Two months of intense and wonderful exchanges with Madame have led me to this January day, standing before this small door. For her, I have gradually become O, submissive and docile.
Beneath my "civilian" clothes, I already wear part of my outfit, the one I will have to wear before her (a corset, stockings, a tiny, sheer lace thong). That's all I know of what awaits me. Everything that will happen behind this door will be new to me…
My heart is pounding as, finally, it's time to ring the bell. At last, I'm going to meet Madame!
A charming young woman (Miss Calamity) opens the door, and I utter the agreed-upon words:
"Good morning, I am O, expected by Madame.
" "Yes, I believe you must be preparing…"
Rather than remain in the entrance hall, I prefer to take refuge in the restroom to undergo my metamorphosis. After removing my clothes in near darkness, barely pierced by a faint red glow, I put on the dog collar and attach the leash. I slip on the balaclava that masks my face, leaving my mouth and eyes free. I put on my high heels. Here I am, ready, here I am.
I take a deep breath and step out.
"Mmm, that's good, I think Madame will be pleased," says Mademoiselle, before blindfolding me.
Gently guided by her, I descend the stairs clumsily, perched on my high heels, and once we reach the bottom, she makes me kneel. I realize I'm on a prie-dieu. So, I spontaneously assume a prayerful position, hands clasped in front of me, head bowed.
Mademoiselle gently opens my mouth and places the handle of the leash inside.
I hear noises around me and sense that I'm not alone. Is Madame among these people?
"Who have you brought us here?" a voice asks.
"Madame's submissive," Mademoiselle replies.
The comments fly thick and fast about my lingerie, my buttocks… I know I'm being scrutinized and I feel like I'm trembling like a leaf.
"Can we touch?"
Various pat-downs follow.
As I readjust the leash handle in my mouth because it's gradually becoming coated with saliva, Mademoiselle stops me:
"It's better if you drool."
The moment she says those words, I know she's right…
"And what's this slut's name?
" "Oh," I reply to the unfamiliar voice before replacing the leash.
A strong hand comes to rest on the back of my neck and squeezes, applying pressure to force my head down further.
People are approaching, I can feel them, and I glimpse sheer stockings under my blindfold, which has slipped a little.
A hand takes mine and places it on the stockings, inviting me to caress them. I feel hair and instantly understand that she's a transvestite (it will later be confirmed that it is indeed Olivia).
"Go up to the edge of your stockings, no higher."
Feeling a little uneasy, I obey. Then Olivia takes my hand and seems to want to slide it higher up her inner thighs, but I think I see another hand interrupt her, and I suddenly understand that Madame is there, directing the proceedings, perhaps from the beginning.
"I'm here, Ô," she says.
That voice instantly captivates me. Incredibly soft, refined, reassuring.
Madame helps me up, my eyes still blindfolded, before saying,
"You're going to be our table."
Here I am on all fours, exposing my buttocks in a humiliating position, and a glass is placed on my back.
It's difficult for me to judge how horizontal I am, but the glass stays in place. But it's the weight of their stares that I feel upon me that grows heavier and heavier.
After what seems like a long time, the glass is removed, Madame gently helps me up, takes off the blindfold, and finally I see her. What a revelation! I'm dazzled. Her large eyes gaze at me, she smiles at me with infinite gentleness. I glimpse her perfect breasts beneath the sheer fabric of her dress. She is magnificent, and a great natural elegance emanates from her.
She introduces me to the guests, including Olivia, H, Alex DirtyVonP, Mademoiselle, and other attendees…
Madame senses my nervousness and reassures me kindly.
Then, with a leash in hand, she guides me toward the second staircase, which I follow, missing nothing of her swaying hips in her form-fitting dress as we ascend to the next floor, where I meet Monsieur. Here I
am again, blindfolded, my wrists hooked to the ceiling.
The woman places two clamps on my nipples, then grasps my penis and testicles, and in a swift, controlled movement, binds them tightly.
She positions herself in front of me, her nails tracing my torso, my sides, my back. Wonderful sensations. I am hers, at her mercy. I wish she would dig her nails in even deeper…
She presses herself against me, I feel her breath near my ear before suddenly feeling her bite on my shoulder, almost at the nape of my neck. I close my eyes, and a shiver of pleasure runs through me.
She then moves behind me, spreads my buttocks slightly with one hand, makes me spread my legs, and grasps my testicles, pulling them firmly back. A slight pain quickly sets in, and she controls its intensity by pulling more or less… How good it feels to be held by her like this, utterly vulnerable. I let out a long groan…
She releases me, and I realize she's taking an accessory, in this case a whip with wide straps, with which she begins to lash my chest, sides, and back. A new sensation. Not exactly painful, but the impact is definitely there. I wish I could see her do it.
Sir then takes the whip, and the blows come thick and fast, more sharp, more powerful. Still no pain, though. But I'm not going to miss out…
Madam unties me and asks if I feel ready for the wheel. Without really understanding what that means, I answer yes. But I would answer yes to all her requests. After waiting so long, hoping for this moment so much, I am here to fully play my part, to belong to her, and to endure whatever she wants.
So here I am, still blindfolded, tied to the wheel, then tossed headfirst.
A few more strokes of the whip, then I feel a gentle warmth against my mouth. I don't understand what or who this is. Blinded, disoriented, I've lost all sense of space; I no longer know where Madame is or what position she's in.
But I imagine that whatever is presented to my mouth, I'm supposed to kiss or lick it. So I do as she says, and in a few seconds I understand that it's her sex that Madame is presenting to me. In this confusion of sensations, nothing else exists. I'm focused on this divine offering, whose taste I can now perceive.
Then she stands up and I hear:
"So, oh, is my pussy good?"
And I'm overwhelmed. Oh yes, it's good, Madame!
I'm thrown back into an upright position, and Madame presses herself against me, facing me, gripping my hands with hers. She must have taken off her dress, and I feel her skin against mine, her breasts against my chest. Monsieur then begins to whip her with the riding crop. I feel her flinch with each impact. I feel an indescribable emotion at having her there, pressed against me, submitting in her turn.
As the blows increase in force and frequency, as I sense the intensity of her sensations growing in her every reaction, a feeling of compassion and connection washes over me. I want to whisper to her, "It's okay, I'm here." It's as if I want to protect her (even though I know perfectly well that she's savoring every second of this moment). I try to squeeze her fingers to convey my empathy, my total commitment to her side. I wish she would grip me and dig her nails into me with each blow. As if to transmit some of her pain to me, for me to share it, to suffer too, for her.
Regularly, Monsieur comes to strike from the side, hitting me as well, on my flanks. Compared to when I was alone, the blows seem very different, much more forceful. I start to shudder too, and she must feel it.
Then Monsieur asks her to turn around, facing him. She presses herself against me again, this time with her back to me, clinging to my wrists. The blows resume. Harder. I can hardly imagine the sensation on her breasts. But the force of her spasms testifies to the intensity of what she's experiencing. I can now hear her letting out little cries. I feel her pain. And her pleasure. Then Monsieur begins to strike my sides. Very gradually, the force increases. I, too, am now truly shuddering with each blow. I think I'm starting to make sounds as well.
After a while, Madame seems to have reached her limit. But Monsieur pushes his boundaries.
"Again!"
And then, the sharp, cracking blows follow one another with even more force, tearing a cry from her each time. She seems on the verge of fainting, and each blow she endures tears at me. And again the blows on my sides. So intense now. A powerful wave surges through my entire body with each impact, a wave that must be transmitted to hers. And these blows are now burning, cutting. I think I'm letting out cries too.
We merge in pain and pleasure. I couldn't have dreamed of a more intense moment. Sublime fullness to feel united with her.
The blows stop. It takes us long moments to begin to regain our senses. Madame readjusts her dress. Surprisingly, I soon feel no more pain. It's only much later that I'll discover the marks on my body, which will bear witness to the biting intensity of that moment.
We take a break at the bar, and after a while, Madame asks me:
"So, oh, your bottom, can we have a look?"
How I love the way she asks that question! Once again, of course, I answer yes, both excited and a little worried about what's to come…
We go back upstairs and I find myself lying on my back on the "medical" bed. Madame seems to hesitate for a second before blindfolding me again, and then says:
"Oh yes, it's always better when you can't see."
So there I am, feet in the stirrups, legs spread, offered up. What a humiliating position! And what a feeling to find myself like this in front of Madame, totally vulnerable.
Madame calls Olivia, then I hear clicking sounds that I think I recognize.
"Do you hear the sound of latex gloves, oh?"
Without seeing her, I understand that Olivia is now standing near the bed, to my left, while Madame, very gently, gradually begins to insert her fingers inside me.
A hand begins to caress my penis and I understand that it's Olivia's, who leans down and takes it in her mouth.
Gradually, gently, Madame ventured further, pulling me apart more and more. An intoxicating sensation. I longed to be more and more hers.
Focused on my sensations, I didn't notice Monsieur approaching from my right. He gripped my nipples, pinching, pulling, twisting them.
And as waves of pleasure coursed through my body while Madame explored me with her fingers, Monsieur ordered, "Don't move!" And as I involuntarily repeated, "Don't move or I'll pinch harder!"
The pleasure of feeling Madame inside me overwhelmed me, made me swoon. I thought I should moan.
After a while, when I was at the limit of what my bottom could endure, Madame gently withdrew her fingers and said,
Olivia gave you a good blowjob, didn't she?" "
You're going to thank her, are
" "Yes, Madame
"And you know how?
I'm afraid I understand…
" "No, Madame
. " "You're going to give Olivia a blowjob." You're going to do it for me.
I'm unable to answer, and I experience what follows in a sort of daze, as if I'm acting independently of myself, as if I've disconnected my mind from my body. Many thoughts are swirling in my head. This is the moment of truth, the moment to test whether I'm truly capable of obeying Madame's desires.
I'm completely passive, letting my head be placed to the side.
— Go ahead, you can use your hands.
I feel this penis being presented to me. The hole in the balaclava partially obstructs my mouth, and I have to move it a little, widen it with my fingers to make it possible. Olivia isn't erect, and insertion is difficult. First contact. I realize I have to open my mouth wider. And I find myself forced to suck it in to get it in. I start sucking it in a back-and-forth motion. I have to pump to make the movement happen. I try my best, even though in my head this voice screams at me: "You're sucking a dick!" I try not to hurt her with my teeth. I can hardly believe it. Olivia places my hand on her buttocks. I must not be too bad because Olivia is starting to get an erection…
Completely focused on the enormity of what I have to do, I totally missed what's happening on the other side. Gradually, I seem to understand that Madame is leaning on the bed (though I couldn't say exactly how far away she is), while Monsieur begins to take her from behind.
She moans as Monsieur's movements seem to quicken.
After a while, while I'm still focused on my task, and without understanding how things ended, Madame leaves! Her voice, fading away:
"I'll leave you now, O, continue, you're doing it for me."
Everything collapses; I feel a sense of being torn apart, of abandonment.
What am I doing, and why? Without Madame, it has no meaning. But I tell myself that it's part of her plan, that she's deliberately testing me, and I find the courage to continue.
Olivia withdraws for a moment.
"Is this the first time you've sucked a cock?
" "Yes.
" "You suck very well."
Madame returns shortly after and asks Olivia to stop.
It's over.
I did it.
For her.
I'm filled with conflicting emotions. Shock from this final challenge, but satisfaction at having lived up to Madame's trust. My head is spinning.
I stand up, and Madame, smiling at me, removes my balaclava… Her smiling face expresses both satisfaction and kindness.
But already I have to leave. I change and leave the club, my mind filled with all these sensations that remain so vivid within me.
Thanks to Madame, Ô is now a part of me. I don't want to let it disappear…
A cross-narrative of Madame M
