Mindfucked: “O” is for Gaping Asshole

Ever wanted to get inside a woman's mind? Ever wanted to know what tickles our brain clit? I can't speak for all of us, of course, but in my new series Mindfucked, I'll reveal the fantasies I masturbate to privately when my husband, PC, is not around.... 

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been obsessed by a little book with a suggestive cover called The Story of O (1954). It never leaves my side: I read it before bed, in the bathroom, on the subway.... 

(Women, be careful where you take this missal. Case and point: Yesterday some guy passing himself off as a surgeon sidled me on the bus. He tried to pick me up by asking me what I was reading. “Oh, you know, literature. Jane Austen type stuff,” I replied, feigning a yawn, holding open the delicate pages with an iron grip to keep him from catching a glimpse of the cover.) 

I’m reading it in French, partly because I prefer to indulge in this kind of sensuously perverse BDSM erotica in Sade’s language. (I bet it would also sound equally delectable in Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s Deutsch…) 

The premise? A man named René brings his female lover, suggestively named “O,” to a chateau in the outskirts of Paris. Therein she lives up to her elusive initial (graphically, “O” = hole). For two weeks she assumes the role of sex slave, subject to the whims of the male clientele who penetrate her every orifice. And whip her. 

And.... 

...fit her with a variety of butt plugs attached to a harness to stretch her out. 

Gaping assholes were on trend in mid-1950s Paris, it seems. For some reason I can’t get past this brief, one-page scene* in the story. When I first poured over the passage in question I was repulsed. If you’ve read my post on anal sex you’ll know that the thought of inserting something hard in my ass turns me on, so clearly the butt plug idea wasn’t the source of my problem. 

What disturbed me in this case was the context that frames this scene in the text. The title character, O, is publicly humiliated in two ways. First, while her lover, René, watches, O is unceremoniously finger-fucked from behind by a stranger, who then points out that her ass needs a good stretching. At René’s orders, they fit her with a variety of butt plugs attached to a harness, which she must wear all day long for over a week. 

Here’s what got to me: *Everyone* at the chateau could see that she had the strap-up device on....

In spite of my disgust at her debasement, I couldn’t shake this scenario from my mind. So I started fantasizing – and haven’t stopped yet. When I’m masturbating (I usually touch myself in bed before falling asleep), I pretend it’s me. I imagine that I’m the one being sodomized, stretched, objectified. And it gets me off every time. 

Why am I telling you this?

I think it’s important to have masturbation fantasies – particularly the kind that you may never (want to) live out. When PC and I turned up the heat in our non-monogamous sex life, I couldn’t get myself off. In having lived out all of the imaginary sex acts and situations that I'd dreamed about — threesomes, ass/pussy double penetration, orgies — I ran out of material. 

Fortunately, this dirty, taboo-defiling little book has flooded the parched soil of my erotic imagination, restoring the balance between my need to slake my lusts with multiple sex partners and to indulge in the solitary pleasure of masturbation. 

Note: 

*If you plan to check out the original French version called Histoire d’O by Anne Desclos (pen name: Pauline Réage), you’ll find the passage in question on pages 61-63 (ISBN: 978-2-253-14766-4). 

P.S. This post goes out to my brown girl with the still virgin brown hole. :)