#abrafo
Then all three men turned and looked at O, chained, nearly naked, sitting on the loveseat across the large, otherwise empty, room. O held the thin robe closed with one hand as Mathilde had removed the sash that O normally tied around the otherwise open gown. With her other hand, she tried to pull it down oner her thighs as much as possible – no easy task as the gown was so short that when O stood, it barely reached mid-thigh. The eyes of all three lingered on O for a long moment, before Alain said, “If it won’t bother you miss, we’ll just get started on your project. You can watch us work.”
O said, “Of course. Go ahead.” But to herself she thought, “What else could I say? I’m chained here. Tethered like an animal. Nearly stark naked, and I’m sure some welts and bruises are visible from where Henri beat me earlier. Sir Stephen treated me awfully at times, but nothing like this. Plus, I have to pee.”
The men went to work. They quickly built the frame for the raised dais where Henri no doubt intended to have O bound and open. On display for all to see. O noticed that the frame wasn’t entirely level, but rather sloped gently from one end to the other. When she saw the men installing posts on either side of the higher end, she thought, “My legs will be strapped to those poles, opening me up. And that way my hips and buttocks will be higher than my head, displaying my nether parts more.”
Around mid-morning, Oskar called out ‘Brotzeit,’ the German term for mid-morning break. All three put down their tools and went to lunch boxes they had brought in with them. Oskar and Abrafo had some brad and opened thermos of coffee. Alain had only a thermos. After a bit he looked over and approached O, the first time he had done so. O clutched the thin gown closed as best she could, but she knew her nipples were erect and visible beneath the gown in the cool air of the morning. Alain also noticed. But he said, “Would you like some of my coffee? I have an extra cup.” O said, “Oh God, I’d love a cup of coffee.” Alain poured her a cup of the strong black liquid and handed it to O. When she reached for it, her gown parted and her breasts, still striped from Henri’s crop were quite visible. Alain pretended not to notice. He said, “Enjoy it. We have to get back to work.” And he went back to his fellow workers.
O thought to herself, “He acted as if it were normal to share his coffee with a nearly naked woman chained to the wall by her ankle. But his coffee is wonderful; it makes the humiliation almost worthwhile.” Then after a bit, “But I still have to pee.”
Seeing this, O clutched the bottom of her thin dressing gown – the only clothing that Henri had allowed her to wear while she watched – and tried to pull it down so as to make her lower belly less visible to the men. She wished that she could pull her knees up to provide further coverage, but Henri had secured her left leg at the ankle to a chain connected to a hook along the baseboard. This effectively limited O’s movement. The men pretended not to stare at O, nearly naked, chained and sitting on the sofa, but she noticed that they cast stealthy looks at her ever so often. O wondered what they thought. “Did Henri tell them that a nearly naked woman would be watching them, or did he just let them be surprised?”
As they built the dais and inserted the two upright posts at the end that was raised, O thought about prisoners of old who watched the scaffolds where they would hang being built. She thought to herself, “Did they watch the construction with the same sense of dread, yet interest, that I have? It’s somewhat different, of course, they were watching the instruments of their execution being erected, and I am only watching the place where I’ll be whipped. Death versus torture.” She thought for a moment, then, “I wonder if any of them felt some sort of sexual excitement about their impending Fate. I know that once this is built Henri will likely have me bound spread open and whip me between my thighs. Whip me on my open sex. Oh God! I know I should hate the thought of it, and I do, but… While I dread it, on some level I look forward to it. Perhaps as penance for finding pleasure with Henri. Finding pleasure with a man who is not my Master.”
O’s thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Mathilde, Henri’s maid. She had a bucket – actually it looked like one of those brass spittoons one sees in old bars in American Western movies. She looked at O and smiled evilly. “I thought that by now you might want to go to the toilet.” O responded, “Yes. I really have to go. Can you unlock my ankle so I can go use the toilet?”
Mathilde responded, “Oh no. Monsieur Henri left strict instructions that you must remain in the room with the workers. To ‘supervise’ them. So, I brought you this.” And she showed O the spittoon.
O looked horrified and said, “Am I expected to go here? Use this with the men watching?”
Mathilde who weas tying the spittoon to the same hook where the chain around O’s ankle was anchored replied, “Yes, of course.” Then she left.
O waited as long as she could, but eventually gave in to Nature. She got off the sofa and went the two meters to where the spittoon was set up. When she squatted over it, her robe parted showing her belly and breasts. Then she emptied her bladder into the spittoon.
The men heard the sound of urine splashing against the brass and looked over.
