November 2011
A tribute piece, probably better understood if the works I am referring to are read first: Parker's Mr. Poe, and pamela's Mastering Mandy###
THE WORST is to have to clean up after him. The chaos he leaves takes much more to resolve than to make; I don’t think he appreciates that. I actually just happened on to one of his efforts, some poor little thing he’d seen to getting herself raped and impregnated. I recognized the work—very clean, no lines, sheer artistry, it was almost like he was showing off to someone—extraordinary that he’d left her asexual in the end; it was so deep I couldn’t get rid of all of it. I didn’t want to do anything about Cindy’s pregnancy, but I did leave her at least able to masturbate with a reminder to keep her hands out of her child’s pants, and tried to stave off the inevitable. But it did tell me he’d been through here recently, and given past patterns, I knew which direction to go from here.Once in the city, it was everywhere. My God, what had he done this time. There were lines all over the place—thirteen, fourteen, I quit counting—all leading to a Mr. Ellis’ hotel room. Hmmm. He hadn’t taken this tact for quite some time; it always ended catastrophically: the glasswork eventually all broke down until mass suicide was the only course left for the poor souls infected. I felt bad for Mr. Ellis; I could short-circuit most of the worst, but some things I will simply not be able to correct.
No one answered the door, so I let myself in. I found a young lady there, masturbating furiously, completely fixated on keeping her man’s cock in her mouth, otherwise starving. Mr. Ellis was comatose and twitching on the bed, so that much would be easier.
The lines into the girl seemed to be hinged on the lines he had running out of the building, and they were so knotted up, I wasn’t going to be able to unhook any of them without seriously hurting everyone involved, certainly not without any of the other ends; they were even starting to interconnect and produce feedback loops. I started with one, didn’t matter which one at this point, and followed it out across town to find another girl on the other end.
Roxanne was attached through the ass, in more than one way. The psychic mind-control line from Mr. Ellis, and the cock she was engaged with. I did allow her the dignity of finishing, as if getting fucked in the ass has any dignity to it. This was going to be hard enough as it was without interrupting something with a man she understandably had gone to great lengths to get into her; he was not a young man, and the effort she had exerted so far might have been enough to kill him outright. The shock of getting caught doing this little something he obviously shouldn’t be doing—what would his wife think—would for sure put him right down for a dirt nap. Once he finished with a decrepit shout, she gave the impression to feel obligated to lick him clean, and as is so often the case, he let her. Something I had never had the stomach for, but it was also a part of a bit of what I was doing here; there was a connection in there someplace I was having trouble making. Once he was on his way, I stepped in and noticed how incredibly peaceful she was, and had a strong hesitation hit that almost kept me from interfering at all; I could just be making things worse. But I knew that to find my errant mate, I was going to have to unravel a few things, at least until I could get enough of Mr. Ellis put back together enough to risk my looking in there.
“Please, come with me.” She looked up and didn’t question things a bit. I had to stop her to remind her to get dressed. Something else that got my attention from Poe’s usual modus: he was always very specific on what to suggest to his victims, and a blanket layer of submission just wasn’t his style. On the bus as we crossed town she asked “Do I know you?” and I got to shake my head with the truth. For once. She pulsed next to me, and I could feel her assessing her situation, trying to decide if there was anyone there with us she would like to extend an invitation to. I held her hand, and it was enough to keep her down, but I knew that I would have to hurry, for that wouldn’t be enough for long.
When we got to Mr. Ellis’ accommodations, his young ladyfriend, Melinda, was still at her chores: sucking cock—that showed every sign of spurting on its own power without her—and doing everything she could to bring herself off. Her sex was badly bruised for all the hitting she was doing to it.
Roxanne’s eyes got wide as she saw her next redemption at hand, taking her clothes off as she crossed the room to match Melinda.
“Stop that.” I knew that wasn’t going to work, but said it anyway.
“No fucking way, bitch.” She straddled him, and I was as powerless to do anything to interfere as the girls were.
“Hey, get off him; he’s mine.” A skirmish was stirring around the room, and it could have gotten real bad, real fast, and it was Roxanne that proved worthy enough to try to defuse it; she, in my book, was worth redemption for that alone.
“Do you like ass-licking, chiclet?”
“No. Just cocks. Just his.”
“How ‘bout balls?”
“That’d be okay. His.”
“Can we share? I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?”
“I like asses. I’ll lick yours when I’m done here.”
Melinda considered for a moment, then realized what I already knew, that she hadn’t had an orgasm in a long time, and if there was a chance for even a moment of relief, she would take it.
“Deal.” Another soul of consequence to give another chance to, even if she doesn’t know why, even if it looks to the outside like she’s just being selfish; there is value to cooperation. Sometimes, these little glassworks failures get way out of hand, and anyone who can find a way through them without throwing someone else out the window merits the trouble, as far as I was concerned.
The girls set out to get Ellis’ erect cock into Roxanne’s ass, and his balls into Melinda’s mouth, and they were happy. Even I couldn’t find anything to put against their feelings which were indeed sincere and not manufactured or manipulated. Humans are so weird.
I let the girls carry on and finish before I started in on my part, sorting out and untangling the lines from Roxanne to Ellis, from Roxanne to Melinda that she just forged, getting the girls calmed down and relaxing just a little enough that I could work. It was mayhem in there, and when I finally got enough of it laid out before me so I could start unhooking, Ellis fucked everything up and came again, just lying there, out of the blue; one of the other lines from the outside had fired. Melinda got distracted and all the glasswork I was working with caved back to original, and she started over. Hands back between her legs with a vengeance, sucking cock, which set Roxanne back to square one, screaming for someone, anyone, to please put something in her ass, something big. Damn me, I couldn’t see another way out of it. I gave in; I helped.
It took a while, but eventually, I got Roxanne unhooked. I was never going to be able to get her anal fixation corrected; the glasswork done there was incredibly crude, but deeper than I could do anything about without destroying even larger parts of herself—she didn’t deserve to become a vegetable—and I finally just had to give up, consigning her to a full future of anal sex that most men dream about.
After I turned her loose, I hunted down the other ass sluts, the fellatrices, the dog fucker, and the dean with the bladder control problem. I was tempted to leave that one, because it was indeed funny, but Melinda was going to have a rough enough time without that little connection, so I unhooked her, too. The incontinent dean pissing setting off the feedback on the line to Ellis to make him piss into Melinda’s mouth that was almost permanently attached to his cock was something I didn’t want her to have to live with. He was going to piss into her mouth more than was necessary even without the added bonus of force from the outside, and leaving it worse for her wasn’t on my to-do list.
I decided to let the strippers and the exhibitionists go, they weren’t going to hurt Melinda and they weren’t going to interfere with what I needed anyway; the hard ones to deal with were the pregnancy-fetish cheerleaders, because there were so many of them, and the lesbian masochists into tit torture because, well, those are just plain always difficult. It took almost a month to clear enough clutter away that I could begin to start wading through what Ellis was left with, and frankly, I was horrified.
He was a monster, the kind my consort had no alarm or concern about, but always set my teeth on edge. Mr. Ellis hated women with a depth that was frightening, and as is usually the case, it went back to his mother and the abuses she wrought on him. Gave me a moment or two of pause. He had committed verbal, emotional and physical abuses that the simplest of which were revolting at best, at worst had destroyed lives; he had committed innumerable rapes up to and including murder, doing his darndest to counter the overall decrease in sexual assault over the last two decades. When I found Cindy—the rape was atrocious—the only reason I could even bring myself to continue to look was that the man I was looking for was there, even if only ancillarily. In a way, I truly wanted the horrors of what my spouse had done to him to follow him all the days of his life. The dozen deaths that were set in motion for him to experience through the lines would have been too good for him.
But I knew I wasn’t going to be able to accept that, either, and had to settle for unhooking the ability my dearest heart had left him with, making it so he couldn’t wreak his unholy will on the innocent any more. The glassworks I had been working with were all this horrible thing’s handiwork with only a slight tinge of he to whom I had forsaken all others for—that I was so unrighteously disconnected myself from, that I was trying to find—and the best thing I had done this last year was make it so Ellis couldn’t control anyone through the glassworks ever again, save one.
I finally found what I was looking for: the line that led back to my man; he had missed it. It was thin, gossamer, and wretchedly tangled, but it was there, and I could follow it back to what I myself needed. Bad as things were with Mr. Poe, things were worse without him, and I knew and accepted that now, and could foresee as little as my ability to do that allowed, expecting the road I was on to be difficult at best.
That only left Melinda. The lines from Ellis to her were too many for me; they didn’t amount to little connections here or there, they were to the depths of soul, and, as much as it saddened me to leave her with this abnormality, the only thing I could pray for was my faith in her own strength to keep him at bay from everyone else. I gave her enough of a survival instinct to try to stay alive, to eat and not let the mess get too bad, and permission to herself to go ahead and love and care for the villain she would be cursed with for the rest of her life.
###
“MY DEAREST treasure, you have found me. Even I am impressed.”My heart was racing, melting, catching, breaking, mending, lifting, flying, laughing, crying, stopping, starting, stopping, starting, starting, starting. I found my legs unable to support me, and I knelt down before him, into the only proper position for me to be in before him and wept.
“And to what do I owe this?”
Couldn’t talk; had some more crying to do. His putting his hands on me didn’t do a thing to stop the waterworks.
“I must insist, my love, that you get this all out of your system faster, and speak with me.”
I could feel him rummaging around in me, to try to find something to extend in a little comfort. His efforts in the glassworks never worked on me, but it was sweet of him to try. Eventually I had cried enough to have cried enough for a while, and managed to get some semblance of words out.
“I…I am so sorry. I have been horrible to you. Please forgive me.” I was gearing up to bawl again; couldn’t help it.
“My nearest, the idea that you have come here without assault weapons blazing does more for me than my delicate ego deserves. I do, though, believe I was the ogre, if I recall.”
“But that doesn’t excuse my leaving you. It was heartless of me. And I am here to make amends.”
“I do not know what that means, my breath.”
I could finally consume air again without shedding salty water. “Th-there have been a great many things I have refused you, my soul, that I should have no position to deny you from. And I come to you to now offer them to you as a a a tribute to the…baser things I have always scoffed at, ridiculed, set myself apart from and tried to stand above as superior to you, that I indeed now acknowledge as a part of you, a part I must love, a part I can no longer use as a way to exert power over you.” I let it settle a moment before I finished what I had come here to say. “I am here to submit to you, my lord.”
He sat and looked at me for the longest time, inscrutable. I waited, for I could do no other thing without disrupting the restoration I sought. I tried not to anticipate, tried not to make connections, tried not to do anything except prepare to accept whatever he said next.
“And what, as an example, might such a thing be, that you feel you’ve kept me from?”
I wasn’t exactly prepared to be called on for a freeform demonstration; I had expected something more along the lines of a direct order, and had spent a long time considering what might some of those requests be, and how could I fulfill them with whatever grace I could assemble. Given the number of permutations I had considered, I chose something that I assumed to be reasonable to be somewhere near the top of the list. I got my knees to move, and wielded enough willpower to keep from falling right back down. After two breaths, standing before him, my him, my all, I felt for and found the catches to my clothing, setting about to release it all. Naked, nude, bare, unconcealed, unprotected, stripped, defenseless was only the beginning. He had seen it all before—albeit a long time ago—and this alone was not the end of my gift, the offering I had worried so much over. Once I was without garb, I turned my back to him, looked over my shoulder, tipping my head down the way I knew he liked, and pronounced the words I had planned for, the words I had practiced, with the smile I truly felt: “Please. Come in.” I closed my eyes, bent at the waist, reached around toward him, behind myself, and set about to humiliate myself, suggesting a way in he had not been granted. I spread the cheeks of my bottom, feeling the cool air caress my anus, adjusting myself to point my exposure directly at him, and waited. And waited. My face flushed, what if I have done the wrong thing, and I had no choice on this course but to wait and breathe and what if he says no, will this be for naught, I waited, I deserved to wait, to be embarrassed by this, I know this is what he wants, I waited I waited I waited.
I could feel a tear trickle out from between my eyelids, and I made a slight whimper. I was defeated. I was lost. I was denied. I had nowhere to go.
“Sweetheart.”
The floor called my name, and I raced to it, throwing my face on to it, my knees hurt and I didn’t mind, I arched my back, pulled harder with my hands, and had more tears to cry. I shuddered and bawled and wailed and lamented my shortcomings and begged, God, how I begged, please, my love, take what you want, my ass, my cunt, my mouth, my life, here, here, here. Take me, use me, hurt me, bend me, break me, just please, please, please, fuck me, if you ever loved me, if there is the slightest hope you can love me again, fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me now.
“Beloved. Have you seen our son lately?”
I threw myself up, whirling to face him. Nothing ruins the mood like the mention of offspring, and it took a moment, a quick moment, to recover enough to answer him; this was unexpected. I released my arrogance, my need, my desire, and lowered my eyes: “No. Not for a long time.”
“Let’s go see him.”
###
THE CAR he had was laughable. It sputtered, it wheezed, it argued. It was like old times, and I felt like things were maybe going to be alright between us. It was worth letting my hair down, I decided, especially considering what I had done not an hour before. Please, let it be alright between us. We need to be able to talk. I need us to be able to talk. Both hands and one foot, now both hands and both feet.“Why did you do that?”
“Hmm? Do what, my pet?”
“Ellis. And why would you let him perform those atrocities on all those poor women?”
“Frankly, my dear, I was a little bored.”
“But some of them may have been important; Ellis was terrible at this, and they were all going to die.”
“They will anyway. There are over seven b-i-l-l-i-o-n of the little wretches running around; no one would miss the few that my amusements cost.”
“I understand you have a bent for destruction that I am trying to accept. Why didn’t you just start another war?”
“Ach, wars are so difficult. All the prep work, to try to find a way to make the conflicts happen at the cultural level, it’s exhausting, and I’m still trying to recover from the last one. Besides, the humans have made war too destructive. Retool the wrong person, and they could end everyone with the touch of a button. It took quite the effort to get this crowd here as it was, and to have to replace them? We’d have to ask for help, and that would be embarrassing.”
I set about to be faithful and fill the vehicle with acceptance, understanding, cooperation, compliance, submission. I had to trust him. Had to. Had to. Before I could change the subject, he beat me to it.
“Besides, it did what I wanted. It got your attention.”
The sun shone a little brighter, the bucket of bolts got a little quieter, and my redemption was at hand.
“I-I love you, Mr. Poe.”
“And I love you, Mrs. Poe.”
I fell back into the already-old habit of weeping, and found my joy in a crappy automobile in the middle of a nameless road, in the middle of some continent that continued to move with or without me, in the middle of some century I had no more concern for.
Eventually, I wanted to say something, anything to encounter my partner again, just to hear his voice. “You do know, Honey, that that suit fell out of fashion over ninety years ago.”
“Why, my loving wife gave this to me. Wouldn’t dream of changing it.”
“Well, your loving wife desperately needs to shop for you.”
“Whatever would make you happy, my familiar.” He smiled, I rejoiced, and just like that, we were back. The Poes were back, and we were again a couple, and we were on our way to becoming a family again, and I was indeed happy. I slept.
It was dark when we got there, where were we, some local podunk fine arts facility that rented out rooms to make ends meet. The clunker died in the parking lot. He left the keys in it, “I don’t think that will get us much further,” and we abandoned it, stepping inside.
“Ah. Still has a penchant for the Oriental, I see.”
We passed a sign on our way into the ballroom: “Chinese New Year Celebration.” Once inside, the decadence was reminiscent of the Qing dynasty; there wasn’t a stitch of clothing on any human form in the room. The orgy was wild enough to even get my jaded better half’s attention. Screams punctuated the walls, the ceiling, overlaying the moans and groans, and the curse words of sex were the chorus, no translation necessary: Jībā, shăbī, yín chóng, chòu biăozi, bàojúhuā, cào, gàn, rì, rì, rì.
In the middle of it all, above it all, was our son, our beloved son, and the room was full of lines, all leading to him; this will take years to repair. He was participating, controlling, enjoying every act within range. There was a woman’s head in his lap—unusual that she was the only Vietnamese there—with a small round scar on the side of her face. The poor thing was miserable, gagging, crying and appeared to have been doing so for quite some time. As the only non-participants in the orgy in the expanse, we immediately got our boy’s attention.
“Mom! Dad! Omigod!”
“Darling!” I ran up to him and threw my arms around him.
“What are you two doing here? I’m so happy to see you!”
“Haven’t wearied yourself with the Asian crowd, yet, eh boy? I have all the confidence in the world you will someday discover the Jews, or maybe even the Presbyterians. Having fun?”
My beloved sat beside me; I was between the two men on earth I loved more than myself, and it was heady, dreamy, and the bliss I had been waiting for all this time was mine; it was here, and I fell into it headlong.
“Yeah. Isn’t this great?”
“My son, I must say, I can totally understand; at some point, sooner or later, a boy wants to have relations his mother, and your solution to that problem is inspired. But it is utterly wrong.”
Oh, God, have relations with my husband, with my with my my wait, son?
“What?” That wasn’t me. It was the dreamboat to my right. Never mind; what was I just thinking about?
“You imbecile. You somehow managed to push her, to change her, to reglass her, and even though I don’t know how you did that, you have made a rather serious problem for yourself.”
No, no, no problems here. Mmmm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your lines are into her. So, if I were to do to her what husbands do to their wives, you won’t feel it as me. You’ll feel it as her. In effect, you’ll be having relations with me. Makes me wonder some things.”
Why are we wasting time talking? Why aren’t we fucking? Isn’t this an orgy?
“Wait, what? No, no, that’s not what I wanted.”
“And that is the problem. She’s the only one of us that can unhook lines. But not if she can’t see them.”
God, I’m thirsty. Is there something I could put in my mouth that might have something in it, something that might eventually come out and be wet? Yeah, I’m sure, both of you have what I want, I don’t care who starts, please, please, please.
“No! No! That’s not right! Wait! You have to fix this! Dad!”
“It would have been better for all concerned if you had simply taken what you wanted from her, instead of weaving in this cockamamie scheme to get Mommy and Daddy back together. Wife!”
Father, son, my God, what does that make me? Whatever it was, it was sacred. I looked up at my love, my everything. Yes, yes, yes, “Yes?”
He pulled his face into a grin, the gaping ear-to-ear shit-eating fuck-you grin I loved him for; it was such a secret indulgence for me. “Fuck everyone in the room, my precious. Have a ball.” He looked over me, past me. “You too, son.” Then back to me. “Come find me in Easton when you’re done. I’ve got a teacher to look in on.” And he stepped away, slipping out of the door, leaving me to fulfill his need for me, through me, with me, praise God, I love this man.
I had the time of my life. Funny, my son didn’t seem to be in very high spirits, and he screamed a lot; odd that he did it when I did.
###
Enormous continued appreciations to the inspirations of Parker and pamela, and the other numerous generous writers that are so worth the admiration they so deserve. And continued desires, on my part, for their continued indulgences for what I keep doing to their creations.
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