Turnabout is fair play

[Dragon's muse]

It only seems fair that i let you all have a peek at my writing. This is the opening for a long story i am working on. Be honest, let me know what you think.

rose


Rose was seething; the party was execrable. The house itself was a monstrosity of steel, glass and chrome defacing a wooded hillside overlooking Lake Travis. Her host was a dull and pretentious technocrat, as were the other guests. Worst of all, the art collection, which was the raison d'etre for the party, looked like the term project of a high school metal shop and spot welding class. The only consolation was her late arrival -- well after one in the morning.

Seizing a glass of wine, thankfully neither Mad Dog nor Thunderbird, she stalked through the halls and tastelessly appointed rooms. Glaring at the alleged art, she shot down with her contemptuous expression any of the technogeeks who had the courage to try eye-fucking her. She was impeccable in a sheer black cocktail dress, high hemline and four inch heels displaying her slender but shapely legs.


By the time she noticed that she had been followed into a poorly lit room in the back of the house, it was too late. Rose turned to see a woman close the door, and then approach her. Although she was attractive-- short hair, athletic build and patrician features-- her eyes were as flat and without affect as nailheads. Rose thought of the eyes of venomous reptiles and she shivered involuntarily.


The intruder, very young and half a head taller than Rose, cut down the distance between them with the practiced grace of a boxer crossing the ring to reach a weaker opponent. As Rose attempted to slide along the wall to the door, the larger woman seized her neck just under the chin, pinning Rose to the wall with one hand and extended arm, the fingers of her right hand on one side of Rose's dainty throat and her thumb on the other.


Rose couldn't scream. The other woman, without apparent effort, was holding and choking her. Without changing expression, she said, "Don't make a fucking sound." With her free hand, she slapped Rose twice-- not on the face but above the ear so that there would be no mark . She spoke again, "Pull up your skirt, bitch." When Rose failed to comply, her tormentor struck her again and then casually grabbed her right nipple, seizing the nipple ring thru the fabric and twisting it just enough to cause excruciating pain. Rose was crying now and terrified; her imperious will broken like a green stick. She pulled up her skirt for the other woman, raising the hem to her waist. She stood there looking like a frightened little girl reciting for a strict teacher.

The other woman began caressing her cunt thru the thin fabric of Rose's black thong, caressing it was one might touch a lap dog. "Move your legs apart, baby .... " her captor whispered.

When Rose failed to comply, her tormentor raised her left hand as if to strike again, keeping her pinned to the wall with her right. Rose, green eyes huge with fear and her face convulsed with sobs silenced by the iron grip, moved her legs apart like a compliant child.

Her heart almost stopped when she saw the knife in the other woman's hand. She felt the momentary chill of the metal against her thigh and then heard, or imagined, the snick of her thong being cut away. The larger woman resumed caressing her, this time touching Rose's hairless mound as though it were a ripe peach.


"You can call me Clothis. And you're Rose, right?" Rose nodded obediently (to the extent permitted by the fist gripping her throat). Clothis continued in a hoarse whisper, like gravel under a door, " Did you know , Rose, that Clothis is the Fate who actually decides the length of the thread of life?" When Rose was too terrified to respond, Clothis smiled, "That's okay, baby, you're going to learn a lot of things tonight."


Clothis slipped a finger smoothly into her now, and to her horror, Rose realized that she was wet-- very, very wet. "You're so pretty, Rose, so elegant...so.. sophisticated... and you like it rough, don't' you?". The raspy whisper was barely audible. Rose made no reply; the question had already been answered by her body's involuntary response.


Clothis continued whispering to Rose as she finger fucked her, telling her alternately how beautiful she was, what a hopeless slut she was, and describing the astonishing variety of things she was going to do to her. Despite her brutal strength, Clothis had a skilled and delicate touch. She had two, or was it three, fingers in Rose now. The combination of fear, being dominated so thoroughly and her assailant's knowing hand was robbing Rose of her self control and her self respect. She moaned softly and rested her forehead against Clothis's muscular shoulder.


Clothis smoothly removed her fingers from Rose's cunt , replacing them with her thumb. Rose felt the middle finger of the same hand stroking and then entering her anus and she gasped, "No." Rose felt the incredible sensation of the thumb and finger messaging the thin partition of delicate flesh which separated them. The sensation, one of being violated completely in every orifice, was driving Rose to the brink of a convulsive orgasm. The blond rapist began lifting Rose up with only the strength of the hand between Rose's legs, sliding Rose up the wall until her feet were off the ground. The surging thumb and finger inside her never stopped, clenching, relaxing, torturing every nerve. Her face was almost level with Clothis' now; Clothis started kissed her, invading and possessing her month with the same brutal arrogance as she had shown Rose's cunt and ass.

Rose began to stiffen, at the edge of a shuddering, apocalyptic orgasm. "Do you want me to stop, baby?" Clothis whispered, continuing to hold her, but no longer kissing her or moving the hand which had taken possession of Rose's cunt. Rose groaned and began to cry in frustration, "No," she said, her voice a high pitched mew like a kitten being tortured.


"Say please," Clothis whispered.


"Please, please" was Rose's immediate, choked response. The violent caress of the iron hand resumed and Rose came in a series of violent spasms which convulsed her limbs and emptied her lungs of air and her mind of thought or sensation except the searing intensity of the experience. Rose was limp. She clung to Clothis and sobbed silently with her head on the other woman's chest.


Clothis kissed her gently, held her for an unknown time, and then removed her hand. With the extraction of the hand, Rose felt as though she were being deflated like an inner tube with its valve core removed. She slid down the wall until she was sitting with her slender legs stretched straight in front of her.


Rose sat with one hand pressed to her forehead until she noticed something curious. Clothis was going through the purse, which she had dropped and forgotten about at the beginning of the rape. Clothis was rapidly examining and discarding items in the Coach handbag. The discarded items-- money, credit cards, makeup-- she simply threw on the floor. But, when she found Rose's driver's license,she stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans. "Wait," Rose bleated, "you can't..."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want with you or anything you have," Cothis snarled in the menacing, hoarse whisper, having resumed her former brutal persona after the brief interlude of tenderness. She moved over to stand in front of the still seated Rose, forcing her to spread her legs. Clothis then placed the toe of her weathered Red Wing workboot against Rose's abused cunt and prodded the smaller woman painfully. "Isn't that right, little pussy?"


Rose looked up fearfully but said nothing,terrified that anything she said would infuriate her assailant to additional violence. "Goddamn it, your cunt leaked on my boot," Clothis rasped, "clean it off." Without waiting for Rose to react, the Amazon tangled her fingers in her cowed victim's long, lustrous black hair, forcing her face onto the toe of the boot."Lick it off."


Rose risked only a momentary glance at the woman towering above her-- but in that fleeting glance fear, revulsion and lust were all eloquently expressed. She crouched there at Clothis feet, face on the boot and ass in the air. Then she lapped at the toe of the boot like an obedient dog.


The rest of the party was a blur for Rose. Clothis was seldom farther than three feet from her. When she said her good-byes and went to her car, Clothis followed. Clothis pinned Rose to the car and possessed her mouth in a bruising kiss, all the while mauling her breasts with vicious fingers. Clothis' growl was low near Rose's ear, "Drive safe, baby. I'll be in touch."


Rose drove back to her hotel in a daze. When she got there, she fell onto the bed and was almost instantly in a sleep so deep that it more nearly a coma.

[Rhabbi]

Love the story, and I can just imagine the scent in that room afterward.

Rose was seething; the party was execrable.

Was the party really that bad? I have been to some pretentious parties, but execrable is a very strong word to describe a bad party. Especially if she arrives late.

Love the desription of the house, I can just see it hulking on the side of the hill.

I also love the description of Rose as she dismisses the people in the party, and the art, in the same breath. Kind of shows her as a snotty bitch, and sets the mood for the attack.


Now to the nit-picking:

Rose was seething; the spaces party was execrable. The house itself was a monstrosity of steel, glass needs comma and chrome defacing a wooded hillside overlooking Lake Travis. Her host was a dull and pretentious technocrat, as were the other guests. Worst spacesof all, the art collection, which was the raison d'etre for the party, looked like the term project of a high school metal shop and spot welding class. The only consolation was her late arrival -- well spacesafter one in the morning.

Seizing a glass of wine, thankfully neither Mad Dog nor Thunderbird, she stalked through the halls and tastelessly appointed rooms. Glaring spacesat the alleged art, she shot down with her contemptuous expression any of the technogeeks who had the courage to try eye-fucking her. She was impeccable in a sheer black cocktail dress, high hemline commaand four inch heels displaying her slender but shapely legs.


By the time she noticed that she had been followed into a poorly lit room in the back of the house, it was too late. Rose turned to see a woman close the door, and then approach her. Although she was attractive-- short hair, athletic build and patrician features-- her eyes were as flat and without affect as nailheadsshould be two words. Rose thought of the eyes of venomous reptiles and she shivered involuntarily.


The intruder, very young and half a head taller than Rose, cut down the distance between them with the practiced grace of a boxer crossing the ring to reach a weaker opponent. As Rose attempted to slide along the wall to the door, the larger woman seized her neck just under the chin, pinning Rose to the wall with one hand and extended arm, the fingers of her right hand on one side of Rose's dainty throat and her thumb on the other.


Rose couldn't scream. The other woman, without apparent effort, was holding and choking her. Without changing expression, she said, "Don't make a fucking sound." With spacesher free hand, she slapped Rose twice-- not on the face but above the ear so that there would be no mark . Shespaces spoke again, "Pull up your skirt, bitch." When those spaces againRose failed to comply, her tormentor struck her again and then casually grabbed her right nipple, seizing the nipple ring thru the fabric and twisting it just enough to cause excruciating pain. Rose was crying now and terrified; her imperious will broken like a green stick. She spaces again plus the anology needs work, green sticks bendpulled up her skirt for the other woman, raising the hem to her waist. She stood there looking like a frightened little girl reciting for a strict teacher.

The other woman began caressing her cunt thru the thin fabric of Rose's black thong, caressing it was one might touch a lap dog. "Move your legs apart, baby .... " her captor whispered.

When Rose failed to comply, her tormentor raised her left hand as if to strike again, keeping her pinned to the wall with her right. Rose, green eyes huge with fear and her face convulsed with sobs silenced by the iron grip, moved her legs apart like a compliant child.

Her heart almost stopped when she saw the knife in the other woman's hand. She felt the momentary chill of the metal against her thigh and then heard, or imagined, the snick of her thong being cut away. The larger woman resumed caressing her, this time touching Rose's hairless mound as though it were a ripe peach.


"You can call me Clothis. And you're Rose, right?" Rose nodded obediently (to the extent permitted by the fist gripping her throat). Clothis continued in a hoarse whisper, like gravel under a door, " Did you know , Rose, that Clothis is the Fate who actually decides the length of the thread of life?" When Rose was too terrified to respond, Clothis smiled, "That's okay, baby, you're going to learn a lot of things tonight."


Clothis slipped a finger smoothly into her now, and to her horror, Rose realized that she was wet-- very, very wet. "You're so pretty, Rose, so elegant...so.. sophisticated... and you like it rough, don't' you?". The raspy whisper was barely audible. Rose made no reply; the question had already been answered by her body's involuntary response.


Clothis continued whispering to Rose as she finger fucked her, telling her alternately how beautiful she was, what a hopeless slut she was, and describing the astonishing variety of things she was going to do to her. Despite her brutal strength, Clothis had a skilled and delicate touch. She had two, or was it three, fingers in Rose now. The combination of fear, being dominated so thoroughlycomma and her assailant's knowing hand was robbing Rose of her self control and her self respect. She moaned softly and rested her forehead against Clothis's muscular shoulder.


Clothis smoothly removed her fingers from Rose's cunt , replacing them with her thumb. Rose felt the middle finger of the same hand stroking and then entering her anus and she gasped, "No." Rose felt the incredible sensation of the thumb and finger messaging the thin partition of delicate flesh whichflesh that? separated them. The sensation, one of being violated completely in every orifice, was driving Rose to the brink of a convulsive orgasm. The blond rapist began lifting Rose up with only the strength of the hand between Rose's legs, sliding Rose up the wall until her feet were off the ground. The surging thumb and finger inside her never stopped, clenching, relaxing, torturingand torturing? every nerve. Her face was almost level with Clothis' now; Clothis started kissed her, invading and possessing her month with the same brutal arrogance as she had shown Rose's cunt and ass.

Rose began to stiffen, at the edge of a shuddering, apocalyptic orgasm. "Do you want me to stop, baby?" Clothis whispered, continuing to hold her, but no longer kissing her or moving the hand which had taken possession of Rose's cunt. Rose groaned and began to cry in frustration, "No," she said, her voice a high pitched mew like a kitten being tortured.


"Say please," Clothis whispered.


"Please, please" was Rose's immediate, choked response. The violent caress of the iron hand resumed and Rose came in a series of violent spasms which convulsed her limbs and emptied her lungs of air and her mind of thought or sensation except the searing intensity of the experience. Rose was limp. She clung to Clothis and sobbed silently with her head on the other woman's chest.


Clothis kissed her gently, held her for an unknown time, and then removed her hand. With the extraction of the hand, Rose felt as though she were being deflated like an inner tube with its valve core removed. She slid down the wall until she was sitting with her slender legs stretched straight in front of her.


Rose sat with one hand pressed to her forehead until she noticed something curious. Clothis was going through the purse, which she had dropped and forgotten about at the beginning of the rape. Clothis was rapidly examining and discarding items in the Coach handbag. The discarded items-- money, credit cards, makeup-- she simply threw on the floor. But, when she found Rose's driver's license,she stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans. "Wait," Rose bleated, "you can't..."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want with you or anything you have," Cothis snarled in the menacing, hoarse whisper, having resumed her former brutal persona after the brief interlude of tenderness. She moved over to stand in front of the still seated Rose, forcing her to spread her legs. Clothis then placed the toe of her weathered Red Wing workboot against Rose's abused cunt and prodded the smaller woman painfully. "Isn't that right, little pussy?"


Rose looked up fearfully but said nothing,terrifiedneed a space that anything she said would infuriate her assailant to additional violence. "Goddamn it, your cunt leaked on my boot," Clothis rasped, "clean it off." Without waiting for Rose to react, the Amazon tangled her fingers in her cowed victim's long, lustrous black hair, forcing her face onto the toe of the boot."Lickneed space it off."


Rose risked only a momentary glance at the woman towering above her-- but in that fleeting glance fear, revulsion and lust were all eloquently expressed. She crouched there at Clothis feet, face on the boot and ass in the air. Then she lapped at the toe of the boot like an obedient dog.


The rest of the party was a blur for Rose. Clothis was seldom farther than three feet from her. When she said her good-byes and went to her car, Clothis followed. Clothis pinned Rose to the car and possessed her mouth in a bruising kiss, all the while mauling her breasts with vicious fingers. Clothis' growl was low near Rose's ear, "Drive safe, baby. I'll be in touch."


Rose drove back to her hotel in a daze. When she got there, she fell onto the bed and was almost instantly in a sleep so deep that it more nearly a coma.

[tessa]

Oh my! Thanks for sharing! Holy mercy!

One of my many favorite parts, "Her heart almost stopped when she saw the knife in the other woman's hand. She felt the momentary chill of the metal against her thigh and then heard, or imagined, the snick of her thong being cut away. The larger woman resumed caressing her, this time touching Rose's hairless mound as though it were a ripe peach."

I could feel that.

If at all possible, I can't wait to read the rest!

tessa

[Dragon's muse]

Thanks Rhabbi, not too bad since thus far only spell check has been run. On a long work, i save editing for the end. The re-reading lets me also catch holes in the plot.

Tessa, as i get more, i will let you know. Because you know Clothis is NOT finished with our girl Rose.

[Rhabbi]

Thanks Rhabbi, not too bad since thus far only spell check has been run. On a long work, i save editing for the end. The re-reading lets me also catch holes in the plot.

Well, its nice to see that I am not the only one to not proofread wqhen I post. I was feeling kind of idiotic about that one where you made the minor edits.

By the way, when I read the story the first time, I noticed a word that was wrong, but could not find it when I proof read. It was something of the type of using read for red. Read it carefully, and I wilol go back later and see if I can spot it again.

[Dragon's muse]

Writing is re-writing. No one turns out perfect composition the first time. Not even a grammar nazi like me.

One additional point in both of our defenses, it is a heck of a lot easier to see someone else's goofs than your own. Probably something to do with having less emotional investment in the piece.

i will get a review of your latest piece on the morrow.

Keep writing (and re-writing and re-writing)