This is a sequel to "A Letter to Mary," which, in their infinite wisdom, the editors chose to bury in the category "Letters and Transcripts."
It had been several weeks since Mary and I spent the weekend together. In fact, for a period, we had no communication of any sort. Assuming that she was still coming to terms with her memories of the time that we spent together, especially our visits to Sato's studio, I decided to wait for her to renew our relationship. On the one hand, in our conversations prior to our meeting, she had unequivocally expressed her desire to spend a weekend devoted to hedonistic activities. On the other hand, I was not sure that she had anticipated the extent to which she would have to abandon all semblance of modesty and relinquish control of her body into not only my hands but also those of strangers. Surely, she must have wondered at her own compliance in Sato's obscene display and Yoko's skilled manipulation of her most intimate erogenous zones. My hope was that she would find that her feelings of the shame associated with these memories were amply compensated by her memory of the pleasure that her self-immolation had afforded her. Indeed, I harbored the hope that, after sufficient time, she would recognize that the shame had been an integral part of the pleasure, at which point she might choose to immerse herself again into a world in which gratification of her carnal instincts takes precedence over all other considerations.
Determined that the decision should be hers alone, I refrained from contacting Mary and was resigned to accept her choice, whatever that might be. Nonetheless, on the chance that she would eventually want to again indulge her sexual fantasies, I engaged in a little research. It is clear to me that Mary is fascinated by her own body and enjoys having that body made to perform to its full potential. Although she is no masochist, she knows that to achieve its full potential, her body must endure a certain amount of suffering, and, as she demonstrated during our weekend together, she is willing to accept suffering if it enables her to reach her goal.
While browsing the web, I came across a video which shows a young woman being relentlessly stimulated by an array of strategically placed electrodes attached to her body. The woman is lying naked on her back on a table to which a steel frame is mounted at the corners. Both her arms and legs are connected to this frame so that she cannot reach the electrodes with her hands and her legs must remain raised and separated in a way that leaves her crotch blatantly exposed and available. From the anguished expression on her face and the contortions wracking her body, it is obvious that her attention is entirely consumed by the stimulation that she is receiving. What is less obvious is whether what one is watching is a woman in torment or a woman in the throes of ''la petite mort.'' In either case, the resulting image was compelling and one which I would very much like to see Mary reproduce.
About two months after our weekend together, Mary at last sent me a message in which she indicated that she would like to renew our relationship and was ready to engage in further exploration of her fantasies. Having done my homework, I was well prepared and sent her the link to the video that I had seen, asking her to view it and tell me what sort of experience she thought that the woman in it was having. The next day, Mary wrote back that she had watched the video and come to the conclusion that the woman's contortions were expressions more of sexual ecstasy than of agony. As she put it: there were no tears, only a sequence of multiple orgasms. In addition, she said that she found the woman's contortions displayed her body in manner which was both beautiful and profoundly moving. Emboldened by her response, I asked her if she thought that she might like to find out herself what that woman had experienced. Two days later, Mary wrote back that, if I thought that I could arrange it, she would be willing to play the role that the woman had played in the video.
Not knowing where else to turn, I somewhat hesitantly called Sato's studio to ask whether he knew of a place that had the requisite equipment and expertise for this sort of thing. To my relief, he was neither shocked nor surprised by my inquiry and said that his own studio catered to people seeking this source of sexual gratification. Further, he recalled Mary and our previous visits to his studio and said that he would be happy to have an opportunity to renew his acquaintance with Mary's body. However,
he expressed concern that Mary have no illusions about what she would be subjecting herself to. I tried to allay his fears by explaining that, having watched the video I had sent her, Mary could have not help but understand what she was getting into. Apparently satisfied by my answer, he agreed to provide the services that we were seeking. Our conversation ended with his telling me that he would send me a list of instructions detailing the preparations that Mary would have make prior to our visit.
I relayed all this information to Mary, including Sato's list of instructions. Mary wrote back that the more she learned the more she was determined to carry the plan to completion. Nonetheless, because she was expecting her period soon and did not want to take a chance on its spoiling her experience, she would postpone her trip until the weekend after next.
Just as on her previous visit, I met Mary at the airport. As soon as I saw her, it was clear to me that her state of mind was quite different from what it had been when she arrived the last time. The look of excited anticipation that she had had was replaced by one of considerable apprehension, and the provocative outfit that she had worn had been replaced by a sedate skirt and sweater. No explanation was needed to account for these changes. I could well understand that Mary had spent a lot of time contemplating what lay ahead and that to proceed required all the courage that she could muster. Nonetheless, as I learned when we got to our room at the hotel, even if she had anxieties, she was stalwart in her resolve. As soon as I had closed the door, she began preparing herself for our return to Sato's studio. Meticulously following the instructions which Sato had sent, she divested herself of the skirt and sweater in which she had traveled, thereby revealing the fact that there was nothing under these banal garments other than her own pink flesh. After giving me the opportunity to visually appreciate but not tactically examine what lay beneath, she reminded me of the restrictions that Sato had placed on her sexual activity during the day preceding her appointment. Namely, although mild stimulation was permitted, and, in fact, encouraged, consummation was to be avoided. For this reason, she announced that, after taking a warm bath, she would limit our sexual activity to foreplay.
Mary spent more than half an hour in the tub, and, by the time that she reappeared, I was pleased to note a marked diminution in her earlier tension. Wearing nothing but a turban improvised out of a towel wrapped in her damp hair, she exuded a sense of confidence and contentment that had been missing before. Positioning herself in front of the mirror over the dressing table, she rubbed hair with the towel while rotating her lower body in a subtly provocative manner. Watching her, I could not help wondering what thoughts she was having. Was she trying to imagine what that body would look like when it was forced to perform wild gyrations rather than the languorous undulations reflected in the mirror? If so, how should I account for her apparent confidence? Was it an expression of pure bravado or of insatiable curiosity? Well aware of the effect that she was having on me, Mary invited me to join her at the mirror. Happy to accept, I approached her from the rear and, reaching under her raised arms, placed my hands on the deliciously available breasts whose reflected image seemed to be beckoning for my attention.
Conscious of the restrictions that Sato had placed on us, I began slowly. Cupping their undersides, I gently massaged those firm mounds of succulent flesh. I had always enjoyed molding Mary's breasts like a baker kneading dough. Her breasts are wonderfully malleable, and she derives great pleasure from their manipulation. Circling them around their base, I pressed my fingers together to force them forward so that their nipples were presented in the way that mother presents hers to a suckling child. In response to the pressure behind them, her already erect nipples became even harder and her aereolae expanded. At the same time, Mary allowed her back to slump against me until, with her buttock was pressed against my crotch and her hands resting on the back of my neck, she was espaliered to my front. I knew that she was tacitly begging for attention to her distended nipples, but I ignored her plea and continued palpating her breasts, manipulating them so that their intricate web of mammary ducts would exert a steady pressure behind the nipples to which they lead. As her nipples swelled, she ground her hips into my groin but resisted the temptation to either voice her growing frustration or to withdraw her breasts from the source of that frustration.
In the past, Mary and I had experimented to find out if she could be induced to reach orgasm by the stimulation of her breasts alone, and on one occasion we had succeeded. What we had learned from that experiment was that the resulting orgasm was of a distinctly different nature from those which she had during intercourse. On the one hand, it was both mellower and more protracted. On the other hand, it did little to take the edge off her desire for further sexual gratification. For this reason, I decided that using her breasts to give her an orgasm would not violate the spirit of Sato's instructions. With this in mind, I finally released her right breast and placed the palm of that hand directly over the nipple of her left breast, which I continued to squeeze with my other hand. By moving my hand a circles, I forced her distended left teat to rotate on its moorings, causing Mary, as she told me later, exquisite sensations that emanated from her nipple and coursed down a path that terminated in her vulva. Warning her that I intended to continue this insidious form of torture until she achieved orgasm, I watched with fascination Mary's body respond and finally prepare itself for orgasm. At the onset of her climax, she emitted an anguished cry of frustration as she pressed her crotch down on my fully erect but unavailable penis. By way of compensation, I captured her nipples between my fingers so that she would be stretching them each time that she pressed herself against my groin.
Not wanting to diminish my own excitement about the events scheduled for the morrow, I refused Mary's offer to provide me the release that I had provided her. Instead, we went out for a light dinner at a local restaurant. Had it not been for the attire that Mary chosen, our meal would have been rather bland. However, to my surprise, she chose to wear a wrap around skirt, a semi-translucent blouse, sandals, and nothing else. As a result, I was confronted throughout our dinner by the scarcely veiled outlines of her erect nipples and, when she shifted her legs, an occasional glimpse of her naked thigh.
We returned to our room late enough to get ready for sleep. Both of us were excited about the events scheduled for the next day, my excitement unalloyed and Mary's mixed with apprehension. Thus, sleep was slow in coming, and, when it did, Mary's was frequently interrupted. Nonetheless,
