Nymphomaniac: Vol. II Page #3

My babysitter's not reliable and...

I can't leave my child.

You don't even know my name!

I'm not interested in your name.

Here your name is...

Fido.

Marcel's awake.

D'you want to say

goodbye to your mom?

Goodbye.

I'll take your coat.

I'd like you to have your hair up.

You can use this.

Just in case it becomes

necessary for me

to hit you in the face.

Should I take my clothes off?

I'll tell you what to do...

And when.

Now you may bend down.

How?

Approach the chair.

Now bend from the hips.

Look forward.

Look forward.

With your head up.

Head up.

Keep looking forward.

Keep looking forward.

You may stand up.

We have to use the couch.

Come this way.

Take it easy, take it easy.

Bend over.

Lay your arms out straight.

Take it easy.

Take it easy.

Take it easy.

Next time don't wear knickers.

Your ass is not high enough.

I don't think we can do this today.

What?

I'd like to see you

again on Thursday.

What's wrong?

I think we should see how

it goes on Thursday.

Hi, I can't come to

the phone right now.

Please leave a message.

Yes, this is Marcel's mother again.

Uh, it's now 1:
30.

We had an agreement.

I hope you get this message

and come as quickly as you can.

Uh, Marcel is sleeping.

Um...

I have to go now.

Better.

Also so much better.

So much better.

I am now going to hit you 12 times

no matter how much you scream...

'Cause no one can

hear you down here.

That's, uh...

That's not how it goes.

Most people don't scream

until I hit them.

Oh!

That's it.

Thank you.

You're very welcome.

I don't know where we

get our sexuality from

or where tendencies of

this kind come from.

Probably a perversion

created in our childhood

that never manifested

itself before.

Well, oddly enough,

Freud says the opposite.

He talks about the polymorphic

perversion of a child.

Meaning that in a child,

all kinds of perversions exist.

And then we use the childhood

to diminish or remove some of them.

Basically a child is

sexually polymorphic

and everything is

sexuality in an infant.

And yet it was deeply bizarre

to lie there

and especially to

want to lie there.

It is an interesting point

that you actually lubricated

in expectation for a pain

that you hadn't experienced.

Your body prepared itself

for an intercourse that

you knew wouldn't happen.

I can only describe

the mood as sexual.

As I twisted and turned

while he was whipping me,

I could feel how

clever his knots were.

If I fought them, they

would get tighter,

and as I relaxed,

it seemed they did too.

I don't know what kind of knot

K used...

But I know of a knot

that tightens when force is exerted

and vice versa.

It's called a Prusik knot.

It's after a man called Prusik.

He was a mountain climber.

And he and a friend

were out climbing

and they had an accident

and his friend died.

And he ended up hanging

at the end of a rope

with no possibility of getting up.

You know, you can't climb up

a mountain-climber rope.

It's too thin.

But he was an intelligent man,

and with his back to the

wall he was a genius.

And he took the shoelaces

out of his boots

and made two loops and

affixed them to the rope.

And he could move these up

when they weren't under tension.

And then he could step into them

and climb the rope

and save himself.

Prusik.

I think this was one of

your weakest digressions.

May I continue?

Well, be my guest.

I sometimes give a

Christmas present.

But, uh, you have to

do the work yourself.

This is called a blood knot.

You have to make nine ropes

with three blood knots on each.

Let me see you do it.

You decide whether to make four,

five or six turns

in the various knots.

Joe?

Hello.

Marcel?

Marcel!

Are you fond of me still?

- Yes.

- More fond of me than the others?

- Yes?

- Yes.

You're not thinking of

leaving again tonight, are you?

- No.

- No?

- No no. Not at all.

- Are you sure?

Yeah.

Are you lying to me, Joe?

- No.

- Be honest.

It's all right.

Just f***ing say it.

No, I... I just want to be here.

Why?

I don't know.

If you leave tonight...

You'll never see me or Marcel

ever again in your life.

Do you understand?

Is this goodbye?

Is that what you're saying?

Marcel, get up.

- Stop it.

- Is that what you want?

Here, so you could see him.

Look at him, Joe.

Let's face it, Joe,

you're not a mother.

Let's wake him up.

Marcel, baby boy,

say, "bye, Mom."

- Please put him back.

- Is this what you want?

Hmm?

- Ma.

- You see?

You see, he wants you.

Come.

It's Christmas.

It's f***ing Christmas.

What is this?

Today it's madame who must wait.

Madame, I'm very sorry,

but I have to have a few

words with Fido first.

I really ought to send you home.

Happy Christmas, Fido.

I want your cock.

What did you say?

I want your cock.

No. No, you don't.

No, you don't. No.

What's the matter with you today?

On account of the holidays

and your behavior today,

I'm going to give you the

original roman maximum

of 40 lashes.

Are you ready, Fido?

I'm ready.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

I'd seen through K's

knot technique,

so I was able to loosen my

position a bit to move my pelvis,

and thereby stimulate my clitoris

against the cover of the book.

And when you came home,

Jerome and the child were gone?

I haven't seen Marcel since.

The sentimentality of...

I hate it.

Why?

Because it's a lie.

Are you sure?

Jerome understood that

he couldn't prioritize

his life according

to a child either.

So he put him in a foster home.

My only contact to the boy

is the thousand pounds

I put in his account every month.

Anonymously.

As a penance.

After all this

sadness, may I ask...

What happened to the silent duck?

Oh sh*t.

The silent duck.

I'd forgotten all about it.

One night K had been

in what was for him

an unusually good mood.

I don't know what caused

it, but he didn't hit hard

and he joked that he

would introduce me

to the concept of the silent duck.

One hardly dare imagine

"the quacking duck."

Oh.

Well, deep down, little

K seems to have been

a jolly man with versatile talents.

But he got that bit about

roman punishment and

the 40 lashes wrong.

Because it's true that the highest

punishment was 40 lashes,

but it had to be delivered

in series of three.

That's why Jesus

only got 39 lashes,

because three goes into 39

but not into 40.

You have a mirror.

Yes.

It's like a thought, isn't it?

Are you ready for another chapter?

Go on.

Some years later, the bodily abuse

began to have an effect.

First, rare bleedings

from my clitoris,

but then they became

more and more frequent.

Come in.

Have you heard any of the

rumors about yourself?

They say you see men every evening.

And spend all night with them.

They say you can't be trusted...

all of them.

Why do they say that?

I suppose they're afraid that I...

I can't keep away from their men.

Right.

- And can you?

- No.

I've spoken with a psychologist.

He says you're addicted,

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