A Bestiary of Unnatural Women (15 page)

Fourth, I will obey your every instruction
immediately, without comment or discussion, to the extent that it
is physically possible.

Fifth, I expect to be physically restrained
with rope, chains, or other such material as you see fit. I will
wear a leather collar, wrist and ankle cuffs during this time to
provide convenient attachment points. These will be locked to my
body and the sole key to my freedom will be in your possession.
Roissy will be fitted with hooks and eye bolts at strategic
locations on the walls and ceilings of all rooms so that you may
immediately and easily restrain me at any time, to be freed only
when you chose to release me.

Sixth, you have my permission to administer
physical punishment if you find it necessary to correct my behavior
or to adjust my attitude. I will furnish Roissy with suitable
instruments of correction for your use. You may also use your belt.
I expect that you will administer at least one gratuitous beating
but I do not wish to suffer more than necessary, so I hope to avoid
more than the minimum necessary punishment by being utterly
obedient and doing my best to please you completely.

I do not expect to enjoy everything that
happens during my week in Roissy, but I do look forward to new
experiences when I entrust myself to your care.

Love, Emily

Gene's Diary

Thursday, 4 January 1973

Did she really mean what she said in that
letter? I can't believe that she would do something like this for
me. But I have it in writing! I've booked the first week of
February off as vacation time, just in case she meant what she
wrote. If she doesn't mention it again, then I guess I'll just
spend the week working on the house. The basement really needs a
new floor.

Emily's Diary

Friday, 19 January 1973

What have I done? Acting out “The Story of O”
seemed like such a good idea when I wrote the letter and gave it to
him at Christmas but he hasn't mentioned it since. Maybe he's
already forgotten about it. Maybe I misread his interest completely
and he doesn't like S and M at all. Maybe it was someone else's
book and he hasn't even read it.

I don't really believe that. I saw the happy
look in his eyes when he read my letter. I'm just afraid that I've
made a terrible mistake. I'm afraid that I won't be able to keep my
promise to him. Maybe I'll be too weak to be able to bear to pain
of a beating. Maybe I'll be too proud to obey even reasonable
commands. Or worst of all, maybe I'll be too squeamish to engage in
the kinds of sex that he wants.

Or maybe I'm afraid of him. Maybe he's more
perverted than I can imagine. Or maybe he'll turn out to be a
dangerous lunatic. Once he has me helpless, maybe he'll want to
brand me with his initials as O was been branded; or hand her over
to other men as O had been handed around; or even kill me at the
end of the week as O had been killed in one possible ending of the
book.

No. I don't believe that he'll do any of
those things. I've been with him for five years. He's not a
lunatic. He's a kind, gentle man who will enjoy a simple adventure
in the spirit in which I offered it.

But if he's so kind and gentle and
reasonable, why did he keep a copy of that terrible book hidden in
his workshop?

I fear that I've sailed into deep and
dangerous waters and have left myself no way back. If I chicken
out, I will disappoint him and damage our relationship, possibly
irreparably. Yet I may do equal damage to our relationship if I
press on despite my fears. I don't know what I should do. But I
can't ask him if he wants me to carry through with my promise. He
is such a gentleman that he would interpret the question as
reluctance and automatically say that he did not want me to serve
him. I do not doubt that, even if this were the most important
thing in the world to him, he would sacrifice his desire for the
sake of my happiness. How can I not do the same for him?

I have set my compass and have no choice but
to continue onward despite my growing misgivings.

Emily's Diary

Monday, 5 February 1973

Today's the day. I sent Gene off to a hotel
last night after supper and then stayed up until almost midnight
preparing as best as I could. Our house looks almost the same but,
in my mind, it is not longer my home. The few small changes that I
have made stand out in my vision and, to my eye, change the
building into a middle-class, middle-America, Cleveland, Ohio
version of Roissy Chateau. Mostly, I just moved furniture out of
the way and mounted big eye screws into the ceiling and walls in
the living room, bedroom, and family room. We're going to have to
patch the holes and re-paint next week in order to make this feel
like my home again.

I set a few objects out in the living room
for Gene's use and these draw my attention like an irresistible
force.

I didn't sleep well last night. I'm too
nervous. It's an excited kind of nervous, like you feel when you're
going on an adventure, but a big part of it is fear. Maybe
everything will go wrong or maybe it will all be wonderful. I don't
know. The only thing that I know for certain is that it will be a
challenge.

God, I hope I haven't screwed everything up
between Gene and me.

This morning, I shed my identity as Emily
when I shed my clothes became O. I bathed and perfumed myself, put
on makeup, even darkening my nipples with a touch of rouge, and
dressed myself in nothing but a long red cape. Gene should be
arriving in another half hour and I'm trembling so much that I can
hardly write. I've locked a leather collar around my neck and
leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. They have steel rings on
them so that Gene can lock things to them. I had to go to a sex
shop downtown to buy them and I was petrified that someone that I
know would see me. They aren't quite like the ones described in the
book – I had to lock these ones on with little padlocks that fit
through little loops on the buckles – but the result is the same:
no matter how much I hate them, I can't remove them again until the
padlock are unlocked. I put the keys to the padlocks in the storage
shed out back along with most of my clothes and locked it with a
new padlock. I put the only keys to the shed in Gene's overnight
case when I packed it. Now that I've closed the locks, only he can
open the shed and get the keys to remove them again.

The locks click and jingle as I'm writing
this, reminding me constantly that my body is no longer mine to
control.

I also bought a pair of handcuffs because I
can't lock my hands together by myself using the leather
wristbands. I can't reach the rings on my own wrists. When Gene
comes, I'll have to use the handcuffs to secure my hands behind my
back. That way, when present myself to him, I won't be able to hold
the front of the cape closed. With every step I take the cape will
blow open and he'll see that my body is already naked and ready for
his use.

He should be here in about fifteen minutes.
If he follows the book, then he'll begin by chaining my hands above
my head and whipping me. I bought a couple of whips and a leather
paddle and left them on the coffee table for him. The worst of the
three is the riding crop. I think that will leave real marks but I
can’t be sure because I’ve never been whipped before.

I hope that I can stand the pain. But, I
guess, if I’m chained up, it won’t matter if I can stand it or not.
I’ll still be whipped.

I hope that he understands that I included
the horsewhip mostly for show.

When I've been well whipped, then he'll use
me for sex. In the book different men penetrated O in every
orifice. I don't know if he'll try to do all that by himself but I
bought a big jar of Vaseline and I'm going to smear it on myself in
the back, just in case. I don't need it in the front, I'm already
so wet there that I'm dripping on the chair.

I'm so scared that I feel nauseous. Every
sound I hear makes me jump with fear that he's come back early.

It's five minutes to eleven now. It's time to
stop writing and cuff my hands behind my back.

I hope that he doesn't treat me too
cruelly.

Or maybe I hope that he does.

It wouldn’t be worth all my effort unless he
throws himself into the game wholeheartedly.

Gene's Diary

Monday, 5 February 1973

I'm sitting in a Holiday Inn, waiting for the
clock to say 10:30. I'm tired because I didn't sleep well last
night. Partly it's because I was in a strange bed in the strange
room, but mostly it's because of what might happen today. I didn't
think that Emily'd go through with it. She's never offered to
anything kinky before – not that I'd ever asked – so I'd decided
that she'd written her letter in a fit of insanity and had already
forgotten about it, or was going to pretend that she'd forgotten,
and never mention it again. Then, on the eve of the day before her
service was to begin, she handed me my overnight case, already
packed, and told me that I had a reservation at the Holiday Inn
downtown. I can't believe it. She hadn't said a word about her
promise to spend a week in submission to me since Christmas and
now, right on schedule, she's going through with it.

When she sent me packing she didn't say
anything except to tell me where the hotel was. She was so brusque
that the idea that she might be kicking me out for good crossed my
mind. But I opened my bag as soon as I got to my room last night
and found an envelope lying on top of my pajamas. It contained a
key and a note that said, “Please keep this key safe. Come to
Roissy at 11:00 tomorrow and wait for O in the living room. You'll
need the key to release her at 9:00 on Friday, 9 February.”

Can you believe it? Emily really is making it
happen. I've barely slept a wink since getting the key.

God, I love her so much.

It's only 8:00 so I've got two and a half
hours to kill until ten thirty. I'm dying here. Just dying. I'm so
hard that I'm hurting but I can't get any relief until I get home.
I need to save my strength for Emily. Or should I say 'O'.

God, I love my wife.

Gene's Diary

Monday, 5 February 1973

It's 4:00 and I've sent O into the kitchen to
make supper for me. I'm exhausted and we still have the evening to
look forward to. I think I'll keep her busy cooking. Right now,
she's been told to cook supper for me. I'm going to have her cook a
separate meal for herself later. I don't think it's appropriate for
us to eat together tonight. Or sleep together.

I came back at exactly 11:00 this morning. In
fact, I waited in the car for five minutes to make sure that I came
in the front door exactly when I was supposed to. I went straight
to the living room. It was dimly lit because all the drapes were
drawn and only one lamp was turned on. There was a carafe of ice
water and a clean glass sitting on the coffee table along with some
other things. I sat in the recliner and poured myself a glass of
water because that seemed to be the thing to do. The water was
still cold so she must have put it out just before I got home.
Maybe she heard me coming up the driveway. Anyway, there was a
black leather whip with lots of short flexible strands, maybe a
couple of dozen, on the table. Next to it on one side was a black
leather paddle and, on the other side, a riding crop like you use
on horses. There was a heavy silver chain hanging from
sturdy-looking hook in the ceiling in the middle of the room. I
swear there was no hook there yesterday. There's also some big eye
screws in the wall where the sofa should be. The sofa's now been
dragged over in front of the picture window.

I like the way she redecorated.

I was only waiting for a couple of minutes
when Emily entered the room. It was obvious that she was no longer
Emily. She was now O. She was wearing a long shiny red cape that
was tied around her neck and hung to her ankles and red satin shoes
and that was all. Every time she moved, the cape was knocked open
and I caught glimpses of her body. She was stark naked underneath
the cape. She couldn't hold it closed because her hands were cuffed
behind her back.

That's how I know she was O – Emily, my wife,
would never do such a thing to herself.

She looked pale and I guess she had good
reason because she knew what was coming next. She'd provided the
whips and chains. She didn't look at me, I guess because that's the
way O was supposed to act, not raising her eyes above a man's
waist. She didn't say a word to me. Just walked over and stood in
front of me, waiting on my pleasure.

I've never seen a woman look so
submissive.

When I untied the cape and took it off, I
could see that she had a leather collar locked around her neck with
a little padlock. Her wrists had the same things and her ankles,
too. She kind of jingled when she moved because of all the
locks.

I can hear her jingling in the kitchen right
now because she's moving around cooking me my dinner. I'm keeping
her naked except for the leather cuffs and collar because I like
looking at her.

The chain that hung down from the ceiling
only came down about as far as the top of my head, so I couldn't
chain her to it without unlocking the handcuffs. I had to ask her
where the key was and she said that it was on the coffee table. I'd
been so busy looking at the whips that I didn't notice the key. It
was the first thing that she had said to me since becoming O. She
sounded kind of snarky that so I figured that was part of the plan.
I was supposed to beat the snark out of her.

I unlocked the handcuffs and fastened her
wrists to the chain. There were a couple of clips on the table,
too, – the kind of clips that mountain climbers use – so I figured
that I should use those. It saves messing with keys and I don't
think that she could have bent her wrists far enough down to reach
the clip and undo it no matter how hard she tried.