O - body and soul

'O, you really could switch roles, you know. I know a good photographer who could do you justice and capture your form just like it is. At its peak. Then even you... - O, I know you are so critical, even if you stay aloof! Even you would then be proud of yourself.'

She had just smiled and hence avoided the subject. She would not be proud, though she might have admired the prints for what they would be: flat, black and white reflections of beauty, but without feeling that 'she' as such had been captured and displayed to be admired.

Looking back at her life before she met René she realised it had been a case of slithering along and avoiding deep involvements and contacts. Perhaps even with herself. Especially with herself. Not that she felt regret. Why regret a past if she had successfully avoided unpleasanteries, let alone scars. She had no regrets. She had not felt lonely or neglected and indeed had not been alone, even if she had not connected.

She would not even have been able to state her condition in terms like those above.

Until the day René had taken her on that car ride to Roissy. That was her defining moment. Meeting René was not. He was just the next handsome young man in a long line. The same age, the same background as the others. Thinking about it, perhaps it had been remarkable that he had not seduced her that first night they met (or she had not let herself be seduced!) She was used to taking pleasures as soon as she took fancies. Was René testing her even then? She did not notice then and does not care now, sitting here in the dungeon. Then, she had merely thought, 'nice man, must remember him' as they said their fleeting goodbyes after the party of their meeting, when she had danced the last few dances with him, René.

It did not surprise her that he had presented himself at the end of a working day at her studio, quite unannounced. She would have been capable of refusing him, had she been so inclined. Instead she let herself be invited to supper. Still nothing really set him apart from all of the others until he dropped her off at her apartment. The taxi was waiting, door open, both of them on the sidewalk, when he kissed her and proceeded to state in no uncertain terms that he admired her body and would not rest until he had had it... No, rather, his exact words had been 'taken possession of it, from the legs upward, passing the sweet vagina and rear, the taille, the shoulders and breasts to your mouth.' Before O had thought to tell him to behave, she had blushed and he had gotten back in the taxi, closed the door and driven off.

Taken possession... Those words were only really realised during that ominous taxi ride. Only then he took possession of her body and, what is more, of her mind. This happened after months and months of conventional courting. He had never repeated those words 'taking possession.' They were lovers, they spent nights together, and he even advanced to be given a room of his own in her ample apartment. But if anyone possessed her body during those days, it would have been herself. Except that she did not think in those terms and did not recognise her body as an entity in its own right. He as her lover had part of her mind somehow; so much she would have admitted to during any hypothetical philosophical discussion, had the matter been raised. Whether that in turn would have implied having part of her body, 'possessing it' ... - she would have looked at the one posing the question blankly.

Then came the car ride after that walk in the park, out of the blue. There was a spell of no work-assignments and O was able to have ample time available for René. After that casual walk he had ushered her to a taxi, or so she had thought at first, that happened to be waiting there for them. She was stripped and essentially abducted to Roissy. The gentle, yet brutal stripping had had the significance of a Big Bang to her. In one stroke she had been made aware of her body as an entity. No! It was stronger. She had been equated to a body, with her mind in tow. René had taken possession. One might say, perhaps, that his taking her (or: her body) was so easy because the ownership was vacant and it was ready for the taking.

O looked down at herself. She felt more in touch with herself than ever before. How simple life appeared to be now that the body had taken the primacy, even now that it was no longer hers. Rather because of this? O was confused. Let René have it, as she had devoted her mind to him.

TWO - Introspection

René, René, René... Oh, my lover, who has brought me here, who possesses me and now has left me alone... Will you ever return?

O... O! Why do you ask yourself this question? Why would he not? And are you not his more than ever? Could he pass up on what is his so unconditionally? Would he have any doubt that you are his?

Did I not prove to be his? Did I not submit to him entirely? My body... That is what he sees. If only he could see my mind! He has seen how willing my body has shown itself. To please him. Please him in whatever way he desired. My body absorbed the pain he saw fit to administer or have or let administered. It opened itself to whoever wished to enter, in whatever way. To him, René, above all - naturally, as I love him. But also to whomever he allowed or consented or asked to enter. Oh, did I not try hard to be theirs too!

But now! I am afraid suddenly! I fear that my willingness to allow total strangers to have me may have alienated myself from him, René, even if it was he that put me in this position and even if by opening myself I only intended to please him, not them. Was I not too eager to please him by pleasing them...? Was I not a whore too eagerly?

All these questions. They torment me! Oh, he has given me time, so much time and so little to do! These questions! They show my doubts! No, create my doubts! Has he cunningly put me in this position? This is true torture. Worse than the pain. Let me not waiver and be his all the more.

The pain! I accept it gladly. In this emptiness it is a relief. A relief from all these terrible thoughts, that René will not return, that I will be in this terrible place forever, with no sense of time or purpose. A relief, because the pain produces a primal emotion and absorbs me totally.  Bless my body! It can feel pain and it can hurt. Thus any of these fretting thoughts of doubt are blocked out. For a little while at least.

The pain! Whoever could have thought pain could addict? That pain could excite, that the only thought could be of more pain, that - mercy! - pain could be orgasmic. When brought to my high, all I am is body - mind no longer -, a factory for tears, cries and orgasmic fluids! Oh, could I endure constant pain and time would stand still mercifully! But the body is feeble and would not have it. Thus the mind and its cursed thoughts will rise again.

Let me be body, an object, a warm, living doll and nothing more. Let me belong to the world.

THREE - What we see

O is seen sitting and staring still at the wall of her little vault, for minutes at the time, without movement but the occasional blinking of the eyes.

Who would recognise the lively young woman of the world, the pretty fashion photographer, who moved with ease in that great and superficial sphere with a witty word here and a flirting smile there, dressed in clothes that became her well and accentuated and enhanced her forms. Thus she competed subtly with the models on the other side of the camera.

Now she has no clothes to enhance her. She is bare. Totally, except for the leather collar around her neck, from which a light chain extends that connects her to the wall, fixing her here in this little universe.

As time passes we see her posture change. Now she sits legs forward, then she squats or she lies on her back, spread-eagled, or with her arms on her belly, or with her legs crossed - oh, so briefly, before she becomes conscious of this sin, blushes and uncrosses herself. The mood of all these postures varies. At times she is self-absorbed and removed from the world, shameless in the purest sense of the world. The associated mood may be contemplative, or instead numb... Not easy to say. At other times she is despondent and restless. At others yet she is serene, proud and erect, displaying herself pertly. She may be hunched forward, have her head in her hands, she may be sobbing. What would be going on in her mind? Of course there are the times when she sleeps. She then is on the rug floor without the facility of a cover. She is never motionless for more than 15 minutes, changing from foetus position right side, or left, to stretched out on her back, or the front, or with one leg standing like an A over the other. When she has awoken she may rise and stretch out to capacity or wiggle the sleep out of her body.

But there... She is restored to the here and now by the arrival of a valet, a disagreeable boorish type, unshaven. Could there be a greater contrast between the pair of them? He is clad, in a fine but antique servant's uniform, and looks the worse for it, coarse as he is himself. He may not be bad, but he appears to be slavishly cynical and capable of executing any order his Masters choose to put to him. O in contrast, even when naked and humiliated by this kind of man, has dignity. She is the lowest in the hierarchy, a thing of flesh, lower than the valet, to whose whims she has been exposed and will continue to be.

We see that he releases the chain that affixes her to the wall behind her and takes her to the little hexagonal side room that serves as a bathroom. All six walls, apart from the doorway, are covered entirely by mirrors, as is the ceiling. He watches her as she does her needs, washes herself and makes up her mouth, rouges her nipples and two nether lips. All this takes her twenty minutes under the steady gaze of the valet. O appears to be used to performing these so private tasks in this way. When done, he blindfolds her, but not before he takes hold of her breasts, lifting them by their nipples and dropping them again, and lightly slapping each of them to the left and to the right, as if testing their consistency. Oh, he would have his way with her too, which he is allowed to at other times when his purpose is not to prepare O for his masters. He finally reattaches her chain to the collar. Sometimes he only leaves her when she has been whipped and her buttocks or back or rather her thighs or belly have been well marked. Usually, however, it is his masters that prefer to execute this task or, as the case may be, a single one.

Here, this time it is a trio of men that arrives. We see that René is among their number, but she has no way of telling this. She would be ashamed to admit this, were she asked the question, but she cannot tell him from the others. This question haunts her every time when the man or men have left after using her: what value is my love for him if I cannot tell whether it is him that enters my vagina or rather my anus, or worse, if I cannot tell his member from the others that are thrust into my mouth, that I cannot recognise his ejaculation from those of others. She does not know that more often that not he is a member of the party visiting, and frequently comes alone. Neither does she know that he has taken to use her mouth in preference to the orifice he was used to using before or the one that has been opened for use here at Roissy, little more than a week ago. Or that he prefers to watch her being whipped rather than whipping her himself. Not that he is shy of this task. This is evident from the instances when he does whip her, when he shows himself as purposeful and relentless as the others. We must conclude that he simply prefers to watch her reactions and the evolving markings.

This time it is indeed he that ravages her mouth when one of the other two relentlessly whips her buttocks with a short, multi-stranded cat whip. Frequently, she feels compelled to scream, but each time René takes hold of her head with both hands and thrusts his member in, thus gagging her. When her buttocks show multiple raised and purple welts on a glowing red background, it is the idle man that takes his turn and uses her anus, slapping his abdomen against her painful cheeks, while at the same time the whipper has now taken René's place. René now watches, whilst he touches his member, which is still out and semi-erect. They leave as suddenly as they arrived. The visit will have taken half an hour. Throughout they have not spoken, let alone addressed O. She is left spent and exhausted and is not even able to lie down on the floor, as the visitors have reattached the chain with very little play at all.  O can just lean against the rough wall she is facing. She supports herself by her hand palms and a cheek. The tips of her breasts just touch the wall. She waits. It seems as if an eternity has passed before the valet - another, not the same one as before - comes to release and bathe her. He finds her in tears. Whether these tears stem from her pain and discomfort or once again from her concern for René? We have no way of telling. The valet pays no attention to them. He releases her and satisfies himself through her vaginal opening from behind. Only then he takes her to the bathroom.