“Were you shocked? I’m surprised,” I tell her, sipping on my coffee in the
open air cafe. The waiter has delivered our breakfast with the usual French
combination of swagger and groveling, checking her out, enyying me a little.
She’s blushing suddenly. Not her usual reaction. “Well, I don’t know if
that’s the word, but you did surprise me. I didn’t expect you to be as
forceful as you were . . .”
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, of course, cheri. Exactly what I wanted. Don’t be so polite and
English, hmm? But you know that you can’t always be sure that what you want
is what you’ll get,” she smiles, blushing some more.
“With me, you can.” I’m surprised she’s able to sit at all. I spanked and
caned her ass for two hours last night. It’s raw. And this morning, made
her crawl round the bedroom while I took the belt to the rest of her. Lots
of nasty welts, lots of hot, impassioned tears. And some fervent sucking
and fucking to follow both beatings.
She’s stirring her coffee, eyes lowered. “Of course, there is always
shocking for real; I’m sure that would get my attention . . .”
“Oh, electric, you mean?”
Now she’s buttering a croissant, and her hands are shaking. Did she really
mean it? Let’s see. Her eyes flicker nervously.
“Oh dear. We’ve quite neglected that possibility, Michelle. After all we
said, too. About holding nothing back? Very remiss of us. How thoughtful
of you to remind me. You’ll be so pleased you did.”
“Well,” she says hesitantly, “You did promise to use a cattle prod on me.
On my pussy.”
She’s right. And it was her idea too.
“Yes. A cattle prod is always a nice way to get a lady’s attention, but I
think you deserve better.”
We pause while more coffee is poured.
“Oh?” She’s being coy. I enjoy it, but I won’t tolerate it for long.
“Yes, I need to be more forceful.”
“Comme toujours . . . I would like that, I think.”
“There’s so much you can accomplish with a hand-cranked generator, and a
few leads and crocodile clips. Yes, I can see from your face that something
like that will be sure to ‘get your attention,’ Michelle.”
She stares at me, her face turning pale. A hawkfaced woman in her late
thirties. From Alsace, living in Paris. Never married, intensely masochistic.
“Oh, yes.” She whispers it like a prayer. “Oh. I would love that.”
Her eyes are bright, fanatical.
“As much as . . .?”
“As much as branding me, or piercing or cutting me? Yes! And you must. I
want everything.” She draws a deep breath.
“I won’t let you down, Michelle.”
She’s in a reverie. “My God; yes. Horrible as it sounds, but, that gets my
sexual juices flowing. You know how I feel about being hurt, cheri. I am
destined for such things, I know that; and I know that you are the one to
administer such torments to my helpless body.”
I smile like a wolf. I like it when she talks in this fractured ‘Story of
O’ English.
“So, what will you do to me?” she asks, licking her lips. She takes a big
greedy sip of coffee.
“Shock you, darling. Well, we started with the right stuff there. The
generator, some leads. Not to forget big metal dildos for your vagina and
rectum.”
“Oh God, yes. Fat ones.”
“So you’re really stretched, just like when I’m ramming my fist into you.”
She sighs with pleasure at this memory.
“And I think there should be a thin wire wriggled into your piss hole,
don’t you? And good strong spring-loaded clamps with electrodes for your
breasts, your nipples, your pussy. Even a couple on your tongue.”
“Beautiful. Yes, that’s the way. Where would you do it? Have you thought
about that?”
“No. But I think a bathroom is a good place for administering this
treatment. So we can make a mess, hmmm? A nice big tiled bathroom, like the
one at that big old hotel outside Lille. Remember?”
“Perfect. Oh, that was so cold, so clinical.”
“I’d drag you in there naked, with suitable restraints already in place.
You know, handcuffs, a leash. Put you under an icy cold shower, wet you
down thoroughly, give you a rubber gag to bite on.”
“Oh, this is terrible! But, so right. Please, try to arrange it. You must.”
“You’ll need to be tied up, strapped down, thoroughly restrained. Very
severe bondage. So we need something like a wooden pillory for you, don’t we?”
“Because I’ll struggle so much?”
“You won’t be able to help it, when I start cranking. So, a good solid
pillory. I’ll see if I can get my atelier at the vineyard to produce one. A
folding thing we can take places in the trunk of your car. Something
that’ll be mistaken for some artist’s junk.”
A clothing designer, she drives a Mercedes. She is freakish, but rich too.
“This is so nasty,” she says, eating hungrily. She eats constantly, yet
she’s painfully thin. Hyperactivity. Smokes like a chimney, too. Wiry,
strong. “It’s going to be torture.”
“Yes, it is. And you like that word, so much. I’ve seen the way you
masturbate harder when you hear it. So, I’ll have to vary the places that
are shocked, work you over carefully, seeing what produces the best
convulsions and reactions. It’ll be interesting to make you piss
involuntarily.”
She smiles. She often does anyway.
I see her hand emerge from under her skirt. I grab her wrist, sniff her
fingers. Very cunty. She smiles sexily. “You’re making me so wet.”
“As I often do, eh? I hope you have a change of clothes? Cos you’ll be
sitting in a big messy puddle soon, inhaling the vapor and saying ‘thank
you.'”
“Beast.”
“Right. But you won’t be smiling when we get started on shocking you, my
dear. Not at all.”
“I can’t wait. I mean it.”
“See how you feel when you are strapped and clamped and bolted into the
pillory, hmm? With your pudendum thrust forward, your thighs spread wide so
your pussy is easily worked on. You’ll have been shaved by then, to make it
easy to apply the clips and other devices with precision.”
She smiles. She wants to be shaved and waxed, and she will be. I’ve made
an appointment for her next week with some people I know.
“You’re a pervert so you’ll relish the pain and discomfort of the
insertion of the electrode in your urethra, a small hollow metal catheter.
Like a drinking straw. A nurse would probably give you something to numb
you down there, but I won’t! You’ll appreciate the small, powerful clips on
your clitoris, and all around its hood. Everything will be taped or glued
in place so you can’t shake it free as you thrash around.”
“Oh, it is torture, true torture.” Her eyes are bright. “Please, cheri?
You promise?”
“Yes. You’ll soon be soaked in sweat, ashen with fear. I’ll have to wet
you down regularly with a bucket or a hose. Nice cold water, so you’re
shivering. So we get the best possible connections. Just imagine what it’ll
be like.”
“I’m trying.”
“There’ll be little blue flashes and crackles, sparks. Puffs of smoke or
steam coming from you each time you’re jolted. We’ll focus on your tits,
your cunt and your pussy lips and clit before too long. There are so many
ways to shock you, but, we’ll have time. I’m sure we’ll try them all. So
painful, so frightening. You’ll be bursting to scream, but you won’t be
allowed to, not for a long while. Until I’m ready to hear your filthiest
confessions, and what you’ve been holding back. There will be nasty burns
and ugly blisters. How could that be avoided? Why would you want to be
spared them, slave? It’s torture you asked for, isn’t it?”
She sighs. “Yes, torture. To be applied without regard to the
after-effects. Please? Don’t worry about hurting me or marking me. Most of
the damage will disappear with time; I suspect! Oh, yes!”
Crazy, but appealing, even with croissant crumbs in her teeth and butter
on her chin. I bore on. She has a hand under her skirt, and she’s lit a
cigarette. She stares raptly into my eyes.
“So many combinations to choose from, it will take hours. Finding the best
is the key. Sudden shocks, slow build-ups, a random series of jolts. Who
knows, hmm? It’ll be a cruel, inhuman “scientific” punishment . . .”
“For a woman who deserves to suffer all the torments that can be inflicted
on a victim. Yes, you must,” she sighs, blowing a huge cloud of smoke.
“And when we’ve found the ‘best’, with your help? Then we’ll keep going,
focusing on those techniques. You’ll faint, repeatedly. It’s inevitable.
But each time you revive, it will begin again. Without mercy.”
“Please. You must.”
“I’m doing all the talking as usual . . .”
“Well, I don’t know . . . uh, I would think that a random selection of all
the dirty little ways the electricity can be administered would do the
trick; not knowing where and how intense the next one would be would be
almost as bad as the shocks themselves. No?”
“I think so. And?”
“Well, the waiting, the anticipation, the expectancy; then the horrible
flash. Imagine. Again and again, destroying nerves, tormenting me . . .
Oh. Ever and ever again. Without mercy; only pain, thrust after thrust of
agonizing sparks of electricity, my destiny, my need, my everything . . .”
She’s in a reverie. I can smell her pussy, even outdoors like this. She’s
about to come.
“Yes, that’s how nasty it’ll be. Oh we’ll be careful not to destroy
nerves, or injure you too much. It’s important to do it so I make you
hypersensitive to stimuli, make you relish the pain, regret the horrible
consequences of your foolishness. But there’ll be blisters, there’ll be
pain. There’ll be horrible humiliations as you piss yourself, as you weep
and beg for mercy.”