time.
The Story of O
Constance and Bob’s fourth-rate theater of sadism and despair started off rather simply. She was the first one to get the warts. They were venereal warts inside of her vagina.
She’d had a drunken one-night-stand love affair with a middle-aged lawyer who had read her book. She was a twenty-three-year-old-just-failed novelist and he had told her that he liked her book and she was feeling very badly because the book, though it was a critical success, was not selling, and she had been forced to go back to work.
So she went to bed with the lawyer and got warts in her vagina.
They looked like a hideous clump of nightmare mushrooms. They had to be burned off with an electric needle: one painful treatment following on the claws of another painful treatment.
When she found out that she had the warts, she talked to Bob about ending their marriage. She felt so embarrassed. She thought that there was no reason to continue her life.
“Please . . . ,” she said. “I can’t go on living with you. I’ve done such a terrible thing.”
“No way,” Bob told her and was so good to her, knowing all about the affair, and he took care of everything in a super-effective way which was how he handled things . . . then.
They could not have a normal sex life for two months because that’s how long it took for the warts to be burned out of her vagina and sometimes when she came home from seeing the doctor and his electric needle, she would just sit down and start crying.
Bob comforted her and took care of her and made her feel better, caressing her hair, holding her, talking gently to her, “You’re my woman. I love you. It will be all over soon,” until she stopped crying.
Because they were denied access to a traditional sex life, venereal warts are caused by a communicable virus that’s transmitted through intercourse, they had to do other things, which they did.
They really liked having intercourse together. Bob loved the way his penis fit inside of Constance’s vagina, and she did, too. They used to make jokes about erotic plumbing. They were both kind of traditional sex fiends.
One day somebody loaned Bob a copy of the Story of O , which he read. It is a gothic sadomasochist novel that sort of turned him on because he thought that it was so strange. He would get a partial erection when he read it.
After he finished the book, he gave it to Constance to read because she was curious about it.
“What’s it about?” she asked.
She read it and got sort of turned on, too.
“It’s kind of sexy,” she said.
A week after they had both finished reading it, they were drunkish one evening and sexually playing around in their special ways because they were denied the regular sex act.
Usually, she would jack him off or orally copulate him and he would very carefully, like cutting a diamond, clitorally masturbate her until she came. He could have gotten a job at Tiffany’s.
They were lying there in bed, sort of drunk, when he said, “Why don’t we play the Story of O ?”
“OK,” Constance said, smiling. “Which part do I play?”
The Story of O Game
They had a lot of fun playing the Story of O game for the first time. Constance found some scarfs for him to tie her up with and she found a large silk handkerchief for him to gag her with. Bob tied a knot in the center of the handkerchief as he had seen on television and in the movies and put the knot between her teeth and tied the ends of the handkerchief tightly at the back of her head, so that her mouth was forced open by the knot.
Her hands were tied behind her back.
She was breathing very heavily. She had never been tied and gagged before. He caressed her breasts and her thighs. She liked the feeling of helplessness and pleasure.
Then he whipped her very gently with his belt and she moaned pleasurably from behind the gag. While all this was happening, he still had his clothes on. She lay naked on the bed.
After a while he took his clothes
The Story of O
Constance and Bob’s fourth-rate theater of sadism and despair started off rather simply. She was the first one to get the warts. They were venereal warts inside of her vagina.
She’d had a drunken one-night-stand love affair with a middle-aged lawyer who had read her book. She was a twenty-three-year-old-just-failed novelist and he had told her that he liked her book and she was feeling very badly because the book, though it was a critical success, was not selling, and she had been forced to go back to work.
So she went to bed with the lawyer and got warts in her vagina.
They looked like a hideous clump of nightmare mushrooms. They had to be burned off with an electric needle: one painful treatment following on the claws of another painful treatment.
When she found out that she had the warts, she talked to Bob about ending their marriage. She felt so embarrassed. She thought that there was no reason to continue her life.
“Please . . . ,” she said. “I can’t go on living with you. I’ve done such a terrible thing.”
“No way,” Bob told her and was so good to her, knowing all about the affair, and he took care of everything in a super-effective way which was how he handled things . . . then.
They could not have a normal sex life for two months because that’s how long it took for the warts to be burned out of her vagina and sometimes when she came home from seeing the doctor and his electric needle, she would just sit down and start crying.
Bob comforted her and took care of her and made her feel better, caressing her hair, holding her, talking gently to her, “You’re my woman. I love you. It will be all over soon,” until she stopped crying.
Because they were denied access to a traditional sex life, venereal warts are caused by a communicable virus that’s transmitted through intercourse, they had to do other things, which they did.
They really liked having intercourse together. Bob loved the way his penis fit inside of Constance’s vagina, and she did, too. They used to make jokes about erotic plumbing. They were both kind of traditional sex fiends.
One day somebody loaned Bob a copy of the Story of O , which he read. It is a gothic sadomasochist novel that sort of turned him on because he thought that it was so strange. He would get a partial erection when he read it.
After he finished the book, he gave it to Constance to read because she was curious about it.
“What’s it about?” she asked.
She read it and got sort of turned on, too.
“It’s kind of sexy,” she said.
A week after they had both finished reading it, they were drunkish one evening and sexually playing around in their special ways because they were denied the regular sex act.
Usually, she would jack him off or orally copulate him and he would very carefully, like cutting a diamond, clitorally masturbate her until she came. He could have gotten a job at Tiffany’s.
They were lying there in bed, sort of drunk, when he said, “Why don’t we play the Story of O ?”
“OK,” Constance said, smiling. “Which part do I play?”
The Story of O Game
They had a lot of fun playing the Story of O game for the first time. Constance found some scarfs for him to tie her up with and she found a large silk handkerchief for him to gag her with. Bob tied a knot in the center of the handkerchief as he had seen on television and in the movies and put the knot between her teeth and tied the ends of the handkerchief tightly at the back of her head, so that her mouth was forced open by the knot.
Her hands were tied behind her back.
She was breathing very heavily. She had never been tied and gagged before. He caressed her breasts and her thighs. She liked the feeling of helplessness and pleasure.
Then he whipped her very gently with his belt and she moaned pleasurably from behind the gag. While all this was happening, he still had his clothes on. She lay naked on the bed.
After a while he took his clothes
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