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Ernest Greene and Nina Hartley Interview on The Truth About O

April 30, 2018 By slave_bunny 15 Comments

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.

Tagged With: bdsm, dominant, ernest greene, kink, Nina Hartley, power exchange, slave bunny, story of o, submissive

The Initiation of Cora: Part 1

April 30, 2018 By Ernest Greene and Nina Hartley 9 Comments

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

 

Tagged With: bdsm, domination, ernest greene, kink, Nina Hartley, power exchange, story of o, submission

O: Of Sonnets, Mnemonics and Desiring the Impossible

September 13, 2016 By Stephan 3 Comments

obooks1

In her poem which begins ‘Even long after my death’ Maria Martins (1900-1973), the vivacious wife of the Brazilian ambassador to the United States who was known to others as simply ‘Maria’ the surrealist sculptor and lover of artist Marcel Duchamp, exclaimed;

Even long after my death
Long after your death
I want to torture you
I want the thought of me
to coil around your body like a serpent of fire…
I want the nostalgia of my presence to paralyze you.

A passion reciprocal is offered here amid ‘sleepless nights’, a legacy wherein a ‘haze’ of ‘desires’ stretches through time until death. We are reminded of Petrarch’s ‘variis terroribus’ and his 14th century poems addressed to Laura, an idealised beloved who is thought to have been the unattainable Laura de Noves, the wife of Count Hugues de Sade (an ancestor of the Marquis de Sade).

Laura de Noves married at the age of 15 (January 16th, 1325) and Petrarch saw her for the first time two years later on April 6th (Good Friday) in 1327 at Easter mass in the church of Sainte-Claire d’Avignon. Falling in love at first sight, Petrarch would be haunted by her beauty for the rest of his life. Already being married she would turn down all advances he made toward her.

Did Laura exist? Fontenelle in his Nouveaux dialogues des morts (1773) re-imagines Laura in conversation with Sapho contemplating the “inexpressibly delightful mixture of pleasure and pain, which is the soul of the amour.”

In a letter Petrarch assured his close friend Bishop Giacomo Colonna, that Laura was indeed a real woman and his love a cruel passion. Her image haunted him by day and by night, at home and out of doors, awake or asleep, even after her demise. The relentless vision of Laura became an illness, a yoke of unbearable chains. Even as the poet sought refuge in the thickest woods Laura’s face seemed to appear in thickets, trunks of trees, fountains, and rocks. “In fact, often in the dead of night,” writes Aldo S Bernardo, “she breaks through the locked doors of his bedroom to claim her slave, causing him unspeakable agony and terror…”

Laura died at the age of 38 in the year 1348, on April 6th, Good Friday, exactly 21 years to the very hour that Petrarch first saw her (as Petrarch noted in his copy of a work by Virgil). Several years after her death, Maurice Sceve, a humanist, visiting Avignon had her tomb opened and discovered inside a lead box. Inside was a medal representing a woman ripping at her heart, and under that, a sonnet by Petrarch;

Here now repose those chaste, those blest remains
Of that most gentle spirit…
O lovely beauteous limbs! O vivid fire,
That even in death hast power to melt the soul!

O Rings

Before his death in 1374 Petrarch bequested a sum of money to astronomer and horologist Giovanni de Dondi to be exchanged for a ring – a simple ‘O’ ring – “to be worn by him in my memory.” This image, a simple O, was used as a mnemonic device following Petrach’s death, to teach the alphabet in a book about memory, Giovambattista Della Porta’s The Art of Memory.

One is put in mind of another ‘O’, and the rings worn by the protagonists in Story of O, particularly that which is worn by O herself in order that memories of Roissy might sustain her paralysis of subservience. Indeed, Dominique Aury (1907-1998) who hid behind the pseudonym Pauline Réage for forty years, created in Histoire d’O another simple ‘O’ which has become a bequest, a simple (and as it turned out, single) gift which after 60 years still weaves its own haze of desires, and might even be blamed for many of our ‘sleepless nights’, our ‘desiring the impossible’
.
Story of O relates the tale of a young Parisian fashion photographer, called O, and her wilful debasement at the hands of her lover Rene and the members of a clandestine society dedicated to the pleasures of sadomasochism. O is taken by Rene to a chateau ‘Roissy’ on the edge of Paris where she is systematically turned into a slave through sexual assaults, regular whippings, and long hours in solitude. Once back in Paris O is ‘given’ to an Englishman Sir Stephen who has her whipped, branded and pierced. Finally in one of two alternative endings, O chooses death and her demise is granted.

Histoire d’O by Pauline Réage with a foreword by Jean Paulhan, was published in an initial edition of 600 copies by Jean-Jacques Pauvert and appeared in Paris in June 1954. Its publication caused immediate controversy. Pauline Réage, unmasked before her death in 1998, as journalist and translator Dominique Aury, claims the book was nothing more than a love letter to her lover Jean Paulhan, une entreprise de seduction, a way of keeping his interest after an affair of almost two decades. Paulhan, one of France’s most respected literary figures, loved it and had suggested immediate publication. The daring nature of the novel became the talk of the French salons and cafes and there was much speculation as to the true identity of its author. In the following year Histoire d’O won the Prix des Deux Magots, a literary prize generally awarded to new and unconventional books, with a number of famous writers amongst its earlier recipients. The literary quality of Histoire d’O was confirmed and the novel’s notoriety was firmly established. Despite subsequent public outrage and a police investigation involving the interrogation of the publisher Jean-Jacques Pauvert, the book continued to be published, and the identity of Pauline Réage, who, it is said, quelled further police intervention after meeting the Minister of Justice over lunch, remained a well kept secret.

Love Letter

Jean Paulhan inspired Histoire d’O, when he remarked that no woman could ever write a truly erotic novel. Aury decided to try her hand, both as a literary challenge and in the hope that it would rekindle their long-standing affair. John de St Jorre reminds us, ‘She was in her mid-forties at the time, and Paulhan was almost seventy. It was both a private document of their passion and une enterprise de séduction, designed to ensnare—her word—a highly sophisticated man. “What could I do?,” she proffered, “I couldn’t paint, I couldn’t write poetry. What could I do to make him sit up?”

When John de St. Jorre asked Dominique Aury about the second ending in Story of O Aury shrugged her shoulders, admitting, “I didn’t know how to end it…” Seeing that Sir Stephen was about to leave her, O prefers to die, and Sir Stephen gives his consent. “To be killed by the person you love” considered Aury, “seems to me the height of rapture… Hell is everyday life, when you are alone.”

“Isn’t what we call eroticism this vertiginous desire to be swallowed up… the attraction toward Death?” asked Peraldi. “Was not O using Rene and Sir Stephen…” asked Aury, “to achieve the fulfillment of her dreams, in other words her destruction, her death?”

Gregory Stephenson has described Aury’s writing as celebrating, “passionate, obsessional, self-annihilating love.” – “Passion is a serious matter”, Aury pointed out to Jacqueline Domornex, “I find there are worse things than death…”

In November 1960 under the name Dominique Aury (her favoured pseudonym, real name Desclos) Aury allowed publication of several of her poems in the Nouvelle Revue Francaise. “Dreams” invite the reader once again to advance into her night of troubled passion;
We walk on a river bank
Upon a narrow tow-path
On the edge of a new dyke
On the high steps of a dam

As far as the plain where great trees
Are reflected in the black waters
As far as the meads where marble gleams
In silence and despair

And I cry without a cry without a word
For night has reclaimed you
The floods have cut the paths
Ah, might I be carried off in the flotsam

If death in Maria’s poem is offered as a gift, a present of nostalgia, a time regained, then the death which O in Story of O requests and is granted at the end of the story is something a little more problematical. After a giving so all-embracing the result of which is the complete emptying out of the self, – O has become a negation, – O welcomes death as the end result of freedom in slavery.

Does Aury over step the mark? Does she take O’s slavery too far? George Bataille thought Histoire d’O contained “the impossible aspect of eroticism”, in that, “O’s paradox is similar to that of the visionary who dies of not dying…” In one of the few reviews which heralded the publication of Histoire d’O Bataille concluded, “This book reaches beyond the word, breaks out of its own bonds, dispels any fascination for eroticism by revealing the greater fascination exerted by the impossible. What is impossible here is not only death, but total and absolute solitude…” Certainly the mask that was Pauline Réage attained a certain solitude but what mostly comes across from the Aury voice in interview is her passion and deep commitment in loving. And yet the madness of O’s complete giving and ultimate giving up to death, Susan Sontag reminds us, “should not be understood as a by-product of her enslavement to Rene, Sir Stephen, and the other men at Roissy, but as the point of her situation, something she seeks and eventually attains.” This “voluptuous yearning for the extinction of one’s consciousness, for death itself” puts Histoire d’O on a level few books occupy. “What Story of O unfolds is a spiritual paradox,” Susan Sontag maintains, “that of the full void and of the vacuity that is also a plenum. The power of this book lies exactly in the anguish stirred up by the continuing presence of this paradox.”

Readers return again and again to Histoire d’O to share in this paradox, a mystery which invites the reader to experience sexual feelings strong enough to make a person feel he is losing his ‘self’, an invitation perhaps, to desire the impossible.

Stephan hails from Essex, UK, where he was born in 1952. His family were all East End Londoners with a mixture of Irish, Dutch and Jewish blood. He is known for his paintings inspired by Story of O and his comprehensive website. A one time erotica bookseller at the London Fetish Fair, Stephan has exhibited his paintings at EROTICA (Olympia, London), Skin Two Expo (Barbican, London) and fetish clubs and galleries across the UK.

Tagged With: erotica, petrarch, story of o

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