Part 6 of 12
Now, as the astute reader will recall, I was laying next to Justine, listening to her hypnotizing voice as she told of the calamities that had befallen her.
She told of the sheer torture she had endured; and as she seemed to be explaining how it was that her sanity had been battered by these events until it began to crumble.
I too experienced some form of torture and I too felt as if my sanity was being jeopardized, for everything she said was charged with sensuality, the images she conjured up filled me with lust...
But still I had not had her.
I kissed her and touched, fondled and caressed her. When my fingers began to reach the erogenous parts I yearned for, she took my hand and said:
'Basilio, it is almost morning. I need to be at the office in about four hours, this is by no means an ideal moment to make love.'
'But, but... if not now, when? When will it ever be?! I stammered.
'Who knows. You have Tess... if anything, my presence in your existence will be a great boost to your love life. You will leave my house charged with sexual energy, there is no doubt about that.'
'You are torturing me!'
'I will tell you about torture, dear Basilio. Let me continue my story.'
And so she continued her increasingly confounding tale:
'I was indeed more than half crazy when the door to my cell finally opened. Madame Héloïse's punishment had forced me to gaze deep into myself and what I had found there disturbed me more than any of the things she had shown me or had said to me.
Though, as always, she managed to be several steps ahead of me (as she always was. I must confess that I admire her enormously), when she spoke:
“I see that you smile, it is obvious that you're well on your way on the road to redemption. You are indeed a worthy pupil and I am looking forward to punishing you more.”
She had a little leather belt that she tied around my neck, then she dragged me back towards the great subterranean hall. She bade me to hold still on the exact spot where Léonore had been hanging two days before. Then she blindfolded me. At that moment I noticed that someone else was in the hall with us.
Soft steps, that were certainly not Madame Héloïse's, approached me.
The other person stopped closely behind me and began to disrobe me. Because of my inability to see and because of having spent three days in an isolated cell, my senses had grown incredibly sharp. I could feel that it was a woman by the softness of her hands and by how she touched me.
By her smell, I could determine that she was of my age. When I was completely unclad the young woman began to tie ropes around my naked body.
Eventually, I was wholly wrapped and trapped in an intricate web of knots and I heard Madame's voice say: “hoist her up”.
I prayed this woman knew what she was doing. Poorly performed bondage can cut off circulation and cause terrible complications.
I felt a slight discomfort as the full strain of the ropes pressed into my body, but they had been attached in such a way that the force was more or less equally divided and so the sensation was not insufferable. I began to levitate, just as my dear Léonore three days prior.
I quite expected that I was about to be thrashed, yet it did not concern me a great deal, for I was getting more aroused by the minute. And I observed that I wasn't being raised by my arms, as had happened to poor Léonore, which made me conclude that Madame was not treating me as harsh as she could have.
When the flogging started, I noticed that it was not Madame who was administering the punishment, for I heard Héloïse encouraging the young woman who had tied me and was now beating me.
“Mon Dieu, vous êtes un veritable diable!” the vixen declared.
Although the beating was painful, and the many lashings certainly left their marks on my body for quite a while, I had to admit to myself that I was rather enjoying it. I moaned and wept, yet my moaning became husky and my cries playful.
“I think she is beginning to appreciate the merits of punishment,” Héloïse laughed.
And then, very close to my ear, I heard a most familiar voice speak: “oh you bad, bad Justine, I do think you are.”
“Léonore!!” I cried.
“It is indeed me,” she whispered.
“You treacherous... wonderful... beautiful... girl!” I stammered. Tears once more filled my eyes.
“That is truly touching and I would perhaps even say romantic,” Madame Héloïse interrupted, “but, don't forget that you are still undergoing punishment, Justine!”
I then felt that the ropes were prying apart my legs. Fingers, that did not belong to Léonore, swiftly lubricated my labia and the entrance to my vagina.
I felt an object – I had no idea what it was – between my legs. I felt it against my lips, which were already parted open like a flower on a sunny day, because of my position and my heightened state of excitement. The object then made its way into me and began to move up and down.
It was much larger than I had initially expected; it was not only long, but also oblong-shaped, and each time it moved upwards its thrust went deeper. My groans of pleasure turned to screams. For a while I was terrified, as it seemed that the thing inside of me was going to destroy me; suddenly I thought that the end had come; then the pain turned to pleasure again, well, that's not the right word, it was a feeling much more profound than pleasure; it was that extreme emotional state that the 19th century Romantics called sublime.
Spasms ran through me and I sobbed and cried and cursed... I had no idea what I was doing anymore, nor where I was and then I also lost my self-perception; I was no longer Justine, but part of a vast primeval realm, an expense full of countless shapes, countless, yet, simultaneously one, a unity of multitudes; a world of pure feeling, of absolute light and nothing else... and nothing more and then... there was nothing at all.'
Floris is a Dutch illustrator, storyboard and comic artist based in Amsterdam.
Follow him on Instagram @florispieterse
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