G Pain is but a fairy tale
DISCLAIMER: This is a partially pornographic story written as part of my side hobby: making partially pornographic stories. It's extremely graphic and you probably shouldn't read if you're not ... terribly demented or a HUGE philosophy buff.
“Pain is a fairy tale we're told as before we lay down to sleep and pray the lord our souls to keep. Stay out of the black forest. Don't trust the wolf. Stay healthy.” She's barely coming out of it, but I'm just so impatient to get going.
“Where am I?” God it's so cute how she slurs her speech when drugged. “Kasumi, why am I tied up?”
“I want to teach you things, of course.” She seems to be awake enough to be afraid. She's not awake enough to make out my knife yet, but I think I can still have some fun until then. “Think about it: All learning in modern society is in your head. Nothing to show for anything we know. Existentially, it doesn't even exist.”
Now she sees the knife and screams. Suddenly, what I've been saying makes sense in some light. Suddenly, what I'm about to do is known without words. “I want to warn you, this won't be short. But you should take solace, it means I won't kill you yet.” She doesn't take solace and I expected nothing less. “Shall we begin?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Didn't I already tell you?” I run the blade across her shivering, bound body. She tenses wherever the blade goes, readying herself to fight back when skin is pierced. Futile. “Pain is a fairy tail. Fairy tales are propaganda for children. Aren't you an adult now? Can't you make up your own mind?”
I allow the blade to make a long, superficial slice from the inside of her left breast diagonally down. She tries to kick away as her first tear comes out, but her legs are the only things keeping her up and they're bound together. She cries and lets her feet just drag on the floor. Defeat.
“Why do you cry? You should be in extacy right now.” No effect. I love this woman. “Come on now, one day some fucking cave man got a booboo and looked down. You think he cried over it? To him, it was just a sensation. Another day he lost his foot and correlated the same thing he felt yesterday to bodily damage thus drawing the connection and dubbing it pain. Pain is only bad because we think it is. It's a sensation. We have a choice. Wasn't that what said? We have choices?”
THE DAY BEFORE
The weekly poker night was at Cleo's house this time. She played some music for us by some violinist. “She's very famous and for good reason,” she told us. Mike replied: “Don't give us that 'note's she's not playing' crap.” But she did. All through the game.
“The notes might clash sometimes, but the clashes only sound bad because we've trained our ears to look for harmony. We choose to dislike the sound. By choosing to like it, we can see its beauty. Many things are like this. We have choices.” I knew right then she was a kindred spirit.
TODAY
I set my incisors around her right nipple and bit down hard. She gives off a cute little squeal that drives me wild. “Look at how erect it's gotten. You're mind might be fighting it, but your body knows about the beauty of pain.” She doesn't try to deny it. I know in that pretty little head she's confused. I slide the knife softly across her neck.
“You can't get away with this. Every one fucks up!”
“What will I fuck up?”
“There will be your DNA all over me. It won't take long for them to know who did it.”
“So I'll kill you will I?” As I hug her she wriggles, trying to get away. I slid the knife along her spine, gently feeling the bumps. “How will I kill you? Let your imagination run wild!” I want this never to end.
“You fucking PIG!”
I feel her spine all the way down her back in push a little to make another line and bring it all the way around her body. A nice red skirt dripped all around her waist and down her legs. She whimpered a bit, shaking her entire body. I have to suppress the urge to just stick this blade straight through her. I have to remind myself to take it slow, but this girl just brings out all the right things in me.
My heart's racing and I can feel hers pumping as well. If I cut deeper I can watch blood escape to the beat of this heart, but in restraint I only swish the blade around her belly. I'm lovin' every minute of this.
“Cloe, I want you to come into the black forest. Trust the wolf. Be sick and like it!” I only just now notice her flushed face. I poke her left nipple with the knife and listen to that scream once more. Blood flows easily from such a small wound there. “What have you got to show for all that education they gave you? What have you got to show for your philosophy?”
No answer.
“This can be what you have to show. Physical proof!” I cut a small dash across her cheek. “What does this mark mean Cloe? What does it mean?” She whimpers and shivers, but I give her time to reply.
I expected nothing less than “I don't know?” and got nothing more. I urged her with a slice that crossed it and asked again. “I don't know. You're the crazy one, you tell me?”
“I can't give meaning to your body or anything. That's your responsibility. Your body represents your life. You can't keep your story in your head. We discussed this. It technically doesn't exist there. These marks: what do they mean to you, Cloe?” Her resistance to give an answer almost makes me take that throat and bit out her wind pipe. I'm running out of ideas to convince her. She seems absolutely set on her futile situation.
Freedom. I let the chains loose and untie her. She's too tired to fight me like I know she wants to. “I don't want to imprison you, I want to free you from your ideology. I want to show you the beauty of pain.”
I go in for a kiss. I've misjudged her. She grabs the knife from my hand and stabs me in the stomach.
Time goes by...
My blood on the floor, she arrives at the door. It's been an hour, but I know what in that pretty head. I wonder if she's OK. Did I hurt her? What if they catch me?
The blade had dodged my organs and now there's just a hole, just under my stomach and about my pancreas, and it isn't that deep. The pain is excruciatingly wonderful. I can feel the very essence of life through it. I name this wound “rebirth”.
She comes up to me. “I can never forget what you did to me here.” I can't help but giggle. “You psycho-maniac, you'll pay for what you did.” The first thing she did was she kicked me on to my back, leaving that beautiful hole for all to see.
“What have you learned, my dear?” I'm in a hysterical rage. This is all too great. “Was I right? Isn't the physical what's truly real?”
“You...” She blushes. “You were right.” I knew she'd come around. Kindred spirit. Philosophical twin. “That's why I will kill you now.”
She tenderly puts the knife to my throat, just letting the rage pool up in to one swift motion. Instead of letting this happen, though, I dip into that slit in my mid-section and smear it on her face. She doesn't expect me to be able to move so well and falls backwards, then slides out of my reach. She gets smart and goes for the ropes.
She kicks me back onto my stomach and over powers me with trying to tie my hands and legs together. She doesn't quite know how to do it so she just holds my limbs down. This is the first time since the stabbing I'm feeling fear again. I don't want to die.
“You bitch. I should just stab the back of your neck and parallelize you. I should just allow you to slowly suffocate that way. You'd like that, wouldn't you. You bitch! You'd like anything I do!” For the first time, I'm starting to admit I don't quite understand her. This is fucking scary.
She continues: “I guess for you there are two sides of life, pleasure and pain. You're happy on either side aren't you? I can't bash you're head in or give you a fucking massage!” I stop struggling. It's pointless. “I know what I'll do.”
She gets up quickly and left me there. She picks up the knife I had used off the floor, but decides it's not good enough. She sees my decorative machete. I could never think of using it in sex. There's no finesse with a weapon so large. But then again this girl isn't going for finesse nor is she participating in sex. I get on my back and try to push my body away from her.
Cloe walks over to me with a large sword in hangs it over her head. I haven't seen a smile this wide in my entire life.
She lets the weight carry it though my left arm. It hits bone and stops before dismembering.
“Tell me, Kasumi, what does that one mean to you? What story does your body tell?” I try to curl up to cry but my arm causes me pains I had never imagined. I puke, but being on my back, it only goes on my face.
She tries again to get my arm off, but she hits my shoulder instead. A rich red in carpeting my floor. “Kasumi, is this your fairy tale? Is this the fucking black forest?”
The tears flooding my eyes. I have to admit to her: “No.”
She holds the machete up high once more. The wolf dies in the end. The wolf is killed by the hunter.
“Pain is a fairy tale we're told as before we lay down to sleep and pray the lord our souls to keep. Stay out of the black forest. Don't trust the wolf. Stay healthy.” She's barely coming out of it, but I'm just so impatient to get going.
“Where am I?” God it's so cute how she slurs her speech when drugged. “Kasumi, why am I tied up?”
“I want to teach you things, of course.” She seems to be awake enough to be afraid. She's not awake enough to make out my knife yet, but I think I can still have some fun until then. “Think about it: All learning in modern society is in your head. Nothing to show for anything we know. Existentially, it doesn't even exist.”
Now she sees the knife and screams. Suddenly, what I've been saying makes sense in some light. Suddenly, what I'm about to do is known without words. “I want to warn you, this won't be short. But you should take solace, it means I won't kill you yet.” She doesn't take solace and I expected nothing less. “Shall we begin?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Didn't I already tell you?” I run the blade across her shivering, bound body. She tenses wherever the blade goes, readying herself to fight back when skin is pierced. Futile. “Pain is a fairy tail. Fairy tales are propaganda for children. Aren't you an adult now? Can't you make up your own mind?”
I allow the blade to make a long, superficial slice from the inside of her left breast diagonally down. She tries to kick away as her first tear comes out, but her legs are the only things keeping her up and they're bound together. She cries and lets her feet just drag on the floor. Defeat.
“Why do you cry? You should be in extacy right now.” No effect. I love this woman. “Come on now, one day some fucking cave man got a booboo and looked down. You think he cried over it? To him, it was just a sensation. Another day he lost his foot and correlated the same thing he felt yesterday to bodily damage thus drawing the connection and dubbing it pain. Pain is only bad because we think it is. It's a sensation. We have a choice. Wasn't that what said? We have choices?”
THE DAY BEFORE
The weekly poker night was at Cleo's house this time. She played some music for us by some violinist. “She's very famous and for good reason,” she told us. Mike replied: “Don't give us that 'note's she's not playing' crap.” But she did. All through the game.
“The notes might clash sometimes, but the clashes only sound bad because we've trained our ears to look for harmony. We choose to dislike the sound. By choosing to like it, we can see its beauty. Many things are like this. We have choices.” I knew right then she was a kindred spirit.
TODAY
I set my incisors around her right nipple and bit down hard. She gives off a cute little squeal that drives me wild. “Look at how erect it's gotten. You're mind might be fighting it, but your body knows about the beauty of pain.” She doesn't try to deny it. I know in that pretty little head she's confused. I slide the knife softly across her neck.
“You can't get away with this. Every one fucks up!”
“What will I fuck up?”
“There will be your DNA all over me. It won't take long for them to know who did it.”
“So I'll kill you will I?” As I hug her she wriggles, trying to get away. I slid the knife along her spine, gently feeling the bumps. “How will I kill you? Let your imagination run wild!” I want this never to end.
“You fucking PIG!”
I feel her spine all the way down her back in push a little to make another line and bring it all the way around her body. A nice red skirt dripped all around her waist and down her legs. She whimpered a bit, shaking her entire body. I have to suppress the urge to just stick this blade straight through her. I have to remind myself to take it slow, but this girl just brings out all the right things in me.
My heart's racing and I can feel hers pumping as well. If I cut deeper I can watch blood escape to the beat of this heart, but in restraint I only swish the blade around her belly. I'm lovin' every minute of this.
“Cloe, I want you to come into the black forest. Trust the wolf. Be sick and like it!” I only just now notice her flushed face. I poke her left nipple with the knife and listen to that scream once more. Blood flows easily from such a small wound there. “What have you got to show for all that education they gave you? What have you got to show for your philosophy?”
No answer.
“This can be what you have to show. Physical proof!” I cut a small dash across her cheek. “What does this mark mean Cloe? What does it mean?” She whimpers and shivers, but I give her time to reply.
I expected nothing less than “I don't know?” and got nothing more. I urged her with a slice that crossed it and asked again. “I don't know. You're the crazy one, you tell me?”
“I can't give meaning to your body or anything. That's your responsibility. Your body represents your life. You can't keep your story in your head. We discussed this. It technically doesn't exist there. These marks: what do they mean to you, Cloe?” Her resistance to give an answer almost makes me take that throat and bit out her wind pipe. I'm running out of ideas to convince her. She seems absolutely set on her futile situation.
Freedom. I let the chains loose and untie her. She's too tired to fight me like I know she wants to. “I don't want to imprison you, I want to free you from your ideology. I want to show you the beauty of pain.”
I go in for a kiss. I've misjudged her. She grabs the knife from my hand and stabs me in the stomach.
Time goes by...
My blood on the floor, she arrives at the door. It's been an hour, but I know what in that pretty head. I wonder if she's OK. Did I hurt her? What if they catch me?
The blade had dodged my organs and now there's just a hole, just under my stomach and about my pancreas, and it isn't that deep. The pain is excruciatingly wonderful. I can feel the very essence of life through it. I name this wound “rebirth”.
She comes up to me. “I can never forget what you did to me here.” I can't help but giggle. “You psycho-maniac, you'll pay for what you did.” The first thing she did was she kicked me on to my back, leaving that beautiful hole for all to see.
“What have you learned, my dear?” I'm in a hysterical rage. This is all too great. “Was I right? Isn't the physical what's truly real?”
“You...” She blushes. “You were right.” I knew she'd come around. Kindred spirit. Philosophical twin. “That's why I will kill you now.”
She tenderly puts the knife to my throat, just letting the rage pool up in to one swift motion. Instead of letting this happen, though, I dip into that slit in my mid-section and smear it on her face. She doesn't expect me to be able to move so well and falls backwards, then slides out of my reach. She gets smart and goes for the ropes.
She kicks me back onto my stomach and over powers me with trying to tie my hands and legs together. She doesn't quite know how to do it so she just holds my limbs down. This is the first time since the stabbing I'm feeling fear again. I don't want to die.
“You bitch. I should just stab the back of your neck and parallelize you. I should just allow you to slowly suffocate that way. You'd like that, wouldn't you. You bitch! You'd like anything I do!” For the first time, I'm starting to admit I don't quite understand her. This is fucking scary.
She continues: “I guess for you there are two sides of life, pleasure and pain. You're happy on either side aren't you? I can't bash you're head in or give you a fucking massage!” I stop struggling. It's pointless. “I know what I'll do.”
She gets up quickly and left me there. She picks up the knife I had used off the floor, but decides it's not good enough. She sees my decorative machete. I could never think of using it in sex. There's no finesse with a weapon so large. But then again this girl isn't going for finesse nor is she participating in sex. I get on my back and try to push my body away from her.
Cloe walks over to me with a large sword in hangs it over her head. I haven't seen a smile this wide in my entire life.
She lets the weight carry it though my left arm. It hits bone and stops before dismembering.
“Tell me, Kasumi, what does that one mean to you? What story does your body tell?” I try to curl up to cry but my arm causes me pains I had never imagined. I puke, but being on my back, it only goes on my face.
She tries again to get my arm off, but she hits my shoulder instead. A rich red in carpeting my floor. “Kasumi, is this your fairy tale? Is this the fucking black forest?”
The tears flooding my eyes. I have to admit to her: “No.”
She holds the machete up high once more. The wolf dies in the end. The wolf is killed by the hunter.