1. T h e S t o r y o f O


    Date: 9/9/2015, Categories: BDSM, Fetish, Taboo, Author: -Rolf1971-, Rating: , Source: xHamster

    the black Buick disappear down the avenue between the sun-drenched houses and the dark, almost purple sea. The palm trees looked as though they had been cut out of metal, the strollers like poorly fashioned wax models, animated by some absurd mechanism. &#034You really like him all that much?&#034 O said to Jacqueline as the car left the city and moved along the upper coast road. &#034Is that any business of yours?&#034 Jacqueline responded. &#034It's René's business,&#034 she retorted. &#034What is René's business, and Sir Stephen's, and, if I understand it correctly, a number of other people's, is the fact that you're badly seated. You're going to wrinkle your dress.&#034 O failed to move. &#034And I also thought,&#034 Jacqueline added, &#034that you weren't supposed to cross your legs.&#034 But O was no longer listening. What did she care about Jacqueline's threats. If Jacqueline threatened to inform on her for that peccadillo, what did she think would keep her from denouncing Jacqueline in turn to René? Not that O lacked the desire to. But René would not be able to bear the news that Jacqueline was lying to him, or that she had plans of her own which did not include him. How could she make Jacqueline believe that if she were to keep still, it would be to avoid seeing René lose face, turning pale over someone other than herself, and perhaps revealing himself to be too weak to punish her? How could she convince her that her silence, even more, would be the result of her ...
    fear at seeing René's wrath turned against her, the bearer of ill tidings, the informer? How could she tell Jacqueline that she would not say a word, without giving the impression that she was making a mutual non-betrayal pact with her? For Jacqueline had the idea that O was terrified, terrified to death at what would happen to her if she, Jacqueline, talked. From that point on, until they got out of the car in the courtyard of the old farm, they did not exchange another word. Without glancing at O, Jacqueline picked a white geranium growing beside the house. O was following closely enough behind to catch a whiff of the strong, delicate odor of the leaf crumpled between her hands. Did she believe she would thus be able to mask the odor of her own sweat, which was marking darkening circles beneath the arms of her sweater and causing the black material to cling to her armpits. In the big whitewashed room with the red-tile floor, René was alone. &#034You're late,&#034 he said when they came in. &#034Sir Stephen's waiting for you in the next room,&#034 he added, nodding to O. &#034He needs you for something. He's not in a very good mood.&#034 Jacqueline burst out laughing, and O looked at her and turned red. &#034You could have saved it for another time,&#034 said René, who misinterpreted both Jacqueline's laugh and O's concern. &#034That's not the reason,&#034 Jacqueline said, &#034but I might say, René, your obedient beauty isn't so obedient when you're not around. Look at her ...
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