Sex and Sutures
I feel a sting in my hip and I turn around to see Jessica Monaco
smirking knowingly with a syringe caressed in both hands.
Wait. Wait. What the fuck is that? Wheres that
needle been?
Its mine turn now, she says,
and she shoves me onto the bed.
In an instant I notice Im fucked up. And Im
not talking about the cute, cloudy fucked up
you get with a fun night in the city. No. Im FUCKED
UP. My muscular coordination is diminishing rapidly,
and before I can even think about whats going on
I lose my ability to speak. This is a paralysis drug.
And Jessica is somewhere out of sight. All I can see is the
ceiling, but I can hear her rustling through her briefcase.
Its just the clanking of metal against metal. Whatever
shes got in there, those things arent toys.
Im sure youve noticed by now,
she says from somewhere, you cant move
to see what Im doing down here, but you still have
feeling. Its called Vecinatol. Its an
agent that renders your body uselessto you anywayyet
keeps you well aware of whats going on.
Then she pops into view and forces her murky, predatory
stare on me. With nothing more than the moonlight shining
through her eyes look black and glassy, like a porcelain
dolls.
Lifeless.
You seem to be the kind of guy who likes a little pain
with his pleasure, she says to me. You
have the nipple rings and the tattoos in sensitive places.
Personally, I dont like pain very much. I never
got into the whole pain thing, but one thing I learned through
years of nursing is how to inflict it. And shes
grinning. You know what I heard? she says
with her finger probing my stomach. I heard that
it takes only a few pounds of pressure with something as
dull as a persons pinky finger to puncture somebodys
belly button. You think thats true? Then
she laughs. Oh, silly me, she says with
her second rate southern belle impression. Why
am I asking you? You wont even be able to move for
a while, let alone talk. Well, Ill just have to run
a few experiments. Then she pulls my head up by the
hair and whispers seriously in my ear, This will
be like nothing youve ever experienced.
She lets my head drop, and it bangs limply into the headboard
of the bed.
And I have this boner, this boner I cant do anything
about.
Apparently shes a pro at this sort of thing.
Jessica Monaco mounts me and begins sliding herself up
and down, up and down. I can tell she shaves but hasnt
in about a week. The feeling is like my whole bodys
asleep; its that feeling of pins and needles, when
anything that touches your skin is excruciating pain.
My brain is crying out.
Along with her pouncing rhythm, shes jabbing some
metal instrument into my stomach. No precision at all.
Its just sloppy and painful. It feels like an ice
pick. Up and down she bounces, the instrument poking ever
deeper through my skin. And my head is just crashing into
the headboard.
She does this for what seems like an eternity.
Im going to kill her for this.
Still riding me, Jessica licks my stomach where she drew
blood, and she spits red all over my nonplussed face, my
forced open eyes. Through the thin film of red I see her giggling
quietly. Such a fitting portrait of Jessica Monaco, her
pure evil smile and blood dripping from her chin onto her
tits. Jessica with her metal toys, getting off on this twisted
little toy shes made of me.
Finally, she comes.
Dont think for one second that Im
through with you, she says, rubbing my face and
forehead with her open palm. With all my bodily nerves unwrapped,
a hand smoothed over your face is more like a massage with
a cinderblock.
Youll just love this one, Jessica
hisses.
Shes back in her briefcase again. Its the
sound of metal against metal. What she comes back with is
definitely a scalpel, and shes carving into me.
Shes writing something into my chest. The pain
is indescribable.
About forty-five minutes into this awful charade I realize
something. Its my finger! I can move my left index
finger! OK, the feeling is coming back now. All I have to
do is wait until I can get full use of my arm, knock her out,
and then its all over. I cant let her know
I can move. Shed start this whole thing again. I
just have to bear it for a few more moments, and I can end this.
Out of the dead corners of my eyes I can see her at work. When
I know she cant see my hand, draped over the side
of the bed as it is, I move it more and more. I can make a fist
now, but its still not very tight.
Concentrate, man, concentrate.
Slowly my grip is getting stronger. The blood is circulating
through my forearms, then my biceps. My eyes flinch.
Cut out the flinching, I tell myself. You will be fucked
if she sees that.
Just a little longer and youve got it.
Then it happens. Involuntarily, I let out a pathetic scream
from the back of my throat. She looks up at my face and Im
scowling at her.
I reach up at her throat, but Im only fumbling around
by her chin. Its aimless. Its all wrong.
I dont have enough control over my limbs. And the
last thing I see is her sneering face smeared with my blood,
her tongue sticking out at me like a kindergartners,
and thats when everything turns black
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