Story of O and Me

1 Jul

Discerning Dom’s post on Story of O inspired this post.

Story of O was the first erotic literature I read.  I was – maybe 12 years old, maybe 13.   It fascinated me, from the beginning, when Rene and O are in the back seat of a cab and he has her lift her skirt and “sit naked on the seat.”   I no longer know if that’s an actual quote, but those are the words indelibly carved in my mind.  

Along with so many other lines.  In the same scene “she leans forward, thinking he wants to caress her,” but he cuts her bra straps and removes her bra instead, so she’s “naked under her clothing.”   O, my.   

I can almost remember my shock – and arousal – the first time I read the book.   If you haven’t, I recommend it.  It’s a classic.  I read and re-read it so many times, my copy was dog-eared, the spine broken, pages turned down.  


This is what the book I had looked like. I think the letters were embossed. Just picking the book up - just looking at it - made me wet.

I read it all the way through a few times, but I’d usually read it just long enough to get so aroused I had to seek relief.    Often, reading and touching myself at the same time, until I’d cum.  Then I’d stop and hide the book away again, feeling physically satisfied but emotionally uncomfortable. 

Soon, I had my favorite parts, and rather than reading straight through, I’d skip to the parts I liked best.  The scenes in the beginning, when she’s naked, blindfolded, and presented to the men. 

“They turned her around, and she could feel the fire at her back, so they could see the breasts and belly…  Then she fell backward, supported by she did not know whose arms, and they opened her legs so they could examine the cleft  between her thighs.  They parted the outer lips…”    Those may not be real quotes, but that’s how i remember it. 

And it makes me breathe faster remembering it, even now. 

It bothered me that I loved this book.   After all, O, the beautiful photographer, is violated in every way possible by many men, given to them by her lover.  She’s not allowed to cross her legs or press her knees together, as a reminder that she’s always open to any of the men who care to use her.  She’s whipped til she bleeds, her “tender nether lips” pierced, and finally she’s branded. 

She’s given to Sir Stephen, who uses her brutally, “only interested in what she has in common with men.”  Discerning Dom quotes this line too – it is a perfect example of a phrase with a mysterious power.  I don’t quite know why it fascinates me, but it still does.   “Only interested in what she has in common with men.”

It also makes me think of the scene in which she’s whipped for the first time, and they attach her to a pole at the waist.  “This forces her torso to one side, thereby causing her backside to protude in the opposite direction.   (one of the men) seduced by the sight of her behind, struggling to escape the blows, called for a brief intermission so he could take advantage of that entrance, remarking as he did so that she was too tight and would have to be widened.  They all agreed that could, and would, be done.” 

Omigod.  I totally DON’T want that to happen to me, and it totally makes me shiver, makes me wet.  What is it about that???

On the internet, I found a clip from the movie that shows her first meeting with Sir  Stephen. The scene is exactly like I remember reading it, and it’s odd to see scenes that have lived in my mind forever come to life.

In the early 1970’s, when I first discovered this book, there was no one to explain or help me understand why it turned me on.   So I was baffled.  I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be treated quite the way O was.  But there were some things…  And, if I didn’t want to be treated quite that way, why did reading it make me so incredibly hot????

In any case, as I got older, I would go for years without reading Story of O.  But the  fantasies were always part of my sexual life.  I must have told myself the story of my favorite scenes a zillion times.   And I often felt ashamed.  Ashamed that I needed those fantasies to orgasm.  Ashamed because I didn’t understand “what was wrong with me.” 

I didn’t think women were subservient to men  I didn’t think it was ok to rape women or beat them up.   Yet my fantasies were all about whips and being restrained, about being available to have sex at any time, about being owned.

I was relieved when women’s magazines started proclaiming that it was ok to have wild fantasies.   Then I could write it off as just some quirk, nothing important.

For sure, I didn’t want my husband, who was pretty vanilla, to do any of those things to me.  And he didn’t want to, at least not the things I wanted.  The few times we explored some of those possiblities, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t a safe person to share that kind of experience with.  

So I spent a lot of time feeling ashamed of my sexual urges.  And really, it’s not just the “Story of O” sexual urges that I’ve felt ashamed of. 

The deepest sexual urge for me is wanting to please.   Wanting to give myself.  If you’ve been reading my blog, you may already know that I’ll go a long way to hear “Good.  Good girl.”  You may already know that writing THAT makes me quiver and want to be touched.

And that triggers shame.  As if that, not my love for  Story of O, not my desire to be spanked, but wanting to please, is my real shameful secret.  

So here’s the thing.  I’m not going to be ashamed of it anymore.  Not any of it.   Not ashamed of the things that turn me on – whether it’s belts or cock worship, a word of praise, or being taken care of.   Not ashamed.  And if I feel it, that horrible, want-to-curl-up-and-disappear feeling, I’m going to push back.  I won’t accept the shame.   I just won’t.

And maybe I’ll get a new copy of Story of O.

2 Responses to “Story of O and Me”

  1. sin July 11, 2010 at 7:38 am #

    Wow. i could have written this. It would have sounded exactly like your post. This is me. I found the book at the same age. It’s still in my bedside table. I read it and masturbated to it thousand times. I knew I didn’t want to be treated quite that way. But it was hard to find out, to explore, to understand what I was before the internet.

    • aisha48 July 11, 2010 at 1:20 pm #

      That’s cool – it’s really just now that I’m discovering how un-alone I am, and it’s so nice. And I love your blog, so I’m delighted that you can relate to something in mine! Thanks for commenting..

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