The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story)
By Gato Medio

Chapter 5

[Ramon]

"I've decided to pay a visit to '_Le Club_' and would
like you to come along."

I couldn't believe that Charlotte would change her mind
so radically.

"I thought you would never set foot in a place like
that," I tried to provoke her.

Charlotte remained unfazed. "I'm not going there for my
own amusement, but in the service of science."

She said she was going to conduct a survey on the
attitudes of men towards women and wanted to get the
young men at '_Le Club_' to fill in a questionnaire.

"But what shall I wear?" I asked, remembering what Sylvie
and Mirabelle had told me about the effect of the black
light.

"Don't worry, I have already selected an outfit for you.
Just come to my place in your normal clothes and I'll get
you fixed up. You'll be dressed to kill."

I felt a little apprehensive about this. It seemed that
she had decided to give me another 'opportunity to
learn', as she would put it. But often, I found her way
of arranging these opportunities quite humiliating.

Nevertheless, the following Saturday I went to her place
as requested, with plenty of time before the disco would
open. I undressed as usual and she showed me the clothes
she had selected for me. They were a black miniskirt and
an equally black top. The skirt was just long enough not
to be indecent. The top was made of a semi-transparent
_crepe lisse_. It had a few buttons at the front and was
held up by thin spaghetti-straps, leaving the neck and
shoulders exposed. For underneath Charlotte had selected
tiny bikini-briefs and a strapless bra, both brilliant
white.

From what I had heard, the white underwear would shine
like a beacon under the influence of the black light. I
could imagine that this outfit would attract men like
flies and grew even more apprehensive, but when Charlotte
made love to me in a beautiful, tender way, all my
worries were forgotten.

Afterwards she explained her plan to me. Because I was
new and very good looking, lots of men would want to
dance with me or just try to chat me up. I was allowed to
talk to and dance with whoever I wanted, but before I
would have to send them to her so she could give them her
questionnaire. It sounded a little weird to me but I
couldn't see any harm in helping her with her research.

When we arrived at '_Le Club_' the place was just
starting to fill up. It was a large, mainly bare room
with a stage for the band, a large dance floor in front
of the stage and a few tables around the dance floor. One
entire wall was taken up by a huge bar. Charlotte
established herself at a table near the dance floor and I
occupied a place at the bar.

I was amazed by the large number of men - to be precise,
mostly boys about my age - who came to talk to me. There
were some stupid come-ons like, "Hi cutie, do you come
here often?" which I ignored. On the whole they treated
me with respect, although it was quite clear that they
were after one thing only.

When I sent them to see Charlotte first, some thought
this was a stupid idea and lost interest, but most of my
pretenders went to talk to her and came back showing me
her confirmation that they had completed the
questionnaire. I danced with quite a lot of boys whenever
the band was playing and stood around chatting when the
musicians took a break. The fact that the black light
over the dance floor showed everyone the shape of my
underwear didn't bother me. After all this wasn't very
different from walking around the swimming pool wearing a
bikini.

This was a place where young people went to pick up
someone or to be picked up, so it didn't surprise me that
some of my dance partners tried to feel me up, kiss my
neck and shoulders or slide their hands under the back of
my skirt to feel my bottom and suggested we go somewhere
more private, but I hadn't met anyone interesting enough
to contemplate such an invitation.

After some time, Charlotte came to where I was standing
at the bar and said, "This is going very well. Now comes
phase two of the experiment. Go to the toilet and take
off your bra."

I didn't know what to say. Mirabelle had clearly told me
that people notice when a girl who had been displaying
her bra in the black light was suddenly no longer wearing
one. It was a statement of availability for groping and
was only done by girls who were desperate to find someone
for the night. I didn't see myself in that category, so I
told Charlotte that this was not part of our agreement.

Charlotte just said, "It doesn't matter what we agreed,
just do as you're told."

Reluctantly, I went to the toilet and took off my bra as
Charlotte had requested and handed it to her. As I
crossed the dance floor there were a few wolf whistles.
Some men had obviously noticed that I was no longer
wearing the bright, white garment. I went to my usual
place at the bar and asked for a drink when I heard a
voice near me say, "_Vous êtes très jolie_." [You are
very pretty.]

My mind was still occupied with the effect the missing
bra might have on future dance partners. I didn't pay any
attention to what the voice had said and just answered,
"If you want to dance with me, you have to see Charlotte
over there," pointing in the direction where Charlotte
was sitting.

Only after that did I think about what he had said. He
was the first one in this place to use the polite form of
address, '_vous_', rather than the informal '_tu_' like
everybody else.

He replied, "I wasn't really thinking of dancing. I want
to make passionate love to you all night long."

"Well, you have to see Ch..." Again, I had started my
response without paying much attention to what he had
said. When it sank in, I stopped in mid-sentence and
looked at him.

"What?"

He was good looking, I guessed in his late twenties, and
everything about him said 'man', but in a very gentle
way.

"You heard what I said," he replied. He spoke with a
foreign accent which I couldn't quite place. I could tell
from his face that he meant what he had said. Not like
some boys who occasionally approached me saying, "You
wanna fuck?" and probably wouldn't know what to do if I
actually were to answer yes. There was something
electric, something extremely sensual in the air.

"This is how we'll do it," he said, "You go back to the
toilet and take off your panties. You write '_je veux_'
[I want to] on them with your lipstick and bring them to
me. Then we leave, go to my apartment and make passionate
love all night long."

This was unbelievable. How could a complete stranger dare
to make such an outrageous proposal. I looked at him
again. He looked straight back at me. He was serious
about this. He just nodded and said, "Go," as if giving
me permission to leave.

I was under his spell. Like a sleep-walker, I got off my
chair and went to the toilet. Inside the cubicle I
slipped off my panties and wrote '_je veux_' on the lacy
textile. Then, carrying the garment in my hand, I
returned to the bar. As I crossed the dance floor there
were quite a few more wolf whistles. Those boys had
obviously noticed that the other part of my underwear was
also gone and that I carried it in my hand for everyone
to see. I handed my panties to the stranger without
saying a word.

"Very nice," he said as he put them in his pocket. "Let's
go." He put his arm around my waist and lead me to the
door.

In his car he finally asked me for my name and told me
that he was called Ramon. He was 32 years old, from
Argentina, but now living in Paris. I told him I was 18
years old, a lie which I considered credible. I didn't
want to risk him turning around and taking me back to
where he had picked me up.

It would take some time to get to his apartment, so we
had a chance to get to know each other a little better. I
asked him if he was a frequent visitor to '_Le Club_',
trying to find out if he usually picked up girls this
way.

Ramon explained that this was his first visit, a stroke
of luck, so to speak. He had been on his way back from
Lyon when he heard on his car radio that all the major
roads into Paris were blocked, Especially '_la
périphérique_', the ring road around Paris, was reported
to be one solid traffic jam. Rather than sitting in a
traffic jam for hours, he had decided to stop somewhere
on the way for an early dinner. When he had finished his
meal, the radio was still reporting heavy traffic so he
decided to wait a little longer and went for a walk. This
is when he saw '_Le Club_' and went inside.

"As soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted to make love to
you," he said.

"Do you usually tell your victims to take off their
panties before you ask for their name?" I asked, trying
to get him to tell me a little more about his intentions.

"Well, no, this was a special case. I had been standing
next to you for a while without you noticing me, so I
couldn't help overhearing your conversation with your
friend - I apologize for being so nosey. From what I
heard I came to the conclusion that you need someone to
tell you what to do, to take responsibility for your
actions. So I ventured to help you with your decision -
and luckily you followed my advice. I'm sure you won't
regret it."

I found this explanation puzzling. Was he hinting that he
had discovered Charlotte was my master and did he intend
to take over that role?

When I asked him why he had moved from his native country
to Paris he just answered, "Professional reasons," and
left it at that. After a while he said, "I've been away
for a week, so I don't know what state my apartment will
be in. You may see some ladies' underwear lying around."

'Oh dear,' I thought, 'this one's seducing women by the
dozen and keeps their underwear as a trophy. I wonder if
there are any bodies hidden under the floorboards.'

He continued, "I don't want you to get a wrong
impression. It's part of my job."

I kind of expected that the stranger would rest his hand
on my knee, let it slide up my thighs, underneath my
skirt or make some other advances towards me. After all I
had agreed to let him have his way with me - I had even
given it to him in writing. And he knew that I wasn't
wearing any underwear. My skimpy skirt and flimsy top
wouldn't offer much protection. But, to my surprise, he
behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the journey.

Ramon parked the car in an underground garage and we took
the lift to the top floor where his apartment was. We
entered a small hallway with several doors leading off to
either side. At the end of the corridor was a large
rectangular space, with floor-to-ceiling windows on
either end overlooking Paris.

The large room was divided into three distinct spaces
each with its own characteristics. The part to the left
looked like an artist's studio with a large table on
which several sketches were scattered. There were also a
number of cameras on tripods and an assortment of
lighting equipment. On the walls, I noticed poster-size
photographs of very classy looking women wearing elegant
underwear, but I didn't see any panties lying around.

The middle part looked like a conventional living room
with a sofa, several comfortable armchairs and a large TV
screen. There was also a small bar with a few stools
which gave access to the kitchen. The other third of the
room had a raised floor. In the semi-darkness I saw an
enormous bed but couldn't make out much else.

Ramon asked me if I would like a drink. I accepted but
left the choice up to him.

"I think the occasion calls for Champagne," he declared.
As he went to the kitchen to get a bottle from the
fridge, he said, "By the way, there is a phone over there
in case you want to make a call."

A call? - Christ! His remark brought me down to earth. I
was in Paris, it was nearly ten and my father had told me
to be home by eleven at the latest. 'Making passionate
love all night long' would take much longer than I had
time for. My mind was searching feverishly for a
solution. Then I found it: I remembered that Sylvie was
nursing a cold and had decided to stay at home that
evening, and I knew that I could count on her.

I phoned Sylvie and explained that I would spend the
night somewhere else, without going into details. I asked
her to call my parents and tell them I was staying at her
place. For what reason was I staying at her place? I
couldn't come up with a good reason and asked her to
think of one. I would call her in the morning to find out
what she had told my parents. After this excitement I
really needed a drink.

Shortly after I had taken my fist sip of Champagne, Ramon
started to kiss me. First he kissed my hair, my forehead
and my cheeks, then, rotating the bar stool on which I
had planted myself, he proceeded to kiss my neck,
shoulders and ear. I was astonished what devastating
effect these gentle caresses had on me. A simple flick of
his tongue behind my ear lobes sent shivers down my spine
and had me moan with desire. He continued to turn the bar
stool around, kissing and stroking my neck and shoulders
and giving my other ear lobe the same treatment. When we
were face to face again our mouths locked in a passionate
kiss.

Ramon pushed my head towards him and plunged his tongue
into my mouth while I threw my arms around him and tried
to match his efforts as best I could. We stopped only
briefly to catch our breath and then locked our mouths
again in a tight kiss.

After a while, Ramon started to unbutton the halter top I
was wearing. As I watched him, I noticed how thin the
material really was and how much of the shape of my
breasts it revealed. I also realized how hard my nipples
had become, an indication of how aroused I was.

When Ramon had undone all buttons, he pushed the
spaghetti straps holding the garment in place off my
shoulders so that the top would fall. It slipped down a
little but its fall was stopped by my erect nipples.
Ramon lifted me off the bar stool and stood me on the
floor. Then, with a little help from both of us, my
halter finally fell to the floor. Ramon stepped back a
little to take it all in. His face was like that of a boy
who had just received a huge Christmas present.

"You are so beautiful," he finally said.

He gently cupped my breasts as if to feel their weight
and then bent down to kiss them, slowly working his way
from the left to the right and then back again, not
missing the valley in between. When he reached my
nipples, the excitement became almost unbearable. My god,
how this man could use his tongue. Not even my friend
Charlotte who was an expert in these things had ever made
my excitement reach this level. First he sucked one of my
nipples into his mouth, then he circled his tongue around
the rock-hard flesh. When he gave it a few sharp flicks,
I felt like I had been whipped in one of my most delicate
places. But I didn't just feel it where his mouth was.
The sensation went straight to my pussy. I let out a moan
and came, feeling at the same time that my legs were no
longer able to support me. I stumbled forward, only to be
caught in his arms.

He steadied me and said, "Yes, you're right, let's move
to a more comfortable place. But first let's finish the
unwrapping."

He really thought I was an early Christmas present!
Kneeling on the floor in front of me, he unfastened my
skirt and let it drop to the floor. There was no further
'wrapping' to be removed as I had already taken off my
panties before embarking on this adventure. I could sense
that he was tempted to plunge his tongue into my already
moist sex there and then. But he restrained himself and,
once again, stepped back a little to contemplate his
present.

"My god, you're much more beautiful than I expected," he
said.

This short interlude gave me a chance to reflect on the
strangeness of the situation: Here I was, standing stark
naked in front of a man whom I had only met a short while
ago. And why was I here? Because he had promised (or
should I say offered, or maybe threatened?) to make
passionate love to me all night long. If the events so
far were anything to go by, I was in for an exciting
experience.

Ramon picked me up and carried me, like a newly-wed
husband might have carried his bride, up the few steps to
the raised platform where the bed was located.

As we approached the bed, soft background lighting came
on automatically. 'Hmm, that's handy', I thought to
myself, 'this way you don't need to switch on the lights
when you've got your hands full.' And I wondered how many
times before my lover had come up these steps 'with his
hands full'.

Ramon placed me gently on the huge bed and proceeded to
strip down to his shorts. I wondered briefly why he
didn't go all the way. It certainly wasn't because he was
embarrassed about the size of his member, judging from
the huge bulge his erection produced. The rest of his
body was also quite impressive: strong muscular arms and
legs, a broad chest and a belly without any trace of
flab. He was obviously looking after himself. I had seen
boys my age with more flab than this.

But I didn't have much time to think such idle thoughts
as his hands and mouth were soon back on my body. Ramon
lay down next to me and took my face into both hands. As
before, he started kissing me gently, my hair, my
forehead, my eyes, my cheeks and finally my mouth. We
embraced tightly as our mouths locked in a wild,
passionate kiss.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him to make
love to me. That I wanted to be his. Tonight, any night,
any day. But would I live up to his expectations? Would
he be disappointed when he found out that I had hardly
any experience in pleasing a man? In spite of all the
excitement his tender caresses were producing, I couldn't
help feeling a little tense about the next step. Ramon
noticed that there was something worrying me, keeping me
from enjoying his treatment to the full.

"Relax," he said, "nothing bad is going to happen to you.
You know something? - I'm going to give you a massage."

He turned me around so that I was lying face down on the
bed and produced a bottle of fragrant oil from somewhere.
He put some of it on his hands and started to give me a
massage.

His touch was so light, his hands were so gentle, so
subtle; at times I wondered whether he was actually
touching me or whether his hands were just hovering above
my skin, afraid that I might burst like a soap bubble if
he touched me too firmly. It felt like heaven. The
massage relaxed me to the point that I imagined myself
levitating, my body floating a few centimetres above the
bed. That would explain the ease with which he turned me
around and gave my front the same treatment he had given
my back.

Massaging my front, of course, meant touching my breasts,
brushing ever so lightly over my nipples, easing my legs
apart and applying the oil to the area around my sex, his
hands coming tantalizingly close but never actually
touching my pussy. It added desire to the general feeling
of well-being. Oh, how I wanted this man, how I wanted to
feel him inside me!

The massaging hands soon got assistance from his mouth.
The combined team of lips, tongue and skilful hands soon
raised my excitement to a level I hadn't thought
possible. He caressed my body without any hurry,
lingering at every spot for as long as was necessary to
achieve the maximum effect, often returning to the same
point for a new version of the same thrill. Not like the
men I had been with before, who all seemed to be only
interested in getting inside my pussy as soon as
possible. This time, it was me who was driven wild with
desire, wanting him to plunge his cock into me and fuck
me senseless. As much as I tried, I couldn't hide the
state I was in as his hands and mouth explored every inch
of my body.

There came a point when I couldn't contain myself any
longer. To hell with the image of the respectable young
lady who couldn't possibly beg to be fucked.

"Didn't you say you were going to make love to me?" I
asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he replied.

"Well, yes ... no, ... you know," I stammered, looking at
the bulge in his shorts.

"Oh, I see. You want a visit from my friend here?"

I nodded.

"Well, then, come and get him."

I didn't need a second invitation. I pulled down his
shorts as fast as I could. His cock, freed from its
prison, almost jumped into my face. Had I been in a
normal state of mind, I would have been frightened by its
size, but my mind had left its normal state a long time
ago. What I had in front of me, just a few inches from my
eyes, was living proof that the 'dirty' magazines I had
seen weren't lying. Cocks this size did exist! I didn't
care that it was much bigger than anything I ever had
seen. I wanted this cock inside me, even if it split me
in two, even if it was the last thing I ever did.

Eventually, I stopped staring and lay back, spreading my
legs invitingly. Ramon still had to free himself
completely from his shorts and then joined me. Supporting
his weight on one arm he guided the head of his cock into
my wet entrance. It slid inside me, aided by the
plentiful supply of pussy juices - up to a point. Then I
could feel that my tightness did not let it get any
further. Ramon just covered my face with little kisses
and gradually pushed deeper inside me with little
grinding movements. My pussy felt so unbelievably full,
stretched to its very limits, but he kept stretching me
further, and a little further, until he was completely
inside me. Overjoyed, that I had been able to take his
full length, I started rocking my pelvis, inviting him to
fuck me in earnest.

Ramon didn't move. He just whispered, "Shhhh, relax,
let's do it nice and slow."

I realized how totally Ramon controlled me. It wasn't
just the physical contact, the fact that my body seemed
to have been transformed into a tight sheath for his big
cock, it was the sensation of abandoning myself, of
submitting completely to him, which gave me a thrill I
had never before experienced. I wanted him to dominate
me, to take control of me. I wanted to give myself and
receive him in return.

For a while we lay there, locked into each other, without
a move. Then, almost imperceptibly, he started to move,
and I felt my body move in unison with his rhythm. Very
gradually, his movements picked up speed and the distance
his cock travelled inside me increased with every stroke.
Feeling this huge rock-hard cock moving back and forth
inside me was a sensation I can't describe in words. It
was something I wasn't prepared for. I knew it would
result in an overwhelming orgasm but Ramon was not in any
hurry to get there.

My excitement reached a level where an increase seemed
impossible but it kept increasing. When I came, I felt my
juices gushing out of me, the muscles of my pussy
contracting around this wonderful cock which was now
pounding into me, seeming to penetrate me deeper with
each stroke. Ramon just kept fucking me, driving me from
one orgasm to the next.

I don't know how long he had been making love to me and
how many times I had climaxed when I felt Ramon's
movements slow down. I was worried this might be the end
of our love-making but he simply rolled around on the
bed, taking me with him. He was now lying on his back
with me on top of him. Ramon suggested that I ride his
cock. This would give me complete control of my pleasure,
I would be able to suit the penetration to my needs.

It was wonderful, just as he had said. I had never been
in this position before. I could simply rock back and
forth and feel his hardness adjust to the different
angle, or I could lift myself up until his cock almost
left its tight enclosure and than plunge back down,
impaling myself on this delicious rod.

I experimented all the possibilities and enjoyed the
different sensations they produced. When Ramon reached
for my breasts to fondle them, I got there first. I
wanted to put on a show to let him know how much I was
enjoying myself. I suited my caresses to my movements. I
simply cupped my breasts in my hands when I rocked gently
back and forth, squeezed them as I rose, and rubbed my
nipples as I plunged down his shaft.

I had started out just playing with the sensations this
new position offered me, but it soon turned into a
serious desire for another orgasm. I rode myself to a
glorious climax, helped by my busy hands on my nipples. I
collapsed on top of my lover, breathing heavily from the
effort.

Somehow, Ramon managed to slip out from underneath me, as
I lay slumped on top of him. I could feel a hand reach
from behind between my legs and touch my soaking wet
pussy. He moistened two fingers with my juices and
started to lubricate my anus, applying some pressure to
push one finger inside. I couldn't help it, I just froze.
My whole body went rigid at the thought of him wanting to
push his huge cock inside my rear. "Please, not there,
not today," I begged, hoping he would understand.

Ramon didn't seem to be perturbed. He lifted me up by my
hips, until I was on all fours and entered my pussy from
behind. "If we were dogs, we could do this on the
streets," he said.

Relieved that he wasn't upset by my refusal, I barked and
said, "If I was your bitch, I'd be always in heat."

This new position gave him all the advantages: he could
plunge his cock deep inside my well-lubricated pussy, my
breasts were swinging free, conveniently available to his
eager hands. He started with long, slow strokes, building
up my excitement with each move. One of his hands moved
down my belly and found my clitoris, only centimetres
away from where his cock was sliding in and out of me,
driving me insane. I couldn't hold back, his fingers on
my sensitive knob were more than I could take. I gasped
as another orgasm ripped through my body.

Charlotte had frequently said that I was insatiable, and
probably not without reason. But so was he. He now
decided to make me go 'walkies' on all fours through his
apartment. He followed me, also on hands and knees.
Whenever we met face to face, he kissed me, then he
proceeded to sniff my pussy, just like real dogs do. He
would mount me and drive his hard cock inside me without
mercy. There probably wasn't a corner in the whole
apartment where he didn't track me down and enter me.

I was overwhelmed. I had never imagined that sex with a
man could be like this. I had gone way beyond what I
thought was physically possible but my wanton lust, my
desire for more and more kept me going. There was, of
course, another factor. Throughout the innumerous orgasms
I had experienced, Ramon hadn't come yet. It was a
mystery to me how he could pound his cock into me, slowly
or fiercely, in every imaginable position, without
climaxing. There came a point when I was so exhausted
that I just crawled back onto the bed and said, "Make
love to me just one more time, Ramon. Come inside me."

It seemed that he had just been waiting for my permission
to climax. He entered me very gently and kissed my face
which was by now covered with perspiration. His movements
picked up speed and pushed his cock deep inside me. This
time, it didn't take long for him to come. When he did,
it was like the eruption of a volcano. I could feel his
cock pulsate and shoot load after load of hot semen deep
inside me. The sensation was so intense that it took me
to another climax. Ramon lay on top of me, barely able to
support his weight on his arms, breathing heavily.
Eventually he slipped off me and out of me and lay next
to me, embracing me from behind. "I think you deserve a
rest," he said.

As I turned around and looked out of the window I could
see the first rays of sunlight rise over the roofs of
Paris.

                         -----

"Good morning, darling, I'm sorry to wake you so rudely.
But I believe you've got some phone calls to make before
they report you as a missing person."

Ramon was standing in front of me, dressed in a kimono-
style gown. He kissed me gently as I opened my eyes. He
handed me a cordless phone and disappeared into the
kitchen. It was ten in the morning. I had slept soundly
for four, maybe five hours, but I still felt exhausted.
It seemed like every bone in my body had been broken. The
inside of my pussy felt raw, as if the walls of my vagina
had been sandpapered. My labia were swollen and hurt with
every move I made.

On the phone, I found out that Sylvie had told my mother
that she was having one of her asthma attacks and, as her
parents had gone away for the weekend, she asked if I
could spend the night at her place, just in case her
condition got worse. There was no way my parents could
refuse her request. My mother had already phoned in the
morning to find out when I would come home. Sylvie told
her that I was having a rest after staying up all night.
She suggested that I call home as if I was still at her
place and let them know when I'd get home. Of course,
Sylvie was dying to hear where I was, with whom, and what
I had got up to. I just told her that it had been the
best night of my life and I would let her know all the
details in the afternoon.

The call to my parents was more complicated. Could I
assume that Ramon would drive me back to Villiers? When
would we leave here? Didn't I need some more time to
recover? When would we get there? I decided to keep
things as vague as possible. I told my mother who
answered the phone that I was going to fix lunch for
Sylvie and myself, and if I felt she was well enough to
be left alone I would be home some time in the afternoon.

                          -----

It was the 'morning after', the critical point when
people think about and find out whether what happened the
night before was the start of a lasting relationship or
just a one-night stand. Or whether they'd rather forget
altogether that it happened. I knew very little about the
person Ramon, but as a lover he had been fantastic. I was
sure I wanted to repeat last night's experience over and
over again, although my pain dampened my enthusiasm a
little.

But what about him? Ramon was obviously very concerned
that I didn't get into trouble with my parents. Had he
just picked me up for a night of fun and games and was
now keen on returning me to my parents? Or was he
interested in keeping my domestic situation smooth so we
could arrange to meet again soon? Had I - obviously much
younger and less experienced than him - lived up to his
expectations? How long would it take for him to lose
interest in me? I was sure there were plenty of women
keen on my place in his bed. But those thoughts didn't
lead anywhere. I had to get out of bed and talk to him.

My body felt sticky, I needed to have a bath. I felt a
little uneasy about having slept in the state I was in,
but I guess there had been mitigating circumstances. I
could hear Ramon in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, I
assumed. As I tried to get up from the bed to find the
bathroom, my legs just caved in under me and I landed on
the floor with a bump. Ramon heard me fall and came
running from the kitchen. He lifted me up from the floor,
put me back on the bed and asked what happened.

"I can't walk. Everything hurts," I said, trying not to
panic.

He kissed me and stroked my hair gently. "I'm fixing
breakfast for us. That'll help you get your strength
back."

"But I need a bath. Look at the state I'm in!" I
exclaimed. He looked at me. I was still as naked as I had
been all night. I felt maybe I should have covered
myself.

"_Vous êtes très jolie_. You look beautiful," he said.
"I'll run you a bath. I'll take care of you, inside and
outside," he said before disappearing again.

Ramon's tenderness comforted me. There seemed to be some
hope that he wouldn't dump me, at least not straight
away. He returned after a few minutes to pick me up and
carry me to the bathroom where the bathtub was brimming
with foam.

The warm water and whatever he had put in it had a
soothing effect on my aching body. As Ramon got a large
sponge, worked up a lather and started to clean me, I
told him that I didn't understand what had happened to
me. I wasn't usually that frail. He told me it wasn't all
that surprising.

"Imagine someone who never walks more than a couple of
blocks and suddenly decides to run a marathon. They may
actually get to the finish line, still feeling in good
shape. Their enthusiasm and will-power, the support of
the crowd and the company of other runners will get them
there. But the next day they will feel terrible. What we
did last night was a bit like running a marathon and if
your body isn't used to this kind of exercise, it will
tell you in no uncertain terms."

I cringed as the sponge passed between my legs and made
contact with my pussy.

"And how come you don't feel terrible after our marathon
- at least you don't seem to have any pain?"

"Well, I try to stay in good shape, I work out
regularly," he said, confirming what I had thought the
previous night when I had first seen his lean, muscular
body.

This was when I decided that I would take up regular
exercise as soon as I had recovered. I had never done it
before because there wasn't enough motivation. Now I had
a good reason.

"There is, of course, another way of looking at it," he
said hesitantly. "You could say that I was so overwhelmed
by your beauty that I got carried away, that I was simply
trying to show off, create a lasting impression, show you
what a fantastic lover I am, so that you would want to
see me again. And maybe I overdid it and it had exactly
the opposite effect. Maybe you're thinking now, 'This guy
almost put me into hospital, I never want to see him
again.'"

"My dear Ramon," I hugged him, getting him thoroughly wet
in the process, "and I was worried that _you_ might not
want to see _me_ again because I'm not in your league."

Relieved, he helped me out of the bathtub and dried me.
Then he handed me a towelling robe, saying, "This may be
a bit large for you. I'm not very well prepared for
female visitors."

I had regained some strength but he insisted on carrying
me to the kitchen where he sat me down in front of the
feast he had prepared. It was a brunch fit for athletes -
marathon lovers and others.

Ramon assured me that my muscular aches and pains would
disappear within a few days but he was concerned about my
aching pussy. He told me he knew a gynaecologist who
attended patients on Sunday mornings and suggested that I
should let her have a look at me. At first I tried to
play down my discomfort, saying this was nothing that
time wouldn't cure, but eventually I gave in. Ramon
phoned to make an appointment.

When it came to getting dressed, there was only the skirt
and blouse I had worn the day before. Ramon offered to
let me have my panties back, but the state my pussy was
in, I was better off without panties. Besides, the
panties were his, he thoroughly deserved his trophy. I
just wished the skirt had been a little longer and the
blouse a little less transparent.

On the way, I thought how typical of Paris this was: On
Saturday night they make love until they drop and on
Sunday morning the gynaecologists are open to repair the
damage.

The doctor was unexpectedly young and good looking. My
experience in Villiers had been that doctors usually were
at least sixty and about to retire. She made me lie on a
bed which was fitted with some contraptions to hold my
legs apart and slightly lifted so she had a clear view of
my sex. She opened my pussy lips very gently and shone a
light inside my vagina to inspect me. Then she turned to
Ramon and asked, "Did you do this?"

Ramon didn't say anything but made a face like a puppy
that had been caught chewing his master's favourite
slippers. I could have embraced him and asked him to fuck
me some more, just because of this face.

The doctor said, "You should be ashamed of yourself," but
it didn't seem like a stern-faced reprimand. With the
same voice she might have said, "Why did you do this to
such an inexperienced girl, you should have come to me, I
can take it much better." But maybe that was just my
impression. I imagined that many women would envy me for
the experience of the past night.

The doctor told me that there was some mild chafing
inside my vagina 'due to excessive friction' and that my
labia were swollen and extremely sensitive for the same
reason. But, on the whole, there was no cause for alarm.
She gave me an ointment that I was to apply inside my
vagina before going to sleep and some bath salts to
reduce the swelling.

"And," she said, pointing to Ramon, "don't let him get
near you for a few days".

I could have kissed her for saying 'days' instead of
'weeks' or 'months'. In the end, it seemed that there was
no serious damage, I just would feel very uncomfortable
for a few days - a price I considered worth paying.

Afterwards I asked Ramon to drive me to Villiers. He
really wanted to spend some more time with me, show me a
little of Paris, but he had to agree that I wasn't in a
condition for sightseeing. He dropped me near, but not
too near my parents' house. He kissed me and promised to
get in touch to arrange our next get-together. I had
recovered some of my strength and was able to walk, but
my pussy lips were still extremely sensitive. Each step
made me wince as my legs squeezed them together. I
managed to slip into my room quietly without my parents
noticing and changed quickly into some more 'respectable'
clothes. Then I went to greet them.

I reported that I had been awake all night looking after
Sylvie and had only got a few hours of sleep in the
morning. My mother told me that they were proud of me
because I had been looking so unselfishly after my sick
friend. She also told me that I looked tired and
suggested I'd have a rest.

                         -----

I had been in bed for about two hours, sometimes
sleeping, sometimes daydreaming about Ramon, when Sylvie
and Mirabelle arrived. Sylvie had already told Mirabelle
all she knew - which wasn't very much - and both of them
were keen on hearing all the details from me.

Mirabelle seemed concerned. "You look terrible, what
happened?" she asked.

I smiled. "Oh, I didn't get a wink of sleep last night
because I was watching over my sick friend here."

They both laughed. "We know that version of the story
already. We want to know what really happened."

I told them that I had met this wonderful man who had
made passionate love to me all night long, knowing very
well that they would want to know all the details.

"Is he the lucky one who won you in the raffle?"
Mirabelle asked.

I didn't know what on earth she was talking about. Sylvie
also looked puzzled.

"What do you mean, 'won me in the raffle'?"

"Well, I talked to a friend of mine this morning. He was
at '_Le Club_' last night and he told me you had been the
prize in a raffle."

I still didn't understand and asked again what she meant.

"Well, I wasn't there myself, I can only repeat what he
told me. He said there was this friend of yours,
Charlotte, handing out questionnaires to everybody who
wanted to dance with you. And when they returned the
completed questionnaire they were given a raffle ticket.
The winner would get a 'date' with you."

I was furious. That bitch! She hadn't said a word about
the raffle to me. I probably wouldn't have agreed because
a 'date' in the context of '_Le Club_' wasn't as innocent
as the word implied. People didn't go to '_Le Club_' to
find a 'date', they went there to find a partner for the
night. If this story about me agreeing to be the prize in
a raffle got around, it would be terrible for my
reputation. Worse still, if my father got to hear about
this, it could have serious consequences for my further
education.

This time Charlotte had definitely overstepped the mark.
This wasn't any longer about expanding my sexual horizon,
this wasn't about getting me to do something which deep
down inside I wanted to do anyway but didn't have the
courage to admit it. This was putting my future in
jeopardy; this could prevent me from achieving
independence from my parents. I would have to put
Charlotte in her place, maybe even break up our
relationship.

I confirmed to Mirabelle and Sylvie that I had in fact
been to '_Le Club_' with Charlotte and that she had
handed out questionnaires to everyone who wanted to dance
with me. But, I assured them, I didn't know anything
about a raffle. If it was true, I would have to have a
serious conversation with Charlotte. It seems that I had
been twice lucky when I left with Ramon. Not only did I
manage to avoid the embarrassment of the raffle, I also
got to spend the night with the most passionate lover one
could imagine.

I told them what I knew about Ramon - which wasn't very
much - and about the delights he had made me experience
all night long. I even lifted my night gown to show them
my suffering pussy, inviting them to touch my puffed up
labia and wincing in pain when Mirabelle actually did
touch me. It almost seemed that I was taking pride in my
suffering.

Both of them seemed to be very happy for me (maybe partly
because this experience would definitely save me from the
clutches of lesbianism), but they were worried about the
age difference. To say that Ramon could be my father
would be a little exaggerated, but he was significantly
older than me.

Mirabelle soon started to make plans for my next
encounter with Ramon. She suggested we meet on Saturday
in my room for an all-day session of our exam
preparations. Then we would tell my mother that on Sunday
we'd do the same in her place. This would give me a
chance to spend all day Sunday with Ramon without having
to invent another sick friend. For the following weekend,
the last one before the exams, she suggested a trip to
her parents' hut in the mountains. She and Sylvie were
planning to go there in any case to meet up with Jean-
Paul and Guy, so I could bring Ramon along. We would have
to sleep in the living room because the two bedrooms were
already taken.

I stopped her there and reminded her that Ramon did have
a place where I could stay. All I needed was an excuse
for spending the weekend away from home and for this
purpose the hut in the mountains was a brilliant idea.
But they were keen on meeting Ramon and I promised that I
would try to bring him to the hut sometime during that
weekend - if he was still my lover by that time.

                    To be continued