Sir Stephen pushed the table back against the opposite wal and, after having lifted her skirt to show his friends how O was branded and pierced, left her to them. The man she had met at Roissy wasted no time with her: without leaving his armchair, without even touching her with his fingertips, he ordered her to kneel down in front him, take him and caress his sex until he discharged in her mouth. After which, he made her straighten out his clothing, and then he left. But the other man, Eric, who had been completely overwhelmed by O’s submissiveness and meek surrender, by her pierced sex and the welts which he had glimpsed on her body, took her by the hand instead of throwing himself upon her as she had expected, and descended the stairs, paying not the slightest heed to the sly smiles of the waiters and, after hailing a taxi, took her back to his hotel room. He did not let her go till nightfall, after having frantically plowed her fore and aft, both of which he bruised and belabored unmercifully, he being of an uncommon size and rigidity and, what is more being totally intoxicated by the sudden freedom granted him to penetrate a woman doubly and be embraced by her in the way he had seen ordered to a short while before (something he had never before dared ask of anyone). The following day, when O arrived at Sir Stephen’s at two o'clock in answer to his summons, she found him looking older and his face careworn. “Eric has fallen head over heels in love with you, O,” he told her. “This morning he called on me and begged me to grant you your freedom. He told me he wants to marry you. He wants to save you. You see how I treat you if you’re mind, O, and if you are mine you have no right to refuse my commands; but you also know that you are always free to choose not to be mine. I told him so. He’s coming back here at three.” O burst out laughing. “Isn’t it a little late?” she said. “You’re both quite mad. If Eric had not come by this morning, what would you have done with me this afternoon? We would have gone for a walk, nothing more? Then let’s go for a walk. Or perhaps you would not have summoned me this afternoon? In that case I’ll leave….” “No,” Sir Stephen broke in, “I would have called you, but not to go for a walk. I wanted…” “Go on, say it.” “Come, it will be simpler to show you.” He got up and opened a door in the wall opposite to the fireplace, a door identical to the one in his office. O had always thought that the door led into a closet which was no longer used. She saw a tiny bedroom, newly painted, and hung with dark red silk. Half of the room was occupied by a rounded stage flanked by two columns, identical to the stage in the music room at Samois. “The walls and ceiling are lined with cork, are they not?” O said. “And the door is padded, and you’ve had a double window installed?” Sir Stephen nodded. “But since when has all this been done?” O said. “Since you’ve been back.” “Then why?…” “Why did I wait until today? Because I first wanted to hand you over to other men. Now I shall punish you for it. I’ve never punished you, O.” “But I belong to you,” O said. “Punish me. When Eric comes…” An hour later, when he was shown a grotesquely bound and spread-eagled O strapped to the two columns, the man blanched, mumbled something and disappeared. O thought she would never see him again. She ran into him again at Roissy, at the end of September, and he had her consigned to him for three days in a row. And again when she spent a month at his estate in order to settle a gambling debt incurred by Sir Stephen during which he savagely abused and mistreated her.
O was in bed and already asleep when Rene returned to the apartment. As he undressed and slid into bed beside O, he said, “It’s all set now.” O was groggy from sleep, so she didn’t respond. Then Rene ran his hand down her stomach to the soft hair of O’s pubis. She felt his hand slide into her vagina and instinctively opened her legs to accommodate Rene. They made love well into the early morning. O thought something might be in the offering the next day, something for her to prove her love for Rene by suffering a bit as he said she would have to. But, no. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Rene went off to work at the import /export business and O to the studio. Another day passed, and nothing out of the ordinary. It was that way all week. O began to think Rene’s questioning of her love for him was just a quirk or some sort of joke. Then on Sunday afternoon, he said, “Let’s go to the park.”
After they have taken a stroll in the park, and have sat together side by side on the edge of a lawn, they notice, at one corner of the park, at an intersection where there are never any taxis, a car which, because of its meter, resembles a taxi.
“Get in,” he says.
She gets in. It is near dusk. She is dressed as she usually is: high heels, stockings, a pleated skirt, a silk blouse, and no hat. In her leather handbag, she has her identification papers, her compact, and her lipstick.
The taxi moves off slowly, Rene still not having said a word to the driver. But he pulls down the shades of the windows on both sides of the car, and the shade on the back window. She thinks he wants to kiss her or that he wants her to caress him. But instead he says: “Your bag’s in your way; let me have it.”
She gives it to him. He puts it out of her reach and adds: “You also have on too many clothes. Unfasten your stockings and roll them down to above your knees. Here are some garters.”
By now the taxi has picked up speed, and she has some trouble managing it; she’s also afraid the driver may turn around. Finally, though, the stockings are rolled down, and she’s embarrassed to feel her legs naked and free beneath her silk slip. Besides, the loose garter-belt suspenders are slipping back and forth.
“Unfasten your garter belt,” he says, “and take off your panties.” That’s easy enough, all she has to do is slip her hands behind her back and raise herself slightly. He takes the garter belt and panties from her, opens her bag and puts them in, then says: “You shouldn’t sit on your slip and skirt. Pull them up behind you and sit directly on the seat.”
The seat is made of some sort of imitation leather, which is slippery and cold: it’s quite an extraordinary sensation to feel it sticking to your thighs. The taxi is still moving along at a good clip, and she doesn’t dare ask why René just sits there without moving or saying another word, nor can she guess what all this means to him - having her there motionless, silent, so stripped and exposed, in a black car going God knows where. He hasn’t told her what to do or what not to do, but she’s afraid either to cross her legs or press them together. She sits with her hands braced on either side of her seat. “Here we are,” he says suddenly. Here we are: the taxi stops on a lovely road, beneath a tree - they are plane trees - in front of some sort of large estate which can be seen nestled between the courtyard and the garden. The street lamps are some distance away, and it is still fairly dark inside the car. Outside it has begun to lightly sprinkle.
“Don’t move,” René says. “Sit perfectly still.” His hand reaches for the collar of her blouse, unties the bow, then unbuttons the blouse. She leans forward slightly, thinking he wants to fondle her breasts. No. He is merely groping for the shoulder straps of her brassiere, which he snips with a small penknife. Then he takes it off. Now, beneath her blouse, which he has buttoned back up, her breasts are naked and free, as is the rest of her body, from waist to knee.
“Listen,” he says. “Now you’re ready. This is where I leave you. You’re to get out and go ring the doorbell. Follow whoever opens the door for you, and do whatever you’re told. If you hesitate about going in, they’ll come and take you in. If you don’t obey immediately, they’ll force you to. Your bag? No, you have no further need for your bag. You’re merely the girl I’m furnishing. Yes, of course I’ll be there. Now run along.”
Copied and slightly edited from the Blue Moon edition of Story of O, page 3
From the ring that pierced O’s labia, hung a chain and at the end of the chain was a tag with Sir Stephen’s initials on one side, and the crossed whips insignia of Roissy on the other.
After her first night at the Chateau, O was informed she would be given simple tasks in the day time. Tasks like dusting, returning books to the shelves and tending to the fires.
The events from Part IV of the Story of O, The Owl, as seen through the eyes of Natalie. Later in the week, Sir Stephen and O went to the yacht club in the black saloon car to have lunch with some of his English friends. Jacqueline was picked up by the director of a movie for whom she had shot some scenes in Paris. They went off to take some exterior shots. Rene took the small blue sports car to gamble at the casino. Natalie, left by herself was restless. She took the path down to the inlet and swam in the sea, and then lay on the beach in the shade. When she returned to the villa, she went upstairs and changed from her orange swimming costume to a white sun dress. As she descended the back stairs to the kitchen, she heard Norah speaking on the phone. Her voice, which was usually so calm, and spoke perfect French with barely a trace of an accent, was raised. Speaking in an island patois so thick Natalie could barely understand her, Norah said, “she is a slut and out of control, it is because you are too soft and don’t beat her.” When she saw Natalie, Norah finished the call. Her voice more under control, she said to Natalie, “my granddaughter is a slut, my daughter is too kind to beat her.” She moved quietly and smoothly about the kitchen, putting some bread, olive oil, lemon and cheese in front of Natalie. Natalie who was a little conscious of her remaining baby fat, although she was not really pudgy, pushed them away. “Little one, those will become your womanly curves, eat up”. Natalie heard the steel in Norah’s voice and did so.
Note: This conversation between Alessa and her lover took place about a year ago, shortly after the party where O last saw Paul. Alessa’s lover said, “I am bringing up that party because I found out that the girl named O was not exactly who she seemed. I found out that before she met the man named Paul, who by the way works with the American CIA and has since disappeared, O was the lover of a fellow I vaguely know – Rene R. You may know him. Anyway, when he and O were lovers he decided to have her test her love for him by agreeing to go to a place called Roissy. O agreed and about two and a half years ago, Rene took her there.” “And at this place called Roissy – how exactly did she prove her love?” “She willingly submitted to other men. She was basically raped while Rene watched. And she was whipped, too. By men called Masters and the valets who serve them and discipline the girls when the Masters do not wish to.” “Girls? Were there other girls there?” “Yes. At Roissy there are always about a dozen girls.” “It sounds like a brothel.” “Well, it is of sorts; a high class brothel. Rene told me about it, but I thought he was just telling a wild tale. But then I saw the girl named O at the party we went to. Since then I have discretely been asking around about it. It is located here in Paris, well in a suburb of Paris.” “But this girl, O. Why isn’t she with Rene anymore? What did she leave him for a CIA agent of all things?” “She didn’t leave Rene. He gave her away. But not to Paul. She only met him about a year ago. No. Rene gave O to his half brother, an Englishman named Stephen S., but he is known as Sir Stephen.“ “Aha, a knight in shining armor, no doubt.” “Hardly. I understand he was the stern master that O was secretly wanting. He made O his slave basically. He had her whipped often by his maid, a black woman named Norah. And, get this, he sent her to a woman named Anne Marie who basically runs Roissy and had her marked as his property.” “How, did Anne Marie tattoo his initials on her?” “No. She pierced O’s labia so a ring and medallion with Sir Stephen’s crest could be hung there, and branded his initials on her buttocks.” “That sounds barbaric!” “Yes, but isn’t it erotic? In the fall Sir Stephen sent O back to Roissy for further training, but later must have tired of her because he set her free. That’s when she met Paul.” “So this story has a happy ending?” “Well, no. It seems Paul has disappeared and O has gone back to Roissy or somewhere. She too is no where to be seen.” “And you’re telling me all this why?” “Because, Alessa, I want you to go to Roissy.”
Bella imatge d’O fuetejada cruelment per Sir Stephen just abans de rebre la visita de Mister Erik, que la volia adquirir i que, en veure-la, fuig horroritzat.
Rough Translation: Beautiful image of O cruelly whippedby Sir Stephen just before receiving the visit of Mister Erik, who wanted to acquire her and, seeing her, flees horrified.
