masonerd
Posts: 7
Joined: 1/21/2010
Status: offline
|
I'm bound to a chair in a dark basement. The house where I'm captive is in the middle of nowhere and the phrase "isolated farmhouse" finds its way repeatedly into my stream of consciousness. My hands are bound tightly behind me, secured with a seemingly haphazard combination of filthy rope and bungee cords. Annabelle (Annabelle Corpse, stage name) had chuckled as she knotted the rope securely. While I gritted my teeth from the way the rope bit, she said "Wicked lo-fi. So rad." Anna and her partner in crime, Polly Nomial (also not her given name) are ultrasophisticated 21st century sadists--punk rockers with high IQs and sick senses of humor. Silver spoons and paper plates.
I have no idea how much time has passed since Anna ruffled my hair and blew me a kiss on her way up the stairs. She knows it drives me nuts to lose track of time, so she and Polly had made sure there were no clocks in the dark, damp, basement. They'd also shut off the lights as Polly mentioned, offhandedly, as though just making conversation, that "Bugs and creepy crawling things sure love the dark." Added fact: I am shit-your-pants-scared of bugs. The first time one had crawled up my leg was as Polly was ascending the stairs and I let out a girlish scream, in response to which they giggled sweetly.
When I finally hear their footfalls in the room above, I feel relief and dread at the same time. Schopenhauer said that there are only two human conditions--pain and boredom. The boredom was about to end, but the pain, I was sure, was about to begin.
The light came on in a flash and, as my eyes were still adjusting, I saw Anna descending the stairs. Bright purple hair, shiny platform boots, lace gloves, imperiously smoking a clove. Polly was right behind her with her ersatz platinum blonde hair, tweed skirt, Dead Kennedys shirt and black rimmed glasses.
Anna arrived at my chair first and began poking at my arms. She leaned over, blew smoke directly into my face and, as I coughed, giggled "Arms go dead, babydoll?" I looked up at her, eyes watering from the acrid smoke of the Clove, and said "Nice guess, Einstein."
Polly slapped my face, hard, from the other side and as I turned to face her I noticed she had also lit a cigarette. The girls stared down at me amused, laconic, well aware that I was in their hands. They regarded me with an impassive sense of impending fun, the way a child might look at his favorite toy.
Walking behind me, Polly began to play with my hair, holding her cigarette so that the smoke drifted right into my face. Anna walked directly in front of me, leaned down slightly, and began to tease my ultrasensitive nipples. Just from a few rough tweaks I was already quivering, nearly in tears, and Polly whispered into my ears, her voice dripping with a mixture of affection, cruelty, and complete disdain, "It's going to be a long day, babe."
|
Punk Vixens From Hell, Part 1 - 
Profile
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread