Monday, June 14, 2010

Because I Can

Rapid-fire kicks to the groin pummeled him awake. The long, bronze leg capped with a black high-heeled shoe was a merciless blur. He screamed; it was all he could do. Arms spread wide as if calling for an embrace, bound so tightly by his wrists that his fingers felt prickly, legs spread in a ‘V’ and similarly bound by the ankles, he found only his head was free to thrash about. Convulsively struggling against his bonds, he looked like a broken toy robot low on batteries. He was completely naked. When he looked down, he saw through streaming tears a rope wrapped around the top of his scrotum, squeezing his disturbingly purple balls into a slowly pulsating ball the size of a fist. He begged the leg to stop please stop for the love of god pleeeeeeeease; that only made the kicks come harder and faster. His stomach knotted and contorted; his mouth opened but no sound would escape. He shut his eyes tight and silently begged. As if the owner of the leg heard him, the kicking suddenly stopped.

He opened his eyes, staring down at the shiny patent leather platform pump for a long moment before his eyes moved up almost involuntarily, sliding slowly along the silky leg that went forever. After an eternity, legs met hips, hugged by black leather boy shorts that looked as if someone had painted them on. Her flat stomach slightly rippled, hips swaying as she gracefully took a step forward. Her full breasts heaved as the black leather bikini top struggled to hold them in. Long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, ending in flowing waves at the top of her breasts. A black choker with a large round jade stone circled her long, slender neck. Her full, pink lips were slightly parted. Her small, slightly upturned nose gave her a regal look. When his watery eyes reached hers, he found himself unable to turn away. The big, impossibly blue ovals stared impassively back. She drew her face inches from him until their noses almost touched, lightly placed one hand on his shoulder and another around his neck—he felt sparks shoot through his body and gave a little shiver—all the time never breaking her gaze. And she kneed him, hard. It seemed like her body stood perfectly still, everything but her leg, her knee driving his balls up into his stomach. He tried to cry out, but her grip tightened, French manicured nails digging into the back of his neck, causing his tongue to loll out his mouth, letting out a slight gasp escape. She turned and slowly walked away. He sobbed.

When he looked up again, she was a facing him again a few feet away, a long white cigarette dangling from her lips. She tilted her neck slightly to one side, covered the cigarette with her hand, struck a match, and brought it to the tip of the cigarette. A stream of white smoke flowed along the top of the cigarette as she lit it. She inhaled deeply, her cheeks hollowing, holding her slender fingers in a ‘V’, all the while staring at him. She pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled a tight white cone, blowing the match out. He felt his bruised and battered penis filling with blood, twitching, slowly growing. “Please,” he begged stupidly, “where am I? What is this?” She walked slowly toward him, ignoring his questions. He instinctively tried to press his legs together to protect his groin, but it was no use. The sound of her heels against the hard floor echoed off the walls. She took a deep drag, grabbed his chin to hold his head still, and exhaled in his face. She blew with such force that the creamy white smoke ran up his nostrils, choking him and forcing him to cough. She tossed her thick blond hair over her shoulder, and inhaled again, even more deeply, and exhaled again, even more forcefully, moving her lips inches from his nostrils. He was gasping for air, forcing the smoke into his lungs, causing him to cough even harder. She put one hand over his mouth and pinched his nostrils shut with her fingers. He struggled against her, trying to shake her off, but she only watched him with mild interest. She took another drag, exhaling into his teary eyes. They started to burn. So did his lungs.

She put the cigarette between her lips, her fingers spread wide, inhaling deeply while watching his eyes widen, begging her to let him breathe. She kept the cigarette pressed between her lips and exhaled from her nostrils while simultaneously inhaling, all the while watching as his eyes slowly started to droop. She removed her hand; when he greedily sucked in for air, she pushed his cheeks in and blew her smoke into his mouth. When she was done exhaling, she quickly covered him again. Wisps of smoke escaped from his nostrils and she tightened her grip, trapping all the smoke in. His lungs screamed. Tears streamed so heavily from his eyes that the world looked as if it had flooded. She kneed him again. And again. And again. His world was turmoil while her face was a mask of perfect calm. When the darkness started creeping into the corners of his vision, she let go and took a step back. He wheezed and gasped, coughing smoke. His chest was on fire, his stomach and balls throbbed, and his head swam. She gently wiped his tears away with her thumb, waiting patiently until the coughing stopped and the tearing slowed. She took another drag; a cloud of smoke the size and shape of a tennis ball formed around her mouth, and she quickly sucked it back in. His penis throbbed. She lazily exhaled a tight stream of smoke and touched the burning tip of her cigarette under his arm. When he yelped, she dug the heel of her shoe into his balls. He screamed.

He was looking at her chest when she inhaled again, watching her breasts rise and fall, his head hanging limply on his neck. She stuck her finger under his chin and pushed up so that he stared at her again. As she blew her smoke into his face, in between his coughs, he mumbled, "Why?" She squeezed his lips together and spit in his mouth. A bit of her saliva ran slowly down his chin. She squeezed again and flicked her ashes onto his tongue. She moved closer, so close that her breasts pushed against his chest. Sparks of electricity ran across his skin. "Please," he pleaded again, "please. Why?" She put her hand on his forehead and pulled his head closer. Her voice, even, emotionless, yet smooth as satin, would forever echo in his ears. "Because I can," she said softly. She put her cigarette between her lips and held his eyelid open with her perfectly manicured thumb. His head rolled in a pathetic attempt to move away. She inhaled as she moved his head closer, his vision filling up with the burning tip of her cigarette. It glowed red-hot; he heard the sizzle before he felt it. As his vision went from orange to red to black, he saw her draw her head back with his remaining eye, coolly exhaling into his face. She wiped the tears from the good eye away and waited for him to stop screaming.