The Passion of Mademoiselle S. (4 page)

My darling love,

I have read and reread your brief letter. How wonderful it was to have! I was so afraid I had disappointed you…Now I know that, though it may not have been perfect, you still experienced infinite pleasure thanks to that perverted touch. Yes, my loved one, next time you will have to have even more powerful climaxes, to have the illusion of being truly taken by a virile member piercing your flesh. It will probe you wildly in every direction, just the way you do when you take all of me in that same embrace.

Dear love, I was divinely happy in your arms. You left me quite powerless, my dear love, but oh, the intoxication I felt! Never before had I been so charmed by your caresses as I was then. Was it the spanking you gave me? Was it because your skin felt softer? I do not know…I cannot fathom what is happening to me, but I am happy in your arms, and I should hate to see that happiness come to an end.

I too shall be thinking of you in a few days' time, my love. In spite of everything, every last ounce of me will belong to you when you are far from me, and I shall relive all our hours of lovemaking in my thoughts. I shall draw on my memories for the patience required to wait for you like a good girl, but I do not believe I shall manage it for the memories are too sweet and too vivid. And so when I am in bed at night, before I go to sleep, I shall call my little god very softly. I shall close my eyes so that all I can see is his dear face.

Only a few more days of seeing you, and only so fleetingly. Do not forget me, my little god, think of all the tenderness you are leaving behind, remember I am waiting for you, that I want you with all the might of my senses, which can only be appeased in your arms, by your touch. Promise me you will be a good boy over these long weeks, and that you will write to me
every day,
just as I shall to you. And if you really wanted to make me happy, but I mean really happy, well, you could have a photograph taken there and send it to me so that I could see my little god in his handsome uniform.
^*
Would you do that for me? Would you? It is the only favor I ask of you until your return. For I know that after that I shall have every conceivable favor because you will bestow them on me with your caresses. They are the joy of my life, you know that. Goodbye, my dear darling. I am nestling against you to feel your soft skin against mine. I am planting silly kisses all over your body, which I so love, and I am giving a long slow kiss to your beloved lips and your charming eyes whose gaze is so deliciously intoxicating.

Till tomorrow, my love, forget that I was unkind yesterday, but I was so afraid I had lost you. I love you. Your darling mistress.

Simone

*
The letters tell us that Charles was working in an office, yet two of them mention a photograph where he appears in uniform, suggesting that he is or was in the French army. Although the period of Simone and Charles's affair follows the Locarno Treaties and was characterized by an international policy of appeasement, the prospect of a new war was a constant fear in everyone's minds. The French army at the time was the biggest in the world and many young men were reservists, as Charles himself may have been, which would explain why he might still wear a uniform at times. The uniform remained an important symbol of manly prestige after the war, and Simone, as many other young women, would not have been insensitive to its appeal.

WEDNESDAY, MIDNIGHT

I put off any explanations between us yet again this evening, Charles. I was too anxious and, besides, out on the street in those crowds, I just could not.

What has happened to you all of a sudden?

You must answer me very truthfully, my darling, with no reservations.

You have changed terribly in the last few days, Charles. While you were in Bandol your letters were more loving and tender than ever. Like me, you wrote unfailingly every single day, and your return to Paris was blessed with those unforgettable hours we spent together. But since then you have gradually broken away from me. You no longer even reply to my letters. I see you for a scant few minutes in the evening and even then you seem to be battling with invincible boredom while you are in my company. You are willfully distant, indifferent to everything, and you seem only too eager to give me the swift goodbye kiss that will release you at last.

While I long for only one thing, for the moment when we can be properly reunited, you are already thinking of saying goodbye.

We mooted the possibility of seeing each other one evening this week, and I am still waiting to hear from you. I mentioned Saturday. You said you were leaving for the country.

This is all unfathomably painful for me, Charles.

Yesterday evening I thought you had something on your mind. I went for a walk around the Bois de Boulogne to calm my nerves. But, confronted with the same indifference again this evening, I cannot fail to notice the complete change that has come about in you. Which is why it would be best for us to explain things truthfully to each other and make everything clear. Why force our feelings? If I no longer have the appeal of novelty for you, we must not go on seeing each other, Charles. We must say farewell, kindly, while we still can. We must not delay. We must not risk compromising four months of perfect harmony with harsh words. We should go our separate ways just as we met, with a smile.

You see, there is no sense of heartbreak on my part in this letter, nor any wish to quarrel.

As ever, it is my heart and my deep feelings for you that dictate how I behave. Perhaps because, deep down, you do not know me well enough, you are hesitating to initiate a breakup. There is nothing to fear, Charles. Whatever happens, you will always be one of the finest memories of my life, and the time we have spent together and our excesses will always be uppermost in my mind.

But this evening I needed to tell you how terribly I am suffering. Because I
am
suffering, you must suspect that. Your letters from Bandol are still too recent for their exquisite words to have been erased from my mind.

And now I am writing to you from my bed, from our bed, by the wonderfully soft light of my little lamp. So, I cannot help it, I am casting my mind back over all our embraces, and feeling sad.

Oh, it does not matter, you know. It will pass. Don't go upsetting yourself. If it is over, well then, say so. I will be filled with sorrow, so much sorrow, so many regrets. Because I do love you, you know, I really do. But I shall not hold it against you. It is only normal, after all.

Goodbye, my little Charles, my dear, beautiful little god. Will you let me kiss all of your beloved body one last time?…That is what I wanted to do on Saturday, and will want to forever and ever.

I shall wait for some word from you, but if it troubles you, don't write. I shall understand.

My lips on yours in a deep, deep kiss. Your mistress who loves you.

Simone

SUNDAY EVENING

My love,

This is the last night I shall spend in this room. I must move out of it tomorrow evening, and the very thought of it fills me with great sadness. I feel as if I shall leave some of my happiness and much of myself here. You see, this evening a whole host of memories—more even than usual—are swirling around me, and titillating images are passing before my eyes. You are here, dear love, right beside me. You undress in the small dressing room. I can hear your every move. Soon you will appear, magnificent and beautiful in your nakedness. This evening the room looks just as it did on certain days. The small nightlight on the chest of drawers casts its soft glow over toward the big bed, and all around me, in vases in every direction, the flowers I was given for my birthday yesterday remind me of the red roses on that glorious July morning.

How I wish I were not alone in this great bed, my dear love. If I could have you here, beside me, what follies we could still commit.

When I left your arms yesterday my bruised body was quite exhausted. Oh, the fury with which you beat me, my loved one; my pleas did nothing to appease you, and then your fingers clutched at my buttocks in a final spasm of desire. Today, dear love, I am a poor listless thing. Bearing the terrible marks of your passion. Do you know, you have so thoroughly whipped these buttocks you love that they are not a pretty sight now. They bear traces of the cruel whip that battered them mercilessly. Today they are just one huge bruise, and since yesterday I have been utterly drained by all our excesses.

But oh, how I love you, my little god! And how happy I am, for yesterday I knew you had tasted true rapture in my arms. When you looked at me your eyes were so alight, so full of victorious joy, and your kisses were so tender and so deep that, in your arms, I forgot all my pain.

My dear love, do tell me that I was a meek and submissive slave yesterday, tell me your cruel passion was sated and your delirious senses were appeased in victory. Was it good?—do tell me.

I wanted to prove how entirely I am yours. I had to undergo this ordeal, darling, so that you truly know that
nothing can separate us now
. If you doubted my love, if you were afraid I would give way, just look how much I love you, my loved one. Did I not tell you I was your slave? I have proved that I can suffer in order to make you happy. Come to me again this evening, my dear love. Come! This bed is too huge for us. It leaves us so much room because our bodies cleave so tightly to each other. Give me your lips, my loved one, my mouth longs avidly for your kisses. My inflamed senses can be assuaged only in your arms. When I lie next to your skin, you feel unbearably sweet to me. Your flesh is irresistibly tempting. I want to press my lips to your body, I want to give passionate kisses to your thighs, to kiss your buttocks and your cock. And let me take my pleasure from you too; my desire is exacerbated just at the touch of you. I want to hold you close to me, to feel your skin against mine and when I am quite drunk on the wonder of you, when my lips have greedily had their fill, then you can take me in the wildest coupling, you can keep your desire simmering as long as you like, you can delve deep into my flesh with your hard rod. We shall both be intoxicated by our physical pleasure.

Charles, my dear love, I am frightened. I am sometimes afraid I love you too much. I live in constant terror of losing you. And I do suffer so when you are not with me.

I am losing my mind, Charles. I can feel my brain foundering. I now love you too much. I am hopelessly yours. I want to suffer more of your violent assaults because I know it is what you want, because I know that is how you perceive love. I love you with all your vices, all your passions, however perverted they may be. I want you, I have a furious longing for you. I am exhausted. Till tomorrow, my great love. Tell me we shall never part. Tell me you love me with all the power of your perversity. I should be so happy if you could write to me!!!

I love you, darling Charles.

Simone

My darling love,

I have just read your letter. What a lovely surprise and how happy it made me! At last I have found the same you I have known these last four months: a charming friend from the very first, and then an exquisite lover. I am happy, my darling friend, because I have succeeded in affording you many a pleasurable hour, and I ask only one thing, that that pleasure should continue as long as possible, for our love is truly a good thing, would not you agree, my beloved?

Yes of course the day will come when I allow you to perform the act you dream of performing. You will tie my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed and whip me furiously. I shan't be able to stifle my cries as the lash bites into me, and I know my supplications will not mollify you because you want to make my flesh suffer to the very last. But confronted with such a spectacle, you will feel desire stirring in your blood. Intent on the wildest excesses and with a feral glow in your eye, you will fuck me with helpless abandon, you will fuck my battered rump bearing the bleeding traces of your merciless lashing. What a glorious moment for you! You will have satisfied your passion, you will have assuaged the desire that has been haunting you, and you will take furious possession of me in the most passionate of couplings.

You are right, darling love, I did think of you yesterday evening as I do every day. But that solitary fondling does not appease my senses as fully as I would wish. I always miss your arms around me, my dear lover, and there is nothing to equal that feeling because you know so well how to pleasure me, how to take me, and the very touch of your young skin against my rump is enough to stir a most delicious intoxication in me.

I should like to take you like that, I should like my own flesh to pulse as yours does. Alas, I myself cannot give you this ultimate pleasure, and I must always resort to makeshift alternatives. But I should like to find an almost lifelike aid
^*
so that I can watch you climax deliciously in my arms.

Darling love, I wish I could feel your tongue and your lips between my thighs again. I wish you would suck my button as you did on Saturday, for I have the most ardent memories of your attentions. It felt infinitely good coming like that, my dear darling, and I was also happy to swallow the best of you. What a deliciously titillating vision it was to see your cock's pink head extending further and further as I touched it with my lips. Had I dared, I would have frigged myself at the same time so we could come together, transported simultaneously by the same vertiginous voluptuous delight. But I was already spent. You had exhausted me, my love. Oh, do come home soon from this trip so we can love each other passionately once more! I still thirst for your kisses and your touch, and your embraces alone can fully satisfy me. Everything else merely aggravates my desire, which means I am more and more in thrall to you.

Goodbye, my dear love. I shall see you later. I need to cover your mouth and eyes with the wildest kisses. I love you, my darling Charles. Never inflict on me the agony of leaving me. Please tell me how tenderly you still feel for me. And tell me all the wild excesses of your dreams. You now know that I am entirely yours and I shall always obey your every whim, however perverse it may be.

My darling love, I must go. I am nestling in your arms and watching you sleep, my little god.

Every inch of me is yours.

Your mistress who loves you so much.

Simone