Margot and Chuck, two people from very different worlds, yet sharing an uncommon fascination with certain public spectacles, walked together across the square and down a narrow alley in the town of Voile.

At the end of the alley, they turned left and followed the wheel-rutted road south for about a half-mile. Ancient village houses and stone walls gave way to dusty tree-lined farm roads and buildings. Margot led Chuck toward a carriage house at the edge of an immense field of growing wheat. In the quarters above, where once a stable boy or two had lived, Margot now occupied three small rooms.

“I am a writer,” she explained, as they arrived at the stout nail-studded wooden door to the building. “Here…it is quiet.” She opened the door – no locks, he noticed – and led him up the unpainted wooden stairs to her rooms.

“Here,” she continued, “I can write without interruption. There is complete privacy. And, no one knows or cares who is here with me.” Despite their different cultures, her command of English and informal style made Chuck feel instantly comfortable with her – as if they had known each other for years.

In the little kitchen with a table for two, Margot brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She uncorked the bottle, poured both glasses half-full, and raised hers to her lips. She sipped carefully, gazing intently at Chuck all the while over the edge of her wine glass.

“If we are honest,” she began, “you and I will acknowledge that we are aroused by certain forms of cruelty. In truth, I do not wish brutality on any man – or woman – but I do not apologize for such an erotic interest. If we witness such events as you and I partook of, today, we cannot deny that a certain ...physical response…takes place – the response of sexual arousal.”

Chuck nodded mutely, raised his glass to hers and took a long gulp, half-emptying the glass. This French woman is growing ever more fascinating, he thought.

“You are a very astute woman,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“In the square today,” Margot continued, “I discerned that we possessed a mutual interest in various forms of punishment. A woman can hide it, if she wishes…” and she pointedly glanced down, to a point somewhere below his belt “… for your part, your interest was more obvious.” Chuck felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks, and simultaneously the heat of new arousal pouring into his loins.

Margot looked beyond him, and waved her hand toward the shelves of books lining the walls, and at a small desk near the north-facing window, where paper manuscripts – with fountain pen and ink bottle ready nearby – lay neatly stacked, apparently still in process.

“As I said, I am a writer,” she continued. “I am kept by no man, but provide for my own needs. I write, usually under a nom-de-plume to avoid the wrath of certain factions in Paris. I write political tracts that are published anonymously. I also write fiction, often of a sexual nature, which seems to attract as much anger and hostility as my politics.” She laughed, sipped at her wine again.

“I am an advocate of freedom in all its forms – political, social, religious, and of course sexual. For some reason, that upsets the authorities – particularly those with an interest in denying freedom to others.”

Chuck’s mind was seething, anxious to learn more about this fascinating woman. Over the course of the next hour, he peppered Margot with questions. He learned a great deal about French politics, her rise to the attention of top literary critics and officials in Paris and Marseilles – “sanctimonious keepers of moral purity” she called them – and the strange history of the nearly unknown village of Viole, in which she had lived for most of her adult life.

As a child, she had lived with her family in England for several years, where she learned English. Her sister – Alice Collette – still lived there, as headmistress at Saint Augustine’s School, a private school for adolescent boys.

In what seemed a very short time, the wine bottle was empty. Chuck felt the room threatening to spin around him, and he was careful not to stand up too quickly. Margot watched him with apparent amusement.

“Now Mister Carter,” she began – with a mysterious but mischievous smile playing across her face – “Although I am an advocate of freedom in all its forms – I request that you surrender a modicum of your own freedom with me. We will enjoy each other, I assure you. You must trust me on this.”

Carter rose carefully and walked over to her, kissed her long and deep on the mouth; “I am entirely yours, ma chère Margot. Do with me as you will.”

“Très bien” she said, “Then you will please accompany me to the bedroom.” She took his hand and stood, then led him through a short passageway to the next room. Chuck had to duck his head going through the doorway. It was an open, airy space with two small windows and a collection of unrecognizable tools hanging on the whitewashed walls; he noticed several whips and canes of various sizes hanging there, and two pulleys fastened to the sturdy ceiling beams over the end of the bed nearest the wall. The bed was a low wooden frame with a thin straw-filled mattress, covered with fresh linen sheets. He noticed the foot-end of the bed rested on crude wooden wheels rather than conventional corner posts.

“Now, Mister Carter, if you would remove your clothing – I would like to view the rest of you.” As she said this, she pulled her long frilly dress up over her head, then slipped it off and hung it on a hook near the door. Chuck needed no further encouragement, and in seconds his shoes were off, covered by an untidy pile of pants, shirt, and undershirt. Margot, in a short camisole that hid nothing of her superb female form, appraised Chuck Carter in the nude.

“You meet my expectations,” she said approvingly. “And perhaps, exceed …” as she observed his substantial penis beginning to rise. “Now, please lie on the bed, and be at ease. It is time to restrain you.”

As Chuck – trusting, but with more than a little anxiety – cautiously reclined his long sun-bronzed body across the sheets, Margot busied herself pulling a collection of short thick ropes and straps from a corner cabinet. She approached the bed and, one limb at a time, expertly immobilized the man. Within two minutes Chuck was spread-eagled across the bed, naked and bound by wrists and ankles, a broad strap binding his midsection. He found he could only turn his head, or raise it a few inches. Below the neck, only his penis seemed capable of moving – which it did, perversely growing longer and thicker as it languidly extended across his muscled thigh.

Margot knelt down on the bed, near his head, kissed him quickly on the mouth, and then swung her leg over his head. Suddenly Chuck found himself in semi-darkness under the skirt of her white camisole, the scent of her sex all around him, her thighs against his ears, and he heard her muffled voice:

“My turn, Mister Carter. Demonstrate the talent of your tongue for me.” Chuck needed no further hints; her light pubic hair was tickling his nose. He tilted his head up, extended his tongue, found her already-slippery-wet slit within reach, and began licking up and down vigorously. Approving sounds came from somewhere above, encouraging him. He probed higher, circled his tongue around her delectable little knob, began licking and sucking on it gently and then with more force. His practiced effort brought forth heavy sighs, erratic breathing and soon, little cries of passion from Margot.

As he pleasured her, his cock began lifting off his thigh, stiffening and rising with his own growing excitement. After Margot had apparently undergone two or three shuddering orgasms he felt her shifting above him, and the warmth of her hand wrapped around his shaft, gently squeezing and stroking. Then suddenly the wet heat of her mouth came down over the end of his penis, and her tongue and lips were sliding, licking and sucking hard on the engorged head. In response Chuck licked her wildly, almost frantically, and she cried out again, overtaken with animal passion. She pushed her mouth far down onto him, teeth scraping the delicate skin, and as her orgasm crashed through her, she suddenly bit him hard, halfway down his shaft.

Chuck groaned in simultaneous pain and pleasure – imagining she was capable of biting it off entirely, if she ever lost control of her jaws in the throes of orgasm. Her mouth abruptly left his penis.

“Oh!” she cried. “Excusez-moi, I’m sorry! Most men don’t like teeth on their penis. But then, I think you might be the exception.” He felt her move higher, the better to examine him, he guessed. She might be right about teeth down there, he thought. The pain had dissipated; moreover, at that instant he wanted nothing more than to feel her lovely teeth clamping down on him again.

“Look at that!” her voice came from above. “You have a word, ‘indent – indentation’; do you know the origin of that word, Mister Carter? Here’s a clue: it has something to do with teeth. My, what good indentation I make on you! Would you like some more?”

“Mmmmffff,” said Chuck, nodding vigorously. His nose, and then his tongue, stroked deeply into her dripping-wet vagina.

“I believe you said ‘yes’” she confirmed. “But I will make certain you do not come in my mouth, this time!” He felt her teeth again, nibbling on the head and then down the skin of his shaft. “I have other ideas for that.”

She commenced biting him with greater conviction. Chuck groaned, lost in pleasure and pain. True to her word, she ensured he didn’t come. Any time she sensed he was close she gave him a particularly hard bite on his plum-sized head, and the urge quickly dissipated.

Chuck saw daylight through closed eyelids and opened his eyes, squinting in the unaccustomed light. Margot had turned around and moved down his body, squatting over his thighs, facing him. She shucked her camisole, pulling it over her head, and tossed it onto the bed beside her. Half-standing over him, she leaned down and spread her hands across his muscular abdomen for support, and then began to lower herself carefully until the tip of his penis was poking between her labia. Using one hand to guide it, she sank down another two inches, until the purplish-red distended head was fully inside her.

“Aaaahhh,” she breathed out gently, eyes closed, as his thick member began to fill her. Slowly, steadily, she lowered herself onto him, quietly appreciating every millimetre of his extraordinary length disappearing into her most secret regions. Her care and slowness was tantalizing torture for Chuck, who desperately wanted to thrust upwards into her – but was entirely prevented from doing so by the broad leather strap tight about his midriff. Truly at her mercy, he groaned in helpless lust.

She took a full minute, which seemed an eternity to Chuck – but finally “reached bottom”, her eyes fluttering open again to look down at him, and he realized he was entirely inside her. In his extensive romantic encounters, Chuck had known no other woman who could do that, without some degree of pain or actual injury.

Margot began slowly sliding back up his aching and over-worked member, until she was almost off him, and then pushed down with a long, deliberate stroke, gathering speed. Periodically she gazed down at him, grinning mischievously at his feverish frustration, then closing her eyes to focus inwardly on her own pleasure as she rode him. Unconsciously, as she did so her vaginal muscles worked their magic on Chuck’s enormous cock, kneading and pulling on its slippery length, squeezing him at times with almost crushing strength.

Chuck had never been with a woman possessing such sexual athleticism; when she rose up from him, her vagina clasped his organ with such a grip that he felt its pull all the way to the roots of his penis, as if she were trying to tear it from his body. It was almost painful, but intensely pleasurable at the same time.

“Tu comprends - you understand, you must not spend, Chuck – you will stay hard for me, for my pleasure, but no ejaculation!” she commanded sternly. Chuck could only moan in frustrated pleasure. His entire body begged for release, and she was determined not to give him that pleasure – not now, anyway. For a moment, she stopped moving, but her inner muscles continued kneading him, like three or four strong hands simultaneously massaging his thick shaft. Chuck groaned, eyes closed.

“If you spend too soon, I will take it!” She raised herself up an inch and Chuck’s eyes flew open at the sudden bite of cold steel at the base of his penis. He cried out in momentary panic; Margot had lifted off him slightly, and her right hand held a petite dagger, blade pressed against the shaft of his penis near the base. Her unconcealed grin of amusement betrayed her mischievous intent, and she reacted to the shock on his face with a peal of laughter, leaning back and dropping the weapon to the floor. Chuck seethed and struggled.

“Damned woman, I would fuck you within an inch of your life if I could only escape these … !” He writhed in his bonds, helplessly. For all his momentary terror and exertion, his aching erection did not flag.

“Oooh, I like that!” Margot encouraged him. “Move some more, mon chéri Chuck, it tickles me inside!” Carter ceased his struggles, sweat beading up on his chest and arms, running down the sides of his face from his forehead, soaking into the thin bedding beneath him.

“And,” Margot pointed out, “you are hardly the one doing the fucking now; it seems to me that I am fucking you, n’est-ce pas? Peut-être, I will fuck you to die, or maybe until your poor cock falls off!”

So saying, she resumed her vigorous up-and-down motion on his shaft, slicked with her juices, this time with her eyes closed and rubbing herself with rapid circular motion with her right hand, just above the place where his penis plunged into her depths. Her motion became more frantic and erratic, faster and faster, for more than a minute, and then suddenly she screamed out in ecstatic cries, flung her body backwards, and then collapsed forward, with sighs and heavy breathing, onto Chuck’s sweat-soaked chest. Her long auburn hair spread over his shoulders and part of his face, tickling his nose.

Normally such frenzied fucking might have sent Chuck over the edge, launching his seed into her depths, but Margot’s knife-play gambit had shocked Chuck’s level of arousal down a few notches. But he remained resolutely hard, more excited than he remembered ever feeling in his life.