Thursday, 3 July 2008

Dark Side of the Loon

I though I was immensely clever when I came up with that title but googling it returns 672 hits so I wasn't the first. My reason to choose that title was that I am about to post a story, I wrote some time ago (perhaps you can tell), that is towards the darker side.

Sometimes an image in your head gets stuck and it is not always this image is a nice one. Sometimes it is cruel or brutal. One way to get rid of it, of course, is to write a story about it. This is what I did. I, kind of, like this story, despite the theme.

I have to say that there is no blood and notice subtle details such as 'flat nosed' that make it just a tad less horrible than perhaps it could have been. It still makes me cringe so I don't expect you to enjoy it, but here it is.

And for those of you who try to figure out the scene, I just want to remind you that in the world outside the Commonwealth you mostly drive on the right side while we drive on the correct side (chuckles a little at her own joke, that she, of course, has stolen).

He drove her to a secluded spot where they could be alone. They sat in his car overlooking the glimmering lights of the night city. He looked at her and she looked back but lowered her gaze almost as if she was shy. He smiled.

'You are beautiful,' he said.

'Thank you,' she said and blushed.

He looked out of the window and they sat in silence for a while. It was not an awkward silence but a moment of anticipation, a short wait before the real thing would start, a time for taking a deep breath before plunging into the water.

He turned to her and regarded her. She was dressed in a short, tight fitting black dress that seemed even shorter than it was as she sat beside him. He looked at her bare legs.

'Take off your knickers, now!' he said with a soft voice.

The young woman blushed and nodded. She seemed agitated and he could see that she was trembling a little in the dark. She had to pull up her skirt to get hold of her knickers. Her movements were a bit awkward in the confined space. Soon she slid her knickers down her legs and took them off. She gave them to him. They were black and tiny and plain. He took them, looked at them and put them in his pocket.

'Pull up your skirt!' he continued with the same soft voice.

She complied but not without a slight moment of hesitation. He saw that and smiled. He watched her slide the skirt up and regarded her naked skin that became exposed with her movements.

She blushed as she felt the fabric of the seat against her buttocks. She looked down and rested her hands in her lap in a very innocent pose. His eyes glimmered in the dark as he looked at her.

A moment of stillness and silence followed. The man gazed at the woman and she looked down. He smiled and she looked serious. After a while she turned to him with a quick smile, a fleeting moment of connection before she turned away again.

He moved. He reached for the glove compartment and opened it. Her eyes followed his every movement with anticipation. She gasped as he took out a pair of pliers. Her eyes moved rapidly in bewilderment. She didn't know what the pliers meant but she felt a sting of fear as she understood that they had something to do with her.

He held out the pliers and smiled at her. She looked up and he could see fear in her eyes. She looked vulnerable with that expression on her face, vulnerable and to him utterly desirable.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was a soft, quick kiss, a kiss of comfort for her. She relished the kiss but had no time to reply to it. He leaned back, put the pliers on the dash board and turned to her.

He reached for her with his right hand. Without hesitation he put his hand down between her thighs. She spread her legs quickly to give him space. She moved as if it was a reflex.

She held her breath as his fingers entered her. They felt cold against her sensitive skin. They were intrusive and demanding as he groped her. She couldn't understand what he wanted for the hand was not caressing her. They moved as if they searched for something, sensing their way inside her. It reminded her of being examined by a doctor. The determination and the matter of factly way he touched her made her feel humiliated and strangely aroused. She felt groped, invaded and degraded. He touched her most intimate parts and the way he touched her made her ashamed and excited. Images of being put up for sale on a slave market and being examined by a prospective buyer flashed through her head, degrading images but still with some pleasure in them.

She gasped again as he got hold of her inner lips and pinched them painfully. He, now, reached down his left hand and took over the grip on her. The free right hand reached for the pliers and returned without hesitation.

The steel of the pliers felt cold as they brushed her thighs. She let out a tiny, pathetic sound as he applied the pliers to her and squeezed. The steel cut into her soft flesh. It was a flat nose pliers but the grip was still steel hard.

He leaned back still holding his grip on the pliers. He looked at her. She looked back. He saw pain in her face, pain and bewilderment. Her cheeks was a little red. She was affected by his grip.

'Does it hurt?' he asked.

She nodded.

'Good,' he replied.

She blushed at this. The thought of him wanting to hurt her made her shiver with a strange combination of fear and excitement.

For a while they just sat there, she with pulled up skirt and slightly spread legs and he with his hand on the pliers between her thighs. Then he smiled.

'Now, my dear,' he said, 'unbutton the dress!'

'But I have no bra,' she said, with a tone of alarm in her voice.

'I know,' he said.

The dress had a number of tiny buttons in front and she sighed as she reached for them. She moved cautiously because of the pliers. Her fingers shivered as she unbuttoned her dress. He regarded her as she did this. It took longer than she wished. Still she was reluctant, unbuttoning her dress in a car where anyone could pass by.

The dress was tight and when the fabric was free from the buttons they parted exposing her skin. Her breasts were still covered but her dress was now far more revealing than before.

'Slide the dress down from your shoulders!' he demanded with the same cool and soft voice. It was something formal in this way of exactly demanding what she should do.

She gave him a frightened gaze, looked out through the window and then complied. She slid the dress down from her shoulders, the left before the right.

'All the way down,' he said.

She slid the dress further down and now she had to reveal her breasts. They were quite small but still round and full and rosy. He regarded her and his eyes rested on her bosom. She looked back at him. Strangely enough she seemed more self assured now. She still blushed but she looked him in the eyes for a long time before averting her gaze.

'Do you love me?' he asked.

'No,' she said in a low voice.

He tightened his grip.

'Ah,' she said.

'Now, do you love me?'


This time she didn't speak but he could see the pain in her face as the pliers cut deeper into her.

'Do you love me?' he asked again.

'No, I don't,' she answered.

This time she didn't have to endure a harder grip.

'Do you want me to remove the pliers?' he asked.

'No,' she said.

He smiled.

She had to lean forward as he tightened the grip again, her knuckles white as she held on to the seat, her face contorted. He held on for an eternity. She didn't give a sound.

'Still?' he asked as he had loosened the grip.

'No.' she answered, breathing heavily.

He looked at her for a long while. She looked back, determined not to let go. He could see strange things in her eyes, things that made him admire her.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her. He put his left arm around her shoulders and held her. She felt the fabric of his jacket against her naked skin. He still held his right hand between her legs and as they kissed deeply he tightened his grip slightly twisting the pliers. He felt her shiver as they kissed but still she responded to him, still he twisted a little more but she didn't let go. She kissed him back.

She cried out as his lips drew back. She leaned her head back and groaned. He still twisted the pliers and she shivered in pain.

Then it was over. He withdrew his hand with the pliers and she was relieved. She still felt the pain from the grip but she was free.

'There is not time now,' he said. She lowered her head, breathing, composing herself.

'No, I know,' she answered.

'We have to go back,' he said. She nodded.

He put the pliers in the glove compartment and reached for the ignition key.

'May I put the dress on?' she asked.

'Of course,' he said, 'but don't slide the skirt back down.

She nodded as she started to button up her dress. He looked at her and thought that he saw a smile on her face.

He drove her back to her place and stopped the car on the street below her window. He turned to her. She looked back.

'See you soon?' he said.

'See you soon,' she said as she slid the dress back down. She opened the door and stepped out. He put his hand in his pocket and felt her knickers. He didn't give them back.

With the door still open he leaned forward and looked up into her face.

'You don't love me?' he said.

'No, I don't,' she answered.

'Maybe that is good?' he said.

'Maybe,' she said and smiled.

Just before she closed the door she stopped short for a while and gazed at him.

'But I do adore you,' she said and slammed the door and walked away. He gazed at her as she crossed the street.


Paul said...

Janice, when I said body and head, I meant that your story felt like a prologue.
She doesn't love him but she adores him, now that's a subtle difference.
I would say slightly dark, some masochism and humiliation play.
An enjoyable little story, your imagination is as strange as every, thank god.
Warm hugs,

Anonymous said...

I did enjoy this story and felt that odd feeling when you think how horrible, referring to the pliers, yet there is that undercurrent of excitement. Is this the 'wiring' we are always referring to? That I would find it horrible and exciting at once?

It is lovely how she is asked if she would like for it to stop and still says no. It is like this is a moment for them to try something they have talked of, just a little of it, but with very real pain, a first taste if you like.

The love and adore difference is very nice too. I think 'in the moment' of any play there is that level of intimacy that can translate easily to adore but not necessarily to love.

Though I have often thought that doing such things with someone you love and who loves you has the ability to be transcendent.


Janice said...

Dear Paul, thank you for clearing that up. Yes, the story is a bit cruel. But fantasies can be like that sometimes. I am glad you enjoyed it.

Dear Mina, yes, that is what I felt too, that strange mix of feelings. To be perfectly honest, I am not completely sure what is going on there but I kind of like how it turned out, despite the cruelty.