With considerable effort, Mairi carried Trev into her quarters, his neck hanging limp in the valley of her left elbow, and gently placed him on her bed. He looked younger than he was, or was it innocent and childlike; she couldn’t quite decide. His hair was matted and his eyes looked crusted with sleep, at least that is what she tried to tell herself. The idea that a grown man had cried the tears she knew he had cried, in shame or pain or, as she knew, both, knocked at a door of her heart she would rather not unlock.
His tunic, once white, looked more like a painter’s canvas of dark gray’s and textured browns and the buttons were mismatched as if manipulated by fingers rushed and too large for the task. Flashes of fists and kicks struck like lightning and faded just as quick leaving ghostly imprints in her mind. With care, or haste, she could not recall, she slowly released each button, pealing back his shirt. His nipples looked bruised and slightly swollen with ruddy concentric rings that implied stimulation gone wrong. A strange whey paste-like substance flaked to the touch and visions of forehead straining against leather, of veins bulging as eyes narrowed in the smiling windows of another’s wickedness sent a shiver up her arm and into her chest.
Lifting first the left arm and then the right, she eased Trevor’s shirt from his dirty shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Reaching for the warm wet cloth from the wooden bowl on the side of the bed, Mairi cocked her head as if the mere position could somehow soften the touch of rag to skin and communicate care and love. Her eyes watered as each pass of cloth removed a layer of yesterday from Trev and overwhelmed her own mind with screams and terror mixed with pleasure and slaps as piece after piece of his ordeal danced with horrid grins before her still burned out mind.
Black water filled the bowl as rag released pain into the cleansing basin. Moving with tenderness, she unbuttoned his trousers. Pulling from his ankles, she removed the soiled garment and tossed it to the side of his discarded tunic. The back of his legs showed reddish purple welts, each a testament to a cruel darkness. Sliding her pristine copper nails under the waistband of his shorts, she pulled them gently over the firm tautness of his young flesh. She had never seen Trev nude before nor had she ever seen such a magnificent body abused and beaten so mercilessly. Falling to bended knee, Mairi placed her hands upon his cold and trembling chest and whispered supplications of forgiveness.
Wiping salty petition from her eyes, Mairi examined the focus of wickedness past. What was flesh and what was blood, was not easy to surmise. With strokes tender and grasp light, Mairi washed and caressed his divine manifestation with the punctilious care of the discalceate before alter. Her hands lingered, letting her warmth become his and as blood begin to flow, her mind throbbed with his agony in step with the rising tumidity in her hand. She sighed, of relief or surprise, she would not say. He was magnificent in repose, his battered body bent but not broken, bruised but not forgotten. Why she had never noticed him before, in this way, she could not explain.
With a fresh bowl, she went to work again with her cloth and from head to toe, cleansed his body as if the healing waters would absolve her guilt, each pass of cloth a prayer. When she was done, she stood, and releasing the bow that held her dress in place allowed it to fall to the floor as a parachute to ground. Nestling Trev’s head to her warm bosom she placed her right leg over his tender and abused agent of masculine surrender as her fingers combed his hair and pulled him tight. Tremble responded to tremble as cold melted into warmth and the story of Mairi and Trev intertwined as strands of rope, giving strength and comfort in union.
Commentary: With Considerable Effort
Soundtrack for this chapter: Un Giorno Per Noi (Josh Groban)
34 comments:
Audio forthcoming. My skills as a writer fail this piece so I will attempt to make amends with the spoken word. A chapter like this, humbles me.
It's a stunning chapter, the imagery powerfully vivid. I eagerly await the audio.
If you could flatter me more I'm not sure how. Thank you SJ. Audio coming soon. Gathering the emotions I feel in this chapter is like herding cats--I just can't seem to get a feel like I have a handle on them. Prepare for babble. :-D
Thank you again for your kind words. Very much appreciated. :-)
It must be the magnitude of this chapter that has you feeling you somehow fell short. We cannot know if in fact there were more that you would like to have shown us, but if only my own writing skills were better, I would tell you in a better way than this, this was most.
As Serena said, the imagery is supremely powerful. This scene played before my eyes with almost nothing left for the imagination to fill in and it was painful to watch. This was some of your most evocative writing to date. To watch them this way, Mairi doing her best to cleanse him (the sentence about 'yesterday' gave me reason to pause before I could continue. Brilliant.) and soothe him.
I'm still completely absorbed, maybe more later. This was so very well written, stunningly so.
Audio warning: Only listen if you want twenty minutes of complete babble. Or listen if you want to hear what I might well delete. I no more succeed in shedding light in the audio than in the chapter, so in conclusion, I have no fricken idea what is really happening or why in this chapter. LMAO
Sunshine, this chapter is perhaps the most emotionally ambiguous and confusing as I have written to date in the story. Mairi is both saint and sinner, both mother and lover, both care giver and supplicant and all these things are so mixed up I can't make heads or tails of what is going on inside of her.
Although I don't mention it in the audio, part of the emotion I feel in this chapter is the emotions of Trev. He has been violated brutally, and now, another female is disrobing him and having her way with his body, so to speak and he is not able to stop it. So again, how does he feel? I don't know. Does he welcome the naked embrace or, in his current frame of mind, would he further fall into the abyss. I don't know. More later if I find some sense of clarity.
Oh, and let me throw this into the mix too. If I were watching this scene in a movie, I would be totally captivated with the seductive beauty of Mairi as she looks upon Trev and cares for him as both care giver and as sexual being. :-D
It's not flattery, my dear. It's a simple recitation of my reaction to the chapter. Truly, one word was all-encompassing -- stunning. Anything more would have been redundant.
The audio isn't babble at all. Far from it. I am fascinated by the symbolism with which your passages are laced. Many times, it isn't necessary to describe something with words -- the symbolism does it for you. I think that's true with this chapter, and I think you conveyed that in the audio. The chapter in many ways becomes an experience rather than a mere chapter to be read, in that it forces the reader to think and react and interject him/herself into the characters' psyches. In the end, things are not always what they seem, and are never black and white. The symbolism throughout serves to reinforce that.
I'm not sure that makes any sense. I know what I mean, but it's sometimes difficult to put ideas into meaningful words. Just know that the chapter works. Beautifully.
SJ, thank you. If writing has taught me anything it is that writers don't always know what the heck is really going on with their characters--or at least I don't. Sometimes I think they're holding back on me. LOL
This is one of those times I wish I could sit Mairi down and ask her a thousand questions about what is going on in her head and her heart. I want to know every detail, every feeling, every thought and how they changed. I want to know what she felt when she touched Trev, held his in her hands and he responded. What did that feel like? How did she handle, no pun intended, the sexual nature of holding him while in the role as care-giver? How would she explain to Trev, if he woke up at that exact moment, why her hand was wrapped about his hard cock. Now, imagine the guilt, if, he did wake, and from that totally freaked out and it sent him further spiraling down an emotional blackhole. So, how does Mairi deal with this in the moment? How does she allow herself to touch him-linger, as I say. And how long does this linger lasts? But I want to know what she is feeling in that moment and how it mixes with everything else. Any answers? LOL
Okay, that is question one. 900 more to come. :-D
I do appreciate your very kind words. Thank you Serena. :-)
Don't erase the audio.
It's strange how we can even begin to imagine that we might be able to offer up theories as to what someone in Mairi's shoes or Trev's might be feeling, and yet you do it in this chapter and I imagine, through your words, through the emotions that flow through me as I envisage these events taking place.
As I said, the imagery is so very vivid, the scene plays out, flashes of light to shut out the flashbacks to what occured while he was restrained, yet the marks remain as does the limpness of his body to make sure those images that we never quite see completely still will be fixed.
A man who has gone so far inside himself, who has been through so much he has shut down, become dependent, his fate is in the hands of whomever picks him up, he has not the strength or the will to take anything back of what was lost...You've stated he is unconscious, yet my mind insists he has just shut down, that he sees, hears and feels only the bare minimum if anything. First time, that has happened, that a fact stated insists on being questioned, very strange, though likely it has to do with my believing that on some level, Trev feels the embrace immediately, that even in that deepest, darkest place there is comfort to be had given by someone known to him. And the very fact that that is possible offers some hope that there is a way out of that darkness, that it will not surround him always.
I cannot think how he will react when he wakes or how Mairi believes he will behave, not only given what happened to him, but moreover waking up to their both being naked, but just as cleansing his body would not take away the marks left on his skin or on his soul, so too her holding his head to her chest and laying her legs over his seems to be a hopeful attempt, how would anyone know what to do for the best, at diluting the brutalness of the last time he was undressed.
Scenes at Yul's hospital bed still fresh, her intent there being to get past any and all barriers in order to offer relief. Those mother/child images are quite strong too, coming throgh from the previous chapter where she rocked him, to this where she carries him, to state it simply, dries his tears and cleans up his wounds, the fact that he isn't able to do anything for himself and she has to care for him completely, the description of him looking younger. Vulnerable and hurt. And this too touches the description of her pulling his head towards her chest.
In deepest grief, touch can break through that wall, and that end scene has a sense of her regressing too, of wanting to lose herself, lose the images she has seen, the guilt, everything she is feeling. Perhaps she imagines that when he wakes, he will be able to in this case find himself in her.
It is beautiful. I loved the black water, it was as if she was not only removig the pain, but also removing the guilt.
I also enjoyed how delicately she took care of him despite her difficulty. A true act of kindness.
A hand full of lightning and a hat full of rain, as Norah might say of your comment. I loved it Sweetest!
I like your idea that, Trev, at some level, is aware of what is going on. I'll need to think about that, but I like where you are going there. I wouldn't completely rule it out, until Trev says otherwise. Who knows, maybe he is just playing possum. :-D
Thank you Inside. This might have been the most difficult chapter I've written so far in that I have no idea what is really going on inside of Mairi. I have an idea, but the depth and complexity of her emotions and thoughts remain elusive. Then again, maybe that isn't such a bad thing. I just wish the "woman" would open up and share a little more with her creator. :-D
The other challenge with a chapter like this, and I have only mentioned this once before, is writing for a female character as a male. When I read PD James' Children of Men, I was struck that her lead character, a male, was saying and acting and thinking in ways a male would not and I was conscious, for one of the first times, that an experienced writer was failing at writing for the opposite gender. Since most of my main characters are female, I've often wondered if I skate on the same thin ice, which is to say, I wonder if my female readers feel I am having my female characters act and think in non-female ways. Just thinking out loud, but in a chapter like this, I wonder.
women do that with clinical detachment.& strange, I was doing the same with my fever wrought husband since past two days! I felt nothing except the prayer & the wish that each touch might turn into a healing & a prayer!
& yes it hurts, when you see decadence. You tend to compare each part with a past image..even a finger nail...
Clinical detachment. Mmmm, now you see, from the male perspective, that's impossible (said in my best Monty Python voice). :-D
Hey Mona. :-)
If you love your characters, they will do what you want/need for them to do for you. You love yours. That's readily apparent. Just give them their heads and follow them wherever they lead you. It IS more difficult for a male to get inside the head of a female character, and vice versa.
Love the soundtrack/slideshow you added.
Thanks SJ. Seems everyone can get that dang thing to play but me--LOL. I'm not a huge Groban fan, but I think he does this one as well as anyone. I still haven't seen the slideshow. Hope it's worthy. :-D
I do love all the characters. They seem real to me and I have no problem imagining that I could meet them someday, especially when I do one of the "interview from earth" chapters. Those are always personal favorites of mine. Special ones, if you will, and they have a very different feel from my point of view.
How are your pillows tonight? I am available for fluffing duties, if needed. ;-)
I'm not much of a Groban fan, either, though he does have a beautiful voice. The slideshow pictures are exquisite. What a shame that you haven't seen them yet!
I can tell that you love these characters. Your love for them literally shines through. It's because you do that the story comes together so well.
My pillows have gone a bit flat and absolutely need your attention.:)
I think a little white tea served in a jade green cup, no handle and a thin lip along with a long, slow, firm, warm foot massage with almond butter, considering your accident and all, is the way to go. If I rush directly into pillow fluffing, well, what fun is that? I'm in no rush. You okay with that? ;-)
I'm fine with that. Rushing is never a good thing. Since I'm falling asleep where I sit, though, perhaps I could have the pillow as I sip my tea and have my foot sloooooowly attended to?:-)
Well, that would break normal protocol but under the circumstances of your condition(s) I'm willing to make an exception. We'll just add this to the tab of "I owe you." :-D
You do recall starting that tab don't you? :-D
Thank you, sweet one. Protocol was, of course, invented to be broken. I do recall the tab, and I concede that I will now owe you big-time.:-)
ROTFLMFAO!!! Sorry, seems it is only a matter of time before I'm labeled "sweet". And I work so hard to be non-sweet, at least in my mind, yet, when I stand in Papa's Turret, all that gets reflected back is sweet, sweet, and more sweet. I surrender. Shall I bend over now or in the morning? :-D
shakes head and wonders where he went wrong . . . ;-)
Behind the scene snippet:
The second to last paragraph was not part of the original posting. I have a standing rule, one I enforce only when I feel like it--lol, that until someone comments, I am free to edit and change the posted chapter. Well, as luck for have it, no one commented for sometime and I was not really happy with the lack of sexual energy and ambiguity I knew to exist, but was not in the prose. So, I wrote the paragraph in question. Judge for yourself if you like this one better with or without but I will say this, it is a different chapter with those few extra sentences. :-D
To enjoy the image in its full glory, click on it. Make it tumid, turgid and all the rest. Promise you won't be disappointed, if you make it larger. ;-)
Wonderful, I loved the music that went with it has I read your chapter... It was awesome...
Annie
It was the pillows. The very thought of fresh plumped, magical pillows causes me to lose my head and call the whole world rosy and sweet. All better now? Except -- hearing the word 'surrender' and imagining white flags waving has the same effect.:-)
Re the editorial changes, yes, I would say the removal of ambiguity changed the entire texture of the chapter.
Thank you Annie. Kind words have the power to change the fabric of the day. Thank you for bringing a smile with my coffee, black, served in an off-white cup. :-)
Well, my pillows seem to have that effect. *big sigh*
White flags? Are you sure that isn't my white toga (worn like I wear my kilts) flapping in the breeze?
SJ, I think that paragraph added the ambiguity, if we take the paragraph literally and not embellish what happens next with our imagination, which, believe me, I have. And Mairi has been yelling at me to stop making assumptions or what she calls "heart-reading," which is somewhat similar to mind-reading. So, I backed off and I'm giving her the space to tell me, in her own time, exactly what happened after the camera faded to black.
Keep in mind, she is a Châtelaine of the highest order. So, her physical ministrations deserve the benefit of the doubt, or so I keep telling myself. :-D
How was your freshly squeezed orange juice?
Why the sigh? The effect was precisely that which was desired; i.e., you couldn't have plumped and fluffed any more perfectly.:-)
The orange juice was superb. Thank you!
There is an element of ambiguity, and there isn't -- because it is human nature to embellish and imagine. Of course, if Mairi is yelling at you, you must heed her wishes. She must have her space in which to let things unfold at her own pace; otherwise, all is lost. She will tell you in her own good time what did or did not happen.
SJ, the sigh is simply a collective reaction to over two years of blogging and having female reader after female reader use the word "sweet" to describe me. I am not exaggerating to say the "label" has been ubiquitous and universal. In fact, for me, it has been quite shocking to see so many, independently reach the same conclusion. So yesterday, when I saw you do the same, all I could do was sigh at my resistance that that is simply how I am perceived in the blogging universe. The more important question, perhaps, is why I don't see it and why I resist it. The sigh was not at you, by the way. :-)
Let me put it this way, many years ago I was educated that you never call a woman "cute". Women are sexy, not cute. LOL
Calling a man "sweet", imho, is the male equivalent of "cute". :-D
Now, having said that, I can live with sweet. I just need to accept it and stop resisting it. ;-)
Now suck on my finger and tell me how "sweet" I am. :-D
"I see," she says. The finger litmus test results in saucy. Savvy. High sangfroid factor. Savory. Definitely sexy. Not a scintilla of cute or sweet in sight. The next time you do something "sweet," I'll try to remember to call it "sensational" or "sensuous" instead. Deal?:-)
Deal! And just so you know, any woman that uses the word scintilla will always have a place in my decadent heart. :-D
Good to know.:-)
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