Posted by Barbanne on February 15, 2000 at 14:16:57:
ARTISTIC CRUELTY.
THE MOVIE.
The girl lay on the big polished table, stretched out on her back. Her legs dangled over the edge, her strong thighs were spread, supported by the table and her lower legs, bent at the knees hung down, calves shapely, ankles neat, feet turned inward and pointing to the floor. One high heeled black seude shoe had fallen off, the other hung from her toes, dangling. Her legs were bare, no stockings, no pantyhose. Her arms were splayed out above her head, hands palm upwards, fingers curled inwards. Her face was turned sideways, eyes outlined in black mascara, eyelids shadowed fully. Her mouth was a bright red slash, brilliant red listick, smeared slightly. She wore a simple black dress with a low scooped neckline and shoe string straps. The hem of the dress was finished in black lace and was rucked around her upper thighs. Her dress looked as if someone had dressed her in it and done so very carelessly. It was twisted and scrunched and rumpled. She hadn't shaved her underarms recently and they showed dark stubble. The policeman stood by her facing forward. He lifted the rucked dress up and showed that she had no panties on. Heavy dark stubble covered her upper thighs and lower abdomen, surrounding her woman's slit, where another day or so old shave job had let her heavy pubic hair bush start to grow out. Clear seminal fluid oozed from her raw vagina. Her eyes were mere slits of sightless white almost concealed by her shuttered eyelids and her full lipped mouth was cracked partly open showing lipstick stained teeth. The policeman moved to her head and placed his fingers across the black blue bruised stains on her white throat where her killer's hands had lovingly and erotically squeezed her breath out in sado masochistic love play. She was a gasper, a lover of auto erotic asphyxiation and had enjoyed playing dangerously with semi strangulation only it had all gone terribly wrong.
*
He watched with a growing erection. It was one of his favourite scenes.
The girl looked so right. So ruined. So dead!
A girl playing dead for the camera. The German Cinema of Artistic Cruelty.
THE DIARY OF A PROSTITUTE.
I lead such a stupid boring little life. Little boring one bedroom flat. Little nothing job in the typing pool. Little pointless existence. Even when I had a dog it was a little dumb dog. I hate my body. I look at myself naked in the mirror and what do I see? Little tits, big brown nipples, fat ass. I hate myself. I like to look at my nudity because it makes my hatred grow.
Barf, yuk, puke......I am nothing.
Men!
I let them touch me, do their stuff to me because I hate myself so bad.
I like to exercise by my window. I do it purposely. Naked! I don't own drapes. They watch. I know they do, over there behind their darkened windows. I can feel their eyes. They lust for my nudity, my little tits, my disgusting hairy crotch. They want to fuck me.
Sickos!
*
That's why I work as a slut.
I'll do anything for men. The more disgusting and debasing the better.
It's what I deserve.
*
I streetwalk.
The other girls reckon I'm nuts.
But sashaying along wiggling my ass I'm what I am. What I deserve to be.
Trash, strumpet, harlot, chippy, slattern, trull, trollop, piece, drab, wanton whore.
Baggage, trash!
Come and fuck my cunt fellas!!
*
When I met him today I knew he was sorta different. Strange. Wierd.
He pulled up alongside me and beckoned me over and then he flashed money at me, lots of money and asked me to get in. We went back to my dump and he fucked me and then he told me what he wanted. It was different but what the hell.
*
Today was the day.
I had to dress over the top. Harlot underwear, crotchless panties, low cut bra and ridiculously short vinyl skirt and fishnet stockings and nose bleed high shoes and a tight, tight crop top and my hair loose and tumbly and scads of makeup. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, red lippy. The full fuck me slut's turn out. Everything in bubble gum colours, I love bubble gum colours, like hot pink and lime green and electric blue and blood red, huh, especially blood red.
Then I had to walk down the street teetering on the heels and swinging my ass. Little shoulder bag swinging. Street trash.
He pulled in and picked me up and then he drove me to his place while I sat there in the passenger seat, legs spread, vinyl skirt rucked up and he shoved his finger into my crotchless panties and inside my pussy. Drove all the way like that. One hand on the wheel the other between my legs.
When we got there we went up to his apartment and he had these photos of a couple of oldsters, looked like someone's Ma and Pa. I had to strip to my undies and then walk around on those ridiculously high heels and spit abuse at the photo and then take it and rub the glass between my legs on my wetness.
He got pretty excited and then he went into the bathroom.
So far pretty wierd but now when he came back I had to be dead. Just play act you are dead he said. How I asked. I don't care just do it.
I had seen this film once. The boys from Brazil and a girl was dead in that, lying over the bed. I decided I'd be like that. I lay on the bed with my legs spread and my arms and head hanging over the side facing the door to the bathroom. I let my mouth sag open and my eyes stare glassily like the actress in the film had done.
He came back in and I heard him suck in his breath. Then he came over and sat by me on the bed. He pulled my bra up and played with my nipples. Then he pulled my panties down around my thighs and fingered my pussy. He was very gentle and to my amazement I started to get aroused and then as he stroked and played with my inert body I started to come. I hadn't done that in yonks. I shifted and moaned but he said shut up, be quiet, you're dead remember. I did my best to act dead but I came before I could help it. He sorta tsk tsked and then he mounted me. It was uncomfortable, lying bent over the edge of the bed but he fucked me good and I came again.
He paid me and told me he'd call me.
*
He rang again today.
He wants me to wear a raincoat and high heels and nothing else. Just be nude underneath. Then he wants me to play the game again only this time I'll be nude when I'm playing dead.
THE BOY.
He couldn't stand it when his mother came home smelling like a two bit whore.
That's what she was of course.
And his father just watched and said nothing.
She whored around and he said and did nothing.
He was a cop. He could have told her to stop. Hell he could have made her stop.
Cheap tramp.
His mother.
She would come home in the mornings smelling of liquor and stinking perfume and sweat and sex and she'd come in and kiss him.
Slut!
He was a ten year old boy.
And his father did nothing. Just looked at her and at him with eyes full of sadness and defeat.
*
She was fucking some tattooed creep in the shitty little caravan where she did it. She was on top, grunting and sweating like a pig. The creep had his cock inside her and he was moaning and saying fuck me Estelle, do it baby, stuff like that.
He felt the kitchen knife in his hand.
He was ten years old.
He slashed and stabbed and slashed and stabbed.
The creep lay there with blood gushing from his severed neck. His mother's eyes were wide open and filming over and there was blood everyhere.
His father came and fixed it up.
THE REALITY.
The prostitute came like she had said she would. She was waiting when he drove up and hopped into the car dressed in that stupid lemon yellow raincoat.
She looked totally tarty. Complete trash.
She was made up like an utter slut with very theatrical eyes and mouth and she had somehow achieved a shiny look to her skin. He noticed that it highlighted the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her upper cheeks so that she looked young and vulnerable and yet, worn, used, seedy and second hand.
Virgin and whore.
He loved it. Innocence and tawdriness combined.
She tottered up the stairs, wobbling on those ridiculous heels and as soon as they were inside, opened the raincoat and yes, she was nude underneath. She did the thing with the photos and he found himself getting very excited. She smiled across at him and he mouthed "be dead" silently and went to the bathroom.
He waited for five, then ten minutes, letting his excitement grow. He returned, she had discarded the coat and had posed herself on her back on the floor with one leg up, foot resting on the edge of the bed, her other leg was splayed wide and her pussy was open and unprotected, helpless and waiting, asking for it. Her arms were outflung and she had let one come to rest above her head, the other out at right angles to her body, fingers curled as though in the rictus of death. Her small breasts were flattened agaist her chest and her neck was stretched back and her mouth was open and her eyes were closed. Long mascara-ed lashes lay across her cheeks. Her frizz permed hair was haloed around her head.
He muttered "Perfect" and then sat beside her "dead" body. His hands caressed her body, finding her nipples which stiffened and rose obligingly and stroking her clitoris, deep inside her cleft. He felt her body quiver with unleashed arousal and her vaginal walls thickened and tightened on his fingers. With his other hand he lightly touched her neck and then he gripped her, finding her carotid sinus and pressing relentlessly. She jerked as if to fight back but it was too late. Her muscles were already going slack and her body went limp and he maintained the pressure and the grand mal seizure hit her. Thick foam ribboned from her mouth and her eyelids popped open and her eyeballs rolled way back and only whiteness showed. She was helpless. Gripped by a seizure that had robbed her of movement. Her eyes came back and stared at him, swivelling, the only organs in her body that she could move.
As he closed both hands around her throat he watched them widen in mute terror and then they rolled up once more, pupils disappearing never to be seen again.
THE UTTER STILLNESS OF DEATH.
He had laid her out on the bed.
On her back. Arms at her sides, hands relaxed, fingers lax in death.
He looked closely at her face, the shine had gone from her makeup when the skin below it died. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were peacefully asleep. Her lips were full and red and just parted, agape in a lopsided half grin. Her teeth filled the space between the open lips.
Asleep. Little girl's asleep. Except for the awful whiteness. Dead whiteness.
Her small breasts had remained perky and defiant, too small, not enough flesh to succumb to gavity's pull. And covered by those ridiculously large nipples. Her legs shapely and straight out. The dark bush of hair at her groin, seductive, sexy. Her second set of lips, pink, inviting.
He climbed onto her, his cock was engorged, upright, massively erect. He felt it slip inside her unresisting slit, still wet from her excitement. His mouth was by her face, his breath fluttered her hair.
"Goodbye slut!"
"What was your name again........?? Barb....something,........anne, was that it? Hell what did it matter. She was crap. Nothing. Who cared about her?"
He spat into her gaping mouth.
"Goodbye you bitch! You damned whore! Mothe............, whore, prostitute bitch!"
He moved on her, fucking her dead corpse. His urgency grew and his orgasm fountained.
"Harlot! Whore! Bitch!," he screamed at the silently, submissive, unmoving body.
He exploded inside her.
*
He knew he was insane of course.
Mad as a fucking meat axe.
Keeping her here. Dead. Dead and posed like that. But it was artistic! He supposed it was cruel too. After all, she had been someone's daughter, someone's kid. But not anymore. Not now. Just dead meat. His dead meat. Served her right for being a slutty whore. She wanted it and she got it.
She looked pretty lying there, naked and still and unmoving and helplessly submissive to him. Like a piece of art. Performance art. He told her it was her best ever performance, she had achieved the pinnacle of modelling. Being dead. But she just lay there unmoving, staring. Silent. dead!
He kept the body as long as he could. Used her over and over.
When the police came she smelt bad.
Smelt bad and had gone blue. He sat holding the darkening flesh of her hand and talking to her. Talking to Mother.
The police led him away and covered the putrefying corpse.
He didn't notice. He was gone completely. Irredeemably mad!