crave. I see you have an honest heart, I have seen through many men in the past to their crooked souls. You are older than I, yet strong, intelligent and handsome. I would be proud to be yours."

My head spun at the enormity of the options open to me. My life on the other side of the planet seemed a distant detail at this moment.

Some hours later, we woke the sleeping driver and bade him return us to the city. As he drove through the dark countryside she leaned lovingly towards me, naked beneath the fur.

I was tired, yet satisfied. In my minds eye she was still strapped naked to the dusty columns in the Music Room, her legs splayed as I stood astride her and laid the multi-corded lash to her tender smooth skin. I was pleased of the sound-proofing as her cries rose with abandon. 

As I lay with her, stroking her reddened skin with my fingertips and feeling her breathing return to normal, that question came back to me. "What name did you give to her?" 

"Why, Stephanie, of course! Though lately she calls herself Stevie, like that American girl" and she laughed happily.

Sometimes it is better to give oneself to the will of another, to take unplanned paths, to abandon possessions, ego and history and follow down that rabbit hole...

Th- th- th -that's all folks. Thanks for your comments.