The badious leather table supported Trev’s torso, his feet and hands secure in their respective stirrups, his eyes fixed at a forty-five degree angle to the floor. Between torso and stirrups were smaller accoutrements to support the legs without hinder. Designed to allow access to those parts deemed necessary while fully supporting the client at hand, the table was the instrument most requested within the house. Trev was not given that option.
Sal slowly turned a smallish luteous wheel under the table and Trev heard a series of audible clicks, what sounded like the screech and clap of a metal ratchet. Each sharp click matched the throbbing in his chest as he realized his legs were slowly being spread. Exposed and hanging, fearful and wanting, mind racing, heart pounding. “Keep breathing my delicious,” said Sal as her hands took the measure of tightness firm. “First time, I see.” If Trev could have turned his head he would have seen her creamy smile, rich as lust, brimming with purposeful anticipation.
Trev tried to speak, his lips moved but no words came forth. She had placed a small round silver device, no larger than a dime and somewhat cool to the touch, on the back of his neck that held the vocal cords at bay. As her fingers begin to probe, his fear of the unknown, a fear tinged with lustful expectation, gave way to a flood of emotion too complex, too muddled, to convoluted for this drugged mind to sort. Yes and no, right and wrong, shame and lust wrestled such that where one was the other soon took its place.
“Relax my pretty. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can, and I will.” Trev tried to speak again—nothing moved but the bulging veins on the side of his neck. Sal moved to the head of the table, allowing her nails to lightly trace a path from tumid tautness, over the roundness of hill and the curve of valley to the device. Circling the metal with her finger she said, “You’ll speak when I’m ready to hear you call my name and beg for more or is that curse my birth, defame my mother and pray for mercy. Besides, the room is sound proof, Lil’ has turned off your comm and no one knows you're here. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I have a very strong feeling that you didn’t tell anyone you were coming here.” Sal’s nails bit into the back of his neck drawing forth a small crimson worm that fell with gravity to the cold cobbled floor below. “Now shut the frail up and do what I say.”
Trev closed his eyes as if shutting out the world would make it go away.
“I don’t often get this privileged. Give yourself to me, and, well, we may have a mutual experience. Resist,” Sal hesitated, “well, let’s just say I’d rather see you walk out of here. But make no mistake; don’t much matter to me either way.”
Categories: Story, Trev, Sal
31 comments:
Love the image, but I sure wouldn't want to be in Trev's position.:-)
Well now, you are in a mood... Sounds like Trev is in for some unexpected pleasure and pain. I am not sure if I feel sorry for him or excited. Maybe both...
SJ, so nice to see you again. I think I'm feeling a bit like Trev, which is emotionally confused, caught in a moral divide that threatens to rip my beliefs apart and render me to places unknown. ;-)
Inside, what we are seeing unfolding on this night, between Sal and Trev, is the beginning of a major story line, at least as it concerns Trev. I don't want to say too much, but Trev is going to have some rather severe emotional issues for a long time to come because of what Sal is going to do to him. He will question everything he ever thought about himself and a great struggle will take place over a very long period of time and on many levels. We are on the verge of losing the Trev we have known and he knows that too, hence the great fear of losing himself without knowing what will replace it. Imagine, in one short evening, having everything you held dear, all your beliefs about right and wrong, pulled out from under you and you couldn't stop it from happening. Now imagine you are in that free fall, and you can't decide to laugh or cry, to embrace or run, to love or hate. And I haven't even mentioned the T word--trust--LOL.
That is the exec summ of where Trev is at the moment. I'd say more, but I don't want to spoil what may or may not happen in later chapters. ;-)
Yes, mood is a good word for it, the kinda mood that would make you lock your doors, cancel your phone, quit your job; the kinda of mood that doesn't need food, or rain, or sun; the kinda mood that floats on waters heavy and flies in skies of violet; the kinda of mood that takes your breath and folds it back into itself; the kinda mood that rides lust as one rides a tube in a storm; the kinda mood that could ruin every other future experience you ever had. LMAO--that kinda mood my dear Inside. :-)
Bring it on baby...
Four words. If only you knew the depth of power I felt, but then again, my imagination doesn't much need a lot of prodding. :-D
Do I have to wonder? Dig deep, feel deeper, and love harder.
I'm trying, hard, to remember there is a flight I need to catch in the next couple hours. :-D
Do you like flying? Because you're coming with me. ;-)
smiles, I love flying. Took a 9 hour flight to Brazil once. It was lovely there. Would have been better if you were with me.
Scoot over, we can share a seat.
I have to warn you, I like to read on my flights, and, if inspired, write a little. Rest your hands and my lap and your head on my shoulder and I'll read to you. But no talking. I take my reading serious. :-D
Sounds wonderful. I can't wait to relax with you.
Magnificent piece of writing, the language used to recount even more striking than the events themselves. Very nicely done.
Amazing writing!
Good luck with your book
I shall be back for more
Annie
Inside, all I can say is thank Janus for my headphones. There was a screaming kid on the flight who would have advanced to the next round. :-D
Thank you Sunshine. Just so you know, some writing got done on the flight. Bring your Kleenexes. ;-)
Annie, thank you for those kinds words. I see what I do here as a blog story, not a "book" story, so what you see here is as far as it goes. Would love to have you come back and visit. The story is currently just over 122,000 words in close to 300 different posts. Feel free to read as much as you like. I usually post two or three new "chapters" each week.
Peace. :-)
Well there was always the back row... smiles
And blankets . . . :-)
This is like a skinning alive scene. It seems as if she is going to pull of one mask which will reveal him to himself in a diffrent light, in a different color.Maybe that will shatter all that he has known about himself uptil now & he is in consternation, that all he has invested in believing uptil now is going to be stripped off him..Strip of his pride, his hypocricies...
...I am in love, with the shameless pride of the obstacle.Yet I shall not let you lose yourself like I lost me. Stripping you off your hypocricies, I shall give you a self...
Mona, you are light-years ahead of me on where Trev--a long time from this event--ends up. I would like to say that both Sal's motivation and Trev's "rebirth" were pure and noble. In fact, I almost wish I had thought to devise the story that way, for Trev does have a "Great Wall" of beliefs, not so much hypocrisies as simple false views, and it would be uplifting and positive to think someone would come into his life, see this, and give him such a gift as to take his blinders from him, as you said, to give him a new self, one less hypocritical.
*sigh*
The seed of origin for this twist in the life of Trev is Lawrence of Arabia and his treatment at the hands of the Turks and what has been speculated happened and what has been speculated about how that experience forever changed him, and not, as is speculated, for the good.
I think on a slightly conscious level, I am still trying to move this story from its early stages (one dimensional, overly sweet characters) to characters that reflect the fate of nature, not the hands of a writer that tidies everything up into a neat package with a happy ending. Make no mistake, Trev is going to suffer from this experience for a very long time. Not that he has too, but because of the way he goes about seeing the event and processing it, he will not make progress, if ever, for some time. And we, as readers, will be on the sidelines, wanting him to grow, and he will fight us every step of the way. Does he get there at the end? I don't know yet.
Thanks so much for your brilliant takes on what I write. Mona, you truly thrill me with your mind and make not only my story but me, richer for your engagement. Thank you my friend. :-)
Hi Tree,
That is a lot of words.. Are you sure it not a E-book. My novel is 129k which I'm busy editing down to 80k to hopeful find a publisher. I've had two show an interest in but I needed to do some work on it.
Here hoping for some good news to tell everyone in the future...
Why not try your hand at publishing it as a book, I sure you would get a lot of interest in it.
Best wishes
Annie
Annie, I could be wrong, but I feel a big part of my story, what makes it a living entity in my mind, is the comments and the interaction with readers. Without that interaction, I don't see myself writing. The story also has audio and video readings and commentary, not to mention over 300 original pieces of art. Likewise, the story is not written in a single style or format. Parts of the story are in first person, some in third. Some chapters are in interview form and some in play format. The story jumps around in time, filled with flashbacks. And the story has no normal beginning, middle and end.
And then, on top of all that, 99% of my chapters are first draft. I would have to work very hard to get them up to speed and then I ask myself what would I gain and I don't know what that would be. In other words, I have no ambitions to publish. The idea just holds no interest for me. I write for the joy of writing and interacting in real time with readers as the story unfolds. And, if anyone wants to read the story, they can, right now, and it won't cost them a single penny to do so and I like that idea very much.
I am flattered with your interest and I hope you'll continue to stop by and say hello and maybe leave a comment or two from time to time. :-)
Now, having said all that, I do believe you "Never say never." ;-)
in reality too tree...it takes a long time... a very long time...before the brain can assimilate & rearrange the shattered pieces together again to a different pattern. It is not easy, It takes you to many places, it is like slow peeling of skin.Have been there....
Mona, one day, I would like to hear your story.
Tree,
You are wonderful and so very right.
To write for the joy of writing and for the art of writing is the best reward ever.
What you are doing on here is great
I shall be back to read more
Annie
Annie, you are welcome here anytime. :-)
Great imagery, I could see that scene playing out.
Thanks Deb, this was a fun one to write. :-)
Reading the comments and reflecting over this chapter, I thought of Josh Groban's song, "Let Me Fall". Have you heard this song? The lyrics are powerful and seem to fit this post so well.
Trev was there by choice. What strength--choosing such complete vulnerability, to choose to be utterly broken and remade (into what)...knowing that nothing will ever be the same again. It takes great strength to choose vulnerability.
Ah, now I am going to have to find that Josh Groban song and listen to it again.
Dear Beautiful Soul, you know, every time I go to type your name I want to abbreviate it to "BS" but somehow, that just doesn't look right. LOL
I have not heard that Groban song. Thanks for the heads up. I'm always looking for music to attach to each post, to give it that extra texture, that other dimension. On my way to give it a listen. Love and hugs to you my Dear O. :-)
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