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GINA AND ERNEST’S PALACE OF PLEASURE AND PAIN

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So what else is new?

After two years immersed in The Dark Lust of “The Truth About O (www.truthabouto.com)” with all it’s grim realities I felt the need to write something purely entertaining and sexy with no pretensions to profundity whatsoever.

I teamed up with ace BDSM CGI artist Gina Harper to create an illustrated novel about a secret prison for misbehaving CNC slaves where their Masters and Mistresses can send them off to be disciplined by professionals. The “owners” in question are all rich, of course, so they can afford to outsource the exhausting task of retraining beautiful submissive women to perfect servitude.

Of course, we had to create a secret network to operate this state-of-the-art facility where extreme and extremely erotic sadomasochistic practices create a perpetual state of arousal among prisoners and staff alike. Unexpected intimacies develop, leading to intrigues of all sorts and relationships of the most perverse kind that flourish in an atmosphere of shameless perversity.

The sexual tension is constant and the daily activities are imaginatively debauched, all captured in thirty-plus shockingly luscious and lusciously shocking images created by Gina Harper’s keyboard wizardry.

I’m proud to say this is the without doubt the dirtiest book I’ve ever written and the most fun. It was written and illustrated with blissful indifference to current BDSM orthodoxy and is intended purely to arouse and amuse.

And you can view it starting right now in serialization on Patreon, the crowd-funded site for artists and writers, at  www.patreon.com/palaceofpleasureandpain.  Unlike the inmates you don’t have to do anything bad to gain admittance. Just five bucks per episode admits you to another chapter and another image from this entirely twisted and unexpectedly romantic alternate universe.

For the thirty weeks you’ll have something unabashedly pervy to which to look forward. Check your inhibitions and your clothes at the gate and check it out.

Spoken of only in whispers within the secretive circles where some of the world’s most desirable women are traded as voluntary sex slaves of the most dedicated kind, some think The Palace of Punishment is a myth. The rich and powerful Masters and Mistresses who own these precious properties inflict their cruel, depraved desires on them with a diabolical and ingenious assortment of mental and physical torments. It ‘s certainly not be beyond them to rumor the existence of a specialized prison where errant slaves are subjected to a merciless regimen that inevitably shapes them precisely to their owners’ preferences.   The mere threat of a tour of this highly specialized hell for women is enough to make most slave girls tremble, sweat and, most of all, obey. Most of the collared class would much prefer to believe that The Palace is just another nightmare with which to keep them properly frightened and humbled.

But an even more select group of young women can only wish The Pain Palace, as they call it, never existed: the inmates. Those who have been sent to this remote location, usually by private jets with the window shades down, served their sentences there, endured the harrowing routine of its unbending protocols and returned to serve in utter submission know too well how real the facility is.

In thirty installments cutting-edge render artist Gina Harper and ace BDSM fiction writer Ernest Greene take us inside the palace walls through the illustrated, narrated experiences of three women: Lola, Denise and Lisette, each of whom has been sentenced to this bizarre purgatory where agony and ecstasy are inflicted with equal enthusiasm by a staff schooled in the most sophisticated techniques. Viewers will see what these women endure and readers will know their responses to the experience by the end of terms spent in constant, naked, arousal and suffering as the strange intimacy of the cellblocks nurtures unexpected relationships between ruthless disciplinarians and delectable prisoners.

Each week, a stunning new work of art will appear, accompanied by a narrative no one less experienced in the ways of Masters, Mistresses and slaves could have written, until justice is fully served, raw and shocking.

When you enter these gates prepare yourself for a world of shameless lust and voluptuous cruelty where discipline and debauchery in every form are all in a day’s work.

Check it out now!

https://www.patreon.com/palaceofpleasureandpain

 

The Truth About O-Here At Last!

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First, my thanks to those who have continued to inquire about and wait patiently for my long-promised novel to appear. Most of the delay was occasioned by technical problems setting up the website to sell it and transact the purchases.

I’m happy to report that those hurdles have been cleared.  You can now by a full PDF copy of The Truth About O at www.truthabouto.com for $23.99, not a bad price for a 900-page saga, all taken from true life episodes documenting the rise and fall of one of the oldest, most legendary Sociétés D’O in Europe.  You can check out the beginning of the first chapter at the site free of charge.

For those who didn’t have the opportunity to read the previous excerpts that ran in earlier issues of Kink Weekly this book tells the story of “The League,” once among the most active O-based communities on the continent as experienced through the diaries, emails and interviews assembled by the men and women at the nucleus of the group’s dramatic history.

Centered around a castle outside Vienna, The League provided an environment in which men and women could act out the life of dominance and devotion depicted in Pauline Reage’s taboo-shattering novel, Story of O. Like similar groups in other European countries, The League put its own unique spin on Reage’s narrative, creating what it called “The Philosophy,” a set of rules and rituals by which both the masters and their “Os” (as they preferred to be called) could live out their conceptions of life at Reage’s Chateau d’Roissy.

An extraordinary group of women and men – many of them prominent citizens in daily life – took the tale to new levels of intensity, described in their own words through reams of correspondence.

As we get to know Sabrina, Fabienne, Lila, Federico and Alexander better and better through their own words we cannot deny both our similarities to them and our differences from them. They present us with an amazing and often disturbing funhouse mirror of our own ideas and practices as we pursue our paths through the looking glass of BDSM.

The result challenges all our received ideas about what a life profoundly dedicated to a kind of sexual feudalism, under which ownership and responsibility are inextricably bound, might be like. By turns powerfully erotic, unpredictably humorous and ultimately suspenseful, Truth About O takes readers down the path of what the community called “The Dark Lust,” a powerful desire for ever more intense and extreme D/s experiences.

Much of the journey will shock American sensibilities, as we learn about the stark differences between what we think of as consensual sex play and what The League’s members viewed as a demanding dedication to a set of ideas about sex, loyalty and courage. It is a journey that takes us outside our comfort zone of elegant parties and sensual exploration to extremes where the line is blurred between the pursuit of mutual pleasure and the irresistible need for ever-more-risky adventure.

If ever a book could be described as “not for the faint-hearted,” this is surely it. That all those who lived to tell of the ecstatic highs and harrowing lows of life at and around The Castle share with us their most intimate experiences of The Dark Lust is a strange gift unlike any other saga of sexual exploration we’re likely to encounter It manifests the power to change the way we think about who we are and what we do by admitting us to an alternate universe resembling our own and yet shockingly different in so many ways.

Ultimately, it is both an arousing and sometimes amusing collection of shared experiences at the edge of what we consider “edge play” and a harrowing, cautionary, true story of what can happen when exotic fantasy clashes with the harshness of real life at its most cruel and corrupt.

Our eloquent, insightful narrators leave us with more questions than answers – as much as we can ask of any non-fiction book that addresses the deepest contradictions of human nature.

There is beauty here, and also peril. If you choose to join The League for a few hundred pages, be prepared for the BDSM ride of a lifetime.

A Brief Introduction to Life in the League

What was it like to be an O under the ownership of The League’s masters and Mentors? One of the many gifts passed on by those who had the experience is this document, given to all women entering the community for the first time. It is a tantalizing taste of “The Philosophy” under which masters and Os alike chose to live their lives.

TO MAKE YOUR STAY AT WINDHOF CASTLE MORE PLEASANT

The Rules of the O

The Os are to treat the gentlemen in The Castle with respect.

The O ‘s are to address the gentlemen with “Sie,” the formal address for “you, ” unless given permission to do otherwise.

The O is to lower her eyes while in the presence of the gentlemen in The Castle.

The O always sits at the feet of her master, unless it is otherwise permitted.

The Os never participate in the masters’ conversation unless instructed. Among themselves they keep essential communications to a minimum and convey them in whispers.

Every O in The Castle is always available to every gentleman for unrestricted sexual use. Outside of The Castle, their master or their Mentor decides whether and by whom the O may be used.  Under no circumstances does the O make this decision for herself. The Os shall serve the men in The Castle with drinks, food, or other amenities unless already carrying out a master’s prior orders.
The Os in The Castle wear either the simple, white dress of the novice or remain completely naked. Shoes or any other clothing are permitted only at the discretions of the gentlemen.

For les soirées the dress rule is extended to require the wearing of the regulated O garments. Shoes and stockings are permitted only with approval of the master or the Mentor.

Outside The Castle, the O wears clothing the master or the Mentor deems appropriate.

Articles of clothing which are never allowed:

Any type of undergarments: slips, bras, panties or anything else that covers her intimate parts. Stockings, pants, skirts or dresses of hems below the knee line are also prohibited.

Os are to avoid any clothing that hinders rapid access to the breasts, the genitals or the ass.

The O shall never cross her legs and should always hold her thighs a hand’s breadth apart. Her lips should remain slightly parted at all times.

The O shall always wear a collar and/or The Ring of the O inside The Castle confines as well as in public at all times, except if the master or the Mentor specifically allows otherwise. If a gentleman outside of The Castle recognizes the significance of The Ring of O, he has the right to use the O as he pleases. If she is alone at the moment, meaning if she is without her master or her Mentor, the O is to immediately contact her master or Mentor. The master or Mentor has the right to ask by whom, how much, in what way, where, and how long the O is to be used. The maximum period allowed for such use is twelve hours, unless otherwise negotiated between the men.

Staying at Windhof Castle

Os who spend more than twenty-four hours at Windhof Castle without their Masters are required to be sexually available to any master or any Mentor at any given time. The use of the Os for service and/or any other work on the estate or in The Castle must be ordered by their master and approved by the appropriate Mentor.

The freedom of movement of the Os is generally restricted to the east wing. Entering the west wing is permitted only with express permission and during soirées.

The O shall perform all work assigned at Windhof Castle without any objection, whether outdoors, in the kitchen or in the office. The O shall wear the dress of the novice only if complete nakedness would be inconvenient. Shoes may be worn only if expressly ordered. This rule applies to the entire estate in all weather and during all seasons.

Herr Herrmann is in charge of the delegation of the Os rooms. These rooms may never be locked. Every O must be accessible and ready at any time of the day.

The duration and schedule of activities during the stay at Windhof Castle are the decisions the Mentors and the master of the O.

Punishments

In principle, the master or Mentor should never need to punish an initiated O. If this becomes necessary due to failure on the part of the O, the following basic rules will apply:

  • The whip shall be the primary punishment.

For this, the O is chained between the two wooden posts of the inner courtyard of The Castle. She shall always be completely naked, no matter what time of day, what season, or what the weather is like.

Other means of punishment:

Crops and similar tools may be employed for the bastinado.

A stay in the basement dungeon.

Sexual use by one or more of the workers or servants of The Castle.

Naked marching or being part of a work crew on The Castle grounds.

If the above-mentioned list of punishments is not considered sufficient, a gentleman or Mentor may consult the Mentors’ council, which will examine the offense, listen to both the side of the O as well as that of the gentleman and will then determine an appropriate punishment.

All of the above-mentioned measures can, of course, be demanded regardless of the need for punishment.  The masters, Mentors, gentlemen and guests may employ such techniques entirely for their own pleasure. Disobedience is always met with punishment but punishment may also be inflicted when no offense has been committed.

Goals

The goal of the initiation of an O is for her to learn to follow the rules of Windhof Castle and that apply to the philosophy of the O. The gentlemen, as well as the Mentors, but above all, the Os must honor these rules to the best of their abilities, be of sound mind and of legal age to participate in such activities or have such things done to them.

The goal of the initiation of an O is to formally give her over to her master fully and willingly. By wearing the ring, the O surrenders complete control to her Master.

The purpose of The League is to satisfy erotic desires in accord with the Philosophy of O. All measures, actions and events happen under the mutual understanding of all participants, and all must abide by the requirements of Windhof Castle.

About the Author

For over forty years Ernest Greene has been one of the most prominent figures in the BDSM scene as a writer, an activist, a filmmaker and a participant. During that time he has witnessed and contributed to the evolution of a once small and isolated sub-culture to a thriving and vital part of the larger society’s erotic life.

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and has participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups as well as presenting at national BDSM events including Thunder in the Mountains in Denver, Colorado and GWNN in Austin, Texas.

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999. Greene founded the also founded the highly successful all-artwork spin-off Taboo Illustrated, now in its 72nd issue.

As well, Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

Most recently, Greene authored a new novel, Master of O (Daedalus Publishing), reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. Available in a variety of formats, including a deluxe illustrated version, from Masterofo.com and Stockroom.com, it has been highly praised for its insightful reinterpretation of Pauline Reage’s groundbreaking work of erotic fiction.

It was through contacts inspired by his own novel that Greene came to know the Austrian group modeled on Reage’s Chateau de Roissy, thus obtaining the remarkable non-fiction record of its rise and fall as depicted in The Truth About O, a dark and fascinating series of personal accounts from those who participated directly in that organization’s revelatory and often shocking history.

Initiation of Cora: Part 4

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Red high heels and school cane on wooden background

For Part 3 Click Here

For Part 2 Click Here

For Part 1 Click Here

“I heard I may fuck your mouth without a condom,” said a disembodied voice from above me.

I nodded again.

“But if you let me out I can do it better.”

“Well, well, a rebellious O! I will grant your wish this one time, and think up something else for you afterward.”

I was completely naked before midnight. The guy that removed me from the pillory really wanted to punish me for speaking without being spoken to, even though I blew him and dutifully swallowed everything. He demanded I take off my dress and choose a whip.  The wall of my little pillory cell was festooned with them. He said he intended to take me into one of the larger rooms so more people could watch. When things are done to me I really don’t care who watches and who doesn’t. I chose a snake whip about a meter and a half long – a soft whip that would hurt without leaving any lasting marks – and took it back to him.  He wasn’t bad looking – tall and gaunt with enough gray hair to look a bit distinguished. It wouldn’t have mattered if he were Quasimodo’s twin brother. An O does not choose the men who will torture and fuck her. Her mission is to suffer and serve with grace regardless.   The man got everything ready for my punishment. Three other men had gathered to observe. One of them said I had pretty feet, both an asset and a liability with this crowd.

“We should play with those too,” he suggested helpfully.

They laid me on my stomach over a wooden sawhorse, took off my sandals tied my ankles folded against my knees, leaving my upturned feet available for legs some really painful bastinado. They hit the soles with a riding crop and a bamboo stick until I felt tears burn my eyes. Then they lifted me up and attached me by my arms to one of the rings in the ceiling. The chain was pulled so tight that my body was completely stretched, barely standing on the tips of my toes. The tall man I’d blown before took position behind me while the other two stood in front of me to watch.

“Look at that, she cries.”

“Nice. I knew someone like her would really enjoy the bastinado.”

Is crying evidence of enjoyment? I’d be lying if I denied it might be. My feet felt like they were on fire and my arches were already cramping but it was the thought of being struck again where I had so recently been lashed with the branches that made my eyes spill over.

Behind me I heard the whirring of the whip. As it hit my back the impact made my body lunge forward. I had really hoped for a quieter evening. He only gave me twenty strokes but they were all vicious and aimed at the spots where I was already wounded. When the snake wrapped around my belly I finally let out a good scream, which was all he wanted, I guess. They let me off the chain left me lying on the sawhorse, mercifully facedown.   Through the haze of pain, I realized that I hadn’t been properly fucked yet and wanted to be.

A bit after midnight I found myself fairly exhausted, tied to the posts of a bed with two very painful clamps on my nipples. I had gotten my wish and then some. Four guys fucked me and departed.  I’d come with the third one, who knew just how to work me. I’m not that complicated in this condition.

The door was open, welcoming to anyone interested in visiting me. I’d shut my eyes, attempting to relax a little bit. The clamps on my nipples made this difficult. I heard Federico’s voice.

“Ah, there you are, princess. I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

I opened my eyes and gave him the dirtiest look I could manage. What I actually wanted to say was better swallowed. I’d had enough punishment for today. He gave me that gorgeous little smile, bent down and caressed my left breast almost tenderly.

“I will take them off of you. Be brave.”

As much as the clamps hurt while attached, their bite was nothing in comparison to the agony that occurred when they came off and the blood flowed back into the points of my breasts.  I must have reared up and moaned pretty loudly because Federico released my hands and feet, took me in his arms, caressed my hair and kissed me softly on the head.

“Time for a little break, princess?”

I nodded gratefully.

At these events Mentors were allowed to remove their O’s from the game to go pee, have something to drink, or if they were simply unable to continue with the rest of the evening. This wouldn’t happen in The League, but at less serious events like, a Nuit d’ O, it was generally permitted to take a girl out of action.

Federico sat me down at the bar, removed my red collar and set it down on the counter, a signal for all other men to leave me alone. He got me some water and disappeared to find my dress and sandals.

I didn’t see his caring side often, but was very fond of it and thankful when he let it show. I couldn’t be happy with a man who was too kind but when I feel kindness has been earned with suffering, I welcome it gladly.

Some of the other O’s still stood against the wall opposite the bar. They hadn’t been used at all this evening, at least not as yet. They were pretty girls and willing, seeming a bit forlorn about remaining unclaimed. Who knows why certain girls are chosen and others not? There were only three or four men milling about, the rest busy enjoying themselves in the back rooms. I jumped from the feeling of a cool hand on my back. A strangely dark but pleasant feminine voice tried to reassure me.

“The marks on your back aren’t that bad, little one. Tomorrow you’ll barely be able to see them. Alas for your butt though. Did they do that today?”

The woman who belonged to the voice was about thirty. She wore a dark blue O dress with gold and silver trim made of the finest silk. It must have cost a fortune. The dress went well with her blue and black peep-toes and black-painted toenails. She was tall. Her full breasts, which had been skillfully augmented, sat atop her bodice as if on a throne. Their upper curves were covered in light welts. Her eyes were bright blue. In every way, she was a rare beauty.

“No, the butt is a souvenir from yesterday. I was punished for arriving late.”

She caressed a few swollen stripes on my hip.

“Someone quite sadistic must have gotten his hands on you, hmm?”

She had a distinct Viennese accent.

“Not just his hands either.”

Turning towards her I noticed a tattoo in ornate lettering reading “Roissy” on her smoothly shaved pussy, She had thick, rosy labia. The right one was pierced with two golden rings. They glistened in between her lips. She was either freshly used or very aroused.

“What’s your name?”

“Sabrina. You?”

“Lucia. I belong to Leo, the big bald guy over there. We go to these events three or four times a year. And you?”

“My mentor is Federico. He’s in the back right now looking for my clothing. We belong to The League. Ever heard of it?”

She shook her head.

“I haven’t but maybe Leo has.”

I took a sip of water and smiled at her.

“It gets a bit rougher there than here,” I said.

She smiled back at me, making her even more beautiful.

“I don’t really care for pain. I just tolerate it here for Leo,” she explained. “But I do enjoy being fucked roughly. Even by numerous men.”

She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’ve only been fucked here twice so far. It’s a bit disappointing.”

I had to laugh. I had been thinking that same thing not so long ago. It had been a careless and costly wish.

“Are you allowed to play with other Os?”

“Well, why not? Are you interested?”

I pointed at the open “V” of her legs.

“You have a very appealing pussy. I’d like to lick it.”

     Before she could answer, she averted her eyes and curtseyed perfectly, then took a step back.

“Your things, princess,” Federico said. “Get dressed and finish your conversation later. Cora’s initiation begins in ten minutes.”

He gave Lucia a look, cradled one of her breasts in his hand.

Pretty. Very pretty. Who do you belong to?”

“Leo.”

“Hm. I don’t know him. When Cora’s whipping is over, you will report to me. I will use you then. You are available anally, I hope?”

“Yes, Sir. As you wish.”

Lucia obediently kept her eyes down.

I touched his arm.

“Federico, may I ask you something?”

Without taking his eyes off Lucia he granted me permission to speak.

“If you use Lucia, may I participate? I like her, and want to lick her. She has such a nice pussy, have you noticed?”

He shot a look at her pussy, then back at me and smiled that smile.

“You are a shameful slut. But yes, of course you can participate. When I fuck her in the ass, you can lick her pussy and my balls.”

A bell chimed loudly and suddenly. The liveried servants entered the room. One of them had a little stool with him. He stepped up on it and attached a small pulley strung with black rope to a hook in the ceiling. A carabiner dangled from each end of the rope. The ring in the ceiling was located near the entrance through which people flowed in, one after the other.

Cora’s initiation was imminent.

Cora and the Consigliere joined us at the bar. Leo waved Lucia over to stand by him.

Cora seemed tense, understandably.

“Nervous?” I asked her quietly.

She nodded.

“Scared,” she whispered back. The Consigliere laid his hand on her back in a calming gesture. His expression was serious for reasons of his own. I often wondered what he was thinking. It wasn’t always easy to tell. Did he have reservations about his new O?

If Cora had been my O, I would have had doubts. She had told me more than once that she felt drawn to The League and fascinated by the ways of our community. She adored the Consigliere but really feared the pain of the whip and being used by so many strange men. I wondered if this life was truly right for her.

We would soon see how wisely Alexander had chosen.

Two more liveried servants, along with the host, made their way to the center of the room.

The benefactor of the Soiree, I will call him Charles, was about fifty, with sparse, graying hair and a bit of a paunch. He wasn’t tall, but wore a very expensive black-vested suit, a white-silk shirt with shiny cufflinks and a bowtie. His black shoes were polished to a high shine. He was quite the elegant and authoritative lord of his modernistic manor, yet another man who stood taller on top of his wallet.

Charles opened his arms in an inviting gesture, summoning the flock of guests to gather round. The bell sounded again to quiet them down. Before Charles could speak, a female cry of agony ripped through the silence, followed by another, and another. One of the servants hustled out and the silence was quickly restored, though the screams lingered in the mind like a jarring note in a symphony.

“Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to welcome you this evening and to host a soiree d’ O in our home again,” James proclaimed.

He spoke German with a unique accent I couldn’t place. He repeated the welcome in a Slavic language, then in English.

“We have the honor today to witness an initiation. Again, a beautiful young woman has chosen to follow the rules of O and to join our kind.”

As he spoke, he slowly turned to Cora and Alexander.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce Alexander and Cora from Vienna.”

There was quiet applause as Cora came forward with her eyes averted to stand under the ring in the middle of the ceiling. Alexander never took his hand from her back.

“Are you ready?”

Charles’ question was directed at Cora, but his eyes were on Alexander, who looked over at his new O. Cora nodded bravely. Alexander also nodded, then took his hand from her shoulder, stood behind her and began unlacing her corset.

Charles turned back to the audience.

“According to our rules, Cora will now receive the whip.”

He reached out to take a two-meter-long blacksnake from a servant. Charles held it up for the audience to see. It was exquisitely made, with a wooden handle covered in leather and a silver emblem on the pommel.

“She will be given five dozen strokes. Per the requirements of this rite, she must be completely naked and remain naked the rest of the evening.”

Alexander finished with the laces. The corset fell open on Cora’s back.

Two servants entered with a type of spanking bench about the height of a table. They set the bench down next to Cora. Two O’s appeared with four men. One of the O’s, a tall, lean brunette in a red dress, had been crying. Her makeup ran in streaks down her face. As she walked over to her companion and fell into his arms I noticed her corset was open behind. Her entire back from shoulders to thighs was striped with welts from a crop, some bloody. Her companion took a look at the evidence, ran his fingers over her ass, smiled and whispered something in her ear.

Charles resumed his duties as master of ceremonies.

“Gentlemen, this is the bench where Cora will service all of you sexually after the whipping is complete. She will be available to everyone present, including my servants.”

He looked over at Cora, who was just slipping out of the rest of her dress. She shook visibly, carefully keeping her balance as she slipped off her shoes. A spotlight beamed across the room to where she stood, naked and trembling, to be whipped.

She was radiantly lovely in this moment, the few small tears glistening in her pretty blue eyes making her even more so.

“The Soiree will end at three a.m. I request the gentlemen be finished with Cora by that time. Thank you very much.”

As he delivered the same information in two more languages I watched the eager gazes of the men and the strangely envious expressions of the women as they eyed Cora’s naked body. None of them would have wanted to trade places with her for this particular ceremony but all would have loved to be the center of so much attention.

“I wish everyone a libidinous night and a safe trip home,” Charles concluded. “Let the initiation begin!”

Everyone applauded. One of the servants lifted Cora’s hands, climbed up on the stool and clipped both her wrist cuffs to the karabiner on one end of the rope. He grabbed the other end, jumped down off the stool and began to pull. Wheels rolled in the block under the ceiling, stretching Cora until her heels lifted and she stood on the balls of her feet. Like a sailor, the servant belayed the loose end of the rope around a hook fastened to the wall.

Two more servants flipped up rings set in the floor, spread Cora’s legs and connected her ankle cuffs to them.

Dangling on the tips of her big toes, clinging with her hands to the rope above her, Cora pressed her lips together, for the moment uncaring about The League’s minor prohibitions as she braced herself for what was to come. There is a difference between tough and being stubborn. Cora was about to learn it the same way we all had.

One of the servants – tall, bald and muscular – slipped out of his livery bottoms and shirt to reveal an impressive and impressively tattooed physique. His brutish nakedness, the more so for the enormity of his cock which grew hard just at the contemplation of the cruelty ahead, seemed to make Cora’s all the more delicate. Charles gave him the whip and signaled him with a quick hand movement. Cora now belonged to him until his work with her was done. The tattooed man stepped in behind her and unrolled the whip. He glanced at Alexander who still stood next to his O.

I saw Alexander whisper something in Cora’s ear but she didn’t react at all, keeping her eyes closed tight. Alexander whispered something else. This time Cora nodded.  I didn’t have to hear the words to know what was said. In this place a new life begins with a nod. The Consigliere softly caressed Cora’s back and stepped aside.

The tattooed man weighed the whip in his hand, gauging the distance between him and Cora’s naked, light-skinned body. Then he wound up the leather coils.

The hiss of the whip shooting through the air through the air was very familiar to me. So was the snapping report it produced as it made contact with Cora’s flesh. The pain that followed was the part I remembered best.

Watching this made me very wet again. My pussy didn’t seem at all troubled by the two-dozen fucks it had endured thus far. My asshole still burned like hell of course and the rest of my whipped ass was anything but comfortable. As usual, my pussy was indifferent to my miseries elsewhere. No, that’s not quite right. My pussy wants what the rest of me dreads.

Cora’s pelvis thrust forward with each blow of the whip, forcing her to display herself obscenely. She moaned at the first few strokes, sounding almost surprised. She had underestimated the magnitude of the pain, just as I’d suspected.

After a few lashes to her ass the tattooed man stopped to gather Cora’s black hair and push it forward over her shoulder. That way he had a clear shot at her back.

He reassumed his position and flung the whip down across her shoulder blades. I thought I saw beads of sweat on Cora’s cheeks. Or were they tears?

A dozen strokes later Cora’s moans rose to cries. Every bite of the whistling leather brought more anguish. When the whip first hits it doesn’t hurt all that much, except when the end wraps around, accelerating until that nasty split cracker hits you someplace in front. But no matter how accurately the whip is used the pain builds, intensifying fairly quickly. It’s especially terrible when the tip hits the soft parts: the armpits, the upper rib cage, on the tits or around the pelvis. It’s pretty much impossible to hold back a cry when these spots are struck.

Whether I screamed loudly, or whether I screamed at all, while being whipped, I can’t exactly say. Under such circumstances, and also when being used by strangers, I would basically drift off. I can’t remember many details.

By the second dozen lashes, Cora screamed at the top of her lungs with every stroke. Tears cascaded over her face. At one point, her gaze searched frantically for Alexander. He nodded to her softly. At that very moment the whip curled around her entire body, the business end landing right on the side of her breast. Cora’s eyes shot open. She shrieked and began shaking her head. A second circling strike followed. This one struck a bit above the other, drawing a fine, red line right under her nipple.

I have seen these things many times before, as well as experiencing them personally. Perhaps I have become insensitive from overexposure but the sight of agony hardly moves me. It’s the sound I can never get used to.

“Ahhhhh…no, no..aaaaaghhh!”

God, I wanted to cover my ears, but that was not permitted.  Any sign of distress by any of us O’s would only make us a part of that distress.

Cora sobbed desperately. She couldn’t stop shaking her head. The next blow was the worst, slashing directly across Cora’s left nipple. The tattooed man seemed to be a master of this discipline. Federico came up behind me, his strong arms circling my corseted waist. He asked quietly if I was enjoying the show. He also reminded me that Cora’s troubles were none of my concern, a warning I knew better than to ignore.

After that particularly vicious cut the tattooed man paused again, gesturing to one of the servants to approach. They spoke quietly for a moment.

Cora panted, hanging by her cuffs. Her head fell forward, still shaking back and forth. Her voice was soft, but clear.

“No, no. Stop. Enough. Please…”

I was actually grateful for the distraction of Federico’s hard cock rubbing against my exposed, wounded backside through the fabric of his trousers. Spectacles of this kind always excited him, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing for me. To say I’m not cautious by nature is to say the obvious, but I had learned to step lightly around my Mentor when his blood was up.

Alexander gave Federico a look and walked over to Cora. His fingers ever so gently swept the hair out of her face. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I imagined them glazed over and brimming.

The Consigliere whispered in Cora’s ear as before. The tattooed man appeared again and took hold of Cora’s hair, tying it back with a rubber band. Then he lifted her long, beautiful tresses up and fastened them to the rope with another rubber band. Now her head could no longer fall forward. We could all watch her beautiful face as she struggled to endure. Alexander held her chin up with two fingers, wiped the rivulets from her cheeks with his other hand and spoke softly to her. Then he let her chin go and took a step back without breaking eye contact. He must have cautioned her about her lips. She parted them slightly while she steadied her body as best she could by pressing her toes firmly to the floor. She nodded slowly to Alexander to signal that she was as ready as she would ever be.

The Consigliere gestured to the tattooed man to continue. I would really like to know all he had said to Cora in that moment. I can guess; probably something about how this was the test that she had to pass to have the life she wanted and that she would survive as all of us have. But that is only my imagination of it. The Consigliere had a way of speaking with women that was different from other men. He appealed to something within a woman that no one else could see.

After the five-dozen strokes Cora’s frantic sobbing had subsided. She seemed more in control now even as she hung limp, covered in sweat and shaking lightly, from her restraints. Two servants approached her to loosen the rope and unhook her cuffs.

Then I saw Charles standing behind Cora. Two O’s in front of him massaged and sucked his penis to get it hard.

He motioned for the servants to lay Cora face down on the bench. She gripped its wooden legs so hard her knuckles whitened, her head hanging down over the front end. Her feet came to rest behind the back legs, vulnerable soles up.

Charles moved in closer. One of the O’s slipped a condom over his penis. He grabbed Cora’s bright-red ass cheeks, pressed his cock against her vulva and plunged deep into her hole.

Cora reared up and screamed once again. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back down. Whatever there was in her that had not been broken by the whip would now be broken by the instrument men always have with them.

Charles started slowly and rhythmically but soon began to fuck her faster and harder. I took a look at her back. Thin red lines were visible all over it, running diagonally in a crisscross pattern from her shoulders down to the backs of her legs. The marks on her flanks seemed darker. Some of the strokes had hit her breasts, stomach and lower lips quite brutally, leaving marks there as well.

When Charles finished with a final thrust, the servants formed a line, the tattooed man in front. All of them fucked her from behind vaginally, pulling out of her cunt right before they would have ejaculated. They removed their condoms, went around to the front the table and stuck their cocks in Cora’s mouth, where they came immediately. It was a ritual dance they all knew well.

More and more men approached the new O. I watched, fascinated, as the growing crowd of spectators moved in. I felt a cool hand on my shoulder. Lucia stood next to me naked now except for her shoes.

“Come, beautiful. Your Federico is waiting for us.”

Once more, Alexander’s words came back to me:

“Devotion is not a question of submission. Love, lust, and sometimes curiosity will elicit devotion. But the woman who is devotes herself must also be very strong for her surrender to have meaning.”

 

About The Authors:

Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.

 

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.

 

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.

 

Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

 

Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization.  His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.

 

Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex  worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as  “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode.  Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.

Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com

The Initiation of Cora: Part 3

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Red high heels and school cane on wooden background

For Part 2 click here 

For Part 1 click here

Wherever there is enough money there is a woman willing to do nearly anything to get it.

Tonight was Daniela’s first public appearance since losing her final hunt. I can imagine why she’d stayed out of circulation for a while after that gruesome experience.

Herrmann slowed down a bit and we turned into a parking area in front of a well-lit pub. The parking lot was huge. On a Saturday night it was bustling with about a dozen small and large semi-trucks, many motorcycles and ranks of cars.

Herrmann took his time finding a spot while Daniela squirmed miserably in her seat. He finally parked and got out, walking around the vehicle and opening the sliding door to the middle row. Since Daniela sat to the far left we all had to climb out with her. I wasn’t standing next to the car for twenty seconds before someone whistled loudly and a man’s voice shouted something in Slovakian.

Daniela clasped her gown in front of her to cover her naked breasts and looked to Herrmann for help. He motioned with his head for her to follow him and walked toward the pub. The man who had whistled gathered up some of the others standing by their motorcycles. A crowd began to form, cutting off Herrmann and Daniela. It was difficult for Daniela to hold her gown shut in the front but she did her best, too well aware of what could be revealed at the slightest misstep. The urgency of her pent-up need made concentration even harder. Not a great condition to be in when entering a place like this.

I turned to Federico.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

He peered after them, just like Franklin and the Consigliere. He waved away my concerns with a casual hand gesture.

“You don’t have to worry about this, Princess.”

My insides frequently boiled with anger when Federico and Franklin were together. They brought out the worst in each other. Often Alexander’s good sense kept them out of serious trouble but I always worried about Federico’s impulsiveness and what consequences it might have during a momentary lapse of Alexander’s attention. I saw Herrmann and Daniela stop and stand in front of the group, but due to the noise from the traffic, I couldn’t make out what was being said. I mean, Herrmann was two meters tall and about as wide, but against these six or seven guys he was really going to have some trouble if things got serious.

Cora nudged me. She was able to hold the gown together at the top to hide her breasts, but if you were to have looked closer, you could have seen her naked pussy.

“Can Herrmann speak Slovakian, or who is in charge now?”

I shrugged my shoulders carefully, clutching at the front of my own gown. Just meters in front of us, two juveniles walked by and stared at us blatantly.

“No idea. Really, no idea.”

The men suddenly burst out laughing. Daniela pulled up the gown in the front. Everyone stared at her as she displayed herself.  That seemed to work, as Daniela closed her gown and disappeared into the venue with Herrmann following slightly behind. The crowd, however, seemed to be waiting for her return. Cora and I stood next to the car, clasping our clothing and hoping this small interruption would soon pass. I had a bit of experience with these “open” sessions and knew how fast something like this could get very uncomfortable. Cora was cold and nervous about her approaching initiation. This situation wasn’t helping with that either.

Daniela and Herrmann emerged from the building side-by-side after about ten minutes, the time it usually takes for a woman to use the restroom. Everything seemed to have gone well inside. In front, however, the men with the motorcycles were still waiting. I looked at the Consigliere and then to Federico. Alexander leaned on the open passenger door where he carefully observed the situation. I knew some things about Alexander’s past that were slightly reassuring. He was no stranger to tense encounters.

Federico and Sir Franklin went on discussing trusts and paying little attention to what was happening outside.

My eyes met Federico’s. He detected my irritation at what I felt to be a completely avoidable and possibly perilous interruption of our journey.

“Relax, Princess. Herrmann has things under control. If you annoy us, I will think up something very special for you during the Soiree tonight, understood?”

I knew this threat from Federico was to be taken seriously. He wouldn’t hesitate to make good on it, possibly resulting in a great challenge for me. My sore ass was a cautionary reminder of what that could mean. I don’t know and will never know if I ever really loved Federico, but at that moment I was quite sure I hated him.

At the same time, what he said triggered a surge of fear, anticipation and horniness in me. I had been hot between the thighs all day. Familiar with the soirees, I knew I would be had by many men with plenty of crops, whips, wax, and more to cause me pain or pleasure at their will.  

As always, these prospects inspired a delicious fear hard to describe. It was exactly this edgy apprehension that made my cunt drip like a leaking faucet. My dark desires.

Herrmann and Daniela stood in the middle of the group for a few moments. They were all laughing and talking in Slovakian. Again, I was reminded of what a useful man he was to The League Herrmann was. The guys all laughed now, one of them rubbing his crotch. We were not safe yet.

Herrmann stepped behind Daniela, pulled her gown apart, removed it and laid it over his arm. He took her by the wrists and held them behind her head. What remained of the dress now presented her breasts and pussy perfectly. For ten minutes the hands of the lead motorcycle guy were all over her. At one point I heard her scream out shrilly. She told me later that the guy in leathers had rammed three fingers all the way into her cunt.

Fortunately for her, ten minutes was all they got. Herrmann pushed the mob to the side and Daniela, stumbled on uneasy legs across the parking lot towards us. She was shaking hard when she got in the car.

“Let’s go ladies,” Herrmann said. “The show is over.”

Cora and I helped the still-trembling Daniela back into her costume. She looked none the worse for her ordeal but the memory of terror lingered in her eyes.

We drove south from Bratislava in the direction of the Danube. In a small and unremarkable village, Herrmann suddenly turned up a narrow but well paved alleyway. After about a kilometer the asphalt ended at a wrought-iron gate, which stood open.

Spotlights had been affixed on both the yellow-painted stone pillars to light the entryway. Between the two pillars stood six men in black suits. Their heads were all shaved and the smallest of them was the size of a refrigerator. Their purpose in being there wasn’t hard to guess.

Herrmann uttered a code word to the chief security guy, who had a headphone plugged into his ear. Herrmann showed him our six invitations. We were waved through. Yet another security guard showed us to our parking spot. The three of us women teetered along the white gravel, followed by our Mentors, toward the entrance. Torches burned everywhere. Their warm light mixed with the long shadows poured into the courtyard, creating an unearthly golden glow.  The house was long and large with a flat roof in the contemporary style. It oozed wealth, typically for the locations of soirees. The wind was bitterly cold under my gown. My feet were like blocks of ice in those sandals, but comfortable compared to yesterday’s harrowing hike through The Castle’s fields.

A final security detachment greeted us at the entrance, checking our invitations one more time. Nothing here would be left to chance except our fates. The double doors opened and we stepped into the warmth of a sprawling hallway. The melody from the 1975 film starring the wonderful Corinne Clery drifted from hidden speakers.

In front of a mirror on the back wall stood a woman of fifty-something in breathtaking O garb and a golden mask. She greeted us with an elegant curtsey. She had large, natural looking breasts with dark areolas and erect nipples, supported by her bodice like ours. From her fully shaved triangle hung silver chains that jingled softly as she moved. The woman introduced herself in English as Nadine and ushered us into a side room while the men were taken into the bar area by another blond woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere, dressed identically to Nadine. I recognized her but not from The League. It was not unusual to run into guests familiar from elsewhere at these events, but bad form to mention it. I was still trying to figure out who she was when three men dressed in livery appeared in the deep, narrow coatroom. Each held a thin fiberglass cane in hand. Nadine spoke softly.

“These men will do the inspection, ladies. Remember the rules of an O. They are taken very seriously here and the punishments are harsh.”

With that, she was gone. I looked down obediently and listened as her chains jingled off into the distance. The men with the fiberglass canes circled us, closely checking out every detail of what we wore, how our faces were made up, our postures and the neatness of our trimmed foliage. We must have passed muster, as we were shown out into the vast, high-ceilinged entry hall.

On this chilly March night, not far from Bratislava, Cora would or would not become an O of The League. Federico and I had only been to a “Nuit d’ O” once before. At such events the elements of the novel and film weren’t merely mimicked. They were literally reenacted. The women at this soiree all wore beautiful dresses like ours – the garments worn at Roissy: expensive materials meticulously fitted, tightly laced bodices and strategically draped-open skirts. Everywhere I looked I saw naked breasts, exposed pussies and bare asses. Most of the women were shaved completely, though some had small, trimmed triangles or “landing strips” as the Consigliere liked to call them. Many of the women wore rings or chains on their nipples and bits. Some had tattoos on their breasts, pubic mounds, or derrieres with the symbol of O, or some design indicating ownership by a certain man. I saw at least four women with brandings on their tailbones or shoulders. I was spared such things primarily because Federico understood the ins and outs of the modeling business and knew that tattoos, piercings, and brandings would have ended my promising and lucrative career.

All of the women wore very high, very beautiful and very expensive shoes. Many also wore silk stockings. I think Cora and I were the only women with naked feet in sandals. This may have had something to do with the time of year, when the cold always reminded us of how easily we could be made to suffer, but more likely our lack of stockings reflected the love for beautiful feminine feet shared by Federico and the Consigliere.

I found this kind of initiation much more elegant and dramatic than the ones held in The Castle, which were less formal and more practical. I really liked the exquisite costumes, the splendid house, the elegant atmosphere, the candles, the music and, of course, the champagne.

The liveried men instructed us sternly in Slavic-accented German. We were to keep our eyes averted in the presence of all men and were only allowed to speak if spoken to. We were to keep our legs apart at all times and forbidden to cross them under any circumstances. Our painted lips were to be slightly parted at all times, whether to receive a tender kiss or a hard cock.

If any of the men present, including all guests and servants of the house, showed even the smallest interest in us, we were to touch our breasts, asses or pussies and encourage further exploration. The degree of our availability was signified by the colors of our collars. The liveried men explained the meaning of each color, though Daniela and I were already familiar with how they were coded.

Green collared O’s were not to be used prior to the midnight ceremony, although they could be touched and examined everywhere. The only green collars were worn by Nadine, the wife of the owner of the house and organizer of the event, and by Cora. A black collar meant only sexual play was allowed: no restraints, no suspension, no whipping. For blue-collared O’s, torture of any kind was permitted but no sexual use. Not surprisingly I saw only two of these. Either the wearers were extreme masochists or their owners had purely sadistic motives.

Red-collared girls like me were assured of a busy night. We were subject to nearly unlimited sexual use – oral without a condom, including swallowing service, (thanks, Federico.) as well as vaginal and anal penetration with protection. I was happy with the last part because this wasn’t always the case in The League.

I knew I could and almost certainly would be tortured in one way or another. I felt a little shaky in the knees at the thought but also a fresh upwelling of heat through my sore cunt. My body thinks with more than one organ at a time it seems.

It was the job of the liveried men to assure that any misunderstandings were taken care of discreetly and that the rules were followed to the letter.

All of the attendees seemed aware that tonight was Cora’s initiation and that she would receive her ring. She was congratulated by many of the other women and assured that everything would be wonderful and that she should enjoy the process of becoming an O. As if whips, clips, wax, and who-knows-what wouldn’t hurt like hell and the men wouldn’t act like complete animals who expected to brutally ram an O in the cunt, ass or mouth this would surely be a delightful occasion for Cora. I looked away so she wouldn’t see my sardonic grin.

My rump was still covered in severe marks from yesterday. The hazelnut switches didn’t just hurt at the moment of impact. The pain lingered long afterward. Imre and his colleague had really hit me hard. Their forty-eight strokes had left my ass cheeks a deep red color, severely welted and even lightly cut in a few places. Looking in one of the grand, guilt-framed mirrors on the walls I saw how my bottom glowed underneath the canopy of my hiked up dress like a baboon butt. Nobody seemed troubled by the evidence of my recent punishment. Such marks were seen as trophies by many of the women. I received plenty of admiring looks and not one bit of sympathy. I doubted they knew or cared what sins I’d committed to win those trophies.

We sat at one of the polished wooden tables spotted around the green marbleized walls – okay I stood most of the time because of my baboon butt – sipped champagne and scooped delicious canapes from passing trays. We socialized with other O’s but lowered our eyes when any of the liveried men came near us. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, a tall, stout man appeared – dressed in a dinner jacket like many of the others but decorated with a red sash appropriate to the opera ball – and asked us to follow him in a straight line. We hurried along behind him in a neat rank as we’d been taught. Following him through the entryway past a bar with a piano, I began to wonder what the owners of this house did all day long. Probably, like most of their class, not a lot.  We clacked on over the marble floor in our high heels to a narrow, curved stairway winding down toward an underground level.

It was cooler down there but still not uncomfortably cold, in contrast to the cellar of The Castle, where simply being naked in winter was a punishment in itself. Electric torches with retro-style bulbs flickered everywhere, casting a subdued light to go with the low music. Vangelis was still a favorite of orgy crowds then, which probably dates me in a way I’d wiser avoid. We arrived in a large, vaulted area of old stones and arches, like a catacomb. It must have cost a fortune to construct this medieval retreat beneath a modern mansion. On one wall at yet another bar (hardly in short supply around here) about thirty men in evening dress loitered and gawked, drinks in hand. Due to the averted-eyes ruIe I couldn’t count them accurately, eventually a matter of direct concern no doubt. Our group of about twenty O’s lined up at the wall opposite the bar. We kept our hands at our sides and stood with our legs a bit apart, so the men could see everything that interested them, all framed perfectly by the ingenious design of our dresses.

I’d sized up a few of the O’s before in the waiting room. The oldest of us was in her mid-forties with billowing breasts (one adorned with an “O” tattoo), short black hair and relatively heavy makeup. Her O dress was brown and beige and her noticeably long labia were decorated with three heavy metal rings. She was attractive and quite poised with a haughty look about her.

The youngest one was barely twenty, thin but busty, with curly dark brown hair and a very pretty if rather empty face. She wore an obviously cheap O dress in red and black with a pleated skirt simply slit in front and back. He skin was light, almost white. She could barely walk in her very high plateau sandals, which were a whorish red to match the dress. Her red fingernails and toenails also matched and gold rings decorated her nipples.

It had been made clear during our training that we were not to develop personal affections among us (though of course we did), but rather to concentrate on competing for the men’s pleasure. So I did what I’d learned to do – remain cool, friendly and remote from my sisters lest someone else’s problems become mine. Still, though unspoken, my worries about Cora remained at the back of my mind. I’m not quite the heartless bitch I often appear. She had many of the qualities of an O – powerful appetites and a certain appreciation for the aphrodisiac effects of fear and pain. But The League was not a weekend resort where one came and went. It was a life to be lived inside The Castle or out. I wasn’t sure Cora was right for that life. This was one of those problems not to be made my own.

We were introduced one by one. One of the liveried men read from a list that included real names as well as nicknames of the men and O’s. Each of the men stepped forward to be presented with his O and to enumerate her likes, her dislikes and her limits. Federico surprised me with the announcement that I would be available orally without protection. I had highly regarded skills in this department and preferred to demonstrate them bareback, though not with so many strangers in attendance. Moreover, I don’t like the taste of semen mixed with alcohol and knew that by midnight there would have been plenty of drinking.  I wasn’t sure if this was a demonstration of pride in the skills of his O or revenge for my equally well-known attitude, which annoyed Federico and almost all the other members of The League at one time or another. Otherwise, I was free to be used without any unusual restrictions. Genital or anal penetration required condoms and senseless beatings that could cause irreparable damage were frowned upon in these circles. But clearly, I would be harshly tested that night at my mentor’s instigation. From Federico, who understood me better than anyone, I got something I could find nowhere else, but that didn’t stop me from detesting the way he took advantage of my vices for his own amusement.  He and I were both ever aware of my divided soul.

Cora was last in line. The liveried man even bowed as he announced the initiation of a new O. Alexander stepped forward and almost tenderly guided Cora to the middle of the room. She looked exceptionally beautiful this evening. Her wonderfully firm breasts with their long rosy nipples (particularly erect now from arousal and apprehension), her fair skin, long, straight, black hair, her delicate hands and feet – would wake the dead. Such charms worked to the advantage of any O going through the initiation. Most of the men were successful in business, the majority in or near middle age. They were not young stallions that could last for hours. Most of them depended on some kind of chemical support. Asian Kamagra jelly was definitely a favorite. Some considered it more effective then Viagra, though that belief may have had more to do with its perceived powers than its chemical composition. Only two or three orgasms in the few hours could be expected from these men (with a few notable and rather frightening exceptions). For a girl as desirable as Cora, most couplings would be brief and the presence of so many other attractive women would keep her from being utterly overwhelmed.  

Still, nearly all of the men would save their last shot for the new O, who was only available after her midnight whipping. For more experienced O’s able to appreciate so much attention for its own sake, such desirability offered different advantages. I do like cock and the number of men who would be interested in me would be typically high. Yes, I am that kind of woman. Some men find me intimidating but those who don’t are precisely the ones I prefer.

Connected to the large room with the bar were a few smaller rooms equipped with various specialized furnishings. I didn’t see all of them, but in some there were beds or mattresses while others were equipped with rings everywhere, anchored to the ceiling, walls and floor for conveniently fastening an O to any purpose. There were also implements of torture – racks, wheels, hoists, whipping frames, impalement stands fitted with dildos of all sizes and types. Descending those stairs to this place was like a journey back to the middle ages, or perhaps to hell itself.

After the introduction, the liveried men walked down the row of women and attached leather wrist and ankle cuffs with rings to each of us so the men wouldn’t have to tie or untie us every time they wanted to fasten us to something. As the last padlock clicked shut on my right ankle-cuff, two large- bellied older men strolled over for a look. I lowered my eyes, gladly in this instance. One of them took me by my upper arm and led me toward a room in the back. Neither of them said a word. They stood me in front of a type of pillory and explored my body with their hands.

“Wet.” said one of them with a strong Slavic accent, his fingers already in my pussy. The other unzipped his pants and brought forth a wrinkled, semi-stiff penis. The view wasn’t much better down there.

“Blowjob without a condom, yes?”

I nodded and wanted to drop to my knees and make quick work of these two, but the other man held me up by my arm. They opened the pillory, which had holes for my hands and neck, pushed me into the thing and locked it down. I stood, bent forward, at a ninety-degree angle. The guy who wanted a blowjob shoved his penis in my mouth while the other one groped my painfully raw butt. He said something to his friend in their language and they both laughed. He roughly kicked my feet apart. I felt his hard penis on my asshole.

I hate anal sex except when I don’t. Then I love it.

He pushed relentlessly past my sphincters. Though he’d slapped some lube on his cock, a stabbing pain shot up through my body. I screamed into the stomach of the man standing in front of me. That must have pleased him, as he immediately ejaculated into my mouth. As soon as his buddy was done with my backside they ambled out with a final slap on my poor ass, leaving me standing in the pillory. Everywhere I heard the sounds of the party cranking up: whip cracks, cries of pain and cries of lust. Lifting my head as far as I could, I noticed a sort of peephole in the wall in front of me. Through it I could see into the next room where three men were fucking a slender redhead in a snow-white O-dress. They rolled her onto her back, blocking my nice view with a black tuxedo jacket. I was starting to hate this pillory thing already.

Click here for Part 4

About the Authors: 

Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.

Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization.  His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.

Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex  worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as  “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode.  Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.

Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com

The Initiation of Cora: Part 2

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Red high heels and school cane on wooden background

Click here for Part 1

As always, I was impressed by the size and elegance of the property. It wasn’t really a castle like in the fairy tales. It was more of a huge, sprawling farm built in the style of the late Nineteenth Century at the beginning of the Austrian imperial era.

The building was square, with a sixty-by-eighty-meter inner courtyard. The courtyard was covered in white gravel, which was a beautiful contrast to the dark-green-painted windows, doors, and roof beams. The walls were yellow with white trim. Classic.

Herrmann greeted us with a couple of unnecessary swats and led us into a white-tiled bathroom off the high-ceilinged foyer. We had half an hour to clean up and enjoy the warmth. We helped wash off each other’s feet as best we could and attempted to warm up inside as well with the rum tea they had left for us. Cora was genuinely shocked by the condition of my behind, but I told her to look out for herself instead of worrying about me. I watched her closely. She didn’t have the initiation behind her yet and was basically still a novice. I felt our “greeting,” which she’d had no way to anticipate, was a bit much for someone so new.

Well, that was for The Consigliere and others to decide. Perhaps it was a test and if Cora had failed there would have been no need to go forward with the rest of her initiation. There is a certain freedom that comes from having no say in how things turn out.

Herrmann brought us our clothes. No shoes. Most of the slaves or O’s in The Castle went barefoot. In Sir’s enormous office sat six men. They chatted. Some smoked cigars, drank coffee.

As Herrmann led us in, I did my best to seem calm and collected as I usually am, even though my feet and pussy were in a lot of pain. My tight-fitting dress caused an enormous burning sensation on my ass. Cora came unsteadily along next to me, her eyes full of tears.

“Ah, the ladies. Please have a seat.”

Sir pointed at two chairs. On the huge leather sectional next to Federico and the Consigliere sat three other men, only one of who was familiar.   Oscar was a well-known attorney, politically connected and often in the media. He was considered a likely candidate to take over a position in the ministry of finance. He was arrogant, successful, unapproachable, and to me, unappealing. It was surprising to see him there. As far as I knew he was not a member of The League. His wife was a good-looking woman in her thirties, known for her involvement with various charities. She never missed a party and certainly never a photo op. The other two men seemed to be friends of Oscar, but I’d never seen them before.

I gave Cora a little nudge to open her legs a bit more and made sure to sit up straight. Oscar’s gaze was fixed right between my knees and I opened them a bit more. I knew from looking at them in the bathroom that our pussies were chafed, our vulvas red and swollen. It was certainly a nice view for those who could appreciate its unique features. I tried to make eye contact with Federico, but he was in a quiet conversation with the two unknown men. The Consigliere sat silently observing Cora. Unexpectedly, he got up and stood behind her. He ran his hand softly over her hair and bent down to whisper something in her ear. He spoke with her for about a minute and I could see her begin to calm down. I was unable to hear any of their conversation but whatever he said to her seemed to work.   I was always curious about The Consigliere and I think he may have been curious about me but we never exchanged intimacies other than physically. Federico was Alexander’s best friend from when they were kids and I think that made him a little uneasy with me. There was an attraction between us he saw as a danger to their friendship.

Sir offered us some coffee, sat down and turned to me.

“You were delayed?”

“Yes, first on the Autobahn, then at the gate by Hungarians.”

He looked at me, and nodded straight-faced. Federico grinned slightly.

“I told Herrmann to make you aware of your tardiness.”

“He did. The Hungarians then showed us a bit of the property. We paid for being late.”

“Good. Would you please show us your marks? I would like to know whether my orders were followed correctly.”

“Naturally.”

I stood up on my toes with wide-open legs, pulled my dress up high and spread my lips with two fingers. The future minister’s eyes nearly fell out. The two other men could only stare.

“The swelling is from the rope they put on us for the walk.”

I turned, lifted one foot up, then the other and showed them the soles of my feet.

“This is from walking barefoot over the gravel roads.”

And then I pulled the dress up over my ass.

“Two times, two dozen strokes with a hazelnut switch.”

I turned back around, rearranged my dress and sat down gingerly. I sipped my coffee. The future minister and the two unknown men gazed, bewildered. Federico smiled and The Consigliere stood behind Cora, caressing her hair.

Talk between the men became lively once again and the future minister got busy trying to impress Federico. After about half an hour the gathering came to a close. The two strangers and the future minister said their goodbyes.

“We will definitely be seeing more of each other, beautiful,” Oscar told me, a prospect that held no appeal.

We were alone now with Federico, Franklin and the Consigliere. Sir called Ms. Karmann, who was head of the household staff, on the intercom at his desk and ordered her to get our dresses for tomorrow night. Cora looked at me, puzzled. I had an idea of what kind of dresses he meant.

The Consigliere made his explanation, most of which was familiar to me from previous occasions.

“My dears, Federico, Sir Franklin and I will be participating in a big Soiree near Bratislava tomorrow with both of you. It is a Nuit d’ O, an event with very strict rules following the practices of Roissy. You will both be properly costumed as O’s in skirts and bodices. However, your genitalia and breasts will be exposed and accessible, just like in the book and the film. “At a Soiree like this, every man puts his O at the disposal of all other men present, after some discussion of what will be permitted, of course. You, my lovely Sabrina, will be wearing your red collar, which means anything is allowed. You, dear Cora, will be given a green collar for your initiation. “I will need your consent in this. At any time you may refuse to participate further by using your safeword – deliverance. If you do you will be taken home immediately and never allowed to return. If you choose to remain and undergo the ceremony you will wear the Ring of O and be a full-fledged member of The League. Understood?”

The Consigliere had a knack for making things seem clear and reasonable, though in practice they were often more complicated.

Cora sniffled a bit, and said quietly:

“Yes. I asked for this. I will obey. What do I have to do there?”

“Well, my dear, tomorrow we will be expecting about twenty couples, men with their O’s. They come from all over Europe. Some are very well known people you might have seen under other circumstances. That will not be important here. In addition, there will be six or eight single men in attendance. “Because it will be your initiation you will be the center of attention. You will be presented in the dress of O and the green collar until midnight. That means nobody will be allowed to touch you without my permission.

“At midnight we will proceed with the ceremony. You will be brought to the center of the room completely naked, bound and given five- dozen lashes with the blacksnake over your entire body. “After that, your green collar will be switched out for the red one and you will be entirely at the disposal of all men present. It is required that all in attendance take you at least once, vaginally, anally or orally. Do you understand?”

Cora sat there and looked at the Consigliere, her face gone ashen. I saw her quivering as she glanced over at me.

“Did… you also have to do something like this, Sabrina?”

I nodded.

“Naturally. All of us. Like that, or similar.”

She blinked.

“How… how can I take this, endure something like this? How?”

“You’re not supposed to just take it, or endure it. You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

I remembered what I had been told at my own initiation: “Devotion is not a question of submission. Love, lust, and sometimes simply curiosity will elicit submission. But the woman who devotes herself must also be very strong and sure of her own motives.”

We would soon see if Cora had that strength.

She’d already passed the first test by enduring the punishment I’d brought on both of us. Later she would face a more severe test trial unlike the brutish treatment awaiting our arrival.

I kept it to myself but was of the opinion Cora would not ever become a real O. I saw her as being curious, or perhaps bored with her apparently uneventful marriage. Possibly she’d simply been persuaded by the Consigliere. She would be neither the first nor the last to succumb to his charm. Later, to my surprise, I found out that Cora had pursued him and not the other way around.

Whatever her reasons, I was certain that this beautiful woman was not interested in The League as a thing in itself. She was shocked by the small punishment we had received earlier and visibly shaken by all that followed. If she stayed, she’d look back on this as an easy day.  I wasn’t convinced such a life was right for her but that wasn’t any of my business. She was here of her own accord and been given a safeword like the rest of us that would stop whatever was happening to her instantly and permanently. This was the catch of the safeword. Using it required a very serious decision immediately and under great duress. Once used it would exclude her from The League forever. I was always surprised that none of us ever used ours. I wondered if Cora would be the first.

As always, there were five of us at dinner. Sir Franklin had asked Herrmann and Sica, a small, pudgy, smiling twenty-five year old Italian girl who ruled the kitchen for Sir Franklin and bossed around the huge Herrmann as if he were a schoolboy, to cook an appropriate meal. That meant at least a two-hour affair with nothing less than five courses. That night we got seven. The food was superb, the wine pairing outstanding and the atmosphere almost surreally relaxed, given the circumstances that brought us there. Sir Franklin was a wonderful host, his most important qualification as head of The League. I felt happy and content being with Federico and Alexander, who had been such close friends for so many years they were often thought to be brothers, though there was no family connection between them.

They both told stories of the crazy things they’d done as young men and spoke of their time racing cars. Much laughter filled the room. At some point during dessert the topic of piercings and tattoos came up. There were different opinions on the matter. Personally I don’t care for either of those things on my own body, and said so.

Federico grinned.

“Yeah, that’s true. But I accept it. Otherwise I would have put some rings on her long ago.”

“Practically all of our O’s wear some permanent ornamentation,” Sir Franklin explained.

Sweet Cora was curious.

“What kind of ornamentation?”

Sir Franklin looked at her.

“Normally gold or steel rings on the nipples or sometimes on the labia or clit.”

Her eyes widened.

“On the clit?”

“Yeah. Sylvia, a young lady who was initiated two years ago wears all that plus an additional three rings in each pussy lip by choice. Her pussy can be laced shut so only her ass and mouth are available, something her master enjoys doing to her from time to time.”

Cora puffed out her cheeks.

“I’d like to see that sometime…”

“No problem,” Sir Franklin said.

He rang for Hermann and instructed him to get Sylvia. Cora wanted to know who and where Sylvia was.

Amused, Sir Franklin raised one eyebrow.

“Sylvia is an O who has been with us here while her owner is abroad. She should be hanging from the ceiling in the basement at the moment.”

Before Cora could ask further questions, The Consigliere silenced her with a wave of his hand.

We went on eating and talking, except for Cora who clearly had other things on her mind, until Herrmann returned with Sylvia.

I would have guessed her to be somewhere north of thirty but south of forty, a bit smaller than me. She wore her hair shoulder-length.  She was otherwise completely shaved and, at the moment, completely naked. I’d never met her before but I was aware Sir Franklin had something special planned for her per her absentee owner’s request.  She stood before us in the basic position of presentation: up on her toes with legs wide spread, hands interlocked behind her head.

Sir Franklin pointed at the naked woman with his fork.

“Now, dear Cora, you may take a closer look if you’d like.”

Both of Sylvia’s nipples were pierced with steel bars four centimeters long from each of which dangled a silver horseshoe ring.

Both her outer labia were pierced with four steel rings and her clit was decorated with small garnet studs on a curved bar that went right through the most sensitive spot on her body.

Cora stood up, walked over to Sylvia and asked shyly:

“May I?”

Sylvia’s gaze never left the floor.

“Please, madam. Help yourself to me as you wish.”

I noticed that Sylvia’s backside was webbed with fading marks, evidently traces from her master’s most recent visit. Cora touched the dangling half circles on her nipples.

“How did they do that?”

Sylvia had a pronounced west Austrian dialect, Tirol or perhaps Vorarlberg. She wore a wedding ring, visible on an interlocked hand at the back of her head

“My husband wanted this, and therefore I wanted it as well. It was done here two years ago.”

“Without anesthetic?”

“Some girls have their piercings done after a small injection of Novocain but my husband wanted me to really feel it. I wanted that as well. Unfortunately, I passed out during the clit piercing.”

Cora stared at the woman wide-eyed.

The Consigliere put down his fork and spoke up. I grew increasingly certain of what would happen next.

“Do you like the way they look, Cora?”

Cora turned to her mentor.

“I… yes… it’s all very pretty. I mean, on my… on my private parts it wouldn’t appeal to me. But yes, the nipple rings are very beautiful.”

The Consigliere looked at Franklin and raised an eyebrow.

“Hmmm. Gold would suit her best I think,” he said. “But we should perhaps wait on this until after the initiation. It might be safer.”

Safer than having fresh piercings pulled on, sucked, contaminated with sweat and sperm and possible struck with a whip? I knew the Consigliere would never have permitted such risky behavior involving his new O, but he deferred to Franklin. It was Alexander’s way to give advice and let others give orders.

Cora, still mesmerized, continued to examine Sylvia, oblivious to the conversation.

Cora seemed to amuse Franklin with her wide-eyed amazement at everything she saw. She had a lot to learn, especially concerning how an O was to behave here in The Castle. But she wasn’t an O yet, just a prospect, at least until tomorrow.

Cora ran her fingertips across Sylvia’s nipple again, which went hard instantly.

Sylvia answered quietly without looking up.

“Does it make them more sensitive,” Cora asked.

“Very much so, madam. And my clit as well. The slightest friction down there makes me wet so I am most of the time.

The Consigliere laughed.

“Cora’s wet all the time anyway.”

Cora, who had obviously been with girls before, stroked the little jeweled bar lightly, then traced a fingertip between Sylvia’s labia. A shudder rippled through Sylvia’s body and her eyelids fluttered down.

Cora looked over at Alexander, who shrugged.

“We can always have it done later if you change your mind,” he said calmly. You can sit down now.”

Sylvia spoke again softly.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I would very much like some of your sperm. May I?”

Federico and Alexander nodded. Sir Franklin gave his permission. Sylvia got down on all fours and disappeared under the table.

I felt a bit cocky as the most senior O present.

“And me? Can she also pleasure me?”

Sir Franklin laughed.

“Of course! Sylvia, did you catch that, Sylvia?”

She already had Federico’s cock in her mouth and all we heard was “Mmmmhhhhmmm.”

After Sylvia finished under the table she was led away by Herrmann. She had also visited Cora and me with her tongue, lips and fingertips, demonstrating admirable technique with women as well as men.

Cora, the obedient wife of Albert, son of the rich owner of a printing company, reached down and pulled Sylvia by the hair. Cora’s legs shot out to the sides and she braced herself on the sides of the chair. A few minutes of wet sucking noises from Sylvia’s labors and Cora went stiff, letting out a surprisingly loud howl Looking at the impressed faces of Alexander, Federico and Sir Franklin.

At a gesture from Franklin Herrmann ushered Sylvia out of the room but not before the naked girl could give us all a proper curtsy and thank us for using her. Cora watched her follow Herrmann out, her footsteps light as a dancer’s. Yes, Cora had a lot to learn and she was beginning to realize it.

I had no doubt tomorrow night’s initiation would be memorable in all respects.

Not far from Bratislava, Slovakia

The dark Mercedes Vito with the tinted windows rolled up to the border near Bratislava. I couldn’t help wondering how the customs officers would react to what we weren’t wearing if we were stopped or were made to get out of the vehicle. The formal clothing of O that we wore for Cora’s initiation was beautiful and elaborate, made from heavy silk, though not much of it. If we removed our hooded cloaks Cora, Daniela, and I would have been practically naked.

Cora wore golden sandals held on her feet by very thin straps beginning at the instep and tied up around the ankle. I had received the same in silver. It wasn’t easy to walk in them but walking was not our purpose.

Cora’s dress had been made up in warm brown tones. The flowing skirt was a bit lighter than the brown bodice, which tied in the back and lifted her breasts just enough to display them perfectly, new gold rings glittering in the muted lighting of the car’s interior. Our skirts were slit in the front and back, held together by five-centimeter waistbands. They were designed so the sides could be flipped up and fastened at the waist with a button to provide unobstructed access to our intimate anatomies. Our breasts were fully exposed. My bodice was grey and my skirt was black. Daniela’s “uniform,” was identical but all in white. She wore very high peep-toes instead of sandals. Daniela was an O from Italy. She lived in The Castle with Sir Franklin and served next to Ms. Karmann as his personal secretary. A little taller than most, Daniela was slender, with small but firm breasts and perpetually erect nipples. Her dark hair fell just past her shoulders. She had a very pretty face, despite somewhat sharp features, that men enjoyed getting messy. Our makeup was subtle but our nails were painted a bright red, high and low. Cora and I both wore rings on our second toes. Hers was gold, and mine silver. I wore a ring, just like Daniela, on my pointer finger. It was the ring of O, a simple flat silver band with a small ring attached to it.

All three of us had our hair up and fastened with gold or silver barrettes. Cora’s big, beautiful nipples were swollen and looked tender from Herrmann’s needlework.  I was still rankled by Federico’s indifference to my concerns about them, but I understood that this was just his way. Other people’s concerns weren’t his.

We crossed the border without being stopped at all. Herrmann seemed to know Bratislava well. He steered the Vito confidently through the city. The Consigliere sat in the passenger seat next to him. The girls occupied the middle row while Federico and Sir Franklin lounged in the back.

Daniela had been scooting around in her seat for the longest time and these bumpy streets weren’t helping one bit.

“I have to pee. Please.”

This was probably going to get interesting.

Hermann whispered something to the Consigliere, and both of them laughed. Alexander turned around towards us.

“If you can’t take it anymore my dear, Herrmann knows somewhere where you can relieve yourself.” Daniela nodded and then looked out the window. Her face turned red. She knew what little dare was about to present itself. Sir Franklin spoke up from the back.

“Herrmann, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes, Sir Franklin. If you don’t mind?”

Sir Franklin laughed quietly. “Of course. But please watch out for my girl, okay? We don’t want to get stopped and be delayed because she can’t contain her bladder.”

Herrmann promised to make sure it wouldn’t happen.  Daniela and I exchanged a look, imagining what humiliation they had in mind for her.

Daniela and I had only seen each other at The Castle two or three times. She was legendary for always participating in the hunts, a thing I had never done, nor did I plan to do.  She’d tried it four times and always lost, not a record I cared to best. After the second time she had to realize she would always get caught. I assumed she preferred it that way, which was a significant difference between us. The O’s of The Castle were ordinarily expected to accede to everything their Mentors requested of them but the hunts were an exception – hazardous duty and strictly for volunteers. Of course, occasionally a Mentor or member, of the hundreds of whom only twenty held Mentor status, would request that a woman he brought into The League take part in a hunt, but nobody could make this a command. The hunts were the hardest and most brutal challenge any of us would face. Most of the women participated initially hoping to elude the hunters and collect a very substantial reward. That wasn’t how things usually went.

The task seemed simple enough, if also utterly terrifying. The woman would be set out naked somewhere in the wilderness. Owing to the presence of a few high-ranking Austrian, Italian, German, Hungarian, Czech, and Slovakian officers in the community of societees the cruel game was often played on military training grounds. The hunted girl was given a map and a target destination she had to reach before being captured.

The size of the all-male hunting parties depended upon how many enthusiasts were available and how many were willing to contribute to the cost. Every participant had to put up a hefty sum. A bit of the money paid for expenses, but the rest went to the woman if she won. The prize was generally in the neighborhood of ten thousand euro, a nice neighborhood by almost anyone’s definition.

But to win she had to make it to the protected zone on the map, the location of which was unknown to the hunters so they couldn’t just wait around for her to show up there. Sometimes, as a special incentive, checkpoints were added to the map.  At the checkpoints there were stamps she would apply to her forearm. Every checkpoint stamp carried an added financial bonus if she escaped to collect it.

The woman got a sixty-minute head start. Normally the time limit to reach the target was twelve hours. For a naked woman, shoeless and without supplies of any kind in a harsh environment this was obviously quite a task.

If she wasn’t able to reach the target in time or if the men caught up with her, she was in serious trouble. Though the hunters didn’t communicate with each other during the search, if one of them found their prey the others were called together. Usually the girl would be whipped right where they found her. The hunters were also free to fuck her in every orifice. For the next twenty-four hours she was theirs to do with as they pleased. There were no boundaries and no rules about passing her on to others. It was very cruel sport. Alexander considered it barbaric and would not permit any of the O’s he mentored to participate.

Nevertheless, there were always women who took the bait. Supposedly the payout for winning was the lure, but I suspect some had additional motives. The lovely Daniela must have found the experience rewarding in some other way, as she never won a single euro in all her attempts.

I’m unsure of every detail, but rumor had it she was openly whipped in a remote border town and raped by every man there who wanted her, not as rare an event as one might suppose, as I later found out to my everlasting sorrow. There was even talk about forced sodomy with hunting dogs. Sir Franklin was silent on the subject but there were a few “meetings,” some apparently quite heated, with all the Mentors following Daniela’s hunt. Alexander prevailed that time and no League girls were hunted thereafter, or at least that was the official story.

Click here for Part 3

About the Authors:

Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.

Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization.  His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.

Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex  worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as  “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode.  Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.

Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com

Ernest Greene and Nina Hartley Interview on The Truth About O

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ernest-and-nina-1

Slave Bunny: Can you tell us in your own words what the piece is about?

 

Ernest: What you’re seeing here is a segment of a new book I’m writing, working title, The Truth About O, that is a collection of both personal experiences with the individuals involved and recollections of those who were members of one of Europe’s actual existing societies of O. My contact there and a number of other people I spoke to subsequently confirmed that there are about 50 such societies of O scattered all over Europe. Many of them, most especially the one in France, have been there for a very long time. So, the actual lead here is that “Story of O” really is more fact than fiction and its practices live on today.

 

Slave Bunny: So, you’re saying these societies still exist today all over Europe?

 

Nina: Oh, yes. Very active.

 

Ernest: Extremely so.  

 

Nina: They hold regular soirees.

 

Slave Bunny: Can you tell us more about the O’s?

 

Ernest: Those who identify as O’s don’t consider themselves slaves by our definition and standards.They have their own, what they call “The Philosophy,” as described in the original “Story of O.” The emphasis is on constant sexual availability. The initiation of a new O and the events leading up to it are considered fairly typical for these groups. One of the most startling things about reading this material was how different what they think of as normal is from what we think of as normal when it comes to BDSM.

 

Ernest : The excerpt that you have is translated virtually untouched from the German original. Sabrina turned out to be an extraordinary writer. Her accounts required very little editing. What you have is first-person testimony from somebody who has great credibility and was actually present at the events she describes.

 

Nina: She had to go through the ritual herself. Every woman did who became an O. The initiation of Cora stands in for the initiation of every woman who becomes an O. Later on we see how they’re trained for the occasion.

 

Slave Bunny: Did the O’s live at “The Castle” full time? I know Cora had a husband. Is it specific to whatever is negotiated?

 

Ernest: As I understand it, there are a few who do more or less live in the luxurious quarters maintained by these groups, but most of them don’t. The majority attends parties and has sessions with men who they regard as their Owners, but lead otherwise conventional lives. Often they are married, as was Cora, to somebody else who has no idea that they have this life. Europe is one of those places where you can still have a secret life.

 

Ernest: These are all people of a class that are privileged in ways Americans would find hard to imagine. For instance, I’m quite certain the authorities are aware of the existence of these groups and who’s in them, but wouldn’t dream of interfering in any way precisely because of who’s in them. It seems that most of the men are wealthy and well connected. Some of them are politicians. Some of them are financiers.

 

Nina: Some of them are captains of industry.

 

Ernest : Big shots of one kind or another. The women are pretty much of the same class.

 

Nina:  What’s also fascinating is that unlike American BDSM, where there’s often a romantic component between the submissive partner and the dominant partner, in these societies, it is discouraged to be in love with your Owner.

 

Ernest:  Or even to get seriously involved with anyone else who’s there.

 

Nina: And the women are not encouraged to make friendships. The other women’s problems are strictly their own problems.

 

Ernest: There’s also a competitive aspect to life at court. There are some distinct advantages that women who are willing to sign on for this program enjoy because these wealthy, well-connected men, in part, give something in return for what they get in terms of helping these women with their careers and introducing them to places where they might be able to work things to their advantage. It is a sort of sexual feudalism under which the women agree to obey and endure and service whatever desires these gentlemen may have.

 

Nina: And enjoy it. They are supposed to enjoy it. An O is a kind of masochistic courtesan or geisha who needs to bring a certain passion and creativity to keep the Masters entertained and interested. Safe to say that, aside from a little play among the girls, it’s a totally hetero-normative dynamic that harks back to an earlier era. Europe has a public BDSM scene not much different from our own, but it’s mainly for young people and doesn’t overlap with the O crowd.

 

Ernest: Most of the women seem to take pleasure in the game because so many of them have been involved in it for a very long time. In return for what they surrender their men are obligated in that feudal way to see to their welfare, to protect them and to take care of them in any way they can be helpful to them. This arrangement is pretty religiously observed on both sides. It’s a serious matter for either side to fail to perform on the expected feudal arrangement. Guys can get kicked out. Women can get kicked out. Anyone can get kicked out. Also, the O’s have a safeword that they were given when they were initiated. However, they can only use it once. If they do, they’re expelled from the society. But what kind of safeword is that really? Is that consent as we understand it?

 

Slave Bunny: No.

 

Ernest: Contrary to what Americans may believe, Sabrina states in her description (and all other women whom we corresponded with agreed) that they were there by consent, that they could leave any time, and that they wouldn’t be there if they didn’t want to be. So, it’s a sort of blanket consent until withdrawn. Once withdrawn, it’s withdrawn permanently.

 

Nina: One hundred percent. Instantly. Your clothes are put on. You’re put in the car. You leave and that’s it.

 

Ernest: And you can never come back nor will you be welcome in any of the other O societies.

 

Nina: It’s their version of consent, which differs greatly with how Americans conceive of consent.

 

Ernest: These are very exclusive groups. You can only join by invitation and they only take in members of their own class. Alexander, in the book, describes what’s required for either a man or a woman to become a member of any of these groups. It’s a fairly rigorous process. They have multiple meetings with prospects and then there’s a board that votes, like a country club, whether or not you and/or your partner will be welcomed.

 

Ernest: And if so, you can look forward to spending a lot of money. One way in which potential members are admitted is on the basis of whether they can afford it. The last figures that were quoted to us from Alexander were something along the lines of 15,000 Euro to get in and another 5,000 Euro a year to stay in plus any expenses accumulated if you want to say, throw a party for yourself or have some kind of an event or a session. That’s all ala carte.  It’s not unusual for men who are eager participants in these things to spend 100,000 Euro a year on their “hobby.”

 

Slave Bunny: It’s like a BDSM fraternity or sorority almost.

 

Nina: Yes, exactly.

 

Slave Bunny: Was this society supposed to be kept very secret and under the radar?

 

Ernest: Absolutely. Again, I’m quite certain that the local authorities in all of these locations were and are very much aware of the existence of these groups and their activities. They’ve also always been aware that these groups are managed by and for a class still more or less untouchable in that part of the world.

 

Ernest: These guys seem to have some understanding of where the edge is that you don’t go over. They go right to that edge, but don’t go where you really would get in trouble. But they do some things that are pretty daring.

 

Slave Bunny: Like what?

 

Ernest:  Paradoxically, they seem to love doing things in public places. When they take their O’s out in public, they’re basically dressed in almost nothing.

 

Nina: They’re barely legal. No underwear.

 

Ernest: Everything transparent. And when they go to a restaurant for dinner, they play games requiring the women to unbutton their blouses and lean over when the waiter comes and other stuff of that kind. In The League they liked to send one of the O’s into the men’s restroom in a nice restaurant with orders to strip naked and give a blowjob to the first man who knocks on the door of the stall, no matter who he is. This became a great favorite.

 

Ernest: They all got a kick out of it. The men would choose someone from the restaurant. Generally someone they either knew personally or was a friend of a friend they were having dinner with and say, “By the way, when you go to the restroom, check out the last stall. You’ll get a big surprise.”  

 

Nina: When I visited Alexander in London I intended to try that out. I dressed for the occasion just as he’d instructed by email, which is to say in as little as possible. But after dinner we ended up in his hotel room having fun of our own. I don’t know if that makes me a good O or a bad one, but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Alexander is quite charming and we both had a great time, but it’s a lot different being an O for a day and living “The Philosophy”.

 

Ernest: And not all their games were so benign and playful. There also is a reference in the excerpt about organized hunts. There were women in these groups who had done three or four hunts and lost them all. They had to assume after the second or third loss that they were never going to win.

 

Slave Bunny: But they liked it so they kept up with it.

 

Nina: Exactly.

 

Ernest: These people’s idea of fun is a little rougher than ours.

 

Slave Bunny: Could you further explain these hunts that are mentioned in the excerpt?

 

Ernest: Sure. A society holds a hunt in the woods of Romania where one of the O’s is turned loose naked in the forest. This is not a thing that can be required. The O has to volunteer for it.

 

Nina: And whomever has volunteered for the hunt gets a map and a head start and nothing else.

 

Ernest: If she makes it to a safe zone where there’s a vehicle waiting for her, she gets 10,000 Euro, which actually isn’t a whole lot of money for most of these women. I don’t think that was really the main motivation. That’s just the prize if she manages to elude the entire male compliment of that organization hunting her in the forest.

 

Ernest: If the hunters get to her before she reaches her safe zone they have her for 24 hours to do anything they want with her. We’ve seen photographs of some of the losing contestants that would be pretty shocking even to those familiar with edge play and CNC.

 

Nina: Everything is permitted short of permanent damage.    

 

Ernest: I would consider O’s in general more on the masochistic scale than submissive. Though their sexual services can be commanded at any time and there are elaborate rules concerning dress and deportment, their attitudes and responses are expected to be spontaneous and authentic.

 

Nina: They can talk back. They can be cheeky. They have to comply with most physical demands, but they tend to have strong personalities and their own opinions on things. They risk punishment for insubordination, but from all the punishment that goes on I infer that insubordination is pretty common.

 

Slave Bunny: So, the Owners didn’t try to train them into somebody else or strip them of who they were as long as they were performing their services?

 

Ernest: Right.  

 

Slave Bunny: What do you feel, I know you touched on it a little bit earlier when you were talking about sexual feudalism, is the main allure for women wanting to join these societies?  

 

Nina: For some of the women it was boredom.

 

Ernest: There was a measure of adventurism in this also.

 

Nina: And there’s that masochism thing. In the novel, the whole idea of physical pleasure from extreme sensations was dismissed. But every one of the women we came to know got wet at the thought of a whipping. And I definitely related to the protected exhibitionism thing. That’s another aspect of class privilege. Alexander put me on display in that London restaurant that would have gotten me arrested here. This definitely put me in the mood for what happened upstairs after dinner.

 

Ernest: O’s overall seem pretty ambitious and daring. The word they use most frequently for the ordeals they’re put through is “challenges.” And connections of the men certainly further the ambitions of the women both in the groups and in the outside world.

 

Ernest: To be fair, there are also genuinely committed Master/slave couples admitted as well. For some of them it’s a combination of role-play and a kinky form of swinging. Others take “The Philosophy” very seriously.

 

Nina: They have piercings, tattoos and fresh marks to show off at any time or place. I found it very unusual that women who were mostly conventionally attractive didn’t mind having a few lasting scars as trophies of their wild good times.

 

Ernest: There were couples in these groups and then there were others who were genuinely emotionally attached and others who were couples of convenience.

 

Slave Bunny: What do you find most fascinating about all of this?

 

Ernest: It’s really an extraordinary story for a lot of reasons. Not the least of which is that it establishes a lineage for the O narrative that precedes the actual book. It’s also a visit to an alternate universe familiar in many ways but crucially different in others.

 

Slave Bunny: Around what year did the events in the book take place?

 

Nina: Well past 2000, certainly.

 

Ernest: All events in our book happened in the last 15 years. However, returning to the key things here, what we see now quite clearly is that Pauline Reage’s book was based on something real. The societies existed long before her writing. My best guess is at least a century, based on the fact that Sir Franklin, who was the head of the group and in his sixties at the time of the events in The Truth About O, was the son of a Master and an O. So, going back even one generation puts the existence of The League in the late 19th century. My best guess is that various “libertinage societies” such as The Hellfire Club go back to the 18th Century. The fact that Story of O describes something that actually exists and has for so long, despite the author’s insistence that she wrote pure fiction, is the most startling revelation in the book. 

 

Slave Bunny: One final question, what do you feel is the biggest benefit of people knowing about all this and how do you feel it could/will change the way we think about power exchange? In short, what can we learn from this?

 

Ernest: Well, for a start, it turns the romanticized notions about Reage’s novel, which has been a template for many M/s relationships, pretty much on their heads. And it’s a useful reminder that the world of online BDSM is not the only venue in which BDSM exists. Lately, I have observed the community here to become increasingly ideological and doctrinaire, and there seems to have been a loss of connection with its fundamental roots in human desire. It’s become a kind of a social activity. One thing we might learn from them is an acceptance of why we do what we do. There’s a lot of talk in the community about “non-sexual BDSM” I find somewhat suspect. The O societies recognize the central importance of sex, particularly group sex, as the motivating force behind everything they do. There isn’t much emphasis on sophisticated BDSM technique or sensation play. It’s pretty much all about whipping and sexual servitude. I don’t propose this as a universal dynamic, but when people use words like “primal” to describe their dynamics I think it would be useful for them to see what “primal” looks like from a more ancient point of view.

 

Slave Bunny: Do you have anything to add, Nina?

 

Nina: We can learn that we know less than we think we do by exploring the differences between the American style of play and the European style, partly due to the different ages of our cultures. European culture is 2000 years old and American culture is barely 400 years old. We’re very new and young.  We haven’t worked through our Puritanism yet and we haven’t worked through our conflict over desire and power. In Europe, I think they’ve made their peace with it and it has a place. We haven’t made our peace with it, and there is no place.

 

Ernest: My final comment would be to ask people to try and read this without judgment.  It’s not only the O’s who are tested by the rigors of their commitments. Without giving away any spoilers I can say that something unexpected and quite dire befalls and these men rise to the occasion like Knights of the Round Table. They prove beyond a doubt that perverts can be heroes. I would say if there’s one thing that this book proves at the very end, it’s that good guys too wear black.

About Ernest and Nina:

Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.

 

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.

 

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.

 

Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

 

Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization.  His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.

 

Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex  worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as  “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode.  Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.

Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com

Be sure to check out an excerpt from their Erotic Non-Fiction novel titled The Initiation of Cora.

Click here to read Part 1.

The Initiation of Cora: Part 1

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Red high heels and school cane on wooden background

The dark desire is made up of feelings we normally resist. It is an ambivalent and intense form of pleasure. And it is addicting.”  – Alexander, the Consigliere.”

 

This story is taken from my life. I have changed only names and locations for the protection of those who have meant so much to me. I hope to help the willing reader understand us all better. I recognize that events recounted in this story will not make mine an easy task, but I am not about that which is done easily.

 

Vienna and surrounding area

The sun was shining and from the heated cabin of my Audi TT. I drove south on the old Trieste highway through the industrial area of South Vienna. I had an appointment with Federico, my mentor from The League, in our community’s “castle,” which was actually more of a huge, old estate, in which The L’s headquarters were located.

Though it looked like spring through the windows of a heated car, it was icy cold outside. As always, the wind blew across the lower Austrian plain and kicked up dust clouds here and there. There wasn’t much snow left on the ground, only crusty, hard remains in the shadows. I was assigned to pick up Cora on the way.

        Cora.

I’d known her less than a month but was already intrigued by her. Cora was in her early twenties, a bit younger than me. She was slender like me and a bit taller. She had a wonderfully bright complexion, long, straight dark hair, and fascinating greenish-blue eyes. She also had large, firm and delightfully round breasts adorned by the most beautiful nipples I had ever seen. They were rosy, long and nearly always erect.

Cora worked for an advertising agency in Vienna owned by a huge printing company belonging to her husband’s family. Albert, her husband, was only twenty-eight and already working on his second marriage. I would have liked to know what went wrong with Albert’s first attempt at matrimony but Cora rarely spoke of him at all and I didn’t press details. I suspected history would soon repeat itself where Albert was concerned. Cora didn’t seem a particularly happy wife. If she had been, she wouldn’t be making this journey with me.

Cora was brought into The League by Alexander under unusual circumstances. Alexander was not only a virtual brother to Federico, my mentor, but also a respected adviser, organizer and philosopher in all matters concerning The L. I was far from the only one to benefit from his advice. His network of important contacts stretched far beyond its boundaries.  “The Consigliere” wasn’t only his nickname in our group. Anyone who has seen “The Godfather” or read the book that inspired the film will understand. Where there is power there is need of wisdom. Alexander was the source of wisdom to many in different walks of life.

Where does wisdom come from? Unlike some I members, to whom “Story of O” was holy writ of which they’d memorized nearly every word, The Consigliere wasn’t much interested in the The League’s bible. He seemed to know and understand it better than anyone else involved, but was more interested in the psychological and mental aspects of the life it described, rather than the physical acts so important to everyone else. He was more curious about the women who were drawn to this life. He viewed his own physical desires and moods in a similarly detached way, which was quite the contrast compared to the other men I knew, who were nothing if not self-absorbed. This is not to he didn’t take advantage of the opportunities – the treasures one might say – his unique position afforded him.

Other women had confirmed my instinct about this. The Consigliere was renowned as a damn good fuck. He had a cock that was just the right size and thickness, nicely shaped and very well groomed. Even the smell and taste of him seemed to leave a lasting good impression.

Please excuse me. I’m losing my train of thought, as tends to happen when I think about sex. Many men may command me from time to time, but my cunt rules me always.

Back to Cora.

Escorting her was something of an honor. I had never seen the Consigliere bring a woman into The L to make her an O. It was just as uncommon that Cora’s husband had absolutely no clue about any of this.

I followed the directions until I arrived at a large, green-painted metal gate. It opened silently and I drove up the cobbled road into the estate. Everything here smelled like money. At the end of the winding drive stood a spacious, architecturally modern house with vast windows and a wonderful view all the way down to Baden. In the doorway stood a tall, fit-looking reddish-blond, man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. He was well dressed in grey flannel slacks with perfectly ironed creases, a white shirt and a blue cable-knit cashmere sweater.

He examined me casually as I got out of my car, as he would have either the car or me with the intention of acquiring either or both.

I wore a black coat with a fur collar but underneath only a skin-tight, black sheath-dress, which left no doubt I was completely naked underneath. You could have seen even the most delicate underwear through this material. I’d accessorized it with black stay-up stockings and Bordeaux-red peep-toe shoes. They matched my tightly worn velvet collar, which had a silver ring at the front. I had also affixed a red clip in my blond hair, a slightly whimsical touch of the sort I enjoyed showing off in solemn circumstances.

“Good morning,” I greeted him cheerfully. “I’m Cora’s ride to the Soiree.”

If the man registered my ironic tone – for it was Cora who would be ridden in due time – he didn’t show it.

“Please come in,” he said pleasantly with a sweeping gesture of his right arm. “You’re Sabrina, right?”

He had a German accent. As I write these words in German this may seem a peculiar observation, but to any Austrian that accent is as unmistakable as the tri-color flag.

“Yes. And you’re Albert?”

He nodded and stepped to the side. The foyer was at least as large as my living room.

“Cora is almost ready. May I help you out of your coat?”

I let him pull the coat off my shoulders and hang it up, trying not to smile too obviously as he looked me over in even greater detail. I enjoy being looked at, especially by those who for whom a look would be the best for which they might hope.

We continued into a sleek, all-steel kitchen adequate to a small restaurant. He offered me some coffee while we waited for the advent of Cora.

“Yes, please. Espresso. Black with no sugar.”

I had a look around, enjoying the view through the kitchen’s glass wall. There was a broad marble terrace outside, and below that a large swimming pool.

I was well aware how my ass cheeks showed through the dress and wasn’t surprised to feel his gaze on me.

“Cora’s told me a bit about you. She likes and admires you very much. She says she wants to be just like you.”

I highly doubted that, couldn’t quite smother a laugh.

“Thank you, and Cora also, but I’m not exactly a suitable role-model.”

This time Albert laughed.

“I imagine that would depend on the intended role.”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter and studied me uninhibitedly from top to bottom.

“So, this seminar you’re attending over the weekend; what does one learn there?”

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and set the coffee cup down. How much did Albert already know? How much was I meant to tell him? Not much and as little as possible, I presumed. His gaze lingered on my thighs. The dress ended a short distance above where my stockings began. If I were to have sat down on one of the barstools at the long marble counter, I would have been quite exposed, given my lack of panties.

“It’s about self-discovery: mental power, inner confidence, overcoming difficult challenges. It’s about becoming a stronger woman.”

He lifted his eyes to mine and laughed humorlessly.

“Ah. A typical women’s seminar, yes?”

I smirked. As I’d surmised, he was clueless.

“More than you think, my dear.”

I tried to imagine the look on his face if he could see his Cora naked, hanging from a hook on the ceiling, as the men whipped her. She would feel the lash for the first time in front of others this weekend, the Consigliere had said.

“Well, I hope you have fun. Unfortunately on Sunday I have to leave on a business trip. I’ll be gone all next week.”

“Don’t worry. Cora will learn and experience many new things to occupy her attention.”

And you won’t be able to admire her welts when she gets back.

“Are you talking about me?”
Cora appeared on the steps, walking almost silent in her stockings.

Albert looked a bit irritated when he noticed that Cora and I wore nearly identical dresses. It was a lot more spectacular on Cora, her amazing breasts filling it out to the point of exposing much more of her anatomy than mine. Thank God she wore a black scarf over her shoulders. Albert would surely have seen how temptingly her large nipples showed through the thin material. He might have asked even more questions I’d have to evade.

“My bag is already in the foyer, I just need to grab my shoes,” she said, as casually as if we were going skiing for the weekend.

We said our goodbyes at the front door. Cora kissed her husband lightly on the cheek, threw her bag in the back seat and slipped elegantly into the TT.

I was concerned that Albert would observe as we got in the car that neither of us wore any undergarments, but he turned around and disappeared into the house before I could even start the motor. That little glimpse of Albert’s departing back told me all I needed to know about Cora’s marriage.

We were barely to the street when Cora shrugged the scarf from her shoulders, reached into her purse and pulled out a blue velvet collar. The collar was identical to mine except for the color, which matched her royal blue pumps perfectly.

“May I smoke in the Car, Sabrina?”

“No, my dear. And because you have your legs crossed, you will now spread them as far apart as you can. Then you can lift your ass and slide the dress up. Now!”

She looked at me, terrified.

“But you can see in through the top of this car and…”

“Do it now or you’ll be sitting there naked the entire trip as I drive next to every semi-truck I can find. Do you understand?”

She sighed in a lovely way as her ass-cheeks touched the leather seat. Anyone passing us on the right would be treated to a spectacular view. I would enjoy sharing it with them. I do have a sadistic side to which the masters are oblivious, though it’s common knowledge to the other Os.

As we drove through the rolling countryside Cora told me her version of how she and the Consigliere met by chance at a party. She was waiting for Albert to pick her up and take her to dinner but he was delayed. Alexander had gotten her a fresh drink and invited her to sit down with a couple of other men he knew from work.  

According to Cora, an entertaining if superficial conversation unfolded and one drink led to another.  Albert never did show up or even call. Alexander invited Cora, who was more bored than impatient, to go for a cup of coffee. She found him a sophisticated and pleasant conversationalist but no one she would expect, or hope, to encounter again. Such is the perpetual ambivalence of women like us. No doubt a receiver she didn’t know she possessed had picked up a signal that Alexander always broadcast effortlessly.

Just three weeks ago, so she said, she had told Alexander in a tone of utter conviction that she would NEVER let anyone hit her. Now she sat beside me knowing she would soon be whipped in front of an audience. Yesterday on the phone, she admitted that she was addicted to the Consigliere’s cock.

Exactly how the Consigliere was able to inspire Cora’s sudden change of heart, I do not know. A certain special propensity must already exist in us, meaning it cannot simply be sown and then watched ‘til it grows.

There are men that know about these mysterious inclinations. They recognize the dark desire deep within us and know how to expose it.

To liberate this desire is yet a completely different thing. It takes courage, strength and personal charisma and requires these attributes in us also. And the circumstances in our lives must permit the process to occur. It’s much harder for a single mother with two children to live out her fantasies than for a carefree model and part-time student like me.

Cora seemed right for Alexander’s intentions in many ways, including her initial resistance to them and the speed with which it collapsed. But we wouldn’t know for sure if his instincts were as correct as usual until Cora’s fantasies were tested against the realities of being an O.

Twenty minutes later found us stuck in traffic on the Südautobahn. There was an accident ahead. Cora tugged nervously at the seam of her dress. Her pussy, decorated only with a miniature strip of dark hair, was quite visible against the black leather of the seat. When we pulled alongside a Polish tour bus she looked to me for mercy.

“Forget it, baby.”

I glanced at the clock and scrunched my nose. We were in danger of arriving late. Sir Franklin, the Lord of The Castle, would punish us for this irrespective of Alexander’s plans for later. All too familiar with this game I worried less about myself then about Cora.

The sun disappeared and it began to rain lightly. Ten minutes later the outside thermometer read three degrees Celsius, the rain slowly turning to snowfall. Perfect weather for Sir’s style of punishment.

Cora noticed my uneasy glances at the clock. “Are we late?”

“Yes.”

“We should call, no?”

I shook my head.

“That won’t help.”

Cora shrugged her shoulders.

“Then the men will just have to wait.”

I nodded.

“That they will, waiting to punish us when we arrive.”

“Punish us? What for?”

“Punctuality is an important requirement at The Castle.”

“But there was traffic. You can’t do anything about that. It would be unfair to punish you.”

I had to laugh.

“That doesn’t matter, believe me. And it’s not just me who will be punished.”

Now she looked at me, surprised and apprehensive.

“What they will do to us?”

“Better not to know. Try to relax for now and be brave when we get there, okay?”

She set her pretty little jaw as steadfastly as she could and continued to pull nervously at her dress.

We arrived a full twenty-five minutes overdue. It was snowing heavily and the icy wind blew strong as we approached The Castle. It was invisible from the country road. The overgrown bushes were so high it was impossible to guess what lay behind, which was probably for the best. I turned onto the gravel track and drove around the curve through a high wrought iron gate mounted between two concrete columns, each more than three meters tall. A chain link fence connected to the columns encircled the entire compound. I’d heard it could be electrically charged, which was entirely possible though likely intended to keep people out rather than in. Besides the girls in residence, Sir Franklin possessed an expensive art collection accumulated by his family over several decades.

The gigantic Herrmann stood next to it with Imre, the small, fat sixty-year-old Hungarian man who always looked unwashed and unkempt. They took care of maintaining Sir Franklin’s estate. Both wore wool hats, gloves and anoraks.

“Listen, Cora,” I warned, “you must do exactly what they tell you without any questions or backtalk. Anything you say at this point will only make things worse. Understood?”

“No.”

“A word you would be wise to forget.”

I stopped at the gate and rolled down the window. Herrmann merely looked at the clock and gestured for us to get out of the car.

“Twenty-seven minutes, ladies. Please remove your clothes. All of them. Both of you.”

I took off my coat immediately and threw it in the car. Cora stared at me, paralyzed with fear and confusion

“Now!” I hissed at her over the roof of the TT.

“Follow Imre.”

Herrmann drove the car towards the great house, more than a kilometer from the gate. Inside the gate a tractor was parked just off the asphalt. This was Imre’s favorite toy. Two other men dressed in work clothes similar to Imre’s stood by. Imre waved us over to the tractor. A pair of ropes hung from the back of it to the ground. Imre had us stand, naked and shivering, behind the tractor. He cuffed our hands behind our backs with heavy police manacles.

The men grinned at us in a way as dirty they were. Cora screamed as one of them began to squeeze her breasts and then abruptly grabbed her crotch. Already her first mistake.

A step ahead of him, I pointed my breasts in his direction and spread my legs for easier access to my pussy. Unlike Cora, I had been through this before.

The guy drilled his fingers into my hole and seemed surprised to find me soaking wet. There was a time when that would have surprised me too.

They tied the ropes around our middles, feeding the loose ends over the waist cinches and between our legs. As usual, it was the rough hemp they favored. I don’t know where they found it – Japan I suppose – but it was unique for its prickliness. They threaded it out over the front of the constricting loop around our bellies, forming a uniquely uncomfortable harness right where we wouldn’t have wanted it. Then they tightened the hemp deep in our crotches, biting into our clits and anuses so it would rub painfully with every step on the walk we were about to take. Cora stood completely stiff, staring at me with huge eyes. She squeaked again softly as her guy finished his rope-work and pinched her very stiff nipples. From there the ropes hung slack to the tail of the tractor, but not for long.

Imre and the boys jumped on the tractor, cranked the noisy starter and put the machine in gear. A tractor doesn’t move very fast, but fast enough to force us into a light trot. The rope between our legs was hellish as we stumbled behind it. The cold ground under our bare feet made everything worse.

About two hundred meters beyond the gate Imre turned left onto a path through a field. I sighed a little. The hope that we’d merely have to run behind the tractor for a kilometer on the gravel road was shattered. Cora began to gasp and sob.

“It… it hurts so bad, Sabrina, please… oh God…”

“Knock it off. Concentrate on moving. The more you balk and whine about it, the worse it gets.”

She staggered along next to me. I tried to run as bow-legged as possible. I knew nothing could make the trip less miserable but it’s human to try. The two Hungarians in the heated tractor watched us and laughed.

We stumbled along for more than a kilometer. Our feet felt like blocks of ice, feet that didn’t belong to us. Finally, we arrived at a small shed where Imre stored farm and landscape equipment.

The tractor stopped short and Cora fell momentarily to her knees. Through the dirt I could see the small wounds on her soles. Cora quaked like an aspen, unable to control her sobbing. I remained standing, trying to ignore the pain and the cold as best I could, but I couldn’t keep from shuddering violently. I always try to avoid giving such men the satisfaction of seeing me suffer.

The Hungarians dismounted. Imre went into the shed and the other two men, with their dirty grins and dirty hands, grabbed the ropes through our pussies. The guy next to Cora brutally pulled her to her feet by her hair.

My equally charming companion took me by the chin and turned my face towards his. He kneaded my breasts, pulled on my erect nipples then grabbed me brutally between the legs. Apparently he was expecting a reaction, but he would not receive one from me. I listened as Cora cried out next to me, beginning to beg, the thing I will not do. It only inflames their ugly desires.

“Ahhh… oww… please, don’t… no… ahhhh, please stop!”

My Hungarian placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me to the ground. Nothing subtle about that gesture. I went down on one knee and watched him unzip his pants. A stiff, thick cock with a red head jumped out. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the smell. I put my mouth over it and began to move my head back and forth, sucking with all the skills I’d acquired through so much practice. The man groaned. Good. This wouldn’t take long. In a couple of minutes he clutched me by the hair and started fucking my face. He hardly had time to enjoy choking me a bit before he shot his load into my throat. I swallowed everything. I don’t have to enjoy the work to take pride in it. As he pulled out I looked up at him with the same stoic gaze I’d given him before.

I listened behind me as Cora gagged and coughed. Her guy liked to curse and bark orders, as weak men do when some accident gives them a little power for a moment.

I was more concerned with Imre , who approached with two thin hazelnut branches, each more than a meter in length. When Cora’s guy finally finished, splattering her face as she turned away reflexively – a dangerous mistake but in this case immaterial as our punishment would soon get worse anyway. They brought over a large wooden block and laid me across it with my ass in the air.

Imre stepped in behind me and extended his arm. I closed my eyes. The branch whistled through the air and landed right across my backside. It burned like hell but I kept my lips tight and didn’t utter a sound. He did it again and again. I believe I took about two-dozen very severe strokes. Imre then stood in front of me, handing off both sticks to his henchmen.

“Now you get beating from others while you make me happy too. Good?”

I nodded, actually happy that the inexperienced Cora didn’t have to deal with that.

“Gari hit you, you blow me.”

Immediately I had his cock in my mouth as Gari beat my ass. He wasn’t as accurate as Imre, hitting my back and thighs as well. If he left marks that cost me work I’d make sure I wasn’t the only one who suffered. In our feudal world Imre was a serf and I was his lord’s property. He took longer to come than Gari needed for the two-dozen more strokes. As the hissing and thudding subsided and Cora continued crying, I gulped Imre’s sperm.

Cora looked over at me, finally, through tear-filled eyes.

“Sabrina… oh God… your butt…”

I just shrugged. The sticks had been light and I doubted there was any lasting damage to my hindquarters. When a girl is whipped often her ass becomes like a boxer’s hands, though much smoother we hope. Imre climbed back up on his beloved tractor and we marched on, searing pain burning our legs, and feet, all the way to The Castle. My tail feathers were in flames.

Click here for Part 2

About the Authors:

Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.

 

Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.

 

Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.

 

Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.

 

Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization.  His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.

 

Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex  worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as  “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode.  Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.

Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com

 

Dexx Interviews Nina Hartley

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You may have caught our three part interview with “Master of O” author Ernest Greene in previous issues of Kink Weekly. We were lucky enough to also interview his “better half” sex educator and adult actress Nina Hartley.

Nina Hartley
Nina Hartley

Dexx: So Nina, I gather that you are staunch advocate of porn and BDSM rights for people and sort of a spokesperson on those issues. What sort of lead to you feeling so passionately about those as a cause?

Nina: I come from a long line of social activists, going back to my mother’s father, who worked in civil rights in Alabama in the ‘30s and I grew up going to civil rights marches and anti war marches and women’s rights marches. That was in the San Francisco bay area in the ‘60s and ‘70s, ground zero for the human potential movement, black power, women’s power, earth day, anti-war and the Human Potential Movement. My father was blacklisted in the late ‘50s for being a communist, and I grew up in the aftermath of political persecution and seeing my parents pick up from the rubble and create another life for themselves. The idea of ongoing struggle for rights, for first amendment rights, and individual sexual rights was around me growing up. I’m the youngest by far and was exposed to my parent’s ongoing efforts to save their marriage. They did, in in no particular order, bio feedback, bio energetics, marriage counseling, group counseling, Reichian therapy, primal scream therapy, Tai-Chi, naked tai-chi and guided mescaline therapy. When I was 10 they discovered Zen Buddhism, where they stayed until they died, 46 years later. I understood from an early age that you could fight for the life you wanted, and it was honorable to also fight for the rights of others. Social activism was a thing for my whole family.

Ernest Greene: Why not the violin? (Laughs)

Nina: My dad said once, “Why sex, but not the violin?” and I just had to say that it was my Thing, the way Zen was his. He recalled that I came home from school one day and announced that I was an oddball. If I had been exclusively gay, I would probably have known that my “otherness” was about sex. I just knew I wasn’t like other kids. I never dreamt of *him*, I always dreamt of *them.* I never had Barbie and Ken weddings, I’d have Barbie orgies. From the age of 12, I had this idea of rooms full of naked people and soon thereafter determined to become competent and confident about sex. I’m a queer, bisexual, non-monogamous a top-heavy switch. I grew up with notion that I had the right to live my life the way I wanted and the responsibility to do it safely. When Roe vs. Wade was decided I was 14, and I knew at a bone deep level that unless a woman has control over fertility, she can never be equal to men. I’m happy to be a doting aunt and great-aunt.

If I wasn’t exhibitionistic or pretty enough for porn I would have been a midwife with a very kinky social life. I might still have met Ernest eventually at some party somewhere because while I wasn’t strictly BDSM oriented, I was into all kinds of sexual things. When I met BDSM I realized, “this is me too.” I would have found it sooner or later I think, even if I had not gotten into porn as a profession or met Ernest when I did.

I got into porn in Reagan’s America. HIV became big news around the time of the home video explosion. The silver lining of the HIV debacle was that we had to talk about sex in public. It simply had to be discussed as a public health crisis. I’m a nurse, so for me there’s no shame in desire, just responsibility in behavior. I don’t care what you want. I see a lot of people who are ashamed of their desires, but you want whatever you want. You can’t* do* whatever you want, but you can want whatever you want. As a sex worker I’ve declassed myself, and it’s been an eye-opener to put myself in the way of anti-sex-worker bigotry and ignorance. It’s clear to me that, no matter from which side of the ideological divide it comes, anti sex-worker energy feels exactly the same: angry, ignorant and fearful. In actual life it is discriminatory, judgmental, disrespectful and really, really mean spirited.

Dexx: And it seems like you’ve been in the forefront of publicly discussing your career in the industry.

Nina: I was the first woman in porn to say, “I’ll talk to the press, send them over to me!” I came to porn not just because that’s where the naked women were, but to study sex work from a place of practice, not theory. And porn’s full of naked ladies, so that was (and still is) a lot of fun. I call porn “all the fun of dating with none of the hassle.” I got willing partners without the burden of having to date and all the weird emotional stuff that goes with that. I didn’t want my desires to be a problem for other people, and up until I found my tribe of ethical non-monogamists, all my desires just upset the people I knew. As a board member of the Woodhull Freedom Alliance I affirm that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right.

Dexx: In the course of being so public about that, did you encounter some negativity from some places?

Nina: Oh certainly. I still do. I don’t look on the Internet for people to say mean things about me but I know they’re there. I know for every young woman who thinks I’m an amazing feminist and a great role model for her, a Gale Dines or Katherine McKinnon or Ariel Levy or Pamela Paul, will look at me as an apostate. I’ve been called names. I’ve been called a paid shill, and much worse. So, where’s my paycheck?

Ernest Greene: Where’s my check?!

Nina: (laughs) Women’s sexuality under an Abrahamic-based culture makes an out sex worker a lightning rod. I’ve often said that I make pornography because I’m too chicken shit to be a whore. Andrea Dworkin hated porn because she felt it showed all women as “whores by nature” and what I wanted to tell her was, not all women are whores by nature, “But some are” (she says while raising her hand). Women’s sexuality in cultures such as America’s is always political. We see it everyday. We see it in the fact that we still don’t have decriminalized sex work, we still see it in the way that abortion clinics are being taken out of existence and the way that sex workers are harassed, or worse.
Ernest Greene: If I can interrupt, that repressive attitude cuts across the logical lines. The position closest to the Republican party platform on sex work is that of the green party. Worth reading their platform to see what they have to say, but sex work – they don’t even like the term sex work, they still prefer “prostitution”.

Ernest Greene: They prefer “prostituted” because there’s no such thing as a “voluntary sex worker”. Or there’s such an insignificant part of it that they really don’t register, so most of them are prostituted women who are trafficked.

Nina: These women who absolutely would fight to the death for my right to have an abortion because I own my body are on the opposite side of the coin when it comes to my right to choose sex work. So wait, I can have an abortion, that’s my body, my right, and I’m not being brainwashed, but I can’t choose to be a sex worker because I’m brainwashed? It only goes to show that people’s resistance to individual sexual autonomy and freedom is not based on rationalities, it’s based on emotion. They make up stories and theories to make it okay for them to not check their own attitudes and prejudices, and while they get to stay in their prejudice and stay in their harmful attitudes, etc.

Dexx: So on the subject of non-monogamy it seems like that is something that is really on the rise. Certainly at least in terms of the people that we see. A lot more than it was 10 years ago.

Ernest Greene: It’s a thing.

Nina: He’s never had a non-dominant fantasy in his life, just as I’ve never had a monogamous fantasy in my life. I’ve always dreamt of other people. But more importantly, I always dreamt of it being okay with everybody. My first threesome was a complete, utter disaster. If I had a normal script, I would have said, “see, you don’t get to have that, you don’t get to have those fun things.” For me to have the life I wanted I had to get to the root of my jealousy and exorcise it because I wanted to make my fantasy life real. I wanted to live in a world where my desire for someone didn’t upset anyone else with whom I was sleeping. I wanted other people like me. I didn’t want to have to sit on my own desires and pretend to be normal because that proved to be a failure.

When Ernest and I started dating, besides the agreement to have a lot of hot BDSM sex together and for me to be his slave, we agreed we’d also be free to play with others. Once I had got free of my horrible exes I was sure I was so strange that I’d be single the rest of my life. Where was I going to find a het guy with great style, age- and culturally-appropriate, atheist, who was cool with my job, who wouldn’t slut shame me, whom I found sexy as fuck and who didn’t think he owned my sexuality, who was smart enough to seduce my mind as well as my body and who wouldn’t bore me sexually after three dates.

anniebear: That’s a lot of checkmarks.

Nina: That’s a lot of checks. You can see why I never thought I’d marry again.

anniebear: And the dungeon…

Nina: That was a bonus! Ernest is the only master I’ve ever had and the only lover who I’ve never tired of fucking. I know that the magic, ritual, respect, intentionality, romance and intimacy of BDSM sex is the secret to our relational success.That, plus the fact that we love to have threesomes with submissive women.

If anyone would like a glimpse of what sex at home might be like, check out Ernest’s book, “Master of O.” The sex is very explicit and I can tell you that all of it is taken from life. It’s a hot, fun read and the autographed, illustrated edition makes a great gift for any lover interested in BDSM sex.

Dexx: So, how did you first get into porn? Tell me about your first audition.

Nina: First, I discovered written pornography at the bedside of this Swingin’ 70s couple that I babysat for. Next to the (water) bed they had a small bookshelf with classics such as “Erotic Art of the Masters,” “The Pearl,” “Autobiography of a Flea,” “Fanny Hill,” “A Man and His Maid,” and stalwarts like “The Joy of Sex,” and “The Happy Hooker.” There was a used bookstore in Berkeley that had an erotic section I would come in and sit down and start reading the books, even though I was clearly underage. I paid attention to stories that interested me, and I didn’t understand at the time stories of corporal punishment and whipping. I knew I liked women’s bodies. Between school and home was an adult theatre in Berkley, and for the longest time there was a movie showing there called “Autobiography of a Flea.” I had read the book I wanted to see the movie. So one day I took it upon myself to walk into the theatre and see the movie, all by myself. I was 17. I sat in the middle of the theatre and in the middle of the first sex scene, my inner self said ‘me want do that.’ It was so primal I was surprised. I had barely kissed a boy at that age, I had never seen a naked boy. I’d seen very little hardcore pornography. I’d seen some underground comics that drew it, but never seen a photograph of an erection entering a vulva. And I just wanted to do that.

That was ’76. I met my first husband in ’81, went to nursing school. Ran into a friend who said she worked at the Sutter Street Cinema in San Francisco and I found out about this amateur night danced on stage with people watching. So I went, and I won, because I was clearly the only amateur. It was San Francisco, so I could do a penetration show. I won and I got a weekly job doing a girl/girl peep show, in a white room with a revolving bed. The mirrored peep windows had tip slots and I thought it was just awesome because I got to do girl/girl in room full of mirrors. I learned how to dance, how to present myself in an aesthetic way, but you could also look through and see guys masturbating, which was fantastic to me. I earned in a night what I’d get for a week of waitressing. I was going to school full-time so working just one night a week was optimal.

My then partner ran into Juliet Anderson at a nearby supermarket, recognized her, got her card, and we sent her pictures, and she put me in her one and only directorial effort called “Educating Nina.” So that was in ’84, and I graduated nursing school in ’85 and went into movies full time. My promise to myself was I’d never cut class to make a movie, and I never did. I knew that I was going to be talking about this and “Nina Hartley, RN,” has a lot more weight than “Nina Hartley. college drop out.” And of all the things I could have studied in college, nursing was the best thing to study, because it grounds you in basic biology and science, plus how to be effectively compassionate. I graduated nursing school in June of ’85 and I’ve been full time in adult entertainment ever since. I feature danced from ’87-2002, and then with Ernest I did the 40-volume educational series from Adam and Eve. From that we wrote the book “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex”.

He and I have also done a twenty-volume series for Bizarre Video, “Nina Hartley’s Private Sessions.” As well, I helped him direct three movies for Adam&Eve based on the “Story of O” books: “O: The Power of Submission,” “The Surrender of O, “ and “The Truth about O.” All are beautifully shot, all are filled with hot kink-sex and lots of bondage with penetration (something Ernest made safe for porn).

I speak whenever I can to anybody over 18. In the beginning, with people on planes saying, “What do you do?” I’d always say pornography, because it’s always a great out about it. Now, when people say, ‘what do you do,’ I say I’m an adult sex educator. A little bit broader and I let them ask questions.

anniebear: A little polarizing to some.

Ernest Greene: She certainly has had her battles, there’s no doubt about it. And she’s not a combative person, unlike me, that’s hard for her.

Nina: I really, really, really, really believe in that. A person has a right to do with their body what they want. Period.

Nina and her husband Earnest Greene
Nina and her husband Earnest Greene

Dexx: So now, you produce your own material for Nina.com?

Nina: I do. The Internet has completely changed the production landscape, the monetary landscape, and the relationship between the performer and fans. Nowadays, performers mostly who work for themselves. These days I get hired very rarely to do a scene for a company. But my friends and I get together all the time and exchange content. I like that because we really get to do whatever it is we want.

I don’t know what’s going to happen but I do like being able to deal directly with the fans. The Internet does make it possible for any individual person to create a sexual community for themselves. Because all any performer needs to live is 100 people in the entire world to give them $50 a month each. There are many ways now for performers to interact with fans to do all kinds of not-in-person sex work in real time.

Dexx: It’s pretty interesting because you hear about free porn on the internet kind of cutting the revenues of the porn industry.

Nina: It cuts the revenue of the producers. Sex is about relationships, so porn is about relationships. so you are my fan. I’m in your bedroom with you, in your relationship with you, with you at your loneliest or horniest moment, and I’m happy to be there. Between porn performers and fans it’s personal. I have fans who are my fans because of my ass, certainly, but because I remind them of their first grade teacher, or their first crush, or a sister in law they used to want to fuck.

Ernest Greene: Really, what happened here, by no one’s intention, was that the means of production reverted to the workers when the big companies could no longer make profits on DVD sales, they all just kind of folded up. So now, they attract a different kind of performer.

Nina: More self motivated, more self organized. More educated.

Ernest Greene: It used to be in the 90s everyone wanted to be Jenna Jameson, but now I think it’s sort of kind of gotten filtered out to the hinterlands that there will not be another Jenna Jameson because there’s no company to support that kind of thing, but you can have that kind of interesting bohemian life out here.

Nina: You can be in an Indie porno, or some kind of alt-porno. So the individual person, who doesn’t mind being his or her own boss, it’s possible to carve out a portion of the landscape for your brand of sexy. It’s still a little harder for men to make their way here, because unless you don’t mind having a large gay following, it’s hard to have a pay site..

Dexx: So Nina, more recently you’ve been doing more BDSM oriented work?

Nina: I have been. Because I no longer have a partner who shames me out of it. Actually I would have been working with Ernest back in the 80s if my exes hadn’t shamed me out of it. I’m doing it more because, I’m kinky, and with women I really like topping. I really like being the good lover I wish I’d met when I was their age.

Dexx: You must have worked with lots and lots of BDSM porn actors and actresses?

Nina: More actresses. I’m strictly a top on camera. Except with Ernest.

Dexx: What makes a really great porn actress to work with?

Nina: The most important thing for me in a performer is her desire to be on camera.
Ernest Greene: You gotta like it.

Nina: It’s not just liking sex, but liking sex that other people are going to watch later. So most of the women I work with are like me, huge exhibitionists and really love the attention. They love the camera being on them. I love showing them attention. I love stoking their desire to be pretty and sexy and have all the attention, because I like girls and seeing girls happy and having orgasms at my help really works for me. So I never, never tire of a woman who is happy to be there. Or men, either, but particularly in BDSM movies. If I’m in it, I’ll be topping women, or co-topping. I just started recently doing FemDom on camera, mainly it’s woman and woman.

Dexx: With the prevalence of so much BDSM porn, do you think there are issues of some actresses being coerced into BDSM even though they’re not really into it?

Ernest Greene: In this country? No. In other parts of the world, I can’t say. But I think here, no.

Nina: In our community, very little. The women talk a lot to each other and the concept of consent is really quite out there in the world. A 20 year old these days has more information than a 20 year old in the ‘80s.

Ernest Greene: Let me also say as a director, that there’s been a real change in the attitude of porn performers over the years. They used to come in here pretty much expecting that they would do what they were told. Now they come in here expecting to do what they want to do. So, woe betide the foolish director who tried to get someone to do something they didn’t want to do. They’re likely to get their heads bitten off right at the shoulders, which is fine by me. I never had the problem because I always say what do you want to do and who do you want to do it with? Because that makes a hot scene. One of the things that directors do that’s stupid is say, well,I think these two people look good together so I’m going to put them together, but what you don’t know is they used to be an item but they broke up and hate each other’s guts. But they need the money so they agree to do the scene. Nah, you don’t want that scene. That’s a scene you don’t want to see.

Nina: Most of the time the directors who are sleezy that way, word does get around in a way it didn’t used to back in the studio system days. The director could threaten someone with the “you’ll never work in this town again” schtick and she couldn’t know that actually wasn’t possible.

Ernest Greene: It was never possible.

Nina: Now it’s impossible. You cannot prevent me from getting work from somewhere else. You may never hire me again, but you cannot prevent me from getting hired by somebody else.

Ernest Greene: The very fact that they won’t hire you might make the other person want to hire you.

Nina: So that part’s different.

Ernest Greene: There were things about the old system that I liked, from the production side, mainly the fact that we had enough money to do it… this is what’s sad about it. A lot of you have really good ideas but you don’t have 100 thousand dollars.

Nina: Or even 50K. We have donated labor and 5 hours.

Ernest: And one place, one room. Whereas, I used to have, as I said, 100 thousand dollars, houses, and things like that. I happen to like luxury porn.

Nina: If I won the lottery, I’m making bon bon porn till the day I die.

Dexx: Bon bon porn? (laughs)

Nina: Costumes, sex, script, rehearsals, music.

Ernest: Luxury porn is just not a thing at this point. Now someday there may be, it may come back.

Dexx: Funnily enough, there was a scene in Boogie Nights in which you had a role. (laughs)

Nina: Yeah.

Dexx: So how was it working on that movie?

Nina: It was honestly great. First, William H Macy is the world’s nicest man. He was a decent human being, treated me like a fellow professional, like a peer. Paul Thomas Anderson was a very good director, he knew exactly what he wanted. He never yelled, he was always very clear, and what really pissed me off though is that I had two big walking-talking scenes with Macy going to and from the party where I’m fucking in the driveway.

Dexx: I remember that.

Nina: I mean, we did a tracking shot, walking two-shot, 17 takes, each of them a little bit different and I thought, “oh wow he must really want this.” In the end all of the character building stuff was left out, which sucked. Making mainstream movies is like a porno shoot, only bigger. I was absolutely comfortable because a movie set is a movie set. During the last scene where I get shot with some squibs, I had to go to the make up trailer between takes. And all the time I had to remember, “Put on robe, put on robe, put on robe.” I mean, for me being naked is my work clothes. But for other people might perceive it as being challenging..

Paul Thomas Andersen hired me partly because he was a fan when he was in high school, but also because he wouldn’t have to close the set or worry about my emotional well-being.

anniebear: Have a discussion…

Nina: Have a discussion. So that part was great.

anniebear: That was kind of why they hired porn actresses for Game of Thrones recently.

Ernest: Yeah, sure, because they can get naked without worrying about it.

anniebear: Yeah, there’s a couple of them. And they’re great, and they look great, and they were good actresses. (laughs)

Nina: You know a lot of them are actually, we could be good actresses with a good director. I always have my ideas but I like being directed. If you want me to say it a different way, I’ll say it a different way.

Ernest: Absolutely. It can be good.

Dexx: There’s a pretty strong network of ProDommes in Southern California. Are you part of that world at all?

Nina: Oddly enough, I’ve never worked aa a ProDomme, but I should because I really like it.

anniebear: I think people in the LA scene think you are.

Nina: I do know if I guested at Sanctuary LAX I would probably talk to Mistress Cyan about it. I’m a sensual dominant. If you’re masochistic, I’ll hurt you as much as you want and 2 for me. I don’t need tears, I don’t need fear, I’m a good service top and I’m not afraid to hurt you. I clearly have a lot to learn, in terms of sessioning, because I don’t usually play with submissive men. And submissive women and submissive men are not the same.

Ernest: Right.

Nina: The gender thing makes a difference. And so when it comes to ProDoming, I’m a baby ProDom. I’m an experienced top, but I know nothing about rope. I’d like to develop that side of my skill set. What I’ve done so far has been fun so I’m not against doing it.

Ernest: It’s not out of the question.

Nina is still active in the porn industry as an actress and producer. You can see more at Nina.com.
Follow her on Twitter: @ninaland. Nina is a board member of the Woodhull Alliance. Find out more: woodhullfoundation.org

Part Three: Interview with Author Ernest Greene, Master of O

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You can read parts one and two here.

Ernest Greene continues discussing how he cam to write his book, Master of O.

Obviously, there was some interesting writing to be had on this subject, but I guess I kept on reading other kinds of BDSM fiction and I just wasn’t finding anything much that felt real. I would say Jean de Berg’s “The Image” had that feeling and right so, as it turned out later to have been written by the legendary domina Catherine Robbe-Grillet, wife of the surrealist novelist Alain Robb-Grillet. Also, most of what I read was written from the submissive woman’s point of view. And I can easily understand why. The drama of that is obvious. It’s suspenseful; you don’t know what’s going to happen to her. How far is she going to go with this? Obviously it’s easy to identify with that character but the result of that is the guys for the most part were a bunch of stiffs in almost all of these things that I read. They just weren’t interesting. There was no insight into what makes a dominant guy. After a while, living in that desert, where I’d never recognized anyone who reminded me, not only of me, but of anyone I ever knew who was a dominant guy, I began to get discouraged by it. I mean, we have senses of humor, we like our partners and we’re not all products of terrible childhoods working out our DIY therapy here. We have personalities.

So I set out to take this book, this gateway book, this groundbreaking piece of literature and reimagine it in a modern setting where it would be told from the point of view of a dominant man, a point of view we haven’t heard much of. We don’t know what goes through the heads of these guys. They’re whipping machines. They might as well all be robots, from the way they’re commonly portrayed in fiction. I’ve known a few real ones, and I am one, so I set out to rewrite this book from Steven’s point of view, redesigning him from the cardboard cut-out he’d been in the original. And, again, set in a modern Los Angeles, and I think that works pretty well as such. I still think most people who read it are going to be more interested in O than they are in Steven, for obvious reasons. But I think many will find him appealing and younger readers in particular may relate better to his brother Ray, a younger generation dominant guy who’s a little looser and a little less stick-up-his-butt about it. But O in my book as much as she was in the original, is still the heart and soul of the story. The reason the guys could be flat and interchangeable in the story as first written was because that story was really about O and what she felt driven to do, which is never really explained. She makes a fine Rorschach test upon which almost any kind of motivation can be projected. The implied motives didn’t make sense when I first read it so I grounded my characters in more familiar emotional terrain. I won’t deny that I based some of these characters on people I know and there is a woman I know who, in many ways, meets the description of O as she’s portrayed in this book.

Dominant men are as emotionally vulnerable as any other human beings on earth. They can misread a signal from their partner and build a whole fantasy about something that can happen that might not really be what the other person has in mind. And the results can be just as unpredictable as in any other kind of relationship. A BDSM relationship is first and foremost a relationship. That’s at the core of my vision.

One thing for which “Master of O” has been criticized here and there is the frequency with which luxury goods possessed by the characters are described in excruciating detail. All kinds of silly motives have been attributed to this but there is, in fact, a narratively relevant reason why I placed such emphasis on objects, which I very deliberately eroticized. Taken from the original novel, which does quite a bit of the same thing, right down to name-checking a legendary Parisian scarf brand, is an underlying theme of fetishism beneath the D/s content. In a culture as thoroughly saturated with consumerism as our own, we tend to overlook the sexual component of our own consumerism. It’s hardly a thing that comes with bragging rights to observe that our society, including its BDSM element, has sexualized luxury goods to the point where the line blurs between advertising and erotica. In my effort to update the story to modern times, I very deliberately called attention to the fetishistic obsessions of the characters and how those overlapped with their sadomasochistic desires. What I set out to delineate was the overlap between the objectification of sex and the sexualization of objects. This is not a judgment of any kind so much as an observation. We talk about BDSM a lot more than we talk about fetishism these days, but the two are inseparable, more so now than ever before.

"Master of O" book cover
“Master of O” book cover

When you look back over the book itself, it affirms pretty much what you already knew, if you know anything about this, which is a submissive partner is submissive for exactly as long as they want to be. That’s it. And a dominant partner is dominant only as long they’re allowed to be. That’s also it. In the end, if people want to do D/s nothing can stop them and if they don’t, nothing can interest them in the idea. A dynamic holds up just as long as those in it want it to.

Nina: And not one second longer. (Laughs)

Ernest Greene: What is the definition of a hard limit? Something that will give you a big bad bruise on the side of your head when you hit it. That’s a hard limit. It can be about the strangest thing, you know, something you never negotiated, discussed or even considered but that turns out to be not only the hard limit, but also the deal breaker. It’s not necessarily anything physical, anything to do with sex, anything to do with BDSM.

Given my acceptance of these realities, because you can accept them or be blindsided by them, my agenda was to give us some insight into what that looks like from the other end of the whip. It’s easier in some respects to understand what a submissive partner gets out of BDSM because everything is done to them. They’re stimulated mentally, physically, and sexually in all kinds of other ways. What’s in it for the person doing that? Well, a lot of hot sex, and a lot of really ecstatic experiences that you just can’t have with anyone who doesn’t share this thing with you. I have experienced that, and I’ve experienced it, but considering how many partners I’ve had, that real connection has been fairly uncommon. It’s that kind of D/s relationship that really has a tremendous emotional impact on the lives of all involved. Usually people play for a while then discover the other person as they really are and the magic fades quickly.

Nina: Some physically move on. Some get married even into situations they know are less than perfect but they decide that monogamy is really where they’re at. And though I don’t think this is common, some of them grew out of their BDSM inclinations, which run deeper in some than others.

Ernest Greene: Some of our best former playmates are still our best friends!

Nina: Some of them are still occasional playmates too, with an itch that needs scratching once in a while. They may move far away, but when they are in town…

Ernest Green: They visit. (laughs)

Nina: They visit and we have a session.

Ernest Greene: We’re non-monogamous. That’s one of the reasons we got together.

Nina: That was a prerequisite.

Ernest Greene: You’re closer to being polyamorous than I am. I’m just a slut. I like to have lots of different experiences.

Nina: And I like to facilitate those experiences, whether or not I’m physically involved in them.

Ernest Greene: But you could conceivably have the emotional space in your life for another person.

Nina: Yeah

Ernest Greene: Whereas for me, most of that desire belongs to an earlier time in my life, though I would never close the door on the possibility of expanding our relationship to include another woman. But there would have to be a very high level of compatibility among all of us. Hard enough to maintain intimacy with just one other person.

Nina: Romantically, you’re a one-woman kind of guy. People say, ‘Nina, aren’t you afraid he might fall in love with somebody else?’ You can’t stop a person’s heart from doing what it wants to but I don’t worry about what Ernest’s heart wants to do. After sixteen years together I’m pretty confident no outside force can pull us out of our current orbit.

Ernest Greene: I can’t guarantee that’s not going to happen, but it’s very unlikely. By my age you tend to know what you really value.

Nina: Honestly, no, I’m not afraid of him falling in love with someone else. It was hard enough for him to fall in love with me. (laughs)

Ernest Greene: Let me tell you that, at 65, I’ve been doing this for 40 years. I’ve had a lot of great experiences and opportunities, wonderful fantastic things, but still being able to enjoy those things when they come along, combined with the enduring love of someone I live with so comfortably, it’s hard to picture any fundamental changes. We both had to make some serious adjustments for one another, but that’s what we did and we’re happy with the outcome. I had a previous marriage that was largely based on our D/s dynamic, and it turned out, as my ex said, that our fantasy lives were perfect, it was our real life that sucked.” (laughs)

Dexx: Where did you guys meet?

Ernest Greene: At work!

Nina: He was the assistant director on a picture I starred in for a friend. He really helped me with a difficult scene. And looking back, if I knew then what I know now, after working on that movie, I would have gone home to my poly partners and said, “60 days notice, good for you?”

Ernest Greene: Because we really right away.

Nina: I was already deeply unhappy in my first marriage, and I couldn’t admit that it was deeply unsuitable. My partners were never going to change and it was my responsibility to do something about it.

Ernest Greene: We had a torrid romance and then she went back to them.

Nina: I missed the entire 90s with him.

Ernest Greene: And at the time, all I could say was, “if you think you’re doing anyone a favor with this, I doubt that’s true.”

Nina: He was right.

Ernest Greene: I went on and had a few more crazy, passionate, doomed romances with other wild, interesting women. It was really a lot of fun. But after every one of them would leave, or be asked to leave in some cases, I would tell my friends “you know it’s really a shame that thing with Nina didn’t work out because that really made sense. “ And they’d say “God when is he going to get over this” because this went on for 8 years. That’s how long we were separated. Then she called me up, one day…

Nina: Out of the blue.

“And says, “I’ve left my husband, are you free for lunch?” And I said, yes I am free for lunch, and for the rest of my life. I’m clearing my social calendar right now. That lunch is still going on.

Dexx: But there’s still a D/s element to the relationship. Nina’s wearing a collar.

Nina: Well, I’m going to say this in the most positive way: when it comes to sex, I’m a stem cell, and he’s a virus. That means the following: I am an adaptive person. I am cisgendered and female bodied and see myself as female but I like everyone: boys, girls, crossdressers. I like a wide variety of things with a wide variety of people. He concentrates on doing one thing really well. If you want the ultra-submissive-femme experience, oh my god, have I got the best one of those for you. I will loan him out. I know how exciting it was when I was first alone with him. Before Ernest, I liked sex, but I never had a profound ideation about D/s specifically. I really wanted him so I learned a new love language. It was a language in which he was fluent to say the least, exquisitely developed to do one thing perfectly well, which is to have incredibly out there, deeply D/s sadomasochistic sex with a woman and let both himself and the woman he’s with enjoy a really good time with it. His brute is on a really short, tight leash, and when it’s appropriate he lets it off just enough. My primary fetish is novelty. If I’m not going to be end up sick, injured or arrested I’m interested in sharing sexual space with anybody once, but for me with most men, once a year is plenty. Whenever you’re in town, call me. Meantime, don’t send flowers. The fact that I’ve lived with someone for 16 years and still want to fuck him all the time blows my mind. I’m not naturally that way with anyone else.

Ernest Green: Well, it’s still a little different every time.

Nina: I’m adaptive, but I’m not primarily D/s oriented. In that way, he’s still a bit of a stranger to me in his dom space. It’s not my native language, so I speak kink with an accent. My vocabulary is pretty good, but I still have an accent. Together we go to this fabulous place, which is his head, and there are still surprises there. Unlike a lot of women we know, I never dreamt of having master. It still amazes me that my long-term happiness turns out to be in a D/s situation, because I didn’t long for that.

Ernest Greene: You do have a surprisingly strong streak of physical masochism, which I felt was there. One develops an instinct for these things.

Nina: I was a massive nail biter growing up.

Ernest Greene: There are certain indicators you begin to realize when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, and she had some tells. She wouldn’t have been asking me so many questions about BDSM every time we saw each other casually if she hadn’t been called to it in more than a strictly intellectual way. There’s curiosity and there’s fascination, two very different things.

Nina: Being together really helped reconcile my feminism with my love of service and submission. It helped me see there’s no contradiction between being a feminist in the world and a sex slave at home. Ernest appreciates powerful women. He likes having a tiger at the end of his leash, not a housecat. When I talk to people about what we have together, I say “submit is a verb” and “doormat” is a noun. If there’s one thing I’m not it’s a doormat.

Ernest Greene: Nina accepts the collar from me, not for me.

Nina: I do it for me.

Ernest Greene: We do it for each other. There are so many strange ideas floating around the BDSM world right now that it’s hard to pin down which one I find the oddest, but there’s nothing I find quite so mysterious as the idea, very popular in some circles right now, that BDSM isn’t really about sex. Oh, it isn’t? Will you please explain to me if it isn’t really about sex what it is about that’s healthy? I do make judgments. Your kink may not be okay with me for any of a number of possible reasons. If it’s not based in erotic desire, what is its appeal? I will grant there can be logical answers to that question, but I remain skeptical about most of the answers I hear. I suspect sometimes people will say “my BDSM thing is non sexual” because they have a narrow conception of sex as PIV intercourse only. BDSM and/or fetishism can be erotic in unconventional ways, but I’m pretty sure that’s its motivation no matter how it’s expressed.

Dexx: So, the BDSM scenes that are in “Master of O, “ do they come out of personal experiences that you’ve had? One that comes to mind in particular is the poker evening, which was pretty iconic.

Nina: Everything sexual in that book is taken from life.

Ernest Greene: That’s absolutely true. There’s not one thing in there that I have not either done myself or seen someone else do. Or been a part of. I can guarantee that. The narrative is largely fictional but the people are mostly based on people I know.

Dexx: Would you say that it’s kind a realistic portrayal of how the D/s relationship might unfold?

Ernest Greene: One kind, absolutely. The relationship between Steven and O is very different from the relationship between Jacqui and Ray. It would be perfectly possible to build a satisfying BDSM relationship on either model. Ray and Jacquir are more a part of the TNG milieu. They love rope. They have a much more relaxed approach to protocol. Steven and O are more traditional and formal. Either approach can work fine if the individuals are truly compatible. Steven and O are really driven by their desires, which is what part of it makes their connection so electrifying and compelling.

Dexx: Do you think the book could have the makings of a major movie?

Ernest Greene: I actually think it would be a good cable series because cable has gotten much more daring and sophisticated while features have become increasingly bland and predictable. “Master of O” could work fine being no more explicit than, say, “Masters of Sex ,” which is a terrific series done in a very thoughtful way, or “Outlander,” which is a very gritty kind of romance. It’s adult entertainment in the best sense of the word. That’s the standard I try to hit. So far I don’t think BDSM has been well-served on film, though I do have some kind words for “Secretary,” which is misleading but good-natured, and the film version of “The Image,” which was shot by Radley Metzger who was perhaps the best erotic filmmaker of all time, is quite believable. It’s too bad that “Nine and a Half Weeks” was submarined by Mickey Rourke’s terrible performance, because the book is terribly underrated and the story was naturally cinematic. The first visual production that gets BDSM right is going to find a very large audience very quickly.

Dexx: Submission?

Ernest Greene: Definitely on the right track. You don’t have to show every explicit act to make a really good dramatic presentation of what BDSM people’s lives are about. So yes, I did have that in the back of my mind when I was writing “Master of O” because I do have a background in picture making and I tried to construct it so it could be adapted. We’ve haven’t shopped it aggressively, in part because I’ve wanted the hype from Brand X, as we call it, to fade some before we tried approaching producers with something more serious. I think we’re about there now, given the lack of controversy surrounding the most recent attempt. “Master of O” is really story-driven and it’s challenging to get that kind of material made whatever the subject.

Nina: There are no explosions, nobody gets killed, nobody cracks up, nobody’s life is ruined by sex. It doesn’t have the easy hooks for producers to hang a project on. But if the right person goes at it with the right attitude, the demand is already there and waiting. It develops its dramatic momentum by slowly winding the human connection tighter as it goes along to a point where you know that something is going to pop.

Ernest Greene: There is a point at which some decision has to be made about what the real long term implications of a relationship of such intensity would be. But I did want to present what I consider a basically positive portrayal of an M/Ss relationship, or a D/s relationship with a heterosexual male-dominant orientation that’s always suspect and always politically on the defensive. “Master of O” doesn’t pander to easy expectations about relationships of this kind, which can be as healthy as any other kind of relationship, or as unhealthy. It’s a relationship first. Then it’s a BDSM thing.

Ernest Greene has been the Executive Editor of Hustler’s flagship BDSM magazine Taboo since 1999 and of Taboo Illustrated since . He has performed in, written, produced, or directed over 500 adult titles, including the Nina Hartley’s Guide series, starring his wife and producing partner, noted porn star and sex educator Nina Hartley. Master of O may be purchased here.