Andersonville 23 A Twinkle in her Father s Eyes
- 4 years ago
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K And The Client free porn video
‘In Paris, its good to smell like you’ve been fucking to make them respect you.’- Killing Zoe, 1994
I had landed back in Paris after a few years break from the city of love and lust. The French attitude to sex has fascinated me since I first encountered the Marquis de Sade, his incest and days of Sodom. Expressive, direct, lustful, wanton and uninhibited. The French revel in exploring each others minds and bodies, mistresses and gigolos are commonplace. Admitting you have a married lover is nothing to be ashamed of. De Sade aside, some of the sexiest erotic fiction and images come from France.
There’s a fabulous scene in a French movie combining bondage, domination, humiliation and exquisite teasing that stuck with me since the first time I saw it many, many years ago. So much so that I agreed, with a professional friend of mine, to re-enact it.
Here’s how we played it out.
A very old friend of mine, let’s call her K, runs a discreet and exclusive establishment in the 16eme arrondissement. The kind of place where the rich, famous and deliciously perverted visit to live out their secret desires in absolute secrecy. She has a catalogue of open-minded and beautiful freelance artistes who take time from their day jobs – whatever they may be – to aid clients in realising their own perversions.
Some clients request familiars, the same professionals, as their consorts on every visit, they push their boundaries slowly and form a bond with their sexual partners. Others, and this is where it gets really interesting, want to experience a new personality, style and delectation each time they visit and demand a new woman, man or group to live out what they have in mind. They want to feel safe in an orgiastic world of their own making, knowing their identities will never be revealed and able to walk away and back into their own lives.
I sent K a message to let her know I was coming back to Paris for a stay, short or extended depending on what the city had in mind for me. Knowing my appreciation for novelty and that I trusted her with my own virtue and vice, she asked me to meet her for lunch one day as she wanted to make me a proposition.
I arrived at the Cafe des Dauphins at 1 o’clock sharp and found K sitting at a corner table. A perfectly average and glamorous woman, whose innate sense of style shows off her form and persona. Cropped brown hair, hourglass figure, twin set and pearls. She looks, talks and walks like a femme du 16eme. The only thing missing is the miniature dog – ‘foul shitting creatures’ she says. To all intents, she belongs here. Few know her origins, and fewer still ever will.
‘VV,’ she beamed as I walked towards her. Standing up we kissed each other four times, hugged and she kept my hand in hers as we sat opposite each other.
‘Une bouteille du Ruinart, s’il vous plait Marielle,’ she asked the owner, ‘ we have something to celebrate.’
A waiter poured two flutes and sat the bottle in a sceau at the side of our table. As I mentioned, I had known K for many years and in many lives previously. And my curiosity picqued by her invitation I broached the subject at hand.
‘So, tell me. What are we celebrating and what proposition do you have for me?’ I asked.
‘Ma chere, we are celebrating the end of my days as an entrepreneur. I am 60 years old, at least according to my birth certificate,’ she smiled. ‘I have decided to hang up my whips and leave this fine business to the next generation. I am going to marry my one true love and have made up my mind to turn a new page in my life. With Eddy, we are going to live in a vieux chateau in the Luberon and surround ourselves with de la lavende, des tournesols et des vignes.’
Now, I knew for K this was no east step to make. Both her clientele and freelancers were some of the best known names in politics, the arts and industry. They were secretive, litigious and wealthy enough to pay for their own very close protection. She knew things about them that no one else knew and although she would never reveal any of their secrets, she also knew they did not want to build that trust again with another establishment. There were others dotted around the world, in fact they formed a tight network of madames dedicated to sex in all its glory.
They sent each other clients, provided freelancers whenever their fellow madames could not provide. If K had a client arriving in Monaco who wanted a new twist to his Monday evening, then K would call a counterpart in the south who would send over the required circus, ringmaster, tightrope and all. And vice versa, if a freelancer from Cape Town was holidaying in Thailand, he or she would let the network know the whens and wheres, opening up the possibility of earning a few thousand dollars here and there to top up the vacation funds.
I fell into neither category, strictly, as I neither paid nor received payment. K and I had adventures together in the past and I wondered what she had in mind for me this afternoon.
‘Ma chere, I have a first time client with some not unusual but particular requests. He is a sportsman newly arrived in Paris from South America and from the brief I read he wants to be restrained and released. He has specifically asked to be handled by strangers. In short, while I would be more than happy to service this client’s demands and take him to the very edge of his nerves, I have agreed to stay away from the entire process. Which is where you come in.’
The waiter poured another glass of champagne and K explained in precise detail what she had planned for the client. His fantasy was bondage, restraint, instruction and sensory deprivation for him and an unknown woman, all guided by mistress of ceremonies. Now while he had mentioned these words to K, she had come up with the plan itself.
As we drained the bottle, she raised her glass, ‘So cherie, would you like to lead this dance?’
I was flushed with the champagne in the afternoon and the images forming in my head about these unknown bodies I would have under my control, at least for a short, consensual while.
Raising my glass towards hers, I pouted. ‘D’accord K, I would do anything for you.’
She glanced at her watch, at signalled the waiter to bring the bill.
‘Drink up, cherie. He will arrive at the location in one hour and you have some preparation to do.’
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