Lectorture

Lectorture, reading and torture... Philosophy at the Cruel Boudoir.

Tied to my Saint Andrew's cross, cellophane on the floor at my mercy, locked in the darkness of my Oubliettes, collar around my neck, clamps on my nipples, become my "(in)voluntary hearer" as well as my whipping boy.

Imagine the perfect bourgeois setting. A Haussmann apartment, candles, classical music.
In the center, Mistress of the house, a woman. Me. Blonde or brunette, in evening gown, suit or silk negligee.

Imagine me reading to you the terrible paragraphs of the short story I've just written, a veritable black jewel. Each chapter, cruelly chiseled, evokes very "sadistic" torments... One after the other, each part of the body passes through, because each deserves its own particular treatment.

You, of course, don't just listen to me. That would be too simple. You endure.
First my words, slowly working their way into your brain.
Then there are my hands, which, between each chapter, correct what needs to be corrected: your posture, my instruments that prick, caress and pinch you, the lights, the music...
Finally, my imagination, which feeds on my text and your reactions to improvise other torments.

That's the philosophy at Cruel Boudoir. Delicious and unbearably, or rather unbearably delicious.

Key words : anal, restraint, fetishism, humiliation, masochism, mindfuck.

To find out more : Marthe's testimony who, much to my delight, had the honor of premiering Lectorture !