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Click
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From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: click
Click. My eyes were closed. Click. My right hand could feel the
smooth plastic handguard. Click. My left hand slid the steel bolt into
the firing chamber. I could see tiny fuzzy lights dancing behind my
eyelids... but outside, the plastic and metal weapon was coming to life
in my hands. Inside, deep inside, I could see the machinery. Time. I
open my eyes. Light. 21 seconds. Good enough.
The remote control turns the stereo up. I do nothing but listen. I'm
ineffective in this life. Not like the last one, but I've been paying
for that. The Marines were good to me in the here and now. They
sculpted my body. Harder here, softer there. I flex my arm, and
muscles tighten against my skin. I turn to look into the green eyes
staring into mine. They soften slightly. Pupils dilate. But then the
face cracks and breaks into a look of unrequited sadness. The mirror
has a ripple under the surface, and my nose looks melted or strangely
broken. There's a silver butterfly knife on the table. No, in my
hands. A gentle flick backwards and forwards, and the blade sings
through the air, and nestles back into safety again.
I look into eyes again. Blue. A look... frantic? Frightened? Framed
by blonde hair. Bone white teeth, and lush red lips... but I can't see
them now. A strap of black leather covers them. Bright chrome shines
off of the wrists. Chrome melts into oak bedposts. Soft white limbs
are slick with sweat and oil. Oil. I can still smell roses. I can
remember laughter when I showed that silly little bottle with a big red
rose on the label. All natural. Like others, not me. I'm adulterated.
Approximated by fear and blood.
And I'm back. Sitting at the foot of the bed. Watching the waves move
under the sheets, hearing the water slosh under writhing movements. No
safeword. Can't talk. No stopping me anyway. I know that. I don't
know why are doing this -- fear is burning skin and hair. Is it need
for power? Lust for magik? Pain and the oneness? I know why I do.
I'm wired for pain. Geared for blood. Programmed for lack of power
that I can only make up by gasping and reaching and striking so hard for
the freedom... other peoples pain, blood, and power, that is. In this
room. The black sheet is off legs now. More chrome. Ankles have rings
of chrome around them. Ropes of glittering rings lead to the black
wooden bed posts. Black fur between thighs. Black? Yes. A slender
strip of metal, bound tightly with dark blue strips of leather, suddenly
appears on stomach, connected to my hand. Body tenses, rises off the
bed. 7" hard stripe of red appears on skin. Magic. Transfixed. The
instrument -- where did it come from? Does it matter? I strike, again
and again. Rungs on a ladder. Up and down whiteness. Red and black.
And blonde on top. Bad. Bad girl. Deceiving me. Liar. Slut.
I haven't forgotten the butterfly. Pretty butterfly. Flits from finger
to finger. Thirsty bird. Hungry bird. Liquid? Clear fluid runs from
eyes. Smeared eyes. Purple shadows. Black lines. Nose too.
Clearness runs from nostrils, down to neck. It's all right. I won't
hurt, pretty bird. I'm better now. Let me taste? Salt. Oil. Press a
bit harder, with the teeth... that's it. Saltier. Redder. Down my
throat, out neck. Not much. Just a taste.
Time. Time. Time. Time for sex. Serious sex? No other kind. First,
though, check reflexes one more time. Got to be good. Got to be fast
enough. Table again. M16 A2. Lock and load, thirty friends, 5.56 NATO
rounds. Click. Close eyes. Press timer. Click. Off go the
handguards. Push in metal pins. Shotgun style... don't dwell on that
word. Keep going. Too late, I'm lost. Lost. Stop! Bed again. But
beautiful. Red red lips. Ripe lips. Kiss me? Everything will work
out, if kissed. Off with leather strap. A gasp, open mouth... I cover
it and we coexist. Saliva, tongue, teeth. Yes, the teeth. Please?
Full breasts. No, tits. Too sexual to have breasts. Overflowing my
hands, firm. Smack! A hard fist across face. Make another sound and
pay. Two thin lines of red now. Neck, left side of lip. Hard? Too
hard. I'm rock hard now.
The sound of a butterfly nuzzling velvet skin. A mewl. One more time,
I swear. Just one more. Right eye is partially closed now. Swollen.
No blood. Skull ring missed. Didn't read rules in book of life?
Didn't understand? In control. Maxx and Astroglide. A must. I'd be a
spokesman if asked. Necessary for complete. Dominance. I'm girded for
battle. Loss. Time. Spooky. Anyway. Sheathed. Slick. Wet black
hair. Slit. Ready. Red. Mine. Oh. Oh. Want to kiss, black band in
the way again. Lick and gently bite neck. Just right. Oh. Speaking
of just right. Velvet. Tight. Can tears lubricate sex? Crying.
Thrusting, too. Detonate. Body stiffens. Tightens. Gift. Can
afford. Slow. Fast. Hard. Very hard. Can't move much. Try. Face
moves side to side, dancing with my open fist. Butterfly opens up,
frenches brown nipple. Very deep. Inside. Not deep. Both, at once.
And it's over. Over. Over.
I relax. Finally. Steel melts off. Get out.
Get the fuck out.
And be back.
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