The night was, ah, I dunno...; sultry?
My gin soaked ears heard a voice they didn't quite recognize reverberating listlessly upon the fetid air of the cheap motel room.
The devil lies in her thighs The devil lies in her thighs The devil lies in her thighs
"You like that bitch? Don'tcha?" someone asked.
"Yes, Master."
Hands grabbed face violently; threatening to undo a few thousand dollars of recently completed dental work.
"No. Please. Not there."
"Don't fool yourself, slave."
"Wh-wh-whut?"
"It's goin' right up your poop shoot."
A Costco size can of Crisco fell off the night stand taking an over-filled ashtray down with it.
"I'll get that, Master."
"Did I give you permission??!?!" I barked, snapping my slave's choke chain.
A leather whip hissed through the air. Mold spores crawled up my nose taking residence. The whip's tail drew blood and I vaguely considered the possibility, it was perhaps, bovine karma.
I could feel the bottle of Bombay Sapphire working its magic as the room spun out of focus and spiraled down the imaginary drain of my mind.
And then I remembered no more.
I came to a few hours later, my mouth tasting like a potpourri of death, Pizza flavored Combos, and musty anus. I was almost happy. Sore as hell but almost happy.
"Thank you, slave. That was, ah, how shall we say; one for the archives?"
No answer.
"Hey, you feelin' all right?"
More of the same nothing.
"Somebody needs a little tickle!"
Either my new found submissive anal slave was not the ticklish type or something was more amiss than a cup of Beijing Swiss Miss.
I fumbled for the bedside lamp and got the darkness in abeyance.
I continued fumbling until I had managed to light a Players No. 6 with my Zippo. I sucked a lung full of smoke into the recesses of my alveoli and then fumbled no more.
I took another drag and blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. The smell of the smoke mixing with the moldy air made me dry heave a bit. I cracked my neck, closed my eyes and took a beat.
"Don't puke, Kat. Not cool."
I took another drag and turned to see why my sub was doing his best impression of three day old lunch meat.
His head hung at an odd angle and his complexion looked none too healthy.
I poked at him with a ping pong paddle I retrieved from the night stand.
Nada.
"Hey, slave boy! Get your tush up. Round two. Ding. Ding."
I do believe I was being ignored.
"This town needs an enema," I murmured and wound up.
I hit him hard as I could in the ass.
It made a satisfying thwacking sound but my slave was no longer the model of obedience he had been but scant hours ago. The sun would be making its appearance in another hour or so and I felt the all too familiar craving returning.
"Get up or you'll be sorry, you sleepy fuck."
Still nothing. Talk about things that make you go, "hmmm..."
I fished into my Luis Vuitton and got out my compact mirror and placed it beneath his proboscis.
"Eewwww..."
It was a regular rain forest in there. Some bastards just don't believe in nostril hair trimmers.
I held the mirror in place but it was not fogging up. I checked for a pulse even though I'd only seen it done in movies.
After a while it dawned on me that my new playmate was deader than disco.
I might have otherwise panicked but I was still drunk and after all he was just a stranger, albeit a very good looking one, I had picked up in the seedy strip mall bar down the road from the Holiday Inn where I was staying.
"Keep it together, Sister."
I stubbed out my cigarette and put on my civvies.
I cracked my neck and knew what to do.
I let myself out of the room quietly and went down to my rental in the lot below. A few minutes later I slipped back in the room and gathered up my things.
I doused the room in Bombay Sapphire and Zippo lighter fluid right along with the submissive stiff. Then I placed my domination bag besides the door and placed the, "Do not disturb" placard on the outer handle.
I walked back to the bed and craned over to take a final look at my stone cold lover. I heard opportunity knocking and considered trying something new but thought better of it. There was something about this poor bastard I couldn't quite put my finger on...
"It's a shame. I really felt something for you, some kind of connection. I think we really could have had something. I guess we should have had a safe word."
He didn't disagree but, after all, he was the submissive type.
I lit a Players and a rolled up Penny Saver I found in the drawer of the night stand next to a Gideon's bible.
When the Penny Saver was firmly ablaze I tossed it on the jizz, gin, butane and blood soaked bed from the safe distance of the threshold and let myself out.
I crossed myself and pressed the crucifix to my chapped lips to kiss my husband. A wisp of smoke from my cig got in my eye. A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. I watched the flames spread a bit and then made my exit.
I drove back to the Holiday Inn and let myself in my room.
Stripping naked I crawled into bed. I picked up the receiver and dialed the front desk.
"Hello, may I have an 11 AM wake up, please."
"Of course, Sister."
"Thank you."
Father Flanagan had been droning on for well over fifteen minutes but it seemed like days. I wondered to myself why the good die young and the boring cling to life with a tenacity untold.
".... for thirty years they did not know of each other's existence. Separated by birth and by exigency. The fruit of the womb of a fourteen year old mother who had been so viciously raped. But did she destroy the life that was growing inside her? No! A thousand times, 'No!' I say.
With the help of our Lord and the Church she was able to bring not one, but two children of God into this world of sin.
But unfortunately, due to a mix up and an alcoholic nurse these twins were separated and adopted into different families. But by the fortuitous turn of events that the world is now all too familiar with, they are now, after nearly three decades, about to be re-united and right here on this very stage."
Flash bulbs popped and some scattered applause echoed throughout the cathedral.
"And wonder of wonders, they both heard the self-same calling though thousands of miles apart. The fine lad grew up to became a priest. The sweet girl a nun. Truly our Lord is great.
And now, right here today my children, we are going to re-unite these two lambs of God. Praise be unto him!"
Suddenly a florid little man in an ill fitting suit rushed to the podium. He leaned into Father Flanagan's ear, whispering excitedly and making vague Italian gestures.
Father Flanagan's jaw dropped a little before shaking his gray head sadly; all the color draining from his pruney face.
"Ladies and gentleman. Sister Katherine. I-I-I really don't know how to say this but, but, your brother was found dead in his motel room this morning. It seems there was a fire and our ahem, Father saw fit to call him back home. But, it is not ours to question, for the Lord..."
Father Flanagan droned on as the room came in and out of focus with my gasping breaths.
We really should have had a safe word...
I suppose it could have been worse though; it could have been a Crucifiction
From Crucifiction by Krafto Matix.
