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The Story Of O Stream


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The Story Of O Stream

Die Geschichte der O. Interessante Story und gut ausgesuchte Schauspieler, was will man mehr? The humiliation of 'O' was uncomfortable to watch. Gibt es Die Geschichte der O auf Netflix, Amazon, Sky Ticket, iTunes und co? Jetzt online Stream finden! The Story of O ist leider derzeit nicht bei den größten Streaming-Anbietern in Deutschland verfügbar. Das Programm der Plattformen wie Netflix, Amazon Prime.

The Story of O

Die Geschichte der O. - Untold Pleasures jetzt legal online anschauen. Der Film ist aktuell Originaltitel: The Story of O: Untold Pleasures. Die Geschichte der. Die junge und sehr schöne O von ihrem Geliebten René auf das Schloss Roissy gebracht, wo sie "diszipliniert" werden soll. Zum Beweis ihrer Liebe begibt sie. The Story of O Film () Trailer Kritik KINO. Geschichte der O und Untold Pleasures ganzer Film als Stream. Stream kostenlos auf Deutsch.

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Zum Beweis ihrer Liebe. Derzeit tritt ein Problem beim Filtern Lisa Platin Rezensionen auf. I for one enjoyed it. Share on Twitter.

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It was then revealed that Aury was in fact yet another pseudonym for Desclos. The controversial work has been frequently criticized by feminists as a glorification of the abuse of women.

The Story of O was her response. The intense erotic effect is achieved by a kind of mismatch between language and psychological content.

Instead, the prose is constrained by Desclos and proceeds unruffled and at an unvarying pace through a series of degraded sexual episodes, leading eventually to the disappearance of O behind yet another mask, that of an owl.

The most tightly fitted mask is style itself. The Story of O is a shocking novel and at the same time a masterfully boring one.

Your Apps. Follow on. Start tracking what you watch. Sign Up with Email. Story of O, the Series season 1 episode 8. Search on popular sources:.

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After searching, this seems to be the uncut version. At least, the running time on it was minutes. I saw the truncated version years ago I think it was the Anchor Bay release , but I don't remember what was cut to make a good comparison.

I'd suggest, if you're looking for the uncut version of this movie, to buy the Blu-Ray version and avoid the DVDs. If you're looking for a direct adaptation of the novel, then look elsewhere.

Just Jaeckin took a lot of liberties with the story. To me, this is fine since I love his soft focus style of shooting and he usually chooses good music composers for his films I definitely recommend getting the LP of the music score for this movie.

This was a great find! While some folks may be irritated at the switch from English to French in certain parts of the movie scenes that were cut out from English release?

Granted this movie is from , but it is still a great film to watch. See all reviews. Top reviews from other countries.

Nice colour version based on the original story. For its time very well done. Very erotic and sensual. Anyone looking for blatant sex is missing the point of the film and the original book.

Yes there is nudity - breasts, bottoms and pubic hair are shown as is the whip but no explicit genitals, male or female. You imagine the sex if you want to.

Remember this girl could haver left the manor at ant time but she wanted to be there and participate. I for one enjoyed it.

The humiliation of 'O' was uncomfortable to watch. Couldn't find any redeeming features in the Male characters. Softly her caressed her hair, smoothed her eyebrows with the tip of his finger, and softly kissed her on the lips.

In a loud voice, he told her that he loved her. O, trembling, was terrified to notice that she answered "I love you," and that it was true.

He pulled her against him and said: "Darling, sweetheart," kissed her on the neck and the curve of the cheek; she had let her head fall on his shoulder, which was covered by the purple robe.

Very softly this time he repeated to her that he loved her, and very softly added: "You're going to kneel down, cress me, and kiss me," and he pushed her away, signaling to the women to move aside so he could lean back against the console.

He was tall, but the table was not very high and his long legs, sheathed in the same purple as his robe, were bent. The open rope stiffened from beneath like drapes, and the top of the console table slightly raised his heavy sex and the light fleece above it.

The three men approached. O knelt down on the rug, her green dress in a corolla around her. Her bodice squeezed her; her breasts whose nipples were visible, were at the level of her lover's knees.

As they were adjusting the lamp so that the beam of light would fall directly on his sex and on his mistress's face, which was almost touching it, and on her hands which were caressing him from below, Rene suddenly ordered: "Say it again: 'I love you.

The three men, who were smoking, commented on her gestures, on the movement of her mouth closed and locked on the sex she had seized, as it worked its way up and down, on the way tears streamed down her ravaged face each time the swollen member struck the back of her throat and made her gag, depressing her tongue and causing her to feel nauseous.

It was this same mouth which, half gagging on the hardened flesh which filled it, murmured again: "I love you.

O could hear the comments made by those present, , but through their words she strained to hear her lover's moans, caressing him carefully, slowly , and with infinite respect, the way she knew pleased him.

O felt that her mouth was beautiful, since her lover condescended to thrust himself into it, since he deigned publicly to offer caresses to it, since, finally, he deigned to discharge in it.

She received as a god is received, she heard him cry out, heard the others laugh, and when she had received it she fell, her face against the floor.

The two women picked her up, and this time they led her away. The mules banged on the red tiles of the hallway, where doors succeeded doors, discreet and clean, with tiny locks, like the doors of the rooms in big hotels.

O was working up the courage to ask whether each of these rooms was occupied, and by whom, when one of her companions, whose voice she had not yet heard said to her: "You're in the red wing, and your valet's name is Pierre.

He often came in at night. The valets have the keys and the right to use any of us in the rooms of their section. As they turned a corner of the hallway, they made her halt before a door similar in all respects to the others: on a bench between this and the following door she noticed a sort of thick-set, ruddy peasant, whose head was practically clean shaved, with small black eyes set deep in his skull and rolls of flesh on his neck.

He was dressed like the valet in some operetta: a shirt whose lace frills peeked out from beneath his black vest, which itself was covered by a red jacket of the kind called a spencer.

He had black breeches, white stockings, and patent-leather pumps. He too was carrying a leather-thonged whip in his belt. His hands were covered with red hair.

He took a master key from his vest pocket, ushered the three women in, and said: "I'm locking the door. Ring when you've finished.

With the hall door closed, they found themselves in an antechamber which opened into the cell proper; in this same wall, inside the room itself, was another door which opened into the bathroom.

Opposite the doors there was the window. Against the left wall, between the doors and the window, stood the head of a large square bed, which was very low and covered with furs.

There was no other furniture, no mirror. The walls were bright red, and the rug black. Andree pointed out to O that the bed was less a bed than a mattressed platform covered with a black, longhaired imitation fur material.

The pillow, hard and flat like the mattress, was of the same reversible material. The only object on any of the walls was a thick, gleaming steel ring which was set at about the same height above the bed as the hook in the stake had been above the floor of the library; from it descended a long steel chain directly onto the bed, its links forming a little pile, the other end being attached at arm's length to a pad-locked hook, like a drapery pulled back and held in place by a curtain loop.

Jeanne and Andree did not allow O to go in until she was naked. They put her dress away in the closet next to the washbasin, where her mules and red cape already were, and remained with her, so that when she had to squat down over the porcelain pedestal she found herself surrounded by a whole host of reflections, as exposed as in the library when unknown hands had taken her by force.

I'm ringing for Pierre. We'll come and get you tomorrow morning. O, completely taken aback, remained standing at the foot of the bed.

With the exception of the collar and leather bracelets, which the water had stiffened when she had bathed and were tighter than before, O was naked.

And he seized both her hands. He slipped one of the bracelet hooks into the other, so that her wrists were tightly joined, then clipped both these hooks to the ring of the necklace.

Thus her hands were joined as in an attitude of prayer, at the level of her neck. All that remained to be done was to chain her to the wall with the chain that was lying on the bed, and was attached to the ring above.

He unfastened the hook by which the other end was attached and pulled on it in order to shorten it. O was forced to move to the head of the bed, where he made her lie down.

The chain clicked in the ring, and was so tight that the young woman could do no more than move from one side of the bed to the other or stand up on either side of the headboard.

Since the chain tended to shorten the collar, that is, pull it backward, and her hands tended to pull it forward, and equilibrium was established, with her joined hands lying on her left shoulder and her head bending in that direction as well.

The valet pulled the black cover up over O, but not before he had lifted her legs for a moment and pushed them back toward her chest, to examine the cleft between her thighs.

He did not touch her further, did not say a word, turned out the light, which was a bracket lamp on the wall between the two doors, and went out.

Lying on her left side, alone in the darkness and silence, hot beneath her two layers of fur, of necessity motionless, O tried to figure out why there was so much sweetness mingled with the terror in her, or why her terror seemed itself so sweet.

She realized that one of the things that most distressed her was the fact that she had been deprived of the use of her hands; not that her hands could have defended her and did she really want to defend herself?

O's hands had been taken away from her; her body beneath the fur was inaccessible to her. How strange it was not to be able to touch one's own knees, or the hollow of one's own belly.

The lips between her legs, her burning lips were forbidden her, and perhaps they were burning because she knew they were open to the first comer: to the valet Pierre, if he cared to enter.

She was surprised that the whipping she had received had left her so untroubled, so calm, whereas the thought that she would probably never know which of the four men had twice taken her from behind, and whether it was the same man both times, and whether it had been her lover, quite distressed her.

She turned over slightly on her stomach, recalling that her lover loved the furrow between her buttocks which, except for this evening if it had been he , he had never penetrated.

She hoped it had been he; would she ask him? Ah, never! Again she saw the hand which in the car had taken her garter belt and panties, and had stretched the garters so that she could roll her stockings down to above her knees.

The memory was so vivid that she forgot her hands were bound and made the chain grate. And why, if she took the memory of the torture she had gone through so lightly, why did the very idea , the very word or sight of a whip make her heart beat wildly and her eyes close with terror?

She did not stop to consider whether it was only terror; she was overwhelmed with panic: they would pull on her chain and haul her to her feet on the bed, and they would whip her, with her belly glued to the wall they would whip her, whip her, the word kept turning in her head.

Pierre would whip her, Jeanne had said he would. You're lucky, Jeanne had repeated, they'll be a lot harder on you.

What had she meant by that? She no longer felt anything but the collar, the bracelets, and the chain; her body was drifting away. She fell asleep.

In the wee hours of the night, just before dawn when it is darkest and coldest, Pierre reappeared. He turned on the light in the bathroom, leaving the door open so that a square of light fell on the middle of the bed, on the spot where O's slender body was curled, making a small mound beneath the cover, which silently he pulled back.

Since O was sleeping on her left side, her face to the window and her legs slightly drawn up, the view she offered him was that of her white flanks, which seemed even whiter against the black fur.

He took the pillow from beneath her head and said politely: "Would you lease stand up," and when she was on her knees, a position she managed by pulling herself up with the chain, he gave her a hand, taking her by the elbows so that she could stand up straight with her face to the wall.

The square of light on the bed, which was faint, since the bed was black, illuminated her body, but not his gestures. She guessed, but could not see, that he was undoing the chain to rehook it to another link, so that it would remain taut, and she could feel it growing tighter.

Her feet, which were bare, were solidly planted on the bed. Nor was she able to see that he had in his belt not the leather whip but the black riding crop similar to the one they had hit her with while she was tied to the stake, but they had only used it twice on her and had not hit her hard.

She felt Pierre's left hand on her waist, the Mattress gave a little as, to steady himself, he put his right foot on it. At the same time as she heard a whistling noise in the semi- darkness, O felt a terrible burning across her back, and she screamed.

Pierre flogged her with all his might. He did not wait for her screams to subside, but struck her again four times, being careful each time to lash her above or below the preceding spot, so that the traces would be all the clearer.

Even after he had stopped she went on screaming, and the tears streamed down into her open mouth.

When she was facing him, he moved back slightly and lowered his crop on the front of her thighs as hard as he could. The whole thing had lasted five minutes.

When he had left, after having turned out the light and closed the bathroom door, O was left moaning in the darkness, swaying back and forth along the wall at the end of her chain.

She tried to stop moaning and to immobilize herself against the wall, whose gleaming percale was cool on her tortured flesh, as day slowly began to break.

The tall window, toward which she was turned, for she was leaning on one hip, was facing the east. It extended from floor to ceiling and except for the drapes - of the same red material as that on the wall - which graced it on either side and split into stiff folds below the curtain loops which held it, had not curtains.

O watched the slow birth of pale dawn, trailing its mist among the clusters of asters outside at the foot of her window, until finally a poplar tree appeared.

The yellow leaves from time to time fell in swirls, although there was no wind. In front of the window, beyond the bed of purple asters, there was a lawn, at the end of which was a pathway.

It was broad daylight by now, and O had not moved for a long time. A gardener appeared on the path, pushing a wheelbarrow.

The iron wheel could be heard squeaking over the gravel. If he had come over to rake the leaves that had fallen in among the asters, the window was so tall and the room so small and bright that he would have seen O chained and naked and the marks of the riding crop on her thighs.

The cuts were swollen, and had formed narrow swellings much darker in color than the red of the walls. Where was her lover sleeping, the way he loved to sleep on quiet mornings?

In what room, in what bed? Was he aware of the pain, the tortures to which he had delivered her? Was he the one who had decided what they would be?

O recalled the prisoners she had seen in engravings and in history books, who also had been chained and whipped many years ago, centuries ago, and had died.

She did not wish to die, but if torture was the price she had to pay to keep her lover's love, then she only hoped he was pleased that she had endured it.

All soft and silent she waited, waited for them to bring her back to him. None of the women had the keys to any locks, neither the locks to the doors nor the chains, the collars or bracelets, but every man carried a ring of three sets of keys, each of which, in the various categories, opened all the doors or all the padlocks, or all the collars.

The valets had them too. But in the morning the valets who had been on the night shift were sleeping, and it was one of the masters or another valet who came to open the locks.

The man who came into O's cell was dressed in a leather jacket and was wearing riding breeches and boots.

She did not recognize him. First he unlocked the chain on the wall, and O was able to lie down on the bed.

Before he unlocked her wrists, he ran his hands between her thighs, the way the first man with mask and gloves, whom she had seen in the small red drawing room, had done.

It may have been the same one. His face was bony and fleshless, with that piercing look one associates with the portraits of the Huguenots, and his hair was gray.

O met his gaze for what seemed to be an endless time and, suddenly freezing, she remembered it was forbidden to look at the masters above the belt.

She closed her eyes, but it was too late, and she heard him laugh and say, as he finally freed her hands: "There will be a punishment for that after dinner.

Andree picked up the pillow, which was on the floor, and the blanket that Pierre had turned down toward the foot of the bed when he had come to whip O, while Jeanne wheeled, toward the head of the bed, a serving table which had been brought into the hallway and on which were coffee, milk, sugar, bread, croissants, and butter.

Afterward you can sleep till noon, and when you hear the bell it will be time to get ready for lunch. You'll bathe and fix your hair. I'll come to make you up and lace up your bodice.

After that you're on your own, and will have dealings only with the men. We won't be able to talk to you, and you won't be able to talk to us either.

The door opened; it was her lover, and he was not alone. It was her lover, dressed the way he used to when he had just gotten out of bed and lighted the first cigarette of the day; in striped pajamas and a blue dressing gown, the wool robe with the padded silk lapels which they had picked out together a year before.

And his slippers were worn, she would have to buy him another pair. The two women disappeared with no other sound except the rustling of silk as they lifted their skirts all the skirts were a trifle long and trailed on the ground - on the carpet the mules could not be heard.

O, who was holding a cup of coffee in her left hand and a croissant in the other, was seated cross-legged, or rather half-cross-legged, on the edge of the bed, one of her legs dangling and the other tucked up under her.

She did not move, but her cup suddenly began to shake in her hand, and she dropped the croissant. They were his first words.

She put the cup down on the table, picked up the partly eaten croissant, and put it beside the cup. A fat croissant crumb still lay on the rug, beside her bare foot.

This time Rene bent down and picked it up. Then he sat down near O, pulled her back down onto the bed and kissed her. She asked him if he loved her.

He answered: "Yes, I love you! Since he had come in with her lover, O did not know whether or not she could look at the man who had entered with him and who, for the moment, had his back to them and was smoking a cigarette near the door.

What followed was not of a nature to reassure her. The unknown man, whom she still did not dare to look at, then asked her, after having run his hand over her breasts and down her buttocks, to spread her legs.

He too was standing, and her back was against him. With his right hand he was caressing one breast, and his other was on her shoulder. The unknown man had sat down on the edge of the bed, he had seized and slowly parted, drawing the fleece, the lips which protected the entrance itself.

Rene pushed her forward, as soon as he realized what was wanted from her, so that she would be more accessible, and his right arm slipped around her waist, giving him a better grip.

This caress, to which she never submitted without a struggled and which always filled her with shame, and from which she escaped as quickly as she could, so quickly in fact that she had scarcely had a chance to be touched, this caress which seemed a sacrilege to her, for she deemed it sacrilege for her lover to be on his knees, feeling that she should be on hers, she suddenly felt that she would not escape from it now, and she saw herself doomed.

For she moaned when the alien lips, which were pressing upon the mound of flesh whence the inner corolla emanates, suddenly inflamed her, left her to allow the hot tip of the tongue to inflame her even more; she moaned even more when the lips began again: she felt the hidden point harden and rise, that point caught in a long, sucking bite between teeth and lips, which did not let go, a long soothing bite which made her gasp for breath.

She lots her footing and found herself again lying on the bed, with Rene's mouth on her mouth; his two hands were pinning her shoulders to the bed, while two other hands beneath her knees were raising and opening her legs.

Her own hands, which were beneath her back for when Rene had propelled her toward the unknown man he had bound her wrists together by clipping the wristbands together , were grazed by the sex of the man who was caressing himself in the furrow of her buttocks before rising to strike hard into the depths of her belly.

At the first stroke she cried out, as though it had been the lash of a whip, then again at each new stroke, and her lover bit her mouth.

The man tore himself abruptly away from her and fell back on the floor, as though struck by lightning, and he too gave a cry.

Rene freed O's hands, lifted her up, and lay her down beneath the blanket on the bed. The man got up, Rene escorted him to the door. In a flash, O saw herself released, reduced to nothing, accursed.

She had moaned beneath the lips of the stranger as never her lover had made her moan, cried out under the impact of a stranger's member as never her lover had made her cry out.

The Story Of O Stream

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The Story Of O Stream
The Story Of O Stream

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