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“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?”
“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?”
“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.
“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.
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