When I saw Claire again for the first time
that summer, it was at a party given by-
let's say the X's near
the Place de la Concorde.
The entire summer had been lovely,
but that evening was particularly beautiful.
I was late, as usual.
Normally,
I detest literary cocktail parties...
- Jean!
- Hi.
As anyone who attends them regularly
should, if he has any self-respect at all.
I had just come out of a long
siege with a short story,
a short story that had
an enormous resistance
to being completed, and,
had I to be totally honest,
I would confess that I was genuinely pleased
to be once more among the living.
How are you?
- And you?
- Fine.
Good.
Excuse me.
What struck me most about seeing Claire
again was that she hadn't changed at all.
I felt as if I had just
left her the night before.
Although, in reality, I hadn't seen her for
at least two or three years, maybe more.
Friedlander? Coudrain.
I said hello to other people,
but I meticulously avoided getting involved
in the peculiar kind of pointless argument
which is so typical at that kind of party.
I remember that I noticed something
then in which I wouldn't have
minded getting involved,
and it was dressed all in white.
As I think back,
she had made more of an impression on me
than the usual pretty
girl one sees at parties.
The young girl in the white dress
and Claire were friends, obviously.
But beyond that, I sensed a strange link
between them, a kind of electricity,
although I had never heard it said that
Claire was particularly interested in girls.
Still, there was a conspiracy between
them that one could feel quite clearly.
Hi.
What are you doing hiding out there?
Thinking of clever things to
say to your delightful guests.
That shouldn't be too difficult for you.
What about the young
girl in the white dress?
I don't know a thing about her.
She came with Claire.
I suppose she's a friend of hers.
Funny thing is, I haven't been able
to get two words out of her all night.
I remembered clearly the
look Claire had given her.
It was the look of one viewing a rerun of a
successful film one had directed oneself,
whose plot couldn't possibly
have any surprises.
Lovely to have had you.
Later, as I was getting ready to leave...
- Jean.
- All right,
I might call you later. Jean. Yes?
If you like,
perhaps we could have a drink somewhere
to forget about this dreadful party. Nice.
You can get to know Anne. Anne?
Anne.
You'll see.
She's very nice.
Who is she, anyway?
Just a young model.
And?
Well, she belongs to me.
Three mineral waters, please.
She's pretty, isn't she?
Yes, very.
She's very pretty.
You can touch her if you like.
And she has a beautiful mouth,
lovely soft lips, lovely,
soft, knowing lips.
And pretty teeth.
Come, let's have a look at them.
Stay like that.
Someday I'll show you some
photographs I took of her.
Claire had arranged to
meet me the following day.
I knew enough by now not to ask whether we
would be alone or with her young friend.
We were supposed to spend the afternoon
together in the Bagatelle Gardens,
the most beautiful rose garden in the world.
She had insisted that she
wanted to show it to me herself.
Claire was a stunning woman and probably
even more interesting than her friend.
But unlike her friend, she
had never aroused me at all.
At first this had bothered me.
But then I told myself that
it was her impeccable manners
and the precise way in
which she did everything
that made it impossible to think
about her as a potential conquest.
I probably needed to feel that at
least some little thing was vulnerable
in order to arouse a
desire in me to win her.
Claire was waiting for us in the car.
Anne's manner reminded me of a
well-behaved young schoolgirl.
I had time to ask the girl
several casual questions,
but all I could get out of her was,
"Yes, monsieur,"
"No, monsieur,"
or, "I don't know, monsieur,"
as though she were a child.
Instead of letting us wander from flower to
flower, Claire made us look at the varieties
that she admired most, knowing
exactly where each one was.
After the grand tour, we wandered off
toward a more deserted part of the garden.
Go over to it.
Go on. Hurry up.
Now go ahead.
Watch this.
She has pretty hands.
Yes.
She likes doing that, you know.
It excites her.
I can prove it to you, if you like.
At the slightest provocation,
she gets all wet.
Isn't that right, little one?
All right, that's enough.
Pick the flower and bring it over here.
Well, what are you waiting for?
It's not allowed.
Nothing that I like is allowed, Anne.
You know that.
There are too many thorns.
You simply have to get scratched.
Very good.
And it wasn't too difficult, was it?
Of course, you will be punished for
having hesitated just a second too long.
What are you planning to do?
I don't know.
But she'll be punished in front of you.
Somebody's coming.
All right, bring the flower.
Excuse me.
What time is it, please?
10:30.
We continued our walk.
Anne, in the middle, held the rose against
her breast so no one could detect her crime.
We soon came to a sort of grove or thicket,
more or less closed off from
the rest of the gardens
and completely deserted.
Since there weren't any flowers, we reasoned
that here we could find some privacy.
This will be all right.
No. She'll have to stand.
She has to think about where
to hide what she's stolen.
The rose must be hidden.
All she has to do is throw it over there.
But it would be such a shame to
lose such a beautiful flower.
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
It's very simple.
You'll have to hide it
somewhere on your person.
Come over here.
Lift your skirt.
Lift your skirt.
You'll have to lift it higher than that.
Hurry up.
Higher.
Well, what do you think of it?
The design on the tops of the stockings
is a particularly charming touch.
What we will do is slip the
stem up between the garter belt
and the skin about there
close to the crotch.
The thorns should be strong enough
to hold the flower in place.
Only when she's standing still.
See how nice I am?
I'm taking off all the little
thorns so as not to hurt you.
But I forgot.
She's supposed to be punished, isn't she?
Spread your legs apart, and then don't move.
I'm going to hurt you.
Come close to me.
Please, please don't.
I beg you.
Please. No.
Now hold still.
No, please.
Please, no.
No, no.
There.
That's pretty, isn't it?
A great success, but perhaps rather
overburdened with symbols in,
I would say, the surrealist tradition.
You may lower your dress.
Can you still feel the
petals between your thighs?
Does it feel nice?
Well, can't you answer?
Yes, it feels nice.
I have... I need to stop a minute.
No, you can't go now.
You didn't have to drink so
much water in the first place.
I didn't know yet what
Claire was leading us up to.
At last, we came to an area that
seemed more wild and natural,
where very large trees had blanketed the
sparse, unkempt grass with fallen leaves.
This is the perfect place.
Don't you think so?
Depends on what you want to use it for.
For the little girl, of course.
She was looking for a bathroom.
No, I don't need to go.
Why did you lie to us?
I thought you were going to
give us a little performance.
No, I was mistaken.
Don't try to fool with us.
You know it won't get you anywhere, Anne.
Anne.
You'll do it now.
Bend down lower.
Now, then.
Is our little girl going to do pee-pee?
Be sure your legs are
spread far enough apart.
That's fine.
Now lean forward a little.
You're very nice like that, you know?
Well, are you going to piss
or not, you little bitch?
More than a week went by without
my seeing Claire or Anne again.
On the eighth day, quite by chance,
I was driving on the Quai Malaquais
and I ran into little
Anne at the book stalls.
She was alone, and that pleased me.
She pretended not to recognize me,
which hardly surprised me, I must say.
I thought of that last image I had of
our afternoon in the Bagatelle Gardens.
The girl was now speaking to the salesman.
No, we haven't got any more.
Look, I know you have what I want.
I'm going to stand here till I get it.
I don't handle that type of book.
All right, I can find it myself.
I was struck by the positive tone she
used in dealing with the bookseller.
She wanted a rare book sold
only under the counter...
Okay.
Which she asked for with confidence,
obviously sure that this
was the place to find it.
How much?
Thank you.
Hi. Remember me?
Yes, I remember you.
Hey, wait a minute.
Look, no offense.
Actually,
I didn't mean anything in particular.
What do you want? Nothing.
Just to talk to you a little.
I don't feel like talking.
I have to bring this back right away.
To Claire?
I bring things back to whomever I please.
It's none of your business. Well, have...
Have a nice day.
This encounter left me highly dissatisfied.
I spent the following days unproductively.
The weather was good, and I spent most
of my time trying to focus my attention
on an article which would
be due the following month.
But my thoughts always
returned to Claire and Anne.
I hadn't imagined that I personally
would have any power over this girl.
But it had seemed only
natural that I should enjoy
certain privileges outside
of Claire's presence,
since they had already been
granted to me so liberally
and without my even having
asked for anything.
Then, upon further reflection, I
began to wonder if I'd been granted
so much after all the other day.
I was obliged to come to
a negative conclusion.
Then I could see how wrong I had been.
I could even make fun of my own stupidity,
for the recent conduct of little Anne
suddenly appeared quite normal and obvious
to the extent that for her to
have behaved any differently
now seemed impossible.
The situation, in short, had
not been what I thought it was.
I felt annoyed and deceived.
I decided not to think about
those two girls anymore
or about the whole absurd story.
I waited for three more
days, but on the fourth...
Hello. Hello.
How've you been feeling since the last time?
Fine. And you?
Fine. And how is the health of your friend?
Which friend are you talking about?
Anne. Who do you think I meant?
Anne. Of course. I'd completely forgot.
If it's Anne you want to see, you
should have said so right away.
I can lend her to you, my
dear, with no trouble at all.
You can make love to her,
if you're in that mood.
What day would you like me to send her over?
You're joking.
I never joke about my friends.
Thanks, but I wouldn't
know how to reciprocate.
You mentioned you had some
photographs to show me.
That's true.
You can come by tomorrow around 5:00.
Come, Princess.
Right.
How nice of you to come.
Thank you.
I have a gift for you. Thanks.
Drink? Brandy, please.
Isn't this what you came to see?
In the first photo, Anne is wearing a short
black slip with nothing
underneath but her stockings
and a simple garter belt like the one I
already admired in the Bagatelle Gardens.
The second photo was a
delicious detail of the first.
In the next photo, the
girl is in the same costume
but lying down with her
shapely rear exposed.
In the next one, the girl is profile,
entirely naked with her hands
chained behind her back,
kneeling on a black-and-white
checkerboard floor.
The next was a close-up showing the skill
with which Anne was placed in bondage.
In the next photo,
Anne is handcuffed in such a way
as to keep her arms suspended over her head.
Her ankles were chained tightly,
giving an excellent view of her rear.
The position must have been
extremely uncomfortable,
even for a short period of time.
The next picture,
extremely fascinating in its horror,
Despite the somewhat romantic exaggeration,
could only be the result of a trick.
But it was done so well that
one could easily be fooled,
especially since the
contortions of the victim
I I were so convincing.
The stomach is marked in every direction
by deep lines, very clear and distinct,
more or less accented according
to how hard the whip fell.
In the next one Anne's face is
even more contorted in agony,
presumably from the pain
being inflicted upon her.
The next photograph was
a logical conclusion,
the tortured body of the girl,
apparently lifeless, is stretched out
on the black-and-white checkerboard floor.
She is wearing nothing but the
black band across her eyes.
Claire's skill as a photographer is
apparent in her loving attention to detail.
The last photo was very
different from the others.
For one thing, the body was
completely cut off by the camera.
For another, the pubic hair seemed darker.
It was obvious to me that the model
was no longer Anne but someone else.
What gave me the final proof were the dark
polished fingernails of those two hands.
I remembered that Anne left
her fingernails natural.
This last photograph
here, is this still Anne?
Claire became nervous, which was unlike her.
She got hold of herself immediately.
Who else could it be?
By the way.
You ran into Anne the other day, didn't you?
At the book stalls. She didn't
show any lack of respect, did she?
I didn't know she owed me any respect.
She does if I so desire.
I understand that you were rude to
Jean the other day at the book stalls.
Get undressed.
You're going to be whipped.
Get up, you little whore.
Go and get me the whip.
She loves it when we put her on
her knees so we can whip her.
Doesn't she?
It gets her all excited.
She's wet already, isn't she?
You see how well she's been broken in?
It's a question of training,
just like with a dog.
I only had to fondle her often
enough in this position,
and now she can no longer keep
herself from wanting to be satisfied.
Isn't that so, you little whore?
When one is about beat her, she
gets all set for her orgasm.
You'll go moist to paradigm.
Kiss.
Look at Jean.
It's at his request you are being punished.
Very quietly, the girl began to cry.
The tears formed in the corners of her
eyes and rolled down her flushed cheeks.
From time to time, a shudder
ran through her body.
Kneeling on the wool
rug, perfectly straight,
thighs well apart, hands held in the air,
she didn't even dare wipe away the
tears which ran slowly down her face.
We sat there for a long time looking at her.
It might be better to tie her up.
Yes, if you like.
Go and get the chains.
Forgive me, for I know what I do.
Go to Jean.
Go on.
Are you enjoying it?
You know what happens to little girls
who don't do exactly as they're told.
Go on with the punishment.
Smack!
You better treat me better than that.
She's soaking wet, the little darling.
It's a real lake.
Little girl, you're about to
reap the fruits of your labor.
Little girl.
That's it. That's it.
Now whip her.
Whip her.
I was informed that in the future, I
could have Anne whenever I wanted her
and could amuse myself
with her however I pleased.
May I take your order?
I'm full.
Keep going.
Get him off.
Someone's coming. Don't stop.
One afternoon that week, her mistress
even let me have her all to myself.
I was to take her shopping
for various items of lingerie.
May I help you, sir?
Yes, we're interested in some lingerie.
Fine. Come this way, please.
This is, in a sense, the most amusing.
But it comes down a little too far.
I'm afraid it won't
completely show the triangle.
It might interfere with the
view and with the hands as well.
I think you'd better try it on.
If you like.
Very well, sir.
Come.
Get up.
This is what I had in mind.
Do you think it's going to
rain, like in the movies?
It's very possible.
Well, everything is possible.
Are you ready yet?
Miss, would you mind coming
here for a moment, please?
They'll do.
But I think you should take
in the belt just a little.
Anne, turn around.
Anne.
It's nothing.
She was whipped a little
because she wasn't a good girl.
That's all.
Anne.
"Say, 'Thank you."
You look fine.
We joined our friend again at 5:00
in a rather dignified tea room
where people talk in hushed voices.
Claire was waiting for us.
She had chosen a table in the most
propitious corner of the room.
Claire expected a full report
of our afternoon's activities...
And what did we do today?
Complete with all the delicate details.
Anne listened with delight as I
recounted the episode with the salesgirl.
She seemed happy that her complete obedience
gave such pleasure to her mistress.
Claire had as much satisfaction in hearing
the story as if she had been there herself.
You don't say.
Presently, Claire's mood changed.
You must have been very happy, weren't you,
to have everyone know what
a little whore you are?
Answer me.
Yes, I was happy.
Happy about what?
I was happy to show how I'd been whipped.
You like being whipped?
Yes.
Stand up.
Lean forward.
Put your hands on the table.
Spread your legs.
Bend your knees.
She's wet already, the little bitch.
You only have to promise to whip her.
Would you like to see for yourself?
We're ready to order now.
There are so many delectable
things to choose from.
Would you like a salad, Claire?
I'd love a salad.
Yes, yes, I thought you'd agree with me.
Can we have a mixed green salad, please,
with endive, watercress, and tomato?
However, I don't want the tomatoes sliced.
The tomato must be wedged, not sliced.
And I'd like a garlic dressing,
a dressing of oil and vinegar
with just a kiss of garlic.
That sounds delectable.
Dry mustard and a pinch of
oregano at the very last moment.
Very tasty.
That will be all for the moment.
Thank you.
Does it feel nice?
Let me go, please.
Please.
Which do you like better?
When I embarrass you or when I hurt you?
Let's see, Jean.
Didn't you say she wasn't
good this afternoon?
Well, the salesgirl did complain.
Faster.
Then we'll have to make her cry.
Don't think I'm going to
let you off so easily.
When would you like to come
over to my place, Jean?
Tomorrow evening after dinner.
Tomorrow evening after dinner.
You can sit down.
Smell.
See how good you smell?
Kiss it.
It's getting hotter and hotter outside.
You might think it was the middle of August.
I regret, my dear,
that we're obliged to keep our clothes on.
But in our roles, you
understand, it's indispensable.
To you, especially.
- Yes.
- Don't you ever get too hot?
No. Never.
The little girl must be ready.
Follow me.
The entire body was gone over meticulously.
You have very attractive arms.
Would you like me to turn
the little fountain on?
Why not?
All right, watch.
Show the gentleman the pretty fountain.
I felt at home in the Gothic chamber,
because it was exactly as I had
remembered it in the photos.
Clink!
Supposing we made her play with herself.
First get the whip and the blindfold.
That whip isn't the same
one we used the other day.
It's a new one.
She went and bought it herself this morning.
All right.
Show us what you can do.
Play with yourself?
Better than that.
You'll need some help.
See how beautiful she is when
she's coming, the little cunt?
Go ahead.
Play with your little
asshole at the same time.
No.
I want to see her eyes.
Untie her.
Damn you!
Damn you, damn you, damn you!
Get out! What are you doing?
Stop it!
- Get out of here!
- Claire!
Stop it!
Get out of here!
Are you crazy?
Cut it out!
What are you- Stop it!
Stop it.
Let go of me!
Stop it.
Get control of yourself, Claire!
Put it down!
Claire!
I'm leaving.
What will I do?
Good morning.
Good morning.
How is your friend feeling?
Anne's fine.
You didn't ask me this
time which friend I meant.
She's still sleeping.
She'll be fine. No marks?
No, except perhaps one on the
breast where we went very deep.
That would be a shame. No.
It will be very pretty.
Yesterday's?
I didn't have a chance to make a fresh pot.
I was up all night.
And you?
Get undressed.
Look at me.
You like being on your knees?
I'm yours.
You can do whatever you want with me.
Good.
Come here.
Have you ever been beaten?
Open your mouth.
Do whatever you want with me.
Lick it.
Lick it.
Jean.
Jean.
Say, "I love you."
I love you.
I love you.
What's my name?
Jean.
What's my name?
Jean.
I love you.
I love you.