The Real Story of O and Sir Stephen

So playing at the B&B involves creativity. Fortunately Master is nothing, if not creative, in devising ways to hurt and excite me. In this case it was what is called predicament bondage. First Master restrained me with my bondqge belt. This is a thick leather belt that is cinched tightly across my belly, just above my hips. Two wrist cuffs are attached to the belt on a swivel (for comfort, giggling). My arms are slightly bent with my elbows protruding behind my back. Then Master attached a set of screw on clamps just behind my nipples. Each clamp consists of two blocks of transparent lucite separated by a threaded post. One long threaded screw is on each end allowing the clamp to be tightened by wing nuts. Once tissue has been threaded through the space between the blocks, the wing nuts are used to tighten down the clamps. Master had pulled each nipple through the opening between the blocks and tightened the wing nuts as much as his strength allowed (and He is VERY strong). Unlike other nipple clamps, such as clover leaf clamps, alligator or pincer clamps that will eventually pull off if enough pressure is applied, these clamps will not come off unless and until someone loosens the wing nuts. These clamps terrify me for that reason, but I keep telling myself that Master would never harm me permanently. The two clamps are attached to each other with a chain. After both clamps were tightened down, my nipples began to swell, further assuring that the clamps will not come off by pulling. I am wearing 4 inch heels and Master guides me over to the bathroom door. On top of the door he has attached a garment bag clip, a device that fits over the top of the door with a short chain and hook at the end. Master backed me up to the door so that my derriere is touching the cold wood. He then attached a short chain to the one attached to the clamps. He pulled up on the chain, lifting my breasts and causing some acute pain. I stretch my body up to ease the pain and he abruptly clamps the free end of the chain to the hook at the top of the door. I groan. I am about to beg Master not to remove my shoes, but I know that not only would this be futile, it would result in increasing my torture. I am fighting myself to prevent my complaint when, happily, Master forces a tennis ball into my mouth and tapes it in using Duct (or Duck, I never know what to call it, [wink]) tape. Then the scene was then completed by Master removing my heels and slapping be on my thigh and saying, "enjoy."

So let me recap. I am now standing with my back to the bathroom door. I must be on tip toes to prevent all my weight from pulling on my nipples. In addition, my elbows are grinding against the door forcing my body away from the door and thus increasing the tension on my nipples. After a few minutes, by calves begin to cramp and my elbows are throbbing from the pressure on them as I try to plaster my body as close to the door as possible in order to relieve the stress on my nipples. I have two potential options; both of them bad. I can lower my feet to relieve the cramping in my calves or I can move out from the door to relieve the pressure on my elbows, but both of those movements are certain to increase the pain in my nipples. Thus I begin a ritual dance. Relax claves for a few moments, step away for a few moments, return to starting position. Repeat. I am legitimately terrified that my nipples will be pulled off even though I tell myself, that couldn't possibly happen.

I am dripping wet with excitement. From the pain, but even more from the fear, and also from knowing that my struggles are pleasing to Master, He was laying on the bed in his robe watching Thursday night football. I can tell he is monitoring me while he watches the game. After the opening kickoff there is a commercial and he gets up, comes to me and thrusts 2 fingers into my hungry, wet, canal. "Permission to mort, Maitre." Granted. Oh mon Dieux, what bliss. Master gives me 3 more before play resumes.

By halftime I am nearly delirous. Pain, sweat, exhaustion. I have lost count of my climaxes. Master hugs me and picks me up easily with one arm immediately relieving the tension on my nipples. He unhooks the chain, and gently lowers me to the floor while holding me upright. I would have collapsed if he did not support me. He carries me to the bed and lays me down on my back and frees my wrists from their restraints. All that remains are the dreaded clamps. I dread their removal. Master nods "yes," We do not need to speak. Of course I can't speak because there is a tennis ball in my mouth, but that is irrelevant, [chuckling]. He knows I am afraid the removing the clamps will hurt terribly and he is confirming that I am correct. His hand moves down to my nether regions and again brings to me climax, and while I am in the throws of rapture, he removes the first clamp. I scream into my gag, but incredibly my mort continues and intensifies. Master keeps stimulating me below while he begins to suckle at my bruised nubbin. Pain and Pleasure, PAIN and pleasure, pain and PLEASURE! "Merci Maitre."

Master continued until the second clamp was removed and I am panting, nearly unconscious on the bed. He removes the tape and tennis ball from my mouth and transfers ice water and an ice cube from his mouth to mine. The water is sweeter than any wine. He whispers the words I long to hear, "I am proud of you, Cherie," My heart fills with unbridled ecstasy. I LOVE MY MASTER.

The following day we visited the campus and did all things normal parents do. I was incredibly happy and content. My life was perfect. In the car, Master looked at me and said matter-of-factly, tomorrow I think you will go for a pony ride when we return home. I gushed with fear and excitement.]

At various times Sir Stephen and Rene would mention a person by the name Anne-Marie. It was usually in the context of me. Statements like "she hasn't been to Ann-Marie's yet." Or "I think Ann-Marie will improve her." The comments were never directed to me so I felt a mix of curiosity and dread when Sir Stephen picked me up in the Bentley in early May and told me we would be meeting Anne-Marie this afternoon. We arrived at an apartment building at the outskirts of Paris and proceeded to the upper floor. A dour maid in a black uniform opened the door and escorted us into a salon bursting with light. "This is O," was the only introduction made. A woman of about Sir Stephen's age with black hair streaked with gray engaged in polite casual conversation with Master. I was completely ignored. Coffee was served. Hot, bitter, delicious. After coffee was finished and the dishes cleared, Ann-Marie (or at least I supposed that was her, and I was correct) finally turned towards me. To Sir Stpehen, "Let's see what we have, here." And then to me, "Remove your clothes, dear." I obeyed, and folded my clothes and placed them on my chair and stood in presentation position. "Remove your stockings, dear."

After I complied, she clucked in disapproval, and said crossly, "Who has told her to use these elastic nylons. They will leave a mark." It's her twit of a lover, Rene. "Qu'il est stupide, No more, said Ann Marie and clapped her hands. The maid returned and was directed to bring a corset and hose. I was laced into contraption with whale bone stays that reduced my waist by several inches and made it difficult to breathe. The corset was cut so that they supported my breasts but left them available for use. Below it was cut out to leave the nether area exposed. There were 4 straps holding clips to support the black silk stockings the maid gave me.

"Now that's better," Ann-Marie cooed. Her appearance will be enhanced when her waist is narrowed. She should wear this at all times. She then turned to Sir Stephen and said, "How do you want her marked? Rings, tattoo?"

Sir Stephen thought for a while. "I don't want her skin marked. She is too perfect and it would be a sin the desecrate perfection. Rings, I think, below."

"So it will be done. Bring her to me the first 2 weeks of June."

I was so overjoyed to hear Master's compliment that I did not really internalize the part about the rings or even the two weeks in June. HE DESCRIBED MY BODY AS PERFECT! I was so distracted that I got out of the Bentley on the wrong street and had to walk back to my apartment. This proved difficult in the constriction of the corset and by the time I got home I was panting and out of breath. That evening, as I slid into bed with Jacqueline I had prepared a story to explain my corset but she didn't even notice. Or if she did she did not remark on it. For I had learned, Jacqueline only cared about herself. Anyone who would worship her would do. Man, woman; me or Rene, I don't think it mattered to her. She just needed to be adored. I had grown tired of her, and I had also tired of Rene. Sir Stephen was the only person who interested me. And I lived only for him.

The following evening I spent with Rene. He enquired about Jacqueline and let it be known that he coveted her and would like to bring her to Roissy. He instructed me to help him seduce her. I expressed my doubts that she would willingly enter Roissy and Rene asserted that "We can force her." At this point I really couldn't care less what happened to the ice princess. I agreed to help him in his quest. As far as I was concerned Rene and Jacqueline deserved each other. They were both narcissists who existed only for their own pleasure. Sir Stephen, however, nurtured me and made sure that I was secure and gave me what my soul desired.

That evening, I dutifully told Jacqueline that Rene had fallen in love with her, assuming that would be enough to allow Rene to "seduce" her.

In the following weeks, when the 4 of us got together we had, more or less separated into 2 couples, Rene and Jacquiline and Stephen and me. We made plans for the four of us to spend the summer vacation on the Cote D'Azure in a house owned by Sir Stephen's sister. When Jacqueline came home to my apartment we would sleep together and she would let me service her, but frequently she would not come home at all. I assumed on those nights she was staying with Rene, but we never discussed it. The final week in May, Master begin to whip me again, leaving marks and bruises. I think Rene was hoping that Jacqueline would notice my marks and ask about them, but I began wearing a nightgown to bed and she either didn't notice them or never mentioned it. When Rene quizzed me about it, he was clearly disappointed and he mumbled, "she will have to notice the rings." I vaguely remembered Anne-Marie and Master had discussed something about rings, but I set that aside.

June arrived and on Saturday morning, Master drove me to Versailles. Not the palace, but the village. We pulled up at a country home surrounded by high fences. As we entered we were shown to the garden by the same dour servant who served us coffee and brought my corset in Paris. The garden was glorious. Surrounded by high walls that were covered with blooming bougainvillea in red and orange. Snow white wisteria also climbed the trellises. Roses, violets, hyacinths and so many more. Louis le Rois would have been jealous. I removed my clothes as directed and handed them to the maid. Ann-Marie was pleased with my new waist that was now so small, Sir Stephen could almost grasp his hand around it. She nodded to her maid who left and returned with a corset that was so tiny it seemed more like a wide belt than a girdle. "You will be even more lovely when you have been trained with this!" I groaned inwardly, but said nothing.

Ann-Marie examined my marks and said, "I see Stephen has used a crop on you recently. I will use the whip tonight and that is the last time you will be whipped while you are here."

After sipping iced tea, we adjourned to Ann-Marie's office. It was there that she showed Sir Stephen a prototype of the rings which I would be wearing the rest of my life. The first ring resembled a thick hooped earring, about the diameter of my little finger. The second was a solid steel disk with engraving on it. Sir Stephen showed it to me, it read simply (in English)

"Esclave (slave) O (my full name)

Owner, Sir Stephen (his entire name)"

And under this a drawing of a crossed whip and a riding crop.

That about sums it up. I was owned. And Sir Steven was my owner. And pain was my language. Rather than feeling degraded, I felt proud.

Ann-Marie held up the hollow ring and told me it was a training ring. She would insert this after she pierced me tomorrow evening. After the piercing healed, she would place a permanent ring attached to the identity tag that once placed could only be removed with a saw or bolt cutters.

"But my ears are already pierced Madam." Anne-Marie looked at me and scowled. You will be wearing your rings on your inner nether lips, you silly cow." I bit my lip, but I was resigned to my fate. In for a penny, in for a franc. My body was Sir Stephen's to do with as he chose. I had no say.

At that she rang a bell and three naked young women entered the study; two stunning brunettes and a short redhead. I couldn't help but notice, the girls were wearing Roissy type collars and wrist and ankle cuffs. "Yvonne, show O your rings." The redhead approached and I could immediately see the rings dangling down from her labia and bouncing against her upper thigh. I gulped, but said nothing. Yvonne chimed in, "They don't hurt, and the piercing is much less painful than a whipping or flogging."

Sir Stephen looked at me and said gravely, "O, do you agree to wear my rings? You may say no." I kneeled in front of him and kissed his hand, "I would be honored to wear your rings, Maitre."

"Bon", he said, "I will leave you in Anne-Marie's capable hands, Au revoir." And with that, Sir Stephen kissed Ann-Marie on both cheeks. She reminded him to return in 2 weeks for the placement of the permanent rings, and he said "Bien Sur," and strode out of the garden.

Anne-Marie introduced O to the Brunettes, Collette and Claire and then said,

"Girls, it is time to show O the solarium."

The solarium was a semicircular attachment to the back of the house. The walls were floor to ceiling glass looking out over the garden. Upon entering the room, however, the three naked girls drew red velvet curtains blocking all the natural light from entering. The electric lights illuminated a central platform, a dais, with four marble columns at each corner of a trapezoid. The stage was covered with red velvet.

Anne-Marie explained. "This is where you will be whipped. Men do not realize that the most sensitive part of a women is the tender flesh of the inner thighs." I thought she said the word men with a bit of contempt." Anne-Marie continued her exposition. Each night we draw lots to see who will be whipped and who will be doing the whipping. Today is an exception. O, you will be whipped and it will be the only time you are whipped while in my care because you will need to heal from you piercing tomorrow. Yvonne, bring the box."

Yvonne brought in a wooden box and each girl drew a sphere from within. "Who got the 1? Ah, Colette, you have the honors." I was told to lay down on the stage. A collar, wrist and ankle cuffs were placed and then my wrists were fastened to hooks at the base of two of the columns that were more narrowly spaced stretching my arms apart. It was not uncomfortable. Then my legs were raised high above my head and split apart. My ankles were attached to hooks on the widely spread columns high above my head. Thus my sex was grotesquely exposed, and my inner thighs vulnerable to the whip.

Anne-Marie said, "Begin." Collette began to whip the tender flesh inside my thighs with a thin buggy whip. Anne-Marie was correct, it was the most exquisite pain I had experienced with a whip. My resolve to take my punishment silently quickly evaporated into blubbering and begging for mercy. I knew that Anne-Marie would not stop until I had broken, but I held out as long as possible never-the-less. If I had pretended to break earlier, she would have known but more importantly, I would have known. After I was reduced to a blubbering mess, Anne-Marie looked at her watch and said, "five more minutes," and left the room. Not quite "encore une fois," I thought later, but it sufficed. Limits were made to be stretched and broken. Unfortunately, I was unable to 'mort so after the session I was rather hot and bothered.

As Colette and Yvonne released me from my bonds, I once again pondered the paradox of pain. I HATED the pain, it was....unendurable yet I endured. After the beating I felt proud. Proud that I accepted the pain. Proud that I endured the unendurable. It was different than with Master because Master always made sure to distract me with pleasure. This was pure pain. Pure torture. But I endured it for Him. He had given me to Anne-Marie's tender care [sic]. He must have known I would endure great suffering and I know it pleased him that I would accept this for him. As the girls led me, limping, to my room, I was actually proud and happy. I was also relieved that Anne-Marie had assured me that would be the last time I would be whipped while under her care. I would not have enjoyed a repeat performance.

Sir Stephen

[I have always enjoyed devising methods of predicament bondage. Having the submissive participate in her own pain is exquisitely exciting for me. The set up with the nipple clips is one of my favorites. Another creation is what I call the "speak-easy." It is quite simple. I have drilled a hole in a tennis ball and threaded a chain through the hole. The top link is secured with a clamp preventing the chain from pulling through the orb. At the bottom of the 3 inch chain I have attached a 5 pound free weight. The chain is also attached to the chain attaching 2 clover leaf nipple clamps and to two chains attached to similar clamps for the nether lips. The predicament is obvious. O must hold the tennis ball in her mouth using her jaw muscles only. Since there is a weight on the ball, this requires some continued strength and effort to prevent the ball from dislodging and falling to the earth. Should O not be able to prevent the gag from falling, the weight will pull the clamps off her nipples and then her lips before clanking at her feet. Since her hands are bound behind her back, there is no way for her to prevent this calamity other then literally, keeping her mouth shut. Once the weight has fallen to the ground, the clamps are replaced and the gag reinserted and 10 minutes is added to the proscribed time. If she can keep clenching for the full 30 minutes, she "wins" and has only an aching jaw to show for it. Of course removing the clamps comes with it's own repercussions, but having clover leav clamps ripped off without opening them is particularly excruciating.]

The most aggregious offense by Pauline was her complete fabrication regarding branding. In the Novel she describes a session when Ann-Marie uses a branding iron on O. I have no idea where she came up with that absurd idea. First of all, unlike cattle whose skin is literally leather, Homo sapiens do not have enough collagen in our skin to retain a brand. Therefore Human Beings cannot be branded with a branding iron. A branding iron would cause severe second and third degree burns and result in ugly scarring. Infection could occur while healing that could even be life threatening. Secondly, I would never permanently mar the perfection of O's skin. Where Pauline can up with that story, I have no idea. The rings are real and O wore then until she began chemotherapy. Her Obstetrician / Gynecologist was a colleague of mine and I explained the situation to him. After metal detectors began being installed in airports, O had to endure pat downs every time we travelled, but there was no avoiding that. I assume multiple female screeners were either appalled or excited by what they discovered. O had become inured to the situation and accepted it as just another indignity of her status.