The Real Story of O and Sir Stephen

O.

[I am still sitting on Master's desk with the intruders vibrating inside me. There are beads of sweat formed under my breasts and I have to resist the urge to pee. Master catches my yearning gaze and smiles. I understand he is telling me he knows what I am feeling, but He is not ready to let me 'mort until I finish my chapter. [Sighing] Ohhhhhhh!]

When I arrived at work the following Lundi, the workshop ladies were all atwitter and glancing and pointing in my direction. As I entered my tiny office on le premiere etage, I could see why. My office was filled with red roses. Not dozens of Roses, mind you, but hundreds of them. All flat surfaces were covered with crystal vases, including much of the floor. I almost needed a machete to hack a pathway so I could make my way over my desk. Propped up on my desk was an engraved calling card. Of course the card simply said, Rene M. On the back of the card, written in what seemed like a child's penmanship, "To, O, the most beautiful woman in Paris. Je suis desole to have offended you." It was signed Rene with a flourish.

It was hard not to be impressed by the gesture. Since there was no contact information on the card, I assume Rene had something else planned. I did not have long to wait. Less than 10 minutes later the Big Boss, the designer whose name was sewn into every label, the man I had never met personally, knocked on the door of my office. I stood up immediately and bade him enter. My view was partially obscured by the Roses, so I did not initially observe that Rene was accompanying the Big Boss. "Mademoiselle O, he said, please let me introduce you to Rene M. He and his family are among our best and most cherished clients. He had stopped by this morning to discuss his autumn wardrobe and requested an introduction to you." As he was speaking he was looking around at my office full of Roses and he turned to Rene and said, "It appears someone may beaten you to it." Rene's smile lit up the room. "Don't bet on it."

Rene took my proffered hand, and kissed it gently and deeply. OK, round 2 to Rene!

Sir Stephen

I should tell you a bit about my sexuality. From my teenage years, when I read the works of de Sade, I had been fascinated and excited about the possibility of complete power exchange. My erotic dreams often included me whipping bound women and other such tableaux.

In medical school and residency I had a series of brief Vanilla liaisons. I lost interest quickly once we had consummated our relationships and I had determined that the lady was not interested in fulfilling my fantasies. As luck would have it (or perhaps luck had nothing to do with it), I finally met a scrub nurse whose erotic sensibilities were complementary to mine. (By the way, many submissives are nurses and vice versa. Teachers also are frequently submissive) The first time I spanked her, she had a tumultuous orgasm and then we were on our way. We read books, we experimented, we taught each other, we joined a BDSM club in New York. We decided to move in together. But as we matured in our kink, we began to realize that we had different needs. I fantasized about complete Power Exchange. A Master / slave relationship. She just liked to be tied up and whipped for sexual arousal. After the "scene" was over she returned to equal footing. We discussed it, wished each other well and went in search of our perfect partner. It was hard to meet fellow travelers, as it were, in early post WW2 days. I did have a series of D/s relationships that were exciting at first, but usually fizzled after a few torrid months. I learned a tremendous amount about how to provide pain and pleasure during this time; knowledge I would put to good use in the near future.

When I received the invitation to do a sabbatical in Paris, I was overjoyed for 3 reasons. Firstly, I love Paris, secondly it would be formidable to see more of my sister, but even more momentous, was the prospect of joining a Club previously described to me by a visitor from France. I had performed a complicated operation on a Frenchman who I will call the Commodore. We became friends during his convalescence when I would make house calls at the Pierre Hotel to check on his health. Somehow, after a few Gin Martinis, we began talking about "the ladies," and I intimated that I had some rather unusual interests. After several rounds of inuendo, we finally reached the point of becoming aware that both of us were Dominants.

After his return to health, I escorted him to some of the clubs I had been frequenting and some young ladies he might find amusing. He enjoyed himself. He told me of an exclusive club, in a Northern Paris Suburb called Roissy dedicated to our common interest. The Commodore was a member and he urged me to visit him in France and he would reciprocate my kindness to him. So when the offer came to teach in Paris for 2 years, I jumped at the opportunity.

O.

[I announced, Finis!. Master smiles and looks at me and nods as he increases the intensity of the vibrations within my body. Having been given permission, I allow the sensations to flood over me in a rather violent 'mort that actually caused me to fall off the desk. The vibrations have ceased. I scamper back up to sit on the desk. I gaze over to Master and he is laughing audidbly. I search his eyes expressing my need. He nods, grins, and cranks up my intruders. After a few minutes as I begin to rock and moan, he comes over to me and kisses me passionately. Once again, over the waterfall. The luxurious, all consuming ecstacy. After I recover I am mortified to see a pool of liquid on the desk's glass protector. Without thinking or hesitation I fall to my knees and lick it up. I am desperately hoping Master will not be angry. I couldn't help myself from "squirting." I am gratified to see he is still smiling. He hands me the key, tweaks my left nipple and says "you may clean yourself and pee, I will ring for Nora to clean up your mess." Breathing a sigh of release, a chirp, "Thank you, Master."]

Chapter 5: Prelude to Roissy (1 month prior)

O.

[My nipples, my breasts, my nether lips, the inside of my thighs are all covered in bright red wax. Master had tied me to the bed this morning and proceeded to light a candle and drip hot wax on my sensitive parts. Of all the tortures, hot wax is the easiest to bear. Initially, when the first drops fall on the sensitive flesh there is a stinging pain, but once the skin is covered with a layer of wax, that initial layer is protective for the rest of the drips. So the pain is brief and easily bearable. In fact the warmth is quite pleasurable. However the decorative aspects of having my parts coating with bright red wax is very stimulation to Master and rather than scraping it off he is having me wear it the entire day.

I am in my favorite position. Sitting on His desk while he works. Intermittently he will reach out and carress, or slap, or pinch me, but any attention I receive from Master is welcome and arousing. I have my laptop and he is working on his desktop.]

My relationship with Rene has progressed rapidly. As the Americans would say, he had swept me off my feet. In retrospect, I can see that I was deluding myself, perhaps being blinded by the wealth and charm. Wherever we went, we were the center of attention. He lavished me with gifts. There were articles about us in the social pages. Every eligible woman in Paris was jealous of me, and I luxuriated in it. Even better, at work, my designs were noticed by the Big Boss and I received a promotion and attention.

It was obvious to me that Rene was smitten. He would do absolutely everything I asked. He even took me to Lyon to meet his parents. His mother was wonderful and made a fuss over me and told me how happy she was that Rene had not brought home "another frivolous girl." His father was aloof, and for the most part absent. That night we slept in separate rooms in the Chateau and Rene stole into my room in the middle of the night. We had not yet slept together as I was trying to keep the hook in him, but I thought that this would be as good a time as any to consummate our relationship.

I was not a virgin, but, to be honest, I did not really enjoy sex. Since my college years, I had bizarre fantasies of being tied up and whipped. When I had these dreams I would wake up drenched with nether effusions. When I was 18, my boyfriend took me to see the film Belle de Jour. I was incredibly excited by the opening scene of Belle de Jour, where her lover ties Catherine Deneuve to a tree and whips her. I nearly devoured the poor boy in the bedroom afterwards but was unable to climax under his gentle ministration. The following day, I attended the cinema alone watched the film 4 times. I wonder what the ticket attendant must have thought, seeing me on 5 consecutive nights until the Goddard film, La Chinoise replaced Belle de Jour.

Vanilla intercourse did not do anything for me. I guess the official term would be that I was frigid, or an ice maiden. I realized that in order to sustain any relationship with a man I would have to learn to act the part of a willing partner. I found that my partners would often have difficulty entering me because of a lack of lubrication, even with lubricated condoms (I always insisted on condoms to prevent pregnancy). I had learned that the best method to ease entry was to place a large dollop of Vaseline into my canal, prior to entry, thereby lubricating the way. I always carried a small tube in my purse.

I whispered, "did you bring a condom?"

Rene hopped off the bed, and left the room, ostensibly to find a prophylactic. I took the opportunity to run to the bathroom and place a generous amount of Vaseline into my canal and then hopped back into bed before Rene returned. After some bland foreplay he put the condom on and got down to business. The lubricant did its jobs and Rene slid in easily. The fact that his member was rather thin helped, too. He was trying to be gentle and prolong the experience, but after a few thrusts he groaned, lurched forward, and was spent. He rolled off me and went to sleep. I rolled over a dreamt of being tied to tree and whipped with a switch.

After returning to Paris, Rene and I returned to our social whirlwind with the only difference that, now, after most dates we would have relations. I began keeping some clothes at Rene's since I slept there several times a week. Rene, urged me to move in with him, but I was not ready to give up my independence, and besides he had not proposed to me....yet.

In mid October, I got an enormous promotion at work, I was going to head a design team for the summer line. We had a party to celebrate at a local bistrot and Rene ordered this incredible champagne. Suffice it to say, I drank more than I should have.

In bed, after the party, as Rene was sucking on my nipples I realized, with terror, that I had forgotten to place my usual lubrication. I thought desperately what I should do. Excuse myself in the middle of the proceedings and rush to the bathroom? My desperate, somewhat drunken mind came up with an alternative plan. I decided to ask Rene to spank me. I believed that if I could get my mind to the place of my fantasies, I might lubricate as I did during my fantasy sessions.

Suffice it to say, it was a failure. After I asked Rene to spank me, he asked me why. I just told him I wanted to try it. When he finally agreed, he struck me so gently, that it felt like a love tap. I was so disappointed tears came to my eyes. Rene came to the conclusion that he had hurt me and began apologizing and promising never to do it again. I excused myself, ran to the bathroom, and returned, artificially lubricated to my Vanilla lover. Frustrated once again.

Sir Stephen

[O is sitting naked on my desk, concentrating on her screen. I adore the way she bites her upper lip when she is thinking. I had waxed her this morning and her skin is covered with bright red decorations, especially around her nipples and nether parts. It takes all of my self control not to take her into my arms and tell her how much I love her. I think I will whip the wax off after lunch...yes, that will be fun for her (and me).]

I was sipping a fine Bordeaux and awaiting my Ris de Veaux at my favorite restaurant, Le Petit Pontoise, a few blocks from Notre Dame on the Left Bank and within walking distance of the Medical School. Rene was prattling on about his enamorata, O. and I was doing my best to stay awake. I took notice when Rene enquired if he could ask me for some advice. "Bien Sur." I responded. Rene said that he was concerned about his physical relationship with O. He had noticed that she did not seem very enthusiastic nor daring in their lovemaking. "Et aussi." I prompted him for more. Rene described a night when O had been a bit tipsy and she had asked him to spank her. Now THATgot my attention. Now fully attentive, my mind began racing. Could his goddess actually be a submissive? I resolved to investigate further. I asked Rene when they would be seeing each other again. He told me on Friday. I enquired whether they would spend the night together in Rene's apartment and he confirmed they would do so. I quickly came up with a plan. "Rene, I want to see this remarkable woman, but I don't want her to see me. Will you bring her to Les Deux Maggoux at 10:00 on Saturday and sit at a table near the window that will have a reserved sign on it. Make sure O is facing in the Direction of the Bar. I will be on a stool at the bar and I will be able to see you in the mirror behind the bar. Just act naturally and order a coffee or breakfast."

Saturday morning came and I could hardly contain my excitement. I entered Les Deux Maggoux at 9:30 to be sure I could get a place at the bar before the place was inundated with tourists. I gave my favorite waiter 50 Francs (about $5) to put a 'Reserve' sign on the table I had chosen.

Then I sat on my stool, read my newspaper and sipped my coffee. I assumed Rene would be late, but I was surprised to view him in the mirror sitting down at the appropriate table only five minutes after the appointed time. O had her back to me until Rene pulled out a chair and she sat down. I turned around to get a better look and nearly fell off my chair. What happened to me is called various things in different languages. In French it is "Un Coup de Foudre" (A lightning bolt). The Sicilians call it the "Thunderbolt." Americans, "Love at First Sight."

In any event, when I saw her face, her eyes, her carriage, everything about her, I was mortally wounded. I knew I had to have her, and in that fraction of a second I resolved to accomplish just that, if it was the last thing I would ever do. Flustered, and not wanted O to seem me, I left 200 francs on the counter, bowed my head so she would not see my face and rushed out of the café.

[Chemsitry, attraction, whatever one calls it, is an inexplicable thing. Was O the most beautiful woman I had ever seen? No. Was she the sexiest woman I have ever seen? Absolutely not. How did I know, from the moment I saw her, that we were soul mates? Obviously, I must have sensed her submissiveness....but how did I do that? To this day I cannot answer that question, but I also know that at that moment, I was certain. Kabbala, the book of Jewish mysticism, speaks of B'Shert (Destiny). Tradition says that for every person on the planet, there is one person who is destined to complete them. The only certainty in life, is that sometime during one's life you will meet your B'Shert (masculine) or B'Sherta (feminine). It is up to the individual to recognize his B'Sherta and to act to bring them together. I was certain that O was my B'Sherta, my destiny. All I had to do was figure out how to secure her affections. I was never more sure than of anything in my life.

After a few days, my plan was ready.

O

[I tell Master I have finished my chapter. He smiled and told me to fetch a flogger. He did not specify which one of the many in his collection. Inexplicably, I chose a particularly nasty one. The leather tails were weighted on the ends with some kind of metal. This made the flogging result not only in enormous pain but significant damage, causing me to be bruised for several days. Other whips stung, but left no marks lasting more than a few minutes. Master gazed at me as I crawled into the study with the flogger clenched in my teeth. I knew that he would not show me any mercy for having chosen the nasty weapon.

Why did I do this? Did I need to suffer incredible, almost unbearable pain? I don't think so. Peut-etre, I wanted to show Master how I was willing to suffer for him. To do anything for him. Master took the tool from my teeth and smiled. I melted. He was pleased. I had made the right decision. Happily I crawled over to the ottoman and assumed the position....on my knees, legs apart and breasts pressed into the faux fur. My hands gripped the legs in order to prevent me from trying to protect my flanks. "Owwwwww! One, thank you Master, may I have another one harder please?"

After a thorough flogging of 50 strokes I was a crying, sweating, mass of pain. However after each 5 strokes, I was rewarded with a 'mort. As the pain increased so did the intensity of the climaxes. By the 50^th stroke I nearly delirious and then I heard the words I longed to hear, "Encore un fois, ma Cherie."]

Chapter 6: The Plan

Sir Stephen

[What a woman! I ask her to choose a whip and she brings me the most dreaded of all. She could have chosen a mild stinger but chose the instrument that causes the most damage. I know she did this for me. To demonstrate to me how much she loves me and will do absolutely anything to please me, including inviting her own agony. I know she is terrified of intense pain, but somehow this terror contributes to her arousal and intense climaxes. This is paradox we live with. Although I toy with the idea of going easy on her, I know that for both our sakes, I will not spare the rod and spoil the relationship. I proceed to flog he with all my might. Little droplets of blood form where the lead tips hand wrapped around her thighs. She is sobbing and moaning. After each 5 strokes a pause and fondle her to climax. This allows me to be sure that she is not beyond her tolerance and is her reward for he suffering. She takes all 50 strokes and is thrashing furiously as she morts for the final time before falling to the floor. Encore un fois...I am a lucky man!]

The first step of my intricate plan involved me fulfilling the request of my sister and becoming a mentor to Rene. We began to meet frequently. I pretended to be interested in his prattle. Somewhere among the imbecilic banter regarding football, horses, and gambling, the topic of O always came around of its own volition. I listened intently without giving any advice until I felt the time was right.

Finally, after attending a football game that was won by Rene's favorite team, we had retired to a private room at his club for dinner and quite a lot of wine. When Rene was relieved of inhibitions but not yet drunk, I began my exposition. I explained to him about my sexuality. About my being a Dominant and enjoying the submission of women. As I had hoped, he was fascinated. I eventually brought up Roissy.

[At this point in my narrative I feel I should inform our readers about Roissy. What is was, and more importantly, what it wasn't.

Roissy is a Northern suburb of Paris. The club at Roissy was a converted residence that had been once been a "town home" of one of the founding members. The club was founded in the roaring 20's, a time of experimentation and upheaval in Europe as the old class system had begun to crumble. The initial purpose of the club was for Members (all males) to have a safe place to discuss and practice their alternative sexuality; Domination / submission (D/s), BDSM (bondage discipline sado-masochism), Power Exchange or whatever people are calling it nowadays. We simply called it our 'speciality.' In those days, it was relatively easy for the Noblemen to lure young women into relationships where all the power resided in the men. Thus there was no problem filling Roissy with girls and women willing to submit (with either willingness or resignation) to their Lord's kinky desires.