The first exchanges of letters revealed him. His attentiveness, his docility, his desire nourished her.
The first words unveiled, without his knowledge, her unspoken desires; she seized upon them with delight, playfully bouncing off them
. As the conversations progressed, he developed his potential, expressing his desires, creating situations
. She had plenty to work with throughout these weeks of intense conversation:
injunctions, constraints,
purchases of finery,
preparatory exercises.
The hour of the ceremony had arrived, feverish and impatient. To meet. Finally.
No detail could be overlooked.
To live up to this exceptional commitment,
Mademoiselle, a delightful accomplice, was asked to welcome him.
Olivia was warned: hands off O! You will do nothing but what I order you!
Monsieur was watching, Madame didn't want to disappoint him.
The central theme of the ceremony was to reveal the little slut lurking within this man, a refined, courteous, charming, and attentive intellectual. This shy man who would give himself unconditionally.
The holy grail would be the fist, for which he prepared with the ferocity of a top athlete.
A sign of the hold she had over him.
A sign of her condition.
They arrive for lunch with Monsieur. She is nervous, fully grasping the magnitude of this extreme commitment: a complete novice surrendering his will to her and agreeing to deliver him to a BDSM club—the big leap!
She owes him an exceptional ceremony; they must both maintain this literary, aesthetic, theatrical, almost sacred dimension that characterizes their relationship.
Punctual. Of course,
Mademoiselle welcomes O as planned, directs him to the dimly lit restrooms so he can prepare himself according to her instructions.
Madame discovers him, adorned with a balaclava and blindfold, a corset, stockings, a rather insignificant lace thong, and patent leather pumps.
His collar is around his neck. This disturbs her.
Mademoiselle seats him on the prie-dieu in the center of the room, in the middle of everyone. She warns him that he is very emotional. She expected nothing less.
He doesn't know if she's there.
The guests had been asked to condition him, to harangue him, to bring him back to his role as a submissive little bitch.
They prowl and circle around, questioning, feeling him up. That little minx Olivia does what she wants and lets herself be caressed beyond the garter, her powerful rough thigh leaves no doubt.
Madame fears that O's conditioning will be disturbed by this intrusion and reveals her presence by removing Olivia's big hand.
I am here.
She gathers the tension. You will serve as our table.
Maintain the conditioning through waiting, the strict immobility that compels withdrawal.
Take the time and watch.
Drinks, discussions, banter will eventually subdue her conscious mind. I am a thing, an object. I am Her thing, Her object. I no longer decide. I no longer control. She is my will.
First act upstairs. Taking possession of her subject.
She positions him on the suspended bar, arms raised, wrists handcuffed. Hood and blindfold. He belongs to her.
Sex and testicles firmly bound with a stocking.
Clamps on his nipples.
The body receives, tense and docile, stimulated by the bite of the clamps, the latex whip, the restrained and abused sex.
She wants to gather the emotion, slides against him to capture the tremors. Scratches him, bites him, then sinks against him. Their skin communicates, speaks to each other.
She feels him give himself; they are at peace. Communion of body and mind.
Their correspondence revealed a literary complicity; sharing stories with him, she delighted in his ability to read and interpret them. He devoured the suggested texts as soon as they were mentioned, offering insightful and nuanced analyses, often venturing beyond his own interpretation. Among these were texts by Jeanne de Berg; she was particularly keen to reinterpret a scene with him—
a scene that had deeply moved her with its refinement and ambiguity,
a scene in which she would be both submissive and dominant.
It was a painting where a delicate novice was to slip onto a submissive man on all fours, forming a kind of human covering.
The submissive was then whipped, and the submissive was shaken by the jolts of the impacts.
An ergonomic problem threatened to thwart his plans: O was slender, while the composition required a solid base.
But he hadn't counted on the magic of the moment
, the magic of his complete complicity with Monsieur
, who, knowing his plans well, took her hand without a word to offer her a… masterful interpretation.
When she places O on the wheel, the figure takes shape:
Firmly bound, tilted. The blows continue to rain down, a little from her, mostly from Monsieur.
The wheel blurs her bearings, fear of slipping, vertigo upside down.
She offers her vulva to the off-center mouth
. He is no longer there.
Insecurity has brought back consciousness… surrender resists.
Tilts head up.
Monsieur's injunction: she places her body against O's.
The tension of the beginning of the ceremony abandons her. Monsieur directs.
She fits herself as close as possible to her submissive, fitting herself in so as to be nothing more than a
Monsieur knows that she likes to defy, that she wants a spectacular flogging.
The blows rain down, sharp and rapid. They bite the flesh that flinches and arches.
From behind, from the front.
She must endure and not falter, she is the filter. He conducts the impact and transmits the emotion.
O melts against her, their bodies rhythmic with the lashing.
Fusion of bodies.
Fusion of blows.
Sir had a stroke of genius.
Dazed by the intensity of the moment,
exhausted by the explosion of this accumulated tension,
they return to the living room, put on their characters, and resume their usual communication routines.
Madame makes sure everything is alright. It's fine. He's floating.
It's time to move on to the second act.
May I visit your foundation? O?
Long-awaited moment,
moment so dreaded.
She wants it to be an intense, very sensual, and… pleasurable moment.
O is led onto the gynecological table, his feet secured in stirrups, his anus open. Exposed.
She knows he has been waiting for this moment for a long time and is preparing for it.
She knows he is very afraid of not being able to perform, afraid of disappointing her.
To add more sensuality to the prostate stimulation, she wants him to receive oral sex.
Her idea was to solicit Olivia, on the assumption that her presence wouldn't be noticeable to the masked O, who would have simply enjoyed the voluptuous fellatio… now that Olivia has revealed herself, she's not sure it was the best idea.
These adjustments to the original scenario are inevitable, potentially enhancing it as before or disrupting it as now.
O has always asserted his heterosexuality; the discovery of the transvestite was only supposed to happen after the fisting, for a final act of bravery that she wasn't yet sure she wanted him to demand.
The latex gloves snap.
Olivia swallows the cock while Madame inserts a lubricated finger.
The ass opens wide; O has worked on his flexibility.
The fingers slip one by one into the rectum, insinuating themselves, dilating to the rhythm of the moans.
The fist blocks; the conditions for surrender aren't there.
She doesn't feel it, she doesn't believe it, not today… and to be honest… she's starting to get fed up with it. Fed up
, cruel cat, she decides to order O to suck Olivia.
Olivia, did you suck her well, O?
Do you know how to thank her?
She knows how difficult the ordeal is;
she wants to test the submissive's bravery
and get out of this predicament.
He complies courageously, and she abandons him in the hands of that little slut Olivia
for very long minutes, too long minutes.
She didn't hesitate for a second to
cruelly
She knew what such an effort would entail;
he did it for her,
for Madame,
proud of him.
