Then she really became my chattel, a most docile toy, and she came to Paris every month or so, and scarcely ever failed to meet me. I hear from her now occasionally, and our adventures together would make a most entertaining volume. But I have only introduced her here to give the translation of some of her letters, which will enable the reader to guess what Louise wanted, and which I know well how to manage. I need only add that she was perfectly disinterested, and it may be guessed that this peculiar passion cannot exist among professional beauties.
Master,
The day after I became your slave I wrote you a letter of twelve pages, telling you of my dreams of mad torture, which I made as I desired you to be a thousand times more cruel than you were with me.
Then I reflected, and tried to forget you, and never more return to this kind of voluptuousness. I burnt the letter, and I hoped that you would never write to me; that I might be strong.
But I cannot. I return to you. Do with my body as you will, but my dream is that you should only see in me a slave and naught else; that is to say a creature whom you will always cause to suffer cruelly.
I see you now, as in a vision; your eyes with the same expression they had in the cab, forcing me to look at you; telling me so, roughly.
And then, when I come to Paris, you must not receive me in such a rich apartment-for a slave, the vilest place is too good-but at an ordinary hotel. Then you will lunch-I could get to you about eleven o'clock-and I would look on without eating, happy to accept on my knees what you would please to throw me.
You could exact anything from me, forcing me to reply at each command: “Yes, master!”
I must never be allowed to answer in any other manner, and if I forget myself, you will box my ears with great force. You will force me to caress you with my arms bound behind my back, and if I lick you awkwardly, you will flog me on any part of my body; and never, never, will you allow me to show any other expression on my features but that of the most absolute tenderness and submission.
Afterwards, you will cause me to approach you, and look, by violently stretching open the lips of my private parts, if I desire you. Should I be wet, you will make me cross my legs, and brutally you will force your fist between my thighs. You will pull my hairs, force me to show you the sign of my sex, and if I am pouring with liquid lust, you will cut me with a riding whip. You will make me wash myself again with the water containing the lump of ice, and you will dip a towel in the frozen liquid and put it on my loins, so as to annihilate my desire.
Should you wish to ejaculate in my mouth, when you are in the bed, you will put me on my knees over you, my back towards you. Thus you will have the pleasure of pinching me, of biting me, or of lashing me, while I shall have your divine instrument in my mouth.
And if I am exhausted by unslaked lust, you will only give way to me when I have begged and prayed for coition, and you will possess me with my arms bound, tortured by a cruel belt that will compress my waist.
You will force your fingers into my slit, which will be thirsting to be filled up by you, and you will command me to fix my eyes upon yours, and with your other hand, you will pinch me, prick me, and scratch me with a needle, for the pleasure of seeing me suffer. I would that you were very, very, cruel. Perhaps I shall be free one day next week. I will get to Paris in the morning and go back at six o'clock.
I await your orders, master, and on my knees, I kiss your feet.
Your submissive and devoted slave,
LOUISE.
To-day I desire you madly, and your cruel eyes. Oh! to look at them on my knees, to see them plunged into mine, to feel your hands enter pitilessly into my flesh, hurting and bruising me; brutally taking hold of my leg, dragging down my stockings, and watching your joy increasing, as the needle's point sinks into my quivering body. At each painful stab, I would say: “Thank you, master!”
Oh! To be knocked about, pinched, humiliated, and degraded; to see you smile cruelly at my sufferings and kiss you all over, while I should be dying with discomfort in the instruments of torture you showed me; to suffer for you, master-oh! how I desire you!
I can no longer support the thoughts of you! If you were here I would prostrate myself at your feet and pray you to make me enjoy.
Oh! I will be continent, I promise you; I will do nothing alone. I will wait. I have no will but yours. You forbid masturbation; I will obey. It does me good to write you my insensate longings.
Make me suffer, even from afar. Send me something that I can wear next my skin that will hurt me.
Oh! For my mouth on your naked body, to kiss your feet, and let my tongue touch everywhere! I am mad with lust. My throat is dry, my heart beats, and I am all wet. How I long for you! Pardon me, do, my master; I will be so submissive, so tender with you, so obedient to make you forget all my shortcomings. Write to me soon, I supplicate you.
With humility, I lie at your feet, you can walk on me. And I shall still say: “Thank you!” I kiss the darling feet that stamp upon me, and also your dear hands that hurt me.
I kiss your whole body, my respected master. Oh! If I could always be frightened of you, as I was the other day beneath the gaze of your cruel eyes.
I want to be frightened of you always; you must be wicked and cruel; your only joy must be to make me suffer without ceasing.
You must make me come myself as you order me on my knees, to receive a flogging, if you so desire it.
I am your thing, your bitch, your submissive slave.
LOUISE.
You must do what you told me on my next visit to Paris: put me on my knees before you, my eyes turned to yours; the vase beneath my chin, and splash my face, my lips, my cheeks, with your hot urine, amusing yourself all the time by hurting me, and always exacting a tender and submissive look in my eyes.
It is so difficult for me to support your gaze when it is hard and cruel, as it was last night beneath the glare of the electricity.
I wish to see your small hand gently prick my flesh with your scarf pin; and revel in your awful joy as you see my blood, and then force me to pour vinegar upon the wound.
You will allow me, will you not, master, to suffer through you, and for you?
Pardon me for having tried to escape from your influence. I come back to you, more tender, more humble, more submissive than before. Do to me whatever you please.
You will see, master, all my efforts to satisfy you, so that your joy may be complete so that you may permit me to kiss your hand. The traces of your hands are still on my flesh, my arm is still black and blue.
Pardon me my bad writing. Next time, I will strive to make my writing more legible, but to-day I am too nervous, I hunger too much for you.
If you wish it, if it will please you that I read the books you told me about, I will do so with joy. But I should wish that all you do be for your desire and your caprice, and not to be agreeable to me.
The only reward of a slave is that her loved and respected master should find her worthy to suffer for him and for his pleasure.
I will try also not to think of myself when I talk to you. I will only think of making your pleasure slow and perfect.
I will try and support pain with a tender and submissive look, and my face shall show pleasure whatever I feel, so as to please you, and not have the hard and sulky expression for which you so rightly whipped my bottom the other day.
You should be still more exacting; very severe, very cruel, to form me for your taste, and make me sweetly tender, docile, and obedient, punishing me each time I give way to my lust; and driving it out of my frame by dint of suffering.