It's all cracking, sparkling, and my head feels like a fireball, fucking flames shooting out of the top of it, my hair on fire... that is if I didn't shave my head. Fashion can be a mind fuck for a woman like me.
I'm in Paris, the airport, winter, Charles De Gaulle and I want to feel it, the snake iron of my handgun, but the leather gloves, always use leather, no scars, no hurt except the pain I bring on like a fucking train wreck, traction you see. I'm an artist at what I do, long-time running, no one better, for the violence, the gutted bull intensity in my head, my imagination, and of course, the pure sadism, it rocks, man does it ever.
It's 2 AM, early is better, she's a blond, the bitches are always Blondie, evolution you see, the wild blue eyes, have to be blue. I look into their souls as I do my Styx, blood, the purple welts, they silhouette nice, right against there pale skin. I'm an entrepreneur of unbelievable pain and I'm particular who I opt to party with, love that word. What a fucked up world, but this time, like every time, man it is going be beautiful, again. There are, if few, any women quite like me.
Over there, look my friend, fuck, have to control my breathing, there, much better, hand on the door lever, relax, wait, feel it, the eight-inch knife in my boot reminds me why I'm trippin' here. Look at her, maybe, lean, heels, I like the way she's coiffured, probably Dior, that blond hair, fuck I can taste the sex on that white silk already. Must be in character. Look at me you bitch, okay, that's better, fuck, no she won't do, no, not what I have planned for our first date.
Okay, huh, now were talking, that's her, I'm positive, come close darling, okay, breathe, lift the handle, open the door, okay I'm out. The snow feels like it's melting on my skin, my black fedora hides the skin of my scalp. Be nice, you're a pro. She looks lost, okay, we're alone, smile, no one here, no eyes, incredible, her face, it's white, like ice, she sees me, I smile. I ask her if she's lost, me the other girl inside, not the master, she comes later, she's on edge, I can see her white teeth. I speak broken English to her, she relaxes, she goes to talk, I fist her, not to fuck up that face, perfect, temple shot.
She goes down, out, in my arms, she's light. I lift iron, incredibly strong for a slender gal. Dragging her back, I throw her in the black Benz, tinted windows, prying eyeballs, no good, close the door, trip to the other side, in now. The engine, throaty, powerful, like me, I giggle, were rolling, first dates are a trip, man especially with me, I hope I powered up my power drill.
It's stark, the room, concrete floor, drain to catch the fluids, big, arched ceiling, skylights, red brick walls, warehouse type of place, over by the steerage houses near Place Monge, insulated, so they can't hear the screams.
Look at her: tall, slender, white nude skin, blending past eyebrows like snow, hair ripping at her small waist, stretched, wrists bound, leather straps veeing those elegant arms to the eye-rings bolted into the ceiling. Small bare feet, I like that, she might dance, ribs striated, taught, like piano keys, it's good, in the middle of the room, can catch all angles, while I work, while I take her on a trip she never imagined. Thank god I have my leather tool belt Ready Eddie to go.
She's leering, at me, changed my black Baroni suit, my flat black leather tie-ups, work clothes now. I wear heavy boots for these occasions, overalls, no, probably not, it's my tool belt, maybe the gear in it, she's noticed. She's fucked, she knows it, silent, eyes blue like seared titanium. No blinks, no words, her luscious lips are wrapped in blue silk, like those orbs, wrapped around those lips, not tight, no I don't want to hurt that pout, not yet, maybe soon. Everything depends on her, how long, limits, it's all about limits, pain, pleasure, right, I want it for her, I'm not a psyche-head. Fuck it's not about me at all.
She can see my power, my shaved head, the trouble in my green eyes, my height, 6ft, 130 pounds, sinew, I am thin, not as slender as her, muscle-fit. Her eyes are jerking off, they're bouncing, flick, flick, flick, everywhere. She sees them, my artist's tools, behind me, she knows, something amazing, wild, unforgivable and undeniable is going down, and those feet, they're tap, tap, tapping, so I visit her, eyeball to eyeball, eight-foot bamboo reed in my naked hand. No gloves now, I want to feel that skin, that amazing skin, maybe she wants it too or will beg me to stop once it all begins, don't know.
Tears, like canals of the moon, unabsorbed down those porcelain cheeks, sniffling, I wipe her nose, I'm kind, she appreciates it. Her eyes dart at the bamboo, I smile, I see she is beginning to get it.
The water is boiling, I can hear it sizzling in the pan, I ignore it, my hands have to feel it, her, every fucking cell. So I press against her, wrap my hands, rest them on that small butt, nothing ever like it. I breathe her like a wolf on the sniff, she smells like flowers, fear and sex, that's what this is all about anyways, her pleasure, her death of reason, I know it, she'll soon know it too.
First thing's first, lets make her perfect, my vision, I am an artist. Turning, I get the pan, boiling water, the other things, back now, I can see her body vibrating, she has to eat more, so thin, so amazingly exotic. On my knees now, soap, here and there. I'm humming Beethoven, the straight blade is razor lean, she's fine, no work at all, 5th symphony in my brain, there, done, like she was born, later I will paint her by memory.
I stand, she's gawking at the razor, I press it to her throat, rip her hair back, blue veins like rivers, throbbing, pulsing, carotid artery doing a Samba dance. I hear gurgles, nick her, she shutters, whimpers, demons in her eyes, not now, just for her to see her own blood. I want to shave her eyebrows off, but don't, enough, time is money, time to begin.
First, fire her up, move internal blood, I'm an artist, no pain, not yet, revved up, I release her, her aquiline chin slopes to small breasts. She is weeping, such a sweet girl, I expect more sobs later.
I make things, special gadgets, I am also an artist of weld and latex, a complicated girl. The dildo, special, handmade, half-meter, girth, out now from the tool belt, near her eyes as they blink, stark, like indigo ball bearings. Lowering it, I move it, find her cunt, slow like, I plunge it deep, fluids, maybe urine, don't know, jutting down skyscraper legs, slow now, this is not rape. Up to the hilt, she moans, twists, so I start up, deep, not so deep, around and around the merry go round. She is babbling, tiny stomach growing pink, breathing, swelling like a Amadeus octave, it's music, watching her body move, heave, jilt, I can see it grow. Screaming into the silk, her head rips back and forth, blond hair, wet, whipping wild, covered in body sweat, she's very beautiful, I did not forget to turn the heater on, she is warm.
Her breath, it's gulping, sucking, then she bellows, orgasm, very UN-structured, as if her body is an IED, blowing flesh to hell in Iraq, hyperventilating, in the center cut. I step back, dildo intact, cunt wrapped around it, wants it, stays put, veins on her forehead screaming. I move, reach back and cane her.
"WHACK" her butt welts, she screams, begs, pleads, I do it again, back thighs, "Crack," she thrashing hard, hair blowing out, I can hear, like gun shots, the leather wrist straps snapping audibly like a bull whip crack. She is wonderful, a reward now, I do her rump again, right next to the red stripe. Knees buckling, I see that she needs my help, I'm right there, I am that kind of gal.
I make things right, engines, mechanical stuff, ingenious, really, my work is sold all around Europe. No one else knows of my illness, they would not understand it. She hangs, leather cuff-links, knees bent, just a little, bare feet, I reach down, pull the carbide pole from the hinge floor, it's got an extension cord on it, black, plugged into the wall.
I slot in the dildo. She's dripping saliva, blood, maybe she bit her tongue, head lifts, she's angry with me. I understand, who better than me knows of the reconstruction of a woman's brain. Lifting her, I love her, for the moment as I lower her cunt, perfect fit, nowhere to go now, she moans, her eyes, amazing, still no blink, she looks stark raving mad. Racking her head back and forth, she is screaming something, body shaker, beautiful, almost berserk, a white willow, tearing at the earth to escape.
Taking my pliers, I cinch her lower lips, apply pressure, drag her eyes to mine, tear ducts emblazoned of salt, we're communicating, I'm glad, she seems distracted, that's what I do.
I release her, the look in those eyes, could melt carbide, she's one upset beauty. Then, I lean down, hit the switch, the dildo begins to groove, up and down, up and down. She's not that tall, her eyes blow open, her lips are barred, her entire body goes haywire, like she's been electrocuted. Up and down, up and down, screams and moans, shake, rattle and role, bingo, Orgasm, bent back, piss and semen, that drain was a great idea. Orgasm 2, this time a thermal nuclear blast, she's screaming, I think it's, "fuck, fuck, fuck." I want it to be special, as it is every time for me. Reaching back, I cane her ass again, pain, it is a perfect mix, she howls, her entire body rips from it's physical moorings, time for a cigarette, she's gearing up for an encore, the machine never stops.
I'm gone for a minute or two, Gaulois, great cigarette. I'm back, she's tough, every muscle in
those legs, every tendon cut, her body looks like a pink Popsicle, melting before my very eyes. Walking back to her, I slap her in the face. Her head whips back, back at me, defiant, eyes like bolt cutters, breasts bellowing, billowing, no blink, gritted teeth, her head bashes back, Orgasm again. I flick off the motor, she leashes out at me, snapping her teeth, she is very special, so I slap her again, cutting her lip, no bruises, I am a professional.
We go for an hour or more. Up, down, in, out, she's a trooper, slaps, smacks, her nipples love my vice grips, she's good. I flick the switch, up and down, up and down, deeper, faster, she shrieks, her fists are welded around leather straps.
I move around her, she seems to match each push of the rod with one of her own, feet soaking wet, planted like trees, sweat, girl stuff, urine, pungent and beautiful. I'm surprised, she's different, I have to be more creative, gulps, gasps, fuck, going to orgasm again, don't want to be late. So I take another dildo, great tool belt, move close, wave it past disc eyes, hard for me to keep up, her hair, drenched, like citrine glass vines, down to narrow hips, can't keep up with her, so I ram the dildo in her ass.
This is the moment, arched back, something, what a wonderful and beautiful female she is, her heart explodes, I imagine, for she's bent, hanging, groaning, knees arched. I let loose of the dildo, this is the epicenter of her happiness, I am sure, I step back, cane her, her body jerks, stands tall, she is paralyzed, spine bent, silent, suspended in a time warp of raised arms, perhaps praying. Then a massive gush of air, another, and a moan, the dildo falls from
her ass, she is spent, falls, hangs like Jesus, limp, smoke some more, I love to smoke when I work.
I am gentle, her head lifts, we lock eyes, she is talking to me, I listen. I take my pliers and tilt
them at her, she shakes her head back and forth. I remove the silk, her lips are swollen, filled with blood, trembling, I am cautious, yet diligent, I am waiting, and then she whispers through clicking teeth, "No more...No more...No...More."
I nod my head, stand back, and then whisper back at her. "Yes of course, of course, come, be careful now, you must not injure yourself, you were very brave."
She is silent, lovely, I lift her from the pole, her pole, she is a water well of liquids. She is in my arms like a naked child, face in the cleft of my neck, languid arms around me, limp, satiated, bruised and she is weeping, her body purring, she was magnificent, one of the very best, remarkable. I can see that she is happy, so I move to my shower, set her along a wooden teak bench, the water is hot, I wash her with white soap, it matches her skin, the bubbles make her giggle, she winces, presses her stomach, she aches, of course. She smiles at me, I smile back, lift her as a limp white orchid, chaperon her to her clothes, they
are folded, I am a gentlewoman after all. She dresses, such style. Then reaches into her leather clutch, hands me twenty thousand dollar, smiles, adds another ten, a tip for a job well done. I am grateful, she leans in and kisses me, I blush, I am a shy girl when not at work, she touches my cheek, we might have been lovers in another life, another kiss, my lips appreciate her appreciation of me, she turns, clicks out of my artist's loft, the door closes, I am fulfilled, I am an artist, this is what I do.
Originally published November 2007 - "Lust"