The Real Story of O and Sir Stephen

That night I slept without bondage and we made love tenderly. Master placed me on top of his member (a rare occurrence) and I rocked gently to and fro for what seemed like hours until I could feel him tense, and then release. I had my second gentle mort of the night and He kissed me sweetly before turning on his side, towards me, in order to sleep. It felt strange to have my hands free sleeping next to my Master. I tentatively stroked his chest and he responded with a satisfied moan. As I remember, I dreamt of being caned, and woke up sopping wet.

[On my petites morts. I don't know about other women, but I can climax several times in a single evening without ever really coming completely down. The "sweet 'morts" that I experienced the night before the Owl are lovely, but not nearly of the intensity of those I achieve during "play." When Master and I play, when I am tied up, whipped, flogged, clamped, and caned, he will make me climax periodically (usually around every 5 strokes, and after a clamp is removed from each body part (nipple, nether lip, ear). In a prolonged session each petite mort becomes increasingly intense seemingly in proportion to the amount of pain inflicted until finally I burst over the edge and almost faint with release. It is then that Master will often make me continue to climax, and they can become almost painful.]

Sir Stephen

When I looked up from my correspondence and saw O standing before me, naked and in presentation position, I could see she was disturbed. This was unexpected and made me angry. I made a mental note to chastise Nora for allowing O to be hurt either emotionally, physically or both. But mostly I was angry with myself for not predicting this and protecting O from it.

I know it seems ironic, since I often inflicted pain on O. The difference is that pain and humiliation in the context of play is like seasoning for eventual exquisite pleasure. Under conditions of play, the "victim" goes into a semi trance like state known as 'sub space.' Similar to the techniques of natural child birth the pain O feels is filtered, as through a prism. Inflicting pain without this filter is simply abuse. I was not expecting O to experience the salon as abuse since the waxing would not be nearly as objectively painful as a long nipple clamping or a good flogging. What I did not predict is that, since I was not present she experienced this as raw pain and raw humiliation without any amelioration by the prism of sub space.

I motioned O to come sit on my lap. And I allowed her to place her arms around me. I said something soothing (I don't remember what) and she began sobbing. I clasped her head to my chest, stroked her hair and rocked her. Although she had her arms around me her arms were stiff and she made no effort to hug me. She continued sobbing for several minutes. Gradually her sobs changed in character and she began to hug me fiercely and I felt the tension and despair drain from her body and I continued rocking, petting, and cooing to her until I felt her breathing slow and the fierce hug become an embrace. I released her head and kissed her on the forhead and licked away her tears. I whispered into her ear that I was sorry, and should reapply her make up, and don the outfit I had selected for her because we were going to Cannes.

She leapt off my lap, the smile that melted my heart back on her face. "Yes Master!" gleefully as she nearly skipped away from my study. My heart rate could now slow down. Disaster averted.

Sometimes it is important to give O some time to recharge her batteries. Even though she is basically aroused for a large part of every day, there is a physical limit to how many climaxes she can endure. I admit that sometimes, I will force her to ''mort' even after she has fallen off the cliff with one of her earthquake climaxes. I do it out of sheer vanity. Just to prove I can, and certainly not for her pleasure as the extra 'morts are almost painful for her to endure. I once actually punished her by making her climax nearly continuously for an hour. I admit that this power excites me, as does the power to control her pain and appearance. For me it is the complete exchange of power that is my drug of addiction.

I resolved that for the next 24 hours, until the party, I would allow O to recharge her batteries and also for us enjoy vanilla activities as a couple, albeit a couple with an almost feral attraction to one another.

Our "date" was marvelous. O loved walking the promenade at Cannes looking at all the fashions. She also adored movies and I took her to the Museum of Cinema, and the piece de resistance was a concert played my friends of mine that contained my 2 favorite pieces of chamber music, the Ravel and Debussy string Quartets. In my opinion, 2 of the most sublime pieces ever written.

On the way home, her scent of arousal was so strong I had to open the windows of the limo. Fortunately, the night air was cool and sweet. I pulled her skirt up and she immediately accommodated me by opening her legs and scooting down to enhance my access. My fingers found their target and within moments she had asked permission to climax and permission was granted. Although I could have repeated this cycle for several more times, I wanted to allow her to recharge so I removed my hand from her nether parts and wrapped my arm around her shoulders and drew her to me. We arrived with her asleep, head resting on my shoulder.

I carried her up to our room. I removed her dress and placed her into bed. When I joined her after finishing my toilette, she awoke. I drew her to me and she placed me inside her wet pouch and she made gentle, passionate love to me. When we had both finished we fell into a contented sleep.

Chapter 3: The Night of the Owl

O.

[Today is Tuesday and last night Master and I "watched" Monday night football together. Watching football is always interesting for me although I understand nothing about the game. Throughout the 3 -- 4 hours of a game my wrists are attached to my elbows behind my back and clover leaf nipple clamps are in their usual position.

My job is to "keep score." Master had drilled holes in the lids of Campbell's soup cans and emptied their contents. Subsequently he filled some tomato soup cans half full of water (for field goals) and Cream of Mushroom cans completely full (for touchdowns). Then he screwed an open hook into the drill holes. Whenever a team scores, I have to move the appropriate can from the pantry to a hook on the "scoreboard," a plywood plank with hooks attached. The left side is for the home team and the right side for the visiting team. The catch is how I must transport the can. After a score, have to walk to the closet get down on my knees and thread the chain through the open hook in the appropriate can...tomato for a field goal, cream of mushroom for a touchdown. Then I have to stand up and bear the entire brunt of the weight on my poor nipples and walk back to the den, and then maneuver the can to an appropriate hook on the scoreboard, beginning at chest height for the first score and then moving down. So in a high scoring game I am on my knees and genuflecting in order to get the can to it's appropriate place. Now, I know what you are thinking. What about extra points and safeties? Never fear, Master thinks of everything. For an extra point I proceed to the coffee table where a large phallus is attached with a suction cup. At the base of the phallus in a ring containing bright red lip gloss. For an extra point, a need to take the phallus into my mouth and slide it down completely into my throat so that my lips are touching the gloss and the tip of the intruder is at the back of my throat. I have to use discipline to prevent losing my dinner, so to speak (wink). Once my lips are glossed, I proceed to the appropriate can and give it a kiss, leaving my lip prints on the label in order to signify the extra point conversion. Safeties and two point conversions are handled with empty beef barley soup cans that must be transported the usual way. Thus accurate scores are kept.

Obviously I have become a fan of defensive struggles [grinning]. I dread games with the San Diego Chargers and Air Coryell. My nipples can ache for days after a high scoring game. At the end of the game, I am always rewarded with some stupendous morts at the clamps are reoved and Master plays my body like fine violin. This is another reason I prefer European football because the games have much less scoring [evil grin], Master says soccer is boring. For him maybe [chuckle]. Anyway my nipples are still aching after yesterday's 24 -- 17 victory of Master's favorite New York Giants over the hated Washington Redskins. Master was so pleased with his beloved New York Football Giants (how is that not redundant?) that he allowed me sleep without bondage last night. It was glorious to be allowed to touch him and carress him so the pain was worthwhile.

Master is operating at the hospital today, so I am alone in the house. I have an office in the house for my design business, but I choose to be naked, on my knees, and under Master's desk while I continue my memoirs. Master has read what I have written and vice-versa and we are both pleased at each other's labors. I am learning more about my Master and he about me due to this exercise, so I am excited to continue my assignment.]

When Nora woke me, Master was already gone. She appeared to be annoyed (had Master chastised her for yesterday?). She informed me that Master would be gone all day and he would be seeing me at the party tonight. She (Nora) would be preparing me for the party and Natalie would be taking me to the party. After taking care of my bladder, Nora commanded me to get on all fours in the tub. I sighed, knowing what was coming. Master often had Nora administer enemas to me when he was preparing to use my backside. It is not that I don't enjoy Master's plundering of that orifice, but I have never become inured to the cleansing ritual and I certainly do not find it enjoyable. In any event I had no choice so I assumed the position with my cheek touching the marble floor, eyes facing Nora, and my derriere sticking up in the air with my legs apart. Nora placed the nozzle in front of my mouth and I took it into my mouth to provide lubrication. Master refused to allow any outside source of lubrication at any time. It was either my saliva or my nether juices that facilitated entry of various intruders into my body.

After I finished sucking on the nozzle, Nora inserted it into the wrinkled hole and inflated the inside bulb and then the outside bulb, firmly immobilizing the tip. She then filled the bag with 3 quarts soapy water, hung it on a hook 2 meters above the tub, and released the clamp. I was relieved to discover Master had chosen warm water this morning as cold or ice cold water caused almost immediate cramping. My mind wandered to last night as the water rushed into my bowels. Once the bag had emptied, my abdomen was full and I appeared as if pregnant. Nora started the timer. It would be 10 minutes before I was allowed to empty. Usually some cramping would begin prior to that time but there was nothing to be done. Nora had her orders and no amount of begging or pleading would grant me a reprieve. Today, Nora took her time setting the timer, making a display of her slow motion actions. It was obvious she was angry with me and wanted to prolong my agony within the parameters allowed her by Master. I became certain Master had taken her to task for her behavior at the salon.

Finally, the timer alarm went off. Cramping had begun a few minutes ago, but I did not give Nora the satisfaction of begging for release. Nora again took her sweet time retrieving the syringe and deflating the bulbs, thus allowing the nozzle to be removed. I prepared to clench to prevent any premature spurt of fluid. Once again Nora took her time but finally, the nozzle was out and I was allowed to climb out of the tub to squat over the toilet. I wasn't allowed to use a toilet seat. Release brought relief from the cramping, but after I had finished expelling, Nora motioned me back to the bath. Only when all the fluid coming out was as clear as when it when it went in would the process be over. This morning it took 3 rounds before Nora pronounced me clean and began to draw my bath.

The rest of the day was uneventful. This morning, in addition to shaving under my arms, and my legs, my nether region was also shaved, even though it was only 24 hours after the waxing. Master HATES stubble. I was then left alone to do some work and reading. Lunch was only some Lemonade, I assumed that Master wanted my insides kept clean for the night's activities, whatever they might be. Nora informed me there would be another enema cycle at 6:00 prior to her preparing me for the party. She then left me alone again, lost in thought.

Master returned in the afternoon and took me to bed. He did not touch my nether parts but allowed me to put my head on his shoulders and thus reassured we fell into a lovely afternoon siesta.

Sir Stephen

[I was very pleased to read O's account of the days leading to the Party. I was amused to discover I had not fooled her regarding sleeping with Jacqueline. Many of O's descriptions jibe with my impressions, but others are slightly different. I am gratified that my efforts were appreciated. Most Vanilla people of the world have the incorrect assumption is that it is easier to be a Dom than to be a sub. As in any enduring relationship both the Dominant and the Submissive must concentrate and work hard at sustaining the relationship. The Dominant must care for and protect his submissive, emotionally, psychologically, physically, and financially. He must figure out what she needs and then provide that. It can be difficult to force myself to hurt or humiliate the one I love, but I do so it because that is what O needs in order to be sexually and emotionally fulfilled. This is something Rene could never understand.

Sometimes it is a fine line between play and abuse, and a Dominant must walk that line every day. If I became a considerate lover, a compassionate companion who never inflicted humiliation or pain, O would become unfulfilled and leave me. Of that, I have no doubt.

Being a complete submissive requires concentration and ceding control of all life functions. However, once this extraordinary Power Exchange is completed, all she must do is follow commands and obey the rules. She has given her Dominant the ultimate gift. Control of her Life. Then the burden is on me to cherish and to not abuse that gift and assure and to reward that gift with fulfillment. Some are born submissive, some Dominant, some neither (Vanilla). I often wonder if you scratched a Vanilla person you might find a hidden Dominant or Submissive. I do know, that you can't teach someone to be a Dominant who does not have that natural tendency. I will discuss this more when we speak of Rene.

There are also different flavors of BDSM. Some women are submissives only in the bedroom and not "lifestyle submissives." These women often are powerful and have successful careers. Others will "top from below." Top and bottom are alternate labels to Dom and sub. I have often been amused while attending some dungeon parties to see women topping from below. An example of one of their "scenes" would be a woman tied to spanking bench giving directions. "Use the paddles. Hit me higher, ooh that's right." Etcetera. I find it almost comical but chacun a son gout.]. Or whatever floats your boat. Another type of individual whom I have met are "switches." The ladies alternate between being submissive and wanting to dominate. I never believed such people truly existed. I thought they were really submissive women who pretended to be dommes at times. I was disabused of this notion by actually having a relationship with a woman who I believed was a submissive who one day confessed she was really a switch and wanted to tie me up and whip me. Not going to happen, sorry. That was the last I saw of her, LOL]

I had decided to leave O alone for the morning; to recharge her batteries and give her time to contemplate the evening ahead of her. I decided to luncheon with Rene and Jacqueline at a restaurant in Cannes. Before I departed, I reprimanded Nora severely for allowing O to be abused at the salon the previous day. She sullenly accepted my criticism, but I could see anger in her eyes. I told Nora that O had told me nothing, that she should not blame her for my anger, and warned her about avenging herself upon O. It was Nora's mistake and Nora's alone that led to her chastisement. I wondered what Nora's feelings were towards O. I think jealousy and resentment were certainly part of it since Nora had been taking care of me since I was a child, and was not pleased at having to share me with anyone. None of my previous liasons had captured my heart the way O had, and Nora sensed and resented this fact.

Jacqueline and Rene made a show of emerging from Rene's bedroom in the morning partially clothed to advertise the fact they had spent the night together. Rene was bubbly, Jacqeline. was reserved, if not downright sullen. Rene didn't seem to care. As usual he was oblivious to the feelings of his conquests. He was smitten, as much with Jacqueline as he had previously been with O. After I announced myself, Jacqueline perked up a bit and began to flirt with Rene and I shamelessly. Her favorite technique was to grasp my arm or Rene's arm and give it a squeeze, often when laughing at one of Rene's inane jokes. My jokes, of course, were truly funny (chuckling and winking) and therefore needed no pretend laughter.

I understood Jacqeline's nature, probably more than she did herself. I don't think she knew what to make of me. She seemed to have contempt for O, and contempt for our relationship, and yet she continued to hang around us. In Paris she would allow O to take her to bed and pleasure her. She was at times flirtatious with me, but I don't think her heart was in it. I think she just needed to know that everyone within her reach was attracted to her. In any event, her flirtations with me served to make Rene jealous and perhaps that was her only goal. Rene had confided in me that he was still hoping to "get Jacqeline to Roissy." I had said nothing to Rene about the fallacy of such a project. Basically, now that I possessed O, I cared little for what Rene was going to do, and Jacqueline had no interest for me.

I returned to the Chateau in the early afternoon, undressed and found O, sitting at her make up table reading. Upon seeing me she immediately fell to her knees in position (she was already naked). I pulled her up by the hair, opened the covers on the bed and motioned for her get in. She jumped in eagerly, I think expecting to have some carnal relations, but I wanted her to rest for this evening so I merely closed the drapes, got into bed beside her with her head on my shoulder and we both immediately fell asleep.

O.

Nora woke Master precisely at 4:00 and took me into the bathroom where the morning rituals were repeated. Cleansing, shaving, and grooming. When we emerged from the bathroom Master was already gone. The remaining hours were spent on hair and make up. Finally Natalie skipped in with the Owl mask and it was placed firmly on my head. It was heavy and a bit constricting, but compared to my punishment helmet, it was a walk in the park (or a swoop in the aerie, smiling).

For this evening I was told not to place rouge on my nipples and nether lips as per my standing orders. I did not bother to question why. Finally, Natalie unwound the chain from my waist that had been my constant companion for the past 48 hours and led me around the room. Seeing my image in the full length mirror of my dressing room made me catch my breath. I looked somehow feral and definitely not human. The anxiety in my eyes accentuated the impression of me being a captive wild creature, who would fly away if not encumbered by the silver chain. The mask was removed and an elaborate hooded cape was thrown over my head and shoulder that had only 2 clasps, one at the level of my breasts and one at the level of my naval. This allowed me to be reasonably covered. Without a word Natalie threaded the leash through the opening in the cape and led me downstairs, through the entrance hall and into the back seat of the waiting Bentley.