Th Undercover

I have always had a fascination of Pauline Réage's 'The Story of O' -- and the film(-s) -- and the Crepax Comic about it. In the following I have tried my hand in a sort of updated 'fantasy' over the same subject. I hope you will enjoy it -- and excuse errors etc. as English is not my native tongue.

You are welcome to repost, but please have the courtesy to list me as the author.

August 2018.

o_girl

Chapter one

Catherine and the sensation

"I've got a scoop!" Cat burst into the editorial office, where The Editor-In-Chief: George Smith was sitting among mountains of clippings, papers and other seemingly disorderly piles.

Georg 'lived' in this cave of an office. All the other rooms at the magazine were well lit, clean, orderly and modern, but George preferred his old-fashioned, messy office.

Jokes were that the founders of the paper had acquired the furniture -- about 100 years ago.

George liked paper. He left the Internet and the computers to his employees. He did have a very old, brownish coloured PC, but no one knew if it still worked. Usually it was hidden behind a wall of stacked paper.

Once in a while the staff in the editorial room outside his office made a bet - usually with a new apprentice or employee. To go into George's 'cave' and ask him for a specific piece of information. George would always immediately pull the relevant piece of documentation from one of the piles -- and the unfortunate person, who had betted that he could not -- would have to pay up.

George Smith was 53, slightly overweight, and was called: 'The Little Cannonball' -- although never in his presence. He was balding and had a white 'circle' of hair round the bald patch. It made him look like a satyr or Greek god.

He had been mastering the little, serious magazine for as long as anyone could remember. His walls were plastered with prizes won for 'in-depth-journalism' and 'investigative reporting'. Other media kept his paper alive by subscribing in the hope of catching a good story, and run with it.

Something that happened quite often.

They often brought controversial features and were not afraid of anything. George was a common guest in the courtroom, when a company or person had taken offence to some of the magazines revelations.

One could count the number of times they had lost a case on one hand.

All their stories were well researched and more than double-checked.

They did have a 'lower-limit' to what they would do. They left the paparazzi and sensation-hunting journalism to more colourful media.

Their force was company- and personal fraud, political hanky-panky under the radar, police corruption and similar serious stories.

Catherine had been with the magazine for almost a year. She had been at the top of her class at 'The Journalist College' and it had been easy to get the job with George in front of a long queue of applicants.

She was ambitious, but had yet to find a story, that could make her by-line a household name.

She was petite -- 1,62 cm in height on flat feet. She did have shape though. A slim waist, a pair of breasts a 'b' or small size 'c' and well-defined, relatively small, light red set of nips. A small fold -- almost non-existing under her breasts underlined their slight heaviness and framed the bottom of the orbs nicely.

When she stretched out her ribs were showing. Not in a 'to thin' way, but enough to convince her, she did not have excess fat on her body. The swimming and her permanent position on a female Underwater Rugby Team also helped her fitness and stamina.

Her bum stuck out a little, and was -- in her own opinion -- somewhat too meaty, but at least the buttocks only had the slightest fold under them. Strong legs, thin, long fingers, Auburn hair, cut just above her neck, and curly enough to frame her small face with the slightly pointed nose, the dark, brown eyes and her pretty little mouth. When she smiled or frowned, two small lines appeared on each side of her mouth, like a discrete parenthesis. Her smile revealed a set of white, well proportioned and well placed teeth.

Right now she was in a state of agitation! Notepad and pencil in her right hand and eyes wide.

George looked up and nodded at her to sit in the chair across from his desk.

A very deep sigh emanated from far down inside him as he said:

"Well. What world sensation have you sniffed out today?"

He had an excited reporter in the chair at least once a day, but rarely did it result in anything other than the reporter sliding out the door, red-faced and subdued after a short, though cross-examination by George.

Cat dumped into the chair:

"Well. You might know my boyfriend: John?"

Without waiting for a reply, she continued, now that she had the 'Master of the Universe' to herself:

"He has discovered this weird bondage society!"

George sighed again:

"That's not a story. There are so many of those so-called clubs. "The Black Society" to mention one of many!"

"...but...but...this is different. The other clubs and societies are just where people now and then play and outlive their dreams -- with consent. This is supposed to be more than that!"

"Ok. How does this group differ from the rest -- enough to make it the target of a story by us?"

"This is supposedly like 'The Story of O", which I assume you are familiar with?"

"Yes, quite!" He grunted.

She continued: " These people hold women as slaves. This is serious. The women apparently volunteer into a kind of 'O' slavery, where they relinquish all rights, and leave their body and souls to the men -- to use at their pleasure -- and the men are all from the absolute better part of society."

"Now you are getting me interested. Do you know more?"

"I know that they are very particular to go under the radar. Understandably enough as it would probably be the cause of much scandal, should their society and ways find its way to the greater public as such. Even though these are tolerant times, I am not sure such 'perversions' will be looked at positively if exposed."

"Maybe you have something there, but if they are so secretive, how do you plan to expose them?"

"Well.....John has this contact who has told him about it. He will be able to get me in under cover."

"Hmmmm...don't know about that. You'd be at risk in many ways."

"Not really. I'll apply for membership through John, will go there as a 'prospect', play the part, identify some of the interesting members and get out before it becomes serious. Then I'll confront the people I have identified in some in-depth interviews."

"You think this will work?"

"John will introduce me as his partner, and tell them that we have been dabbling with BDSM a little, so I have some experience. Of course it will all be pretence on my part, but they will not know that -- will they now?"

"I suppose not!" George looked his usual: something between a sad bulldog and a very tired monk.

"I can always 'confess' in which case they will probably throw me out faster than lightning. Besides John has promised to be around as an extra security measure. I can always get him to help me, if I end up in some kind of trouble."

"I suppose it is worth giving a try -- but don't come whining to me if it turns out to be either nothing -- or too much for you. What do you need?"

"I need two months leave. It will probably be too long, but I'll need to do the background research, the interviews and write my notes into something worth reading after having spend some time there."

"Two months sounds like an awful lot of time, but since this is the spring period, and before you get your little experiment started, we will probably be into the slow summer season, and things slow down. I suppose we can do without you for a period -- even that long. I need you to tell me -- preferably in good time -- before you start your absence -- and I need you to report back to me, as much as you can. I want to have the right to stop this 'experiment' of yours if I think it has gone too far, or if I feel that there's no story in it. Agree?"

"Yes, Yes. Thank you, Thank you!" She rushed out of the office. This could be her great chance. She had to phone John right away.

--

One of the secretaries needed her immediate attention, when she emerged from the office. It was a good thing, because as soon as she had left, George had found the only piece of modern electronics, he used regularly: His Phone. Pressed a number, and was answered with:

"John here!"

"George. She has taken the bait: hook, line and sinker! She has just been in here and -- in a very enthusiastic way -- explained that she would like to be our under cover girl at 'The Society'.

She can hardly wait to go for her training, and I'll expect you will hear from her very soon."

"How long do we have?"

"She has an open permission for two months leave, but as I am her boss that could be prolonged. We will need to have her prepared before she goes on leave!" He chuckled.

"Fine. I'll make arrangements for her preparation immediately -- and 2 months at 'The Society' should be amble time. I have seen more feisty women than her becoming meek and obedient in less time."

"The irony is that she thinks she is under cover, and please let her stay in that belief for as long as possible. That way she will volunteer to anything. The minute she realizes that this is not a game, and we have known of her ploy all along, things might get difficult."

"No problem. The moment, she finds out the truth, she will be well trained, and happy with her new life -- I'm sure!"

"If you say so. You're the one with the experience, it is not the first woman you have brought to the 'school', and I must say you have a success-rate of almost a 100%"

"Indeed. I'll keep you posted."

With a big smile he pressed the 'end call' button and sat back in his chair with his eyes half closed.

'This should be fun', he thought. 'I'd really like to see her enslaved.'

Chapter two

Preparation

After getting rid of the secretary, Cat went to the backstairs. Here the smokers usually convened, but she was lucky. There was nobody there.

She called John and told him all about her meeting with George. She was so excited, that the words almost tripped over one another.

"Hey. Hey. Stop. Stop. Are you quite sure, you want to do this?"

"Yes! Quite certain. It will be a great experience, and a great story. How much is this place like Roissy in 'The Story of O'? Will I be whipped? Fucked? Tormented? Forced? When can I meet your contact", she went on in an agitated voice.

"Stop. Stop. Again. I don't know a whole lot about it, but I'll arrange for you to meet my contact. His name is Peter, and I'll see if I can arrange a meeting as soon as possible."

"Good. Rather today than tomorrow!"

"You will have to meet him under all circumstances. He needs to see you and talk to you, and you will have amble opportunity to ask all the questions you like."

She calmed herself: "Ok. Make the arrangements -- but soon, please!"

"Will do. I'll call him right away and get back to you with a place and a time. Bye now!"

She put the phone down, took a deep breath and went back to the editing floor.

She did not have to wait long. About an hour later John called, and confirmed they had a date with his contact -- the same evening and in a restaurant in the centre of the city.

He explained that he had told his contact, they had a 'Master/slave' relationship, and that she was not unfamiliar with the world of BDSM. He also explained, that she had to stay 'in character' as the contact believed she was venturing into this in earnest -- and not as a 'under cover agent'. He also told her to dress plainly and discrete -- and not to use too much makeup. The best impression, she could give was not to be 'too flamboyant' as he put it.

--

John picked her up, and together they walked the short distance to the restaurant. They were ushered to a table at the back with separating, low walls to the tables on the sides. A man was waiting for them, and got up as they approached.

"Hello. I'm Peter. Nice to meet you." He held her hand just a little too long for comfort as he fixed his eyes on hers.

"You must be Catherine. I see that John's description of you does not give you any justice."

'Flattery will get you nowhere', she thought as she smiled to herself, and let him hold the chair as she sat down.

Peter was about 50'ish. Lean and in a charcoal-grey suit, that clearly had not come off a hanger in your everyday shop. He had a full head of grey hair, long nose, and penetrating blue eyes.

The waiter supplied them with menus, and the next ten minutes was spent ordering food.

When the waiter vanished with the menus and their orders, Peter looked up at her.

"John tells me, you would like to try our little club? What has he told you about us?"

Since it was hardly anything, it was quickly done.

"You will need to go through some preparations before coming to visit us."

"A..hem...what preparations do you have in mind?"

"Well. You will need to get rid of your body hair to start with".

Surprised she looked over at John, who gave her an almost invisible nod with his head.

"Okay..." She slowly answered.

"John has been kind enough to give me your mail address, so I will book you for an appointment at a Beauty Parlour, we normally use. The appointment will appear in your calendar within the next 24-hours. I trust this will be fine with you?"

Again her eyes sought John's, and again he gave her the invisible nod.

"Quite. May I ask what it entails to go there?"

"Of course, my dear. You will be submitted to a series of laser treatments, which will make you all smooth and hairless -- for a time. I'm told it is almost quite painless -- but somewhat unpleasant I'm afraid."

"Ok. What body hair are we referring to here?"

"As far as I know it is under your arms, in you crotch and then surplus hair on other parts of your body. You will have to have about 5 treatments, give or take a few, as the hair starts growing from new places as soon as the old ones are removed."

A blatant lie. The laser would permanently kill the follicles, but no reason to alarm her at this stage. She would be quite happy with her hairlessness, when she eventually found out it was permanent. Hopefully at a point, where she would be a fully trained slave.

Much later she would blame herself for not having looked laser treatment up on the net, but believed what she was told: That the removal was temporary. She had been unusually gullible for an investigative journalist!

She blushed, and after a short pause where John once again signalled to her to agree, she said:

"OK. I suppose it can't be helped. I'll do it."

"Good", he said. "Then there's just on more thing!"

"Yes....", She looked like she was beginning to have second thoughts about it all.

"You need to have a 'Journal' with us, so for the last session in the Beauty Parlour, you will be measured and photographed."

She did not know what to say to this, so there was an uncomfortable silence.

Peter continued: "It's nothing dangerous. We will need your looks and measurements to be able to select proper clothes for you."

"Ah. I suppose you use clothing much like in 'The Story of O'?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Then it is ok with me."

This conversation had taken place on and off while the dishes were served and consumed. Now they were at the dessert.

"Tell me, Peter. Where is this club and what will you do to me there?"

"I think it is best for you to find out for yourself. I'm sure you will like our facilities and our treatment of you. John has told me, that you need him to be close to feel safe. I will of course see to that."

She thought he had avoided answering that in a clever way, and did not like to keep asking without displaying second thoughts.

So she accepted in silence.

Peter rose, and told them he had another obligation, and that they were free to enjoy their dessert, have coffee and whatever they liked afterwards -- the bill had been paid.

Again he held her hand a little longer than she felt necessary, and locked his eyes with hers.

"I'm very happy that you have decided to join us, Catherine, and I look forward to meeting you again soon."

He left.

As soon as he was out of earshot, she leaned over the table:

"What was that all about? Hair removal? Pictures? Measurements? And not telling me where the place is located or what exactly goes on there?"

John smiled: "I am as informed as you are. I've never been to this place, but Peter has promised he will take me soon. Then I'll know where it is. I will make certain, I'm there with you. As for the other things, you will have to do it to get in. Apparently it is a preparation, they put all their girls through. Sounds like it, does it not?"

"Hm. Yes. I suppose it will not do me any permanent damage to go through with the hair-thing and the measurements and photos, and as for the location, don't worry. I'll figure out where it is as soon as I'm going there. They will have to give me an address or -- if I am picked up -- I'll study the route there. Probably no problem, I'm sure."

"So we will both figure it out," He said with a big smile.

Knowing that she would not have any idea as to the location of the place -- only that it was about one hour drive from the city.

--

When she got home, her calendar already held the 5 dates for the Beauty Parlour -- and the address.

The first session to take place the next morning. They certainly did not waist any time. On the other hand, she thought, she would have done it exactly the same way. Not leaving much time to reflect on her the decision.

--

She was at the 'Beauty Parlour' in good time for her first session. She had told George she needed to do some research for her story, and he had given her the day off.

It was located in a side street in the centre of the city. A street not unlike the one, she lived on: Small designer shops, smart Café's and other trendy businesses.

The front looked elegant and clean. Inside there was a small room with some chairs, and a desk behind which a very young, female receptionist with too much makeup, too much perfume and very long, very red nails resided.

She gave her name, and was asked to sit and wait.

She browsed through one of the glossy fashion magazines lying on the low table in front of her. She did not really register any of the contents but it gave her a chance to pretend to be occupying herself as she waited.

A woman in a white, clinical looking coat appeared from the door: "Catherine. I presume. Welcome. Please follow me."

The woman did not wear any makeup and had short, plain nails. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.

Cat got up and followed the woman. Behind the door was a long, neutral hallway with several more doors on each side. She was taken to the door furthest down the hall and escorted in.

It was a small room. Much like her doctors examining room. No windows, three of the walls covered with white desks and cupboards with glass fronts on all of them. Along the last wall there were a number of chairs without armrests parked.

In the middle was a white table. It was supported by a shiny steel rod frame, and with small, lockable wheels.

She did not like the two, padded 'U'-shaped holders just sticking up at the end of the table. They were close together, and the bottoms of them were at level with the surface.

"I'm Susanne -- by the way. I'll be in charge of your session today. You can undress here and put your clothes on one of the chairs. Here's a towel you can wrap around. We will be with you shortly."

Cat thanked her as she went out of the room. Undressed and folded her clothes on the chair, then wound the very large, white, soft towel around her body and sat down.