O went into the kitchen of Henri’s apartment. She found some tea bags in the cupboard and poured water into the teapot, lit the stove and waited for the water in the pot to boil. As she did so, O noticed a leather-bound appointment book lying on the counter. She remembered that it was the same one Henri usually carried with him. “He must have laid it down and forgot it when he got home last evening,” O thought to herself.

She reached into a cabinet and found some teacups. O carefully placed on of the cups on a silver tray that Mathilde used to serve tea. Then in several minutes, O heard the teapot whistle. Without thinking she grabbed the handle of the teapot, not realizing that it was quite hot as it was soldered to the pot itself.

Her hand burning, O jumped back. When she did, she bumped into the counter where Henri’s appointment book lay, knocking it to the floor. The book opened and O saw the date at the top of the page. It read: February 13th, 2021. And O saw what Henri had written in bold letters below the date:

“Return Sir Stephen’s property to him. The rental is up.”

O took his member in her mouth and sucked. Then she twirled her tongue around the head of Henri’s penis while pulling on it with her free hand. Soon it was fully erect. She heard Henri say in a low voice, “A little longer. Make me very hard.” O continued to work – moving her hand up and down, also moving her mouth up and down his shaft, alternating sucking and twirling her tongue over the head.” She heard Henri say, “Sir Stephen was correct; you do have a very talented mouth.”

O knew what he was talking about. Sir Stephen had often told her, “O, you have a very skilled mouth. Soft full lips, a long tongue and an innate ability to use them to bring pleasure to a man. A talent not all women have.” And O knew that he had deigned to write this on the back of the photo of her that graced the album at Roissy. And O also knew that below that in his surprisingly tiny, but neat script he had written and even underlined, “Should be whipped.”

Henri was now rock hard. He got on his knees and rolled O over so that she was on hers also. She heard him say, “Knees and elbows.” O complied, burying her face in the pillow of the large bed. She felt Henri enter her and groaned slightly. As she did so, she heard Henri say, “Ah, still wet. From masturbating last night, or that dream you had? I heard you crying out in your sleep. It awoke me.” And as he said this, he thrust deeper not O’s wet sex.

O thought about her dream. It was a hazy memory now, but she recalled some of the images: herself being whipped and raped by men in a dungeon, standing naked before a trio of judges and hearing a sentence of death pronounced for her, Paul - poor dead Paul – visiting her in the dungeon and saying there was no way for him to save her, Anne Marie leading her on a leash attached to the rings that pierced her sex through the town while villagers taunted and mocked her, and then on the scaffold.

Her memory of the dream was interrupted by Henri. He pulled out of O’s sex. She felt pressure against her rectum. She heard Henri say, “You’re tight. Loosen up! Don’t clench!” O gasped, “It hurts!” But Henri was insistent. He pushed inside, saying, “There! I’m in!” O groaned again, louder this time. She felt Henri pushing deeper. She cried, her tears wetting the pillow where her face was buried.

Then O heard a loud cry from Henri as he came. “Ah! Argh!” Then he pushed O to the side.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A short time later, Henri said, “Why don’t you get up and make us some tea. Mathilde has the day off today.” O said, “Certainly. But first, may I use the toilet?”

Henri responded, “Okay, but be quick about it.”

O got out of bed and padded towards the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. A she did so, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes lying on the bedside table. One in the bathroom, O emptied her bladder and wiped the remains of Henri’s discharge from her rear. Then she took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. Inhaling deeply, O got up from the toilet and opened the bathroom window. She leaned out and looked at the street below. “It must be fairly early,” thought O to herself. “Only a few people are out and about.” One man – perhaps in his 70’s walked by below, a small dog on a leash pulling him along. He looked up and saw O leaning out the window. He tipped his hat and waved. O thought to herself, “Can he tell I am naked? Does he know I have just been fucked in my ass?” She smiled and waved back.

O came out of the bathroom and walked by Henri who was now sitting up in bead. She said, “I’m going to brew the tea now. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s ready.” She slipped on her short, floral silk robe, the one Sir Stephen had given her, and walked out of the bedroom.

In the hallway she noticed the door to the room where Henri had Alain and his workmen construct the raised dais was open. She looked inside. There in the middle of the room was the dais with posts on either side of it. O had watched its construction each day with mounting dread. It was modeled after the one at Sir Stephen’s, which was in turn, modeled after the one in the Music Room at Anne Marie’s home in Samois. O knew that like the other ones, she would soon be bound spread eagle on that dais, her legs open and spread, revealing her sex. And O knew that Henri intended to whip her like Anne Marie and Sir Stephen had. She shuddered at the thought, but at the same time, a certain part of her looked forward to it. O knew she was crazy – dreading yet looking forward to the pain and humiliation.

O’s thoughts were interrupted by Henri who was lying naked on the large bed, his work laptop computer beside him. He patted the mattress and said, “Come, O. Lie down beside me.”

She did so and Henri raised himself on one elbow. He looked at O’s naked body, running his eyes and then his hand over her from her narrow shoulders, down her breasts whose nipples were quite erect in the cool night air of the bedroom, over her flat belly to her hairless sex and then down the inside of her thighs. He said, “Perfect. Your skin is as smooth as silk. I trust you enjoyed your bath?”

O responded, “Yes. Very much so. Thank you.”

Henri traced his finger around the areola of her left nipple. It stiffened further. Out of the blue, he said, “O, have you ever been to Amsterdam?”

She replied, “No.”

“I may be going there on business in there near future. I am thinking you might accompany me.” It was a statement, not a question. He continued, “It is a very interesting city. Much to do and see. While I am conducting my business, perhaps you might enjoy seeing the sights.” He moved his fingers to her right nipple. After ensuring it, too, was stiff, Henri said gently, “Please turn so that your rear is towards my head and get on your elbows and knees. Ass in the air and legs spread somewhat.

O did as Henri said, taking one of the pillows to rest her head on. In the mirror across from the bed, she saw her reflection – red hair falling around her face, her hips raised and visible above the red hair, a look of - what? – on her face that rested on the pillow on her arms. Was it resignation? Anticipation? Something else? By now Henri had his laptop computer resting on his belly – O assumed he was looking over spreadsheets or business orders. At first, she just knelt there on knees and elbows, but soon, O felt his hand on her rear. First, he traced the fading brand of Sir Stephens initials – the brand that indicated she was his property - that Anne Marie had placed on her almost three years ago. Then she felt the fingers go to her rectum and sex. O felt one finger, probably Henri’s thumb, rest lightly on her rear orifice, while two others gently massaged the lips that were the entrance to her vagina. She felt those fingers first pull gently on the ring that pierced her labia – the ring that held Sir Stephen’s medallion proclaiming also that O was his property. Then the fingers moved slightly so that they could lightly stroke her, occasionally touching her clitoris that had emerged from its protective sheath. Henri did this with no sense of urgency, as casually as he might drum his fingers on a table while listening on a phone call.

But his probing and stroking was beginning to have an effect on O. She knew that her body was having an involuntary reflex to Henri’s fingers. It was not in the least unpleasant. O relaxed and felt as if she were riding gentle waves of pleasure, as if the ocean waves were gently caressing her nether parts with that age-old tidal rhythm. She felt no pressure to quickly reach climax, nor did Henri seem to be in any hurry.

But eventually O’s body, if not Henri’s fingers, began to take on a sense of urgency. Her hips began an almost involuntary movement, rocking forward and backwards. She heard a loud sigh escape from her lips. Henri must have heard it, too, as he removed the laptop and placed it beside him on the bed. Now he was giving his full attention to O. “His full attention to my pleasure,” she thought. “Something Sir Stephen seldom, if ever, does. If Sir Stephen masturbates me, it is not for my pleasure. It is to show his control over my body.” Then O felt the thumb that had been gently pressing on her rear slide deep into her anus. She let out a small gasp and heard Henri say, “It’s okay. Just relax.” Then two other fingers push into her wet sex – probing. And another finger twirling around her clitoris. O moaned out loud.

She heard Henri say, “You know why I am having that dais built, don’t you, O?”

Fighting against what was coming, trying to prolong her pleasure, O breathed, “Yes.”

Henri replied, “I am going to bind you on that little stage, your legs raised and bound, your sex spread open.” His voice paused, but his fingers did not – constantly probing, stroking – harder now. He continued, “Then I am going to punish you, O. Whip you on the inside of your thighs. On your sex. You’ll cry and beg for mercy. Beg me to stop. But will I? Will I, O?”

O thought about how she had first been bound on the raised dais in the music room at Anne Marie’s home at Samois. How Colette had stood over her. How she had draped the thongs of the whip she held in her hand over O’s open sex. How Anne Marie had said, “Not too hard at first. It’s the most delicate part of the body.” How Colette had raised the whip and struck.

Henri’s probing and stroking continued. O knew she was close, but the images of her bound and spread open ready to be whipped wouldn’t go away. She saw herself in a similar position, but this time at Sir Stephen’s in that little alcove-like room at the top of the stairs, and rather than Colette wielding the whip, it was old Norah, Sir Stephen’s Haitian maid.

O heard Henri’s voice. This time with an edge in it. “O, I said, will I show you any mercy. Answer me please.”

O managed to say only, “No,” before her body gave way to a crushing orgasm.

When Henri returned to his apartment, the sun had already set. O was still sitting on the sofa – the sole piece of furniture - in the room where Alain, Oskar and Abfaro were building the raised dais that Henri intended to use to display O bound and spread. The room was dark; it had only one window, a casement type set high on the wall. The fading sunlight shone on O’s face but left the rest of her in semi-darkness.

Henri came into the room, stopped, and looked at O. He noticed that there were tear streaks on her face and her eyes were red from crying. He went to her, put his arms around O’s narrow shoulders and said, “O, are you okay? The workmen didn’t harm you, did they?”

O looked up at Henri with an expression that fell between anger and shame. “No! They didn’t harm me. They were very courteous in fact. They pretended they couldn’t hear me emptying my bladder into that spittoon your maid brought for me to pee in. But I’m sure they watched from the corner of their eyes! I was so embarrassed! Henri, why do you feel you must humiliate me?”

Henri shrugged and said, “Mainly because I can if I so desire. But why were you humiliated? When you were at Roissy, you didn’t have any privacy, did you? Didn’t the valet watch you as you relieved yourself?”

O said, “Yes. But…”

Henri cut her off. “But nothing. It’s a natural act. Now I will release you. Mathilde has made us a light supper. Then we’ll go to bed and I’ll make love to you.” Then he knelt down and undid the chain from O’s ankle that had secured her.

After supper Henri and O retired to his large bedroom with an attached bath. He said, “Why don’t you take a nice hot bath. It will relax you. I’ll get the large sponge and wash you.” O removed the thin silk dressing gown – the only clothing she had been allowed to wear all day and got into the hot bath. It did, indeed, relax her. She shut her eyes and soaked in the hot water. Then she felt the sponge being rubbed along the length of her body.

“Feels good, doesn’t it,” said Henri.

“Yes,” replied O.

Then Henri ran the sponge up O’s thighs towards her sex. As he gently rubbed the sponge over O’s vulva, he asked, “Does this feel good, too?”

“Yes,” replied O again.

But Henri didn’t do anything further. Instead he said, “Okay. Now get out of the tub and dry off. I’ll be waiting on the bed.”

O gave him a puzzled look.

Henri responded, “It’s the finest leather shop in all Antwerp. A wide variety of whips and crops. Now, get up. I had the maid fix coffee. Have a quick cup and get dressed. I’ve already laid out your clothes for the day. No bra or panties this morning.”

O had been with Henri for almost a month now. And while he had used her most every day, often several times a day, he had not whipped her. O was sure that he wanted to because just her telling him about Sir Stephen whipping her obviously excited him. But, no. So far Henri had not punished her in any way. She thought, “Perhaps this is about to change?”

O quickly got out of bed. She threw on the short, silk robe with the floral pattern. Because O slept in the nude, it was the only one that Henri allowed her to wear before dressing for the day. Then she padded into the dining room just as his maid was placing a carafe of coffee on the table. O poured herself a cup and quickly gulped it down. Then she went to the small dressing table in her room. There on the bed she sometimes slept in – when Henri didn’t want her – O saw the outfit he had laid out for her. There was a cropped black, light weight sweater, short red mini skirt and knee high black boots.

O quickly did her make-up and hair and slipped into the sweater and skirt. Looking in the mirror, she deemed herself ready. She met Henri and they went down to a waiting car. Henri told the driver where they were going. Then he turned to O and said, “Delvaux is on the Komedieplaats, a most interesting part of town.”

O noticed his burgeoning erection and said, “I had no idea my recounting a whipping would have such as effect on you. I remember when you came to Sir Stephen’s on the day that he gave me to you. He had flogged me while I was tied between the two posts. That day, with tears in my eyes and feeling the welts and bruises forming on my body, I saw that you had an erection. It showed beneath your suit trousers. I have seen something similar in Roissy - men getting erect when they see a girl flogged. But I had no idea that merely hearing about me being whipped would affect you so.” O smilied coyly when she said this.

Henri didn’t really respond. Instead he got on the bed between O’s legs and pushed her knees apart. Then working his upper arms and shoulders under her thighs, he opened her up before locking his mouth on her sex. His mouth and tongue quickly inflamed O’s loins and induced a slight moan. But then O, looked down and said, “No. I want you inside me. Please.”

In a moment Henri was on top of O and she felt his member being guided into her wet sex. This time it was a deeper moan. Both of their hips began to work in unison. O reached behind her head and grasped the bed’s headboard to keep it from banging against the wall. Henri gave little sucking bites to O’s nipples before kissing her deeply on the mouth. Once he removed his mouth, O groaned and murmured, “Now, doggy style. Please.” Henri rolled O over. She quickly got on her hands and knees. He entered her roughly from the rear as he reached his left hand around to her paw at her breast and nipple. Then working his hips in the age-old rhythm, Henri took his right hand and grasped a handful of O’s red hair, pulling it back. With her head pulled back, O saw herself in the mirror over the bed. A few moments later Henri let out a loud groan and withdrew. Both of them fell on the bed.

Only later did they return to the breakfast room to finish their coffee.

Once back at Henri’s apartment, he and O went inside. Henri told O, “Please put our purchases from Delvaux on your bed, I want to see them.” O did so, dumping the contents of the bag Henri had made her carry out onto her bed. There was the dog whip and a riding crop. Additionally, Henri had purchased a black corset, leather bracelets, some sort of dildo and a length of rope. Henri looked at O and said, “In a bit we’ll put some nails on the wall beside your bed, so that you can look over any time and see the instruments of your punishment. Just like Sir Stephen did for you.”

Then without warning, he pushed O onto the bed. He quickly pulled up her dress exposing her naked loins. Then pushing her legs apart, Henri lay his mouth on O’s hairless sex. He began with sucking bites while running his tongue over her vulva. Soon O’s clitoris – quite unwillingly – emerged from its protective sheath to receive the lapping of Henri’s circular motions and little nipping bites. O knew she was undone. In only a few moments she succumbed to a brief orgasm. Henri noticed the contractions of her muscles and heard her moans. He looked up and said, “You were quick to come. I think the whips must have excited you.”

O remained silent.

Henri continued, “You said earlier that when Sir Stephen gave you to other men and you found pleasure with them, he would punish you afterwards. Yes?”

O sullenly said, “Yes.”

“And afterwards, you felt as if your punishment had expiated your sin of finding pleasure with another man other than your Master. Yes?”

Again, O said, “Yes.”

Henri smiled and said, “So now I will punish you so that you may feel as if you have repented for receiving pleasure from me.” Then, “Remove your dress so that you are naked. No reason to put on the corset at present. But put on the leather bracelets.”

As O reluctantly did so, Henri looped the rope over a hook in the ceiling where a chandelier had once hung. Then he looped the other end through the rings set in the leather bracelets that O had put on. He then pulled the rope tight so that O was standing on tiptoe. This caused her breasts to jut out; her nipples already erect.

Once she was thus bound, Henri also disrobed. O watched him and saw that he was already partially erect. He moved to O and kissed her hard on the mouth, so deeply that she thought she might pass out. O felt her already wet sex further melt as Henri probed it with his fingers. He moved his mouth down to first her left nipple, then her right, nipping and sucking at both.

O breathed hard and said, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come again.” Henri stepped back and said, “Not yet, I have something else for you.” Then he picked up the black dildo from the bed. Going to the bedside table, he opened the top drawer and with drew the penis shaped gag, old Nora had packed with O’s things when Henri took her from Sir Stephen’s. He placed the gag in O’s mouth. It pushed her tongue to the back of her mouth so that she had to take care to breathe through her nose. Then after placing some lube on the dildo, he pushed it into O’s rectum. Then stepping back he said, “Now the gag will stifle any screams and the dildo will fill your rear. Then he fondled O again.

When he was sure she was close to orgasm, he picked up the dog whip and stepped back…

Henri and O left Delvaux, the leather shop, with a large bag full of whips and crops. Henri had made O stand by the cashier he handed each instrument to him to be totaled up. O felt both the salesclerk and cashier stealthily eyeing her. She winced and her face colored when Henri said to no one in particular, “I think she likes the dog whip the best. As you said, ‘it’s very good for training a bitch.’ Especiallly a redheaded one.”

Later in the back seat of the large Mercedes, Henri had said to O, “You’re being awfully quiet, my dear. Why?”

O did not respond.

Henri repeated the question, this time more forcefully. O drew a deep breath and finally said, “You humiliated me with your actions and words in that store. There was no cause for it.”

Henri responded, “Of course there was a reason. Humiliation excites and arouses you. I bet you’re wet right now.” And as he said this, he slid his hand up O’s inner thigh to her sex. Then O felt his finger enter her and heard him say, “I knew it! You are wet.” Then he pulled O close to him and kissed her so deeply she thought she would faint. Letting go of her finally, he said, “You see, O, you’re the type of girl who gets off on punishment and humiliation. You may deny it, but you secretly crave it. I haven’t whipped you yet, but I know that on some level you cannot wait for me to do so. If for no other reason than to assuage you’re the guilt you have for finding pleasure with a man who is not your Master.”

O didn’t respond, but in her heart of hearts she knew what Henri had said was true.

Henri had splashed all over O’s face. With her hands bound behind her there was no way she might wipe any of his discharge off. She thought to herself, “Only one other man has treated me like this. That American Naval officer – his name was Ted – that I met when I was doing photos of the BDSM festival in that German village. We began dating; he was the man who introduced me to bondage. On what was to be our last night together before he was transferred, he tied me up. Then after taking me, he left me bound and masturbated on my face. My cleaning lady found me. She thought it was quite funny. I was so embarrassed. That was what – over five years ago – before I met Rene and went to Roissy for the first time. Yes, I was embarrassed, but it was only my cleaning lady who found me. Now these workmen will see me – bound and chained with Henri’s discharge splattered on my face. How humiliating!”

O watched the clock on the wall. As it struck nine, Mathilde, Henri’s maid unlocked the door to the room where O was sitting on the sofa. The three workmen came in. Of course, they saw her right away. How could they not notice a naked woman, sitting on a sofa, her legs spread and tied to the end leg of the sofa and because her legs were spread, they could see a chain running from the ring that pierced her labia to a ring set in the floor by the middle leg of the same sofa. O expected one might come over and fondle her, or take her, Henri’s discharge on her face was proof that she was there to be had. But – No. They just went to work, finishing building the dais that Henri intended to use to punish O, to display her as the slave and whore she surely was.

After an hour or so, their work was nearly done. Oskar, the German looking older, heavyset workman in his 50’s called, “Brotzeit!” and Alain and Abfaro paused. They went to their lunch pails and withdrew the mid=morning snacks they had brought. Again, Alain brought a cup of coffee over to O and asked if she would like some. O shook her head, and he went back to the other side of the room. Abfaro approached. He said nothing, just stared at O for a long time. His eyes scanned her entire body. She felt as if she was being measured and weighed. She was sure the African man would touch her at least, but he only stared. After he left, Oskar approached. She went to O, withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped her face off where Henri had discharged. O murmured, “Thank you.”

Then Oskar leaned close and whispered, “We will be finished soon. Once we finish building the dais, Monsieur Henri said we could take turns using you. But I have a daughter about your age. I cannot imagine what you have done to be treated like Monsieur Henri treats you. No living thing, not even a dog should be treated as you are. I have a knife in my pocket. After we finish and leave, I’ll tell Alain I forgot something and slip back in. Then I could cut the bonds on your wrists and ankles. Cut you free. I have a car; I could take you away.”

O looked up at the older man. She sighed and looked down as she said, “You might cut my wrists and ankles free, but I would still be fettered here by the chain piercing my sex. It is locked to a screw set in the floor.”

Oskar stepped back and looked. Flummoxed he said, “I have bolt cutters in my car. I could free you, Fraulein. Free you from your slavery.”

O looked at him and considered what he had said.

Minutes later O, still naked, padded back into the bedroom where Henri was still in bed. She was carrying a silver tray with two cups on it and a pot of steaming water. She smiled her best and said, “I thought you might like to be served by your slave.” It was the first time O had referred to herself as Henri’s slave, which seemed to please him immensely. She placed the tray on the bedside table and began to pour the hot water over the tea bag in one of the cups. As she leaned over to do so, Henri reached over and fondled her breast, rolling her nipple until it stiffened.

O got into bed beside Henri being careful not to spill any of the tea in her own cup. As she sipped the hot beverage, Henri rolled over on his side and placed his hand on O’s thigh. Then as he ran his hand up the inside of O’s thigh, he said, “I’m sure you passed by the room where I had the workmen build your dais – and Henri emphasized ‘your’ – didn’t you?

O stared straight ahead and said, “Of course. I had to. That room is between here and the kitchen.”

Henri said, “Spread your legs a little.” As O did so, he slid his hand a little further up her thigh and continued, “You know the purpose of the dais, don’t you?”

O responded, “I suppose so.”

“Then tell me.”

O took a long sip of the hot tea as Henri’s fingers gently tugged on the ring that pierced her sex. Then she went on, “It is constructed so that I may be laid on it and displayed.”

“Displayed how?”

“I will be bound with my hands secured to the top of the dais. My legs will be raised and secured to the upright posts at the other end of the dais. Thus, I will be open for anyone who might look.” O felt Henri’s fingers enter her vulva as he said, “And how will this make you feel?”

O took another sip of her tea. Staring at a painting on the wall across the bed from her, she tried to ignore Henri’s fingers. He said, “Tell me, O. How will being bound and open for anyone to see make you feel?”

“Vulnerable. Frightened. Humiliated.”

“And aroused? Aroused and wet as you are now?” asked Henri as his fingers continued to probe O’s sex.

O bit her lip, trying to avoid yielding to Henri’s insistent fingers. He was now massaging her clitoris which had emerged from its protective sheath. She said, “Probably.”

Henri sensed that O was close. He relented, retreating from her clitoris to push his finger into her vagina. Then a second finger. He said, “And besides being displayed open for all to see, what else might be done to you?”

O, fighting the urge to move her hips in rhythm to Henri’s fingers, didn’t answer. Henri suddenly withdrew his hand, reached up and slapped O across the face, causing her to drop the now empty tea cup which fell to the floor and shattered. “Answer me, whore! What will be done with you?” As he did so, Henri got on his knees beside O. He placed his left hand on her gave, pulling on her jaw so that her mouth was open. As he did this, he moved his right hand back to O’s sex and resumed probing it. “What will be done with you?”

O, now yielding to Henri’s fingers and rolling her hips, said, “I’ll be whipped. Whipped on my open thighs and sex.”

Henri moved his left thumb into O’s mouth. “Suck it!” he said as the fingers on his right hand drummed O’s clitoris. Then, “Yes, O. Whipped on your sex like a whore. Whipped like the whore and slave you are. But that is what you really desire, isn’t it? Proof of your enslavement.”

But O was unable to answer, even if she wanted to as her body convulsed in the throes of orgasm.

O felt the train slow and seem to shift onto another track. Henri still slept, leaning his head against her. She looked out the window and saw a sign that read Koln. Her thoughts returned to her time at Anne Marie’s:

“And then how she had Yvonne show me how she had her labia pierced so that she could wear her Master’s ring there. And later when I asked her ‘why’ seeing as she had his initials tattooed just above her sex, she told me that he used the ring to chain her to the bed at night, and I was horrified. But, of course, when Anne Marie did the same to me, I gladly accepted it. And then when Collette, I think it was Collette; it may have been Claire. It seems so long ago. Anyway, when she asked Anne Marie, in my presence, where I would be tattooed, and Anne Marie said I would not be tattooed. Then I knew it was something else. Anne Marie said something even more permanent. And I told Anne Marie to go ahead and say it. And she looked me in the eyes and said that Sir Stephen wanted me to be branded with his initials. Branded as his property; branded like a cow.

“Anne Marie didn’t have me whipped again during my stay there, but she did every day have me bound on that raised dais. Bound open, with my legs splayed wide apart. Open for all to see. And after I was pierced and the ring inserted, I could feel its weight, or at least I thought I could. Collette, Claire, Yvonne and another girl, Therese, would come and look at me there on the dais. I remember Claire taking the ring in her hand and saying, ‘Once your Master’s medallion with its insignia is added, you will certainly feel its weight. You will always be reminded of your status as his slave.’ Then Collette who was with her said, ‘And his brand on your buttocks will also attest to it.’ And they were right, of course. And so was Anne Marie who told me, ‘O, while you are bound there open for these three hours all you will be able to think about is your slavery.’ She was also right. It was all I could think about.

“Anne Marie began choosing me to go to her bed with her every night. I’m sure the other girls were jealous. She would lift her night gown and have me pleasure her, often all night. But usually after she found enough pleasure, she would send me back to my own bed. I remember one night she told me, ‘O, it will be like this for you. Sir Stephen will use you. Use all of your holes, but then send you away to sleep alone. And you will gladly accept it because you are his slave. He has had many girls, and I have whipped them for him. But you will be the first to bear the marks that attest your slavery to him.’ I should have been horrified at the thought, but I wasn’t.

“And then it was the day Sir Stephen would come back. That was the day I was to be branded. I couldn’t sleep the night before. All I could think about was what was going to happen to me. Colette and Claire came and got me. I went to the breakfast table, but Anne Marie said I would not have breakfast that morning, only black coffee. I remember the bitter taste; I wanted a cigarette at least, but none was offered. Then Sir Stephen appeared. He said, ‘It’s time.’ I went as if in a daze. There in the library was a supporting pillar with a hook set about two meters up. My hands were tied to that hook. To my right I could see a small brazier. Therese had lit the coals before I got there. From the corner of my eye I could see the coals already glowing red hot. I saw Anne Marie place the iron on the coals.

“Anne Marie came over and said, ‘O, you can watch it get hot. It will take a few minutes.’ I watched in horror as the iron slowly turned red hot from the heat. She and Sir Stephen stood to the side and made small talk. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying, I was concentrating on the brazier and its red-hot coals, and the iron. I could feel the cold sweat of fear running down my arms. Sir Stephen must have noticed. He came over to me. He took my chin in his hand and lifted it and my eyes to him away from the coals. He kissed me tenderly on the mouth. Kissed me so deeply that I felt my loins melt. He massaged my nipples, stiff in the cool morning air. I felt his hand slide down my belly to my sex. He fondled me for a while – I thought I might come - and murmured, “O, this is what I want.’ I could only answer meekly – ‘I know.’

Then he looked at Anne Marie. She nodded to Claire and Collette. They took wide straps and wrapped them around my belly just above my hips and just below my rear. They pulled them tight. I couldn’t move. I looked for Stephen, saying, I love you! I love you! Je t’aime! Je t’aime! And then there was a terrible burning sensation. I heard Anne Marie’s voice say, ‘One! Two!’ And then only blackness.”

O was startled from her reverie by a voice on the train’s speaker announcing, “We are approaching Aachen.”

O took her seat in the compartment of the train and looked out the window as it slowly left the Bonn Haupt Bahnhoff, bound for Antwerp almost five hours later. Bound for Antwerp and …What? Henri, sitting beside her was already dozing, so she thought about how it had come to this:

“I loved Rene; I would do anything for him. Or so I thought. He wanted me to go to Roissy, so I did. And there I was trained to be a sex slave. I was raped and whipped by strange men, men whose faces I never saw. During the day I had to be constantly available. Available for use by the Masters. And I was used. And whipped, either to instill discipline in me or just for their entertainment. It didn’t matter. Then later when Rene left me there, I was cast into a dungeon where I was horribly mistreated and tortured. Taken repeatedly by those strange men and others, but I never saw their faces either because before they came to my cell, I was blindfolded by a valet. And whipped; whipped with my face against the dungeon’s stone wall. But I survived. Then Rene came back and took me away.

“I thought that would satisfy him and cement our love, but no! That was just the beginning. I had to abide by some of the Roissy rules back at our flat in Paris. Rene told me I was forbidden to close my legs, forbidden to wear a bra or even panties. I must always be available, just like at Roissy. Then he first introduced me to his older half-brother – Sir Stephen. He took my mouth and ass the first night I met him. Rene watched and approved. He became an overwhelming presence in our lives. Rene sent me to spend time with him almost every day. Once there was a party that we were invited to. I really wanted to attend, but no. Rene said Sir Stephen had requested my presence that evening. I begged Rene to tell him no, so I could go to the party. To make up some story, to lie, if need be. But instead Rene betrayed me and asked Sir Stephen to punish me for my attempted duplicity. And he did. He had me strip naked. Then he tied my hands over my head using a hook from a chandelier that was once set in the ceiling. Then he kissed me; something he had never done. Kissed me hard on the mouth. Then kissed my breasts and nipples. Then he placed a gag in my mouth. I saw the crop in his hand and his erection. He stepped back and struck. And struck again. Later when I was covered in welts, he took me down and had his chauffeur drive me back to the apartment I shared with Rene. When Rene finally came home from the party, he was overcome by the marks on me. I moaned in the darkness all night as he took me repeatedly.

“Over time I realized Sir Stephen was my soul mate. I fell in love with him, foolishly thinking I could seduce him as I had Rene. Thinking, if nothing else, my meekness and submissiveness might win him over. Thinking that he would come to love me as I thought Rene might. But no. Again, no. Unlike Rene, he not only enjoyed watching me suffer; he enjoyed causing it. The joy in his eyes, his throbbing erection when he flogged me. Stephen wanted to possess me. Not only possess my body, but also my soul.”

Henri moved a bit in his seat and began lightly snoring. O’s reverie resumed. “And did he ever possess my body. I still bear the marks he placed on me. Marks of a slave. His slave and whore. I remember Anne Marie asking me if I would accept his marks, not knowing where or how they would be placed on me. Of course, I accepted. Then he left me at Anne Marie’s home at Samois. To mark my arrival, she said I must be whipped. Whipped differently than I was at Roissy. I was bound spread eagle on a raised dais. Then she had Collette, one of the other girls there, flog me. Flog me between my open and widespread legs. I remember the thongs of the whip burning into my most tender spots. Into my open sex. I cried and begged for it to stop, but Anne Marie said, ‘No, continue until I say stop. O must bear it. Bear it to the bitter end.’ And I did.“

After the waiter brought their drinks– a whiskey for Henri and a martini for O, Henri said, “A toast to you, my beautiful O, and to your upcoming enjoyment on the dais I had built for you!”

O did not smile, but instead took a long sip of the martini in front of her. The burning sensation in her throat brought back memories of a dinner long ago. “Just how long ago was it?” O thought to herself. “That night in Paris at the Restaurant Lasserure when Rene first introduced me to Sir Stephen. The man who Rene would eventually give me to. Give me away like a man might give away his dog or horse to a man he admires. Yes, Rene the man I then loved gave me to the man who I eventually came to love. The man I worship and adore like a god. My true Master. How long ago was that? Four, five years? A lifetime? That’s what it seems.” O took another sip of her martini; Henri answered his buzzing cell phone. “It’s funny that I can barely recall how long ago it was, but I can remember what I was wearing. My clothes were quite similar to what I am wearing tonight, except my blouse was white, actually more of an ivory color. And I wore heels rather than boots. And my fur- that old fur that I had inherited from my grandmother. Of course, like now I was forbidden to wear any under clothing. I still recall the feel of the leather stool against my bare rear when I sat down at the bar by Sir Stephen. And then later at his house when he first used me. It must have been a lifetime ago…”

O’s reverie was interrupted by hearing Henri say into his phone, “Fine. We will skip meeting here and just see one another when I come to Amsterdam on the 18th.” Then he looked at O and said, “Shall we have another drink. Our meal can wait.”

O nodded in agreement.

At Henri’s Apartment: Part Thirteen

O stared into Oskar’s eyes as he held the bolt cutters. He said again, “Fraulein, I can cut that chain. The one attached to the ring in your sex. You’ll be free. Do you want that?”

O was silent and Oskar, misreading her silence said, “I did not mean that you would be free to ‘come away’ with me. Like I said, I have a daughter who is probably around your age. She is an art student at the Sorbonne. You are a beautiful young woman, but I have no desire for you. I am happily married – almost fort years now. No, I just don’t want you to be held captive against your will and abused. I know what this dais we are building will be used for. I do not want to have on my conscience that I helped build something that will be used to hurt you.”

O continued to look into Oskar’s eyes. She thought to herself, “Freedom. What would freedom mean to me? What would it even be? I think I gave up the thought of freedom once I stepped into that car with Rene, the one that took me to Roissy for the first time. I surrendered my freedom then. Why? Because I loved Rene. But did I then even know what love is? Probably not. But then Rene ‘gave’ me to Sir Stephen. At first, I didn’t love him, nor he love me. But in my pride and arrogance I tried to make him love me. Did I sacrifice my freedom then? Perhaps. Certainly I gave up my freedom when I agreed to go to Anne Marie’s home at Samois, where I agreed to having my labia pierced so that I could wear his insignia on my sex and later agreed to be branded with his initials. No! I’ve not been free for a long time. Almost three years now.”

Oskar said, “Well, what do you want me to do?”

O said simply, “I cannot choose freedom. It is my Fate to be like this.”

Oskar shook his head in wonder. Then he sighed and said, “As you wish,” turned and left the room leaving O chained there on the sofa.

O thought to herself, “How did I end up like this? Not Sir Stephen’s lover, but his slave. A slave to a man who may not love me. A man who gives me – no, that’s not right; a man who ‘rents’ me to another man who doesn’t love me. What does that make me?” But, of course, O already knew the answer. Her thoughts continued. “It makes me a whore. I am Sir Stephen’s whore. He has said as much on numerous times. I remember the first time. It was to Eric after I came back from Anne Marie’s. He introduced me as “his whore.” He showed him where he had Anne Marie pierce my labia so that I can wear his insignia and where he had my rear branded with his initials. He said it was so that anyone who saw me naked would immediately know that I belonged to him. That I was his property. Is that all I am to him? Property? Property to be rented out?” And the tears began to roll down her cheeks as the train sped towards Brussels and Antwerp.

Her thoughts continued, “What if I had never met Sir Stephen? Never even met Rene? Never gone to Roissy? What would I be like? What if I had just worked at the magazine and just met Paul, not Rene? Would I have been attracted to him? Him to me? Even if I had met Rene, Sir Stephen? Even gone to Roissy, but still met Paul. He loved me. I’m sure he did; he said so many times. What if that New Year’s Eve he had not been kidnapped? He was going to ask me to marry him, I’m sure. I would have said yes. Would we have lived happily ever after? Like some fairy tale my grandmother used to tell me when I was a young child. Could it have happened? But no! Paul is dead. And I am Sir Stephen’s slave. And his branded whore.”

Henri must have noticed that O was crying because he said, “Are you okay? Is there anything wrong?”

O didn’t feel like telling her new ‘owner’ what was troubling her, so she fibbed and said, “Not really. You see I have a condition called mittelschmerz.”

Henri gave a puzzled look.

O continued, “It is a condition that causes me pain when I am ovulating.” She was not lying. O knew when she was ovulating. Her breasts became swollen, feverish and tender to the touch; her nipples painfully erect and as hard as diamonds, while her sex felt as if it was turning inside out with a dull ache in her lower abdomen. It had been this way with O since puberty. She always felt that her body betrayed her because she also had a condition that prevented her from becoming pregnant.

Henri said, “I have read somewhere that women are quite horny when they are ovulating.”

O didn’t comment. Henri continued, “Is it true for you, O?”

Again, O did not respond, but she knew it was true. During this time of her monthly cycle she felt the urge to be taken. To feel the pain, but also the pleasure. Once at the magazine where she had worked before meeting Rene, she and a co-worker had been discussing their sex lives. The other girl had said, “It hurts and feels good at the same time.” Those words struck O. It was an apt description, especially for O.

“Let’s find out,” said Henri. “Get on your knees here on the seat. Ass up!”

O did so and felt her dress being pulled up over her hips. She looked out the window at the rain which had begun falling quite hard and felt her breasts pushing against the seat back. She heard Henri fiddling around and then felt him getting up on the seat also. On his knees. Suddenly she felt herself being roughly entered without benefit of any lubricant. It hurt. It did hurt! O let out a small yelp. As Henri, now inside her leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Does it hurt, O? I hope so. I enjoy hurting you. Especially sexually. Since you blew me earlier, I should be able to last a long time in you. Hurting you and giving me pleasure.”

O groaned as Henri played her like a violinist plays a Stradivari. He reached for her breasts, still free where the dress was unbuttoned. He pressed the sides of them, bringing another groan, before moving his hands down their curve so that he could roll and pinch O’s stone-hard nipples between thumb and forefinger, all the while pummeling her swollen sex. One hand left O’s breast and moved down her belly to her slit. It searched and found O’s clitoris which he roughly pawed. Then he whispered in O’s ear again, “When we are my estate, I’ll whip you like Sir Stephen does. Whip you between your wide-spread thighs. Whip you here. And you’ll beg me to stop, but on some level, you’ll love it!” And, for emphasis, he slapped at O’s clitoris.

She groaned again and thought, “Dear God, he’s right. I hate the pain, yet I crave it. Why? Why am I like this?” Anne Marie is right; she once told me, “O, if you weren’t punished, you’d miss it.” Of course, she was correct. O both hated and craved the idea of being punished. When she was writhing under the whip, she would have betrayed to world in order to escape it; but afterwards when the searing pain had subsided into a dull ache, she was happy to have undergone it, happier still if it had been especially cruel and prolonged. Then the hand on her sex moved up to her breast where it pinched O’s nipple – hard. The other hand pulled back her red hair, arching her neck. Henri leaned in and said, “You’re about to come, aren’t you? You do love it when I hurt you. Don’t you?”

O did not answer; she only moaned softly, but could feel an orgasm building in her. Outside, the rain continued to pour.

After he had cropped her, Henri had kissed O – on the mouth, on her neck, on her breasts as he fondled her sex. Her wet sex. He had nearly brought O to orgasm before he pulled away and said, “I must dress. I have a meeting this morning. I think I’ll just let you hang here and stew a while.” Then he walked away, leaving O alone.

During this time, O could feel the welts rising on her body – on her rear, her thighs, belly and breasts. It hurt, but what bothered O more was the yearning in her loins. “If only he had at least brought me to orgasm,” she thought to herself. “It would have alleviated some of the pain and taken my mind off my thoughts. Thoughts that remind me of what I have become. A slave and whore who needs to be beaten, who on some level craves it. I’m sure that is why he left me like this. To remind me of my condition.”

When O shifted her weight, she could feel the weight of Sir Stephen’s insignia, hanging from the ring that pierced O’s left inner labia. It reminded her of her condition. “Perhaps Henri was right. I need to be flogged to remind me that I am not free I belong to the Master whose insignia I wear at my sex. I need to be reminded that I belong to him; that he is free to do with me as he pleases. To give me to Henri if he should choose. And how could I refuse. I love Sir Stephen. No! That’s not true’ I worship him as if he were a god. What he chooses for me I must accept.”

After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only twenty minutes, Henri reappeared, dressed in a stylish tweed suit. He had a length of chain and several locks in his hand. He looked at O and said, O, I’m going to release you in a bit, but I want you to be here in the room when the workmen arrive to do the remodeling. You are to supervise them. But I want to make sure you stay in the room.” Then he attached one end of the chain to a thick leather bracelet around O’s ankle. He then pulled the chain taut and attached the other end to a clasp in the baseboard of the wall. Doing so, pulled O’s legs further apart. Henri then went to O. He pulled on Sir Stephen’s insignia, stretching O’s labia. He breathed in O’s ear, “Poor thing. You didn’t get to come.”

Then Henri stepped behind O. He heard him unbutton his suite trousers. They fell to the floor as O felt some sort of lubricant being swabbed around her anus. Then she gasped as Henri pushed his member into her.

It was over fairly quickly. Henri stepped back, rebuttoned his trousers and stepped to O’s front. He said, “In a moment, I’m going to undo your hands. My maid will bring you the thin dressing gown to wear. Yes, I know it’s almost transparent and barely covers your ass, but at least you won’t be entirely naked in front of the workmen. Why, you may even sit in the chair here.” Henri nodded to the sole piece of furniture in the room, an overstuffed armchair. “But you will be chained like a dog, unable to leave the room. The workmen will know and probably know your status. Know what you are, O.”

As he spoke, he moved closer and embraced O. She could feel the rough tweed of his suit irritating her nipples. He ran his hand down O’s flat belly to her naked sex. He fondled O. Her clitoris, still free of its protective sheath, responded to his fingers. O moaned slightly.

“They will know that you are a whore and slave, O.” As he spoke these words, O’s body convulsed as the wave of a huge orgasm came over her.

In the end it didn’t matter. Henri came quickly, filling O’s mouth with his discharge. Then withdrawing from her, he slapped O so hard across the face that she saw stars and fell back prostrate on the floor. Mercifully, O passed out.

She awoke hours later to find herself in her bed, Henri’s arms wrapped around her, his hands cupping her breasts. She wondered, “What time is it?” O looked around the room, but there was no clock: however, the room was dark; no daylight shown through the window. Henri stirred in his sleep and squeezed O’s nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. It caused O to moan slightly. Satisfied, Henri murmured, “God! How I love hurting you. It excites and pleases me so much.”

O didn’t reply, but she felt the marks from the whip turning to welts and bruises. She was sure that in several places the dog whip had broken the skin and would probably leave scars. Instead O suffered in silence. In a bit, Henri’s regular breathing signaled he was asleep again. O lay there, waiting for sleep to come to her and hopefully ease her pain.

She thought to herself, “Why am I like that. A woman that men seem to know instinctively that they can hurt. Is it some hidden aura that surrounds me? Do they sense that I need pain in order to feel alive? What was it Anne Marie once told me, ‘O, when a man sees a girl like you he can sense that you are a born slave. A slave who on some level craves and seeks the punishment they will give you. It is in your nature.’ I wonder if Anne Marie was right about me?”

And with these thoughts swirling in her head, O finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Finally, it was over. Henri threw the dog whip onto O’s bed and came to her. He removed the gag and kissed her again, saying, “I love punishing you!” Then he undid the chain that was connected to the leather bracelets on O’s wrists. She staggered and fell into a heap on the floor. Raising herself up some, she looked at Henri and said, “I cannot go on like this.”

But Henri seemed to not hear or care if he did. Instead, taking O by the hair he pulled her face towards his throbbing erection.