Snippets Part Three: The Elements
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
There are twelve animal signs in Asian astrology. Each is subject to the
influence of four elements.
Earth.
Water.
Wood.
Metal.
Earth
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
The scream is ripped from her throat the way a starving beast ravages the flesh
from carrion. It was torn out from behind her teeth, past her lips and flung
away into the air above and behind and around her.
They had grabbed her, strapped her up. Laughing all the time. At her fear, her
terror. Pushed her forward out to the little platform. On one side, the men who
tormented her, who wanted to rip the clothing from her and use her body before
tossing it away.
On the other side: air.
She had no choice.
She stepped forward.
There was nothing there and it hit her with a force she could not believe.
She plunges down, her succulent breasts pushed flat by the uprushing
nothingness.
She knows what is below her, what is coming for her. It terrifies her.
Exhilarates her. Excites her.
She is so close to death and le petit mort, she knows if she touches herself she
will cry out and buck in a frenzy of passion.
The earth is her lover-in-waiting.
The ground and trees and rocks and stones and dirt and riverbed look up at her.
The earth wants her, expects her.
It will take her in its unrelenting embrace, and ...
... and what is now 135 pounds of muscle and hair and sinew and bone and flesh
will be smashed and broken and jellied and with time, absorbed ...
She closes her eyes.
And screams.
And touches herself, through her jeans, strokes the wet white-hot channel
between her legs.
She comes, her body convulsing.
And twisting and flipping as the bungee cord reaches its limit.
And yanks her back up in the air.
"Fuck! What a ride! Woo-hooo!" she yells.
Her friends on the bridge hoot back.
The earth sighs.
The earth is patient.
It knows it will possess her, one day.
Water
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
Dripdrop. Dripdrop.
Egg shaped, tear shaped, splashes of water, falling into a pail of water.
Dripdrop. Dripdrop.
Maddening, annoying, hateful sound.
Each drop slightly louder than the last, growing incessantly: a clap, a slap, a
gunshot, a thunderclap ...
Louise gritted her teeth. Bit down hard on the string clenched between her upper
and lower incisors. She hated the string, but not as much as she hated the
dripping water, and not even close to how much she hated what might, will happen
if, when she releases the string or if, when the bucket is so full she can't
stand it any longer.
Drip. Drop.
If she looked down, she could see the bucket as it slowly filled with water.
Moving her head forward relaxed the string in her mouth. The string led from her
clenched teeth through a ring in the basement ceiling to the handle of the
bucket. It was wrapped around the handle in a secure knot before it continued on
its journey to the chain connected to her nipple rings. Moving her head forward
lowered the bucket making the string leading back to her chest even tauter,
pulling her hurting nipples, stretching them to the tearing point.
Dripdrop.
Her feet were past pain, zoning into numb. She balanced like a dancer, almost en
pointe, splayed in a naked X, balls of her feet on narrow blocks of wood. It was
her calves that alarmed her, frightened her. In the past twenty minutes, both
legs had begun to tremble from the strain of her balancing act.
Dripdrop.
The vibrator in her cunt hummed happily.
Drip drop.
She considered just letting go of the post, stepping off the blocks,
masturbating in the shower instead.
Dripdrop.
Dripdrop.
Drip.
Drop.
Wood
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
She was teak. Not brown nor red, the golden hued sun-kissed colour that is
somewhere in between. Smooth, sensual to touch, like satin wood. Fragrant, a
hint of a polished sheen.
Her nipples were twin acorns, dark and ripe. Near the left acorn nipple was a
small dark blemish as if it marked the spot where a twig had been snapped off.
Her rich darkness had captured him. Enthralled him. He wanted her, to feel her
smoothness beneath his hands his chest his body, to shape her, possess her.
He stalked her. Could not would not leave her be.
One night he took her.
Saw her in a bar. Talked to her. Slipped ketamine into her drink when her eyes
looked another way. Helped her to his car. Helped himself to her.
He kept her for a week. Explored her body with his fingers tongue eyes nose
cock. Fed her, soothed her, washed her, wiped her. Loved her.
She was a forest of resistance, strong proud, powerful, unbending, immovable. He
was the lumberman, patient with his tools, wearing her down bit by bit by bit.
His will, his desire, his love swayed her like a soft wind through the boughs,
caressing, persuading, unceasing, relentless, irresistible.
She bent like a willow.
He tied her, shaped her, trained her with his ropes and wires like a bonsai.
Created perfection in her. Patient, waiting for the fruit to blossom.
Time. A week. Another week. A month. She swayed. Resistance faded into the dark
shadows cast by love. Her love grew in bursts, like a sapling at the edge of the
forest. She came to need his shelter, warmth, nurture. She began to flourish
under his watchful care.
She grew to love him. Wanted him. To be his. Lover. Slave.
She bent to his desires, his fantasies. Wore a steel band around her neck that
said she was owned by him. No matter how he used her with his ropes and chains
and whips she always sprang back like the sapling. He loved her for that.
One day of her own accord she called him Master. Another day offered herself for
discipline. Begged. She made his favourite foods. Brought his paper. Fluffed his
pillow.
He was pleased.
Their love grew like twin oaks.
He awoke from an unplanned nap to find he was naked, tied to a wooden ladder.
Realized she was stroking him into an erection.
He smiled through his puzzlement.
"What are you doing sweet thing?"
He was stiff, strong as an oak plank, his swollen member round, hard as bamboo.
"Setting myself free."
She stretched his cock out with one hand.
A glimmer of light against metal, like a sunbeam on the edge of the woodsman's
axe.
Severed the limb at the root.
She was the only one in the forest to hear it fall.
Metal
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
i do not understand why Master is so unhappy. i was being good.
As good as i can be.
Why is He angry?
i sleep curled up at His feet, every night. i lick His feet, soft and gentle
little dabs with my tongue. He tastes so wonderful to me! Male-taste, strong and
dominant. It makes me very horny to feel His skin underneath my tongue, His
scent filling my nose.
The soft sighs He makes as He sleeps.
i love Him so.
Why is He angry with me?
He had gone out and left me alone, which is okay because He does that all the
time. He put a little food in my dish, and some water in my dish too, and told
me to behave, and i did. i ate my food, okay, i got some of it all over my face
but it's not easy eating stew from a bowl you know. Anyway, i washed my face a
bit when i lapped up the water from the bowl.
But when He came home, He said i was bad, and yelled and spanked me so hard my
bum still hurts and then He grabbed me by the neck and dragged me into the
bedroom and threw that hateful chain collar around my neck and said i was bad!
Bad! Bad!
And then He put my leash on the choke collar and i had to hurry crawl behind him
and it hurt and choked me and i fell down on my belly and He dragged me and
swore and He put me here, in my little metal cage.
All alone.
i can't play, or even hardly move around in here it's so small.
i hate being in the cage.
The metal floor is cold.
The bars are cold.
Why is Master so angry?
i love Him so.
If He lets me out, i'll be good, i promise! Promise! Promise!
i'll never chew his slippers or pee on the bedroom floor ever again.
i promise!
In conclusion ...
This is the third and final set of "Snippets".
The concept for these little stories has roots in creative writing exercises,
the Japanese haiku, and the Chinese sankei. They have been demanding and fun to
write.
I hope you enjoy one or more of these "Snippets".
I welcome and encourage feedback, good and bad, about my work. Please write me
at writerfox@fastmail.ca All replies will receive an answer.
Thank you for reading my work.
Sincerely,
Fox
