A Bestiary of Unnatural Women (19 page)

I should have expected something like this
when I offered to act as O for a week.

Tomorrow is the last day. Gene has to release
me at 9:00 tomorrow night, just about exactly twenty-four hours
from now. I can't imagine what he has planned but I'll be relieved
when it's all over.

I'm not just physically sore, I'm emotionally
raw. At first, I was going to offer to serve as O from Saturday
until the following Sunday, eight days. I'm glad that I decided to
cut it down to just the five weekdays. I don't know if I could have
lasted for any longer. This experience has been far more intense
than I anticipated.

Gene's Diary

Friday, 9 February 1973

Last night was the last night of Roissy and
today's the last day. So I had to take care of unfinished business
early this morning.

I set an alarm to wake me up just before dawn
so that I could wake O, stand her in the middle of the room with
her arms chained over her head, whip her butt and thighs, front and
back, and leave her there to watch the sunrise. She started
whimpering as soon as I turned the lamp on and she saw me standing
over her with the riding crop in my hand. She knew exactly what was
coming from having read it in the book. She knew that this was
going to be the most brutal whipping of all.

It didn't take long to give her the whipping.
I didn't hold back much, this was her last whipping as O so she
deserved a full measure. She screamed after every stroke and was
sobbing most piteously when I turned out the light and left her
standing naked in the dark, her arms still chained over her head,
waiting for dawn.

I wasn't able to get back to sleep after that
so now I'm tired from having to get up so early. Taking care of O
properly is tough work.

For the rest of the day, she'll serve me with
her Roissy dress tied up both in the front and back so that all her
marks are displayed.

All we are going to do today is have sex.
Lots and lots of sex of all kinds. Because she was clear in her
original letter that she considers that sex was the most salient
feature of Roissy – that O was constantly available for use – her
tenure as O should end that way.

Emily's Diary

Friday, 9 February 1973

It's over. Gene gave me the key to the shed
at 9:00 tonight and sent me out naked into the snow to bring back
everything that I'd put in storage last Sunday night: the keys to
the cuffs and my underwear and most of my clothing. Going outside
naked was his final humiliation. That was as close as he could get
to the part at the end of the book where O was taken naked to a
party where everyone else was clothed. He made the analogy clear
because he said pretty much exactly that.

It was dark enough and we have big hedges so
I'm sure that the neighbors didn't see anything, but it was cold
out there so I ran back and forth as fast as I could. It took three
trips. I had a lot of clothes in storage. He turned the outside
lights on when I was out there so I felt like I was on display for
the whole world.

I should say something about the main part of
the day. He woke me up before dawn. As soon as I saw him standing
there fully clothed with the riding crop in his hand and it still
dark outside, I knew exactly what he was going to do because it was
one of the things that was described clearly in the book and I had
installed a hook in the bedroom ceiling in exactly the right place
for the event.

But I had expected it at the beginning of the
week because the event occurred near the beginning of the book. By
now, I thought that he had decided not to do it.

As soon as I saw him, I knew that I was
wrong.

He stood me in front of the bedroom window,
chained me with my arms stretched high over my head, and then
whipped my butt and thighs as hard as he could with the riding crop
from my waist to my knees behind and my crotch to knees in front.
He had not been using his full strength before. I know that now. I
screamed bloody murder and I don't apologize for that. It hurt like
hell. It still does. I suffered a lot more beatings this week than
I expected. And none of them were symbolic. I didn't like it when
it was happening and don't like it now.

But now that it's over, I can forgive Gene. I
allowed him to do it and I can't blame him for taking advantage of
an opportunity when he had it. He won’t get it again. It hurt
something awful, but it didn't kill me.

Now I’m one of the few women in Cleveland to
know what it’s like to be really whipped. That’s something.

Soon, it'll be a memory that I'll be putting
behind me but he'll be holding the same memory close to his heart
for a long time to come. He told me so tonight, after I was no
longer O. He held me tenderly and looked into my eyes and told me
that he loved me and that he'd treasure what I had done for him for
the rest of his life.

He looked so grateful. I guess it was worth
it.

Not much happened in the morning between an
early breakfast and an earlier lunch, I mostly had to stand in the
middle living room with my hands chained to the ceiling wearing my
Roissy dress with the back and front tied up, turning around
whenever Gene asked me to. He tried to pretend that he was mostly
reading the newspaper, but I could see that he spent most of the
time staring at my breasts and butt and crotch. He was looking at
me like he was afraid that he was never going to see me naked
again.

We had a late morning snack at ten thirty,
then Gene said that we were going to play a game for the rest of
the day. He told me to get the vibrator that I bought yesterday.
His 'game' wasn't much of a game. He told me that I was going to be
flipping a quarter and when it came up heads, I had to make myself
have an orgasm with the vibrator. When it came up tails, I had to
give him an orgasm any way I could using my hands, mouth, pussy or
ass. Every time one of us came, I had to set a kitchen timer for an
hour. When it dinged, I had to flip the coin again and make either
myself or him come again depending on whether it fell heads or
tails. He said that I had to keep playing the 'game' until one of
us had come five times.

It's harder than it sounds.

I got the vibrator with the first flip. I've
never had to make myself come in front of anyone before and felt
more humiliated than I had ever felt before in my life. It was more
degrading than anything else that I had been made to do this week.
In the book, even O wouldn't play with herself when someone was
watching, no matter how much they whipped her.

I guess I'm more obedient than O because I
did it. I did it with Gene staring at me throughout. It was bad
enough that he watched what I was doing between my legs, but when I
came, he kept staring at my face like I was some kind of freak.

As soon as I finished, Gene told me to set
the timer for an hour.

When it dinged again, I flipped the coin and
got the vibrator again. It was a little harder to come the second
time, but I didn't feel quite so self-conscious. Gene was looking a
little left out, but he made up the game, so tough.

After another hour, I flipped tails and I got
Gene. I sucked him for a few minutes until he came in my mouth. It
didn't take long. After setting the timer, I had time to fix us
both a mid afternoon snack before it dinged again.

This time, I got Gene again. It was harder to
get him to come a second time, but I got him hard with my fingers
and mouth and then lay on my back and put him inside me. He came
after about ten minutes and I set the timer again.

After another hour, I got the vibrator again.
I was feeling rather sore between my legs but managed to come a
third time after working on myself for a few minutes. I was tempted
to fake it, but I've never faked it in my life and I have too much
pride to do it now. The vibrator really helped; I don't think I
could have done it with just my hands.

Just after five, I flipped again and got the
vibrator for the fourth time. Now I was quite sore between my legs.
It took a long time to come and my orgasm was barely strong enough
to qualify, but it was an honest orgasm. Finally getting there was
such a relief, you can't imagine.

At half past six, I got Gene for the third
time. I made my hands slippery with a gob of Vaseline and worked on
him for a minute to get him hard, then put him on his back and rode
him hard. He didn't come for the longest time and I was almost
exhausted when he finally did it. I was so sore between my legs
that I could barely climb off him.

It was almost eight when I flipped tails and
got him for the fourth time. I was too sore to want him the normal
way again, so I took him up my butt. A week ago, I never dreamed
that a time would come when I’d rather have a man in my butt than
in my pussy, but there you go. Life is unpredictable. He likes my
butt and came after only a few minutes even though he was almost
exhausted.

We never managed to finish his game because
there was less than an hour to go until nine and my week as O was
over. But we both got off four times in one day and that's a lot. I
don't think either one of us could have made it a fifth time.

Instead of continuing his game for the last
forty-five minutes, Gene cuffed my hands behind my back one last
time and spent the time playing with my naked breasts. I never knew
that a man could spend that long enjoying my breasts without
getting bored, especially after all the sex we’d had. But there you
go – a woman never really knows a man until she lets him do
anything he wants to her for a few days.

My breasts were a little sore when he finally
finished but not nearly as sore as my crotch, or my butt that was
bruised and welted almost to the point of bleeding. He unclipped my
hands, and gave me the key and sent me out to the shed where I had
put most of my clothes, as well as the keys to my collar and
cuffs.

It was a mean trick, making me go out to the
shed in the back yard through the snow naked and barefoot to
retrieve my clothes and keys but I understand the reason for
it.

When I got back, he was already running a hot
bath for me. He bathed me, even washing my hair, and then dressed
me in my thickest flannel pajamas and put me to bed.

He told me that he loved me more than he had
known he could love anyone.

I told him that I felt the same way. That is
the honest truth. My body is sore, I’m exhausted, but my heart
feels full to the brim tonight.

Sophia's Diary

Tuesday, 2 December 2008

That's it. I've read the rest of my parents'
diaries and there's no other mention of O or Roissy, no looking
back or drawing conclusions about the effect of their adventure on
the rest of their lives. And there's no indication that they every
tried such a thing again. The last word that either wrote about it
was my mother being put to bed in her thickest flannel pajamas
after five days of suffering and loving my father more deeply than
ever.

I never found any Polaroids of a stripper in
bondage poses. I never found a leather cuff or padlock. I never
found a vibrator among my mother's possessions. There was no enema
bag and nozzle. Nor did I find any copy of “The Story of O” in my
father's workshop or anywhere else in their house.

For all I know, the letter and entire week of
diary entries might have been nothing but fantasies that they wrote
to amuse each other and never acted out in real life.

But they must have amused each other some way
because they stayed married for the rest of their lives; and I've
never met any couple who seemed happier with each other.

Her diary contains one other bit of
information. Every twenty-eight days, more or less, she ends her
diary entry with an “M” printed in red. I was born on the 28th of
October in 1973. The last “M” before she became pregnant with me
appears on 22 January 1973. My mother would have been at the peak
of her fertility during her week of sexual submission to my father.
She was sent to buy condoms but she never wrote that they used any
of them during that week. And I was born about nine months
later.

Maybe I inherited a meme that was implanted
during that week. Maybe that's why I've enjoyed fantasizing about
bondage since I was a child.

Now, I've decided that it's time to find out
if I can translate those fantasies into reality. Yesterday, I asked
my husband if he’d ever read “The Story of O”. He said that he did
and that he liked it.

Christmas is coming. I have a letter to
write.

If my mother could do it for her husband,
then I sure as hell can do it for mine, too.

Topper

“Ya gotta love a good woman,” Clement (“never
call me 'Clem'”) said, giving his wife, Julia, a little pat on the
tush as she walked by.

Julia smiled indulgently as she carried the
over-done roast to the table.

“I know what you mean,” Josh nodded. “Kelly
gives me exactly what I need.”

“Not like Julia, I bet.” Clement leaned
forward and whispered theatrically, “When we're in the sack, she's
got some mouth on her, if you know what I mean.”

Julia had the grace to blush as she took her
seat.

Josh frowned.

Clement drained his third double scotch of
the evening, leaned back, and laughed uproariously. “Didn't mean to
shock ya, Josh,” he roared. “I should'a pegged ya for sittin' on
the prudish side of the fence, eh? I mean, you always act so quiet
an' cool but I know yer just uptight. But Julia and me, we like to
have our fun. Three, four times a week, even. Ya know? We don't
believe in hiding our exuberance. Good word, huh? Exuberance.” He
leaned toward Josh again. “But I understand that not every woman
puts out for her man like ol' Julia, here. Fer shur, it's natural
you'd envy me for havin' a woman who's so happy to accommodate me.
I tell ya, yer Kelly should spend a little girl time with Julia,
here, and she'd learn a thing or two about bein' a good, proper
woman.”