Deconstructing O,

[tessa]

The ‘instinct’ to protect the weak, is at its root quite possessive, (at least speaking for myself) though gentlemanly behavior and chivalrous codes try to mask this. From the basic biological POV the male’s only claim to his progeny is through possession of the woman that bears them.

This is a rather fascinating idea to me. I have never heard it presented quite like this. I do appreciate it. And it comes from you, Mr. Mad. I do enjoy what comes from you.

The thing about O though, the reason I started this thread, oh so very long ago, is that I sense she is flawed, deeply and fatally, and that is the reason the story had no workable ending. I’m just not sure what that flaw might be and I’m very open to suggestions.

Dare I have one? A suggestion, that is. I'm not referring to that chocolate candy sitting so invitingly on my kitchen counter. I'm not. I'm not. I'm NOT!!~sighs~

I read "O" several years ago, when understanding any of my basic wants and desires was impossibly elusive. I do remember feeling greatly frustrated while reading it, feeling as if O was not being utilized to the fullest extent possible, leaving her as frustrated as I felt. And then the ending...I think I threw the book across the room upon completing it. It just wasn't right to leave a reader so lost in a moment. But reading your words, Mr. Mad, the thought that O was just too flawed for the author (whomever she may or may not be) to be as lost for an ending as I was in it, well, that makes sense to me. Perhaps the author, not being flawed deeply enough, had no way to complete the character of O herself, therefore leaving the ending of the book flawed in it's own irreprable way?

You did say you were open to one, although I'm not at all sure if what I had to say is suggestion or not.

But (and isn't there always one?), this tale stays with me, frustrated bugger that it is. Here's the reason "O", the story, is forever in my mind-

She ceased resisting and, crestfallen at the idea of having been found wanting in the presence of Sir Stephen, she repeated, this time almost in a whisper:

"It's not true, I swear it's not true."

Without uttering a word, without so much as a glance at Jacqueline, Sir Stephen made a sign to Rene to let O go, and to O to go into the other room. But on the other side of the door O, who was immediately wedged against the wall, her belly and breasts seized, her lips forced apart by Sir Stephen's insistent tongue, moaned with happiness and deliverance. The points of her breasts stiffened beneath his hand's caress, and with his other hand Sir Stephen probed her loins so roughly she thought she would faint. Would she ever dare tell him that no pleasure, no joy, no figment of her imagination could ever compete with the happiness she felt at the way he used her with such utter freedom, at the notion that he could do anything with her, that there was no limit, no restriction in the manner with which, on her body, he might search for pleasure. Her absolute certainty that when he touched her, whether it was to fondle or flog her, when he ordered her to do something, it was solely because he wanted to. Her certainty that all he cared about was his own desire, so overwhelmed and gratified O that each time she saw a new proof of it, and often even when it merely occurred to her in thought, a cape of fire, a burning breastplate extending from the shoulders to the knees, descended upon her. As she was there, pinned against the wall, her eyes closed, her lips murmuring "I love you" when she could find the breath to say them, Sir Stephen's hands, though they were as cool as the waters of a bubbling spring on the fire coursing through her from head to toe, made her burn even hotter. Gently he released her, dropping her skirt down over her moist thighs, closing her bolero over her quivering breasts.
"Come, O," he said, "I need you."

I didn't understand much at the time (still don't ). But I understood this.
Completely.

Thanks Mr. Mad, for the gentle push in this direction. In the spirit of coming clean (which is a difficult thing for a woman like me to do ), I saw this thread the very first week I joined up here at the Forums. I was much too much of a newbie to even attempt a posting. Actually, I still feel that same way. But desirous necessity is quite the motivator.

Always a thrill, Mr. Mad. (Lews, you certainly make that so as well.)

tessa