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Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved by
author. codes: M+f/ humil / caution /
anal
WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex
practices that might well offend you. If so, please leave. Some of
the sex depicted is consensual, some not. I don't condone it. I'm
not advocating it. I may or may not even like it. It's simply a
fantasy, a product of my imagination, and thus, completely fictitious. Peace, brothers
& sisters.
Before you read it, please note the following:
*If you are under
eighteen, it is illegal for you to read this story!
*If you have a hard time separating fantasy from
reality, do not read this story!
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Bad
Robot
(aka Hunsi)
Book cover Picture
Click to meet the players
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/HumblePie/Argentina.jpg
"Is this on?" Dr. Mann, asked as
he tapped the mic while scooting his chair beneath
his desk.
"Sounds good here ,
Doctor," his assistant replied with a thumps up and a nod.
"Thank you, young man. Now, if you would please close the door
behind so Ms. Lane and I can begin our session.
"Good Morning,
"Fine, Doctor, thank you."
"Well, I'm happy to find you cogent and
comfortable this morning," he said with a pleasant anodyne smile as he
went about starting the recording and then leaned back into his desk chair.
“Dr. Jonathan Mann,
"Alright, Jane, as we discussed upon
the conclusion of yesterdays’ session, the time to reset the clock has once
again arrived. Think of it as our back
to the future moment, where I reset the dials and open the dialogue by asking what
I need ask all my new patients upon our first meeting, as well as those on the
repeat like you.”
“Ready to begin?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Okay.
“Yes, I’m here because you think I’m crazy.”
“No Jane, not crazy. Let’s just say we feel you might be a bit
confused.”
“Confused?” She heard him say, and then upon
its hearing, she responded with a near autogenetic (knee jerk) response that
welled up from somewhere deep within her subconscious mind.
“Hmm, confused,” she replied, while thoughtfully
considering what she saw looking up and around the room to take in the whole of
the placid, sterile room in
which she resided that purported to be a doctor’s office.”
“Well, Dr. Mann, say what you will, but it
seems to be somewhat of a disconnect between your wish to warehouse me in this serile white room and then telling me I’m simply confused.”
“I’ve already told you, Jane, this is my
office nothing more. So don’t let your flight
of fancy get the best of you.”
“Oh, so you think I’m imagining things, do
you? Well, I’m not. It’s just that when I look around this sterile white room,
I can’t help but picture myself sitting upon the floor cutting out paper dolls
while listening to looney tunes on a phonograph.”
“Okay, Jane, it’s not mine to argue, it is
for me to listen. Is that alright with
you?”
“Yes, sure,”she
shrugged, I don’t mind. Besides, its alot better than playing with blocks on the floor.”
“Yes, well, I guess that’s as good a reason
as any,” he said, as he broke out with a rather sedate, placid smile.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I think it’s time we
get started.”
“Alright, where
would you have me start, Dr. Mann?”
“At the beginning, Jane, that’ll work just find.”
“Though I need to remind you that it is my
job to distinguish between what is true, and what you imagine to be true. So if you’re not sure which is which, then
stop and we’ll discuss it.”
--------
The Telling of the Story . . .
I first met Tomas Cabrera on the eve of my
daughter’s birthday.
“That would be, Amy, correct?” Dr. Mann
interrupted seeking clarification."
Yes, doctor.
You see, myself along with a group of friends
were celebrating the occasion at a local ice cream parlor when Tomas walked in
to escape the heat.
My friend Margret
saw him first, and it was the sound of her breathless sigh and the tug upon my
sleeve, that drew me to him, and it was only when I did come around to look his
way that I came to understand her sudden paralysis and the loss of her tongue.
Quite honestly, he was the most beautful man I'd ever seen.
An honest to goodness Vanity Fair cover boy, and by the way Margret was taking in the sight of him, I knew she felt the
same.
In fact, I remember quite distinctly the
moment she found enough of her lost tongue to whisper in my ear, counting his
praises. Everything
from his looks, the cut of his jib, to his ultra-cool suave demeanor. The kind that only comes packaged in the
Spanish Mediterranean model, somewhere near the golden sands of
“Yes, well, now I can see how you fell into
his orbit,” the good Dr. Mann, said while writing down his observations on the tablet he had placed
upon his lap.
Oh, yes, doctor, that is so true. You know, I can honestly say that I never
believed in love at first sight. Not
ever! Not even with Danny-the-shit head,
Amy's father, a guy who hadn’t the time to love anyone
other than himself.
But this was not just some ordinary being who’d just walked into my life. This was a bow-to-praiseworthy being, and as
a consequence, all that disbelief about love at first sight just flew away like
a leaf in the wind, and riding along with it, all sense of myself
when Tomas Cabrera caught me looking at him.
Of course I wish I could tell you I wasn’t
entirely ‘swallowed up’ by him at that moment, but when he strolled over and
introduced himself to me with a, “¿Cómo se encuentra?” (Good day, Miss), I know then that I’d never
see the outside of that beautiful latin
whale’s belly ever again.
“Mm-hmm,”Dr. Mann
mumbled, with his eyes fixed to his notepad while he continued to write. “It sounds as though you found yourself quite
taken by him.”
Oh yes, doctor, you are so right.
Anyway, we spent the better part of the
evening talking about everything and nothing while one-by-one my friends
departed while we talked and looked starry-eyed at one another, while Amy, my
birthday girl, squirmed about upon my lap, her excitement no less than my own.
From there on, my once steady, routine life
became a world wind. Dinner out and babysetters
most every night under candlelight, my hand in his.
It was during one of those romantic evening
that I came to feel that I could nolonger live
without this man in my live, and shoving aside my fears of rejection, I told
him so, and return he said the same to me.
Then one night, he said that he need return
home and asked if I might consider going with him to
And that's when I first learned about his
father and the truth about him.
He wasn't European, he was an Argentine, and
that he wasn’t the worldly traveler I had assumed him to be, but had in fact
lived with his father his whole life long.
“And that disturbed you?” Dr. Mann asked while continuing to write.
Well, yes, I did feel a bit torn. There was the part of me that felt a bit peeveed for his not having told me all this before I'd
fallen head over heels for him.
But then too, there was the other part of me
who fell even farther in love with him for his having enough trust in me to
share such personal, private matters with regard to himself as well as his
father. A man who turned
out to be a very Dominant figure in Tomas’s life.
"Hmm,
Interesting! The doctor said, stopping to look up from his
writing. “Tell me, did he come off
sounding as though his father was a controlling figure in his life?
Oh yes, most certainly, doctor. The man was a force of nature you could not avoid.
But please, doctor, I do not want to talk
about that man. A man
who so terrorized me, so crippled me, that I can't even contain the vomit upon
the mere mention of his name.
"Of course, I understand,
Yes, Dr. Mann, I know, and I promise to
try. But when I faulter
I ask only that you do not give up on me.
"I won't Jane,
I'm in the fight with you."
"Now then, let us try this again. I
asked you whether you would consider his father, Santino
Cabrera, a controlling figure in his son’s life?"
Yes, Doctor, as I said, he was always the dominate
force in every relationship, in everyone's life he touched. You must keep in mind who
exactly this man was. He was one hard
nosed Argentine, and it made no difference to him with whom he need tangle to
come out on top.
“But then you must remember that his father,
Santino, was but 16 when he left home aboard a
Clipper Ship as a mere deck Swab, earning but a paltry quarter-share for a 6
month voyage across the Atlantic. And
that's all he had when that Clipper he rode landed in
But from those few cents he had in his
pocket to start out on his life’s journey, he not only managed to survive, put
prospered, selling olives and Jamon (ham) from spain out on the street.
And it was from those meager beginings that he
created an empire so vast that by the age of 30, he became one of the most influencal men, both socially and politically, in all of
For most men you would think that a life
accomplished. But not, Santino! Oh, no, it
wasn't until the ago of 60 that he turned over his ten thouand
acre estancia (Ranch) on the pampas to a conservatorship
to take up a life of leasure. Mostly the breeding of white
Argentine
And then there was his sculture. Something he had been introduced to many years
prior by his elderly Uncle Silvino Duarte back in
“He said that his uncle’s name was
Yes, Dr. Mann, why do you ask?
“No reason, just interest. It’s important that I keep track of all the characters
in this play. Understand?”
Yes doctor, I suppose so. Well anyway, his Uncle Silvino
was an artist, a sculptor of some repute, who still has a life-sized marble statue
of a Siren & beast on display at the La Granja de
San Ildefonso in Spain.
“Huh, well, that is certainly saying
something,” the doctor looked up to say.
But I wouldn’t be drawing any conclusion about the substance of his work
based solely on that.”
“As you know, Jane,
there are a great many wonderous pieces of art housed
in the many halls of art around the world, but they also house an equal amount
of imfamous art, and then there are those pieces that
are housed in the halls of the dammed.
Care to venture a guess under which roof Silvino’s
and Santino’s artistic creation lie?”
------
And so the Plot
Grows . . .
That night, in bed, Jane
saw herself back at home, her daughter Amy lying beside her, both suffering a
restless sleep.
Her mind filled with
thoughts and impressions, good & bad, concerning the events of the day.
In fact, her thoughts
and emotions were in such utter turmoil, that the promise of sleep was but a
dream.
As to the reasons
why, you need only consider the hours upon hours she spent listening to Tomas
preacher the gospel of Santino, his father, building
him up to such holy heights that she lived in fear of saying something wrong,
and thusly, putting herself in disfavor with a man that meant so much to Tomas.
-----
The Morning after . . .
Yes,
Dr. Mann, that is true. There is alot of filth out there running down the millstream that
passes for art in the books and magazines that saturate the landscape from hill to dale,
but no where more so than in santino’s household,
where he left it right out in the open on display for me to see, and especially
discomforting, for Amy to see, for her to thumb through, and tickle her fancy while
sitting upon his lap perusing through the May edition of 'Lollipop Suckers.'
“Hum, seriously?” Dr. Mann responded, his voice expressing the
unease he felt.
“Yes doctor, but out
of respect to you, I left out far worse.
I mean there were times when her panties where left to linger upon the
floor between her knees if you know what I mean.”
“Oh my, that is disturbing
to hear. I certainly must make a note of that,”he
said while jotting it down. “But please
go on, don’t let me distract you.”
Well, first off you
must know how I feared speaking out else I unknowingly trip over some sort of
line of separation between Tomas and myself.”
At the time I didn’t
know what or where that line might be drawn, but not wanting to rile anyone to
fist and arms, I chose instead not to ask questions and leave well enough
alone.
“Well that is rich
of you,” the good doctor muttered without looking up, his eyes pinned to his
notepad.
What’s that, doctor?”
she then asked testily. “Rich?”
“Yes, rich! I mean, why not offer to paste her lips with bubblegum
favored lipstick for him to enjoy too?”
No, he preferred
licking her face!
“Honestly,” he
implored, his brows rocketing up?
Yes, like a dog
licks her newborn pup clean.
“And that didn’t upset
you either?”
Well there is only so
much a mother can take before she goes berserk on them. But with Tomas staring
daggers at me, as if to dare me to say something, anything,
what would you have me do? Take one of
those daggers to the heart?
“Hmm, well, okay I guest, given that you
felt a threat, and thusly, hadn’t much of a choice in the matter.”
“But I have to say, I feel quite unsettled
by all the accommodations I hear you making.
I mean, where does common sense fit in all this?”
“Actually, the way you’ve explained to me,
it makes you appear more an accomplice then the victim in all this.”
Dr. Mann, what is it you would have had me
do? I was 5,000 miles away from home,
living the part of a stranger in a strange land, and had I dropped dead on the
spot, noone would care wick.
“Yes, you’re right, and I apologize. Though I still feel no less compelled to ask
when all this madness finally came to an end.”
I wish I could say that day, but
unfortunately that wasn’t so. Although,
now, alert to my watching, Santino took it no further.
“He stopped playing gynecologist with a pantiless Amy sitting upon his lap?”
Well, no, he kept right on sucking on her
face, and his fingers were still off the nautical charts floating around somewhere
beneath her skirt, but at least he stopped the chortling and the silly howling
like a wolf, baying at he moon.
----
Day 64. The Sessions
Go On ….”
“Good morning, Jane, did you rest well?”
Well enough, Doctor, thank you.
“Okay, today I’d like you to go over with me
in general terms that which composed your daily routine.”
Well, of course, there was breakfast and Amy’s
bath, and dressup for the day.
Argentina as you no doubt know tends to be
quite warm in the summer months, especial on the Pampas where it sun bears down
unmercifully outside, and unfortionally, no less suffocating
inside the house.
And then, there were the horses, and the
sheep in the barn, and the dogs that roamed freely about the yard where the wild
world began.
Anyway, to get to my
point. As it was, Santino who
made it a practice to take Amy out into the yard to pet the dogs and pat the horses
and take her along with him into the barn to feed the sheep.
“On his own, you were not invited?”
“No, I was to stay in and help
“Did that sit well with you?” He asked.
No Dr. Mann, it didn’t. There was a reason why I chose to call the
yard ‘the wild world’ after all, because it was!
I saw it with my own eyes from out the
window. Those blasted dogs who roamed about outside wouldn’t stop chasing after
her to bury their teeth into her skirt, just to get at what was beneath.
Truly, it was truly was a ghastly sight, but worse yet, was the sight
of Santino standing aside laughing his ass off.
With that, Dr. Mann look
up looking appalled, without the words to express the horror he felt, except,
maybe . . .
“Oh please, tell me you finally put your
foot down or up his ass or wherever you need put it, to stop the madness.”
Doctor, remember I was the voiceless one in
all this, so it didn’t matter what I placed my foot or what I said, so what would
you have me do?
“It’s not mind to interpose my opinion into my
analysis of you,” Dr. Mann said sternly. But to any regard, at this point in our
discussion I’d like to ask how long you allowed all this disgusting, intolerable
barnyard business to go on?”
Allowed?
Me? I didn’t allow anything! I just did what anyone would do while living
under the roof of a man who could do as he would regardless without restraint.
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Mann then said apologetically.
“I mistakenly spoke from my heart, and
not from the mind of the psychiatrist I am.
So allow me to try this again.”
“Tell me, Jane, how long did you allow all
this barnyard business to go on?”
Well, prior to that time it was Tomas who
took it upon him to feed and water the animals out in the yard to help out his
father. So, I wouldn’t care to guess.
“No, Jane, I meant to say how long it went
on during your time there?”
Well, that would be around the time Tomas took
me aside to tell me that due to his father’s fragile health, it was left for
him to travel to
“Fragile health?” Dr. Mann cut in, sounding somewhat
incredulous.
Yes, that’s how I felt as well. One moment he’s running around playing
grab-ass with my pantiless Amy around running around the
house, and the next, his acting the hobbled and senile old man who needs help to
wipe his ass.
But what was I to say, and who was there to
listen. Not Tomas ,
not Matias the
“I don’t know, you tell me, Jane.”
Believe me, I gave that
one a lot of thought, day in and day out.
But all that came of it was a stomach tied up in knots. Though luckily
for me, not for all that long.
As thing turned out, my answer came to me a
couple of days later, wearing a pair of Guido Maggi
shoes with spats and a velvet dress coat with a pair of Amy’s poke-a-dot panties
tucked into his lapel pocket.
“Santino?”
Yes, he came to me to ask if I would be so gracious
as to accompany him on an excursion to Buenos Aires for some shopping and
dinner at the renowned Don Julio's.
Quite frankly, it sounded a lot like he was
trying to make amends for treating me as he did. And if I need be honest, there was a moment
when I thought his effort worthy a hardy laugh in his face. That is until sensing my reluctance; he
leaned down and kissed the back of my hand.
“Por favor,
Senora” he then said to me, while I stood there trying to catch my breath.
Well, to make a long story short, I took him
up on his offer, and as things turned out, he did, indeed, treat me generously and
kindly and thoughtfully to a shameless degree.
Everything from the ride aboard his 10 seat private
jet to the Beaf Bourguignon and the worlds findest wines, no expense was spared. Nor were the lengths he was willing to go to
put on the charm.
And that’s when he asked me while enjoying
dessert if his son, Tomas, had ever mentioned that he, Santino,
had once been an artist of some repute?
“Had he?”
The good doctor asked.
Yes, of course, he had, and I told him so.
And in response to my declaration, he lit up with a smile that added to the
glow of the candlelight.
Then most modestly, he sought to clarify the
historical record so there’d be no mistaking the roll he played; That it his beloved
uncle Silvino back in Spain who had the eye of an
artist, but as he was under his uncles’ totalage at
the time, he felt the achievement his as well.
“And a truly a master he was,” he then went
to say. That he could take a block of marble,
and transform it into a mythical Nymph of old that looked so real you’d expect
to see it breathe.
“Truly?” The
good Dr. Mann asked.
Yes he told me that I must see it, touch it,
become one with her to know that woman in marble was not real.”
Well I felt that statement to be a stretch, but
I must admit I did yearn to see it, and I told him so, promping
a grin, and his reassuring words that he ‘expected’ I would, given that it was
matter of great importance to him that I should?
That it would be matter analogous to ‘a live
lost’ to deny me the opportunity to become one with that siren in marble, the product
of such wonderous imagination. A pièce de résistance.
(masterpiece)the likes of which he hoped one day to emulate
with a creation of his own.
------
Day 66:
Dr. Mann Takes the Day to Conference with Dr. Harold Irvin.
“Well what do you think, Harold?” Dr. Mann
asked his colleague while lighting his pipe.
“Have we a patient with a dissociative disorder on our hands, or is it a full blown
case of psychosis?"
“Thank you, Jonathan for sharing this with
me. Her whole rendition of her story
told is one the most fantastical delusional constructs I've ever heard.
“Agreed! ”
“Harold, do you know what I’d find if I were
to walk in on her right now? I’d find
her talking to the wall, asking whomever or whatever to inform her when Santino and Amy have finish their bath. And this in face of the
fact that neither Amy nor Santino even exist!”
------
“Good Morning, Jane, sleep well?”
Yes, doctor.
“Alright, as to
where we last left off.”
“If memory serves, that would place you in
Yes, Doctor, and as I remember it, he was all
in on the effort to convince me that I simply must see that lifelike
incarnation in marble that still captured the imagination of the countless many.
Talking on as he was, about its’ beauty,
its’ allure, and then to clarify the historical record so there’d be no mistaking
the roll he played, he went on to say that it was his beloved uncle Silvino back in Spain who had the eye of an artist, and it
was under his totalage that he, santino,
had learned the art of sculpture.”
It truly was a colorfull
narrative, so much so, I could well envision Silvino chiseling
away like the true master craftsmen he was; A man who could take a 5 ton block
of marble, and transform it into a mythical Nymph of old that looked so real
you’d expect to see it breathe.
“Yes, Jane, you’ve told me that before, many time before.”
I have?
“Yes Jane, you have. Not only that, but your words have a
mechanical aspect to them as if spoken in
rote.”
I do?
“Yes, In fact, we’ve had this discussion
many times before.”
“But you don’t know that, do you, Jane?” He
said to her while leaning forward in his chair, watching, listening for a sign,
any sign of acknowledgment from her.
But like always, none came of it. That is nothing other than the glassy-eyed
stare that now spoke to idled state.
“Well, don’t let me distract you, Jane, you
were saying . . ?”
I was just saying that it was his beloved
uncle Silvino back in
“That’s quite a complement, especially
coming from Santino.”
“Yes?”
Yes, that’s the reason I didn’t want to
disappoint him when he said that I simply must see it, and in my doing so, I
would be helping him fulfill a lifelong dream.
“I’m sorry, Jane, I don’t quite understand?”
Well at first I didn’t either. So I just let him talk on in hopes he might explain
himself.
“And what did he say?”
That he’d had many years to appaise my uncle’s work, and now sees a way to make that nymph
in marble truly come to life. That modern methods have opened up such an array of new
tools that he came to believe that it was not only possible, but actionable. Though again, to do so, he would require my
help?”
“What an odd proposition,”.Dr.
Mann again intervened. “Didn’t you find
that odd?”
Yes, of course, and I let him know it. I mean look at me. Do I look a woman who could pick up a hammer
& chisel and start hammering away on a 5 ton block of marble? Me? A
woman who can scarely chip the ice out of the ice
tray in the freezer? No, I don’t think
so!
“Myself neither, Jane,” he replied, with a
smile, pleased to see her humorous, self effacing attempt to rise up from the darkess, even if just for a moment.
“Well, that’s a good sign if I ever saw
one.”
What’s a good sign, doctor?
“Your smile.”
My Smile?
“Yes, as it is you seldom show much of any
kind of emotion outside the stone face that you normally wear when speaking to
me.”
Oh, I see.
Well, please don’t indulge me, Dr. Mann, I
might start making a show of it.
“Good!
Now, I’d be interested in hearing about what else Santino
had to say.”
Not all that much. He just laughed at me and then went to talk
about all the new modern day technics that are out
there for today’s sculptor to use. Like
cast and mold, a technic
that truly adds a measure of true life to their artistry.
Of course I knew nothing about all that and
told him so. But I don’t think he even
heard me, given that he was so absorbed in talking about himself; about his workshop, and of the new technics he’d been exploring.
All of which he seemed so excited about, and
was quite quick to say to me that upon our return home from our shopping spree
in Buenos Aires, he’d introduced me to his studio where he intended to make his
dream come true.
It was then that the doctor looked at the
clock, then putting his notepad aside, he thought to tell Jane her time was up
for the day. But feeling the itch to play a bit on Jane’s story, he took a jab.
“Oh my,” he cried out, faining
surprize with hand over heart.
“What a wonderful tale, Jane. All the mystery, the intrigue,” he said with mocking
tone. I’ve got to hand it to you. Your telling of your story had me standing
atop my toes. Fact is,
it was as good as any suspense novel I’ve ever read. Perhaps we should call it, Janes Night of Intrigue in a
But, as for what’s to happen next, well, we’ll
just have to wait for tomorrow to find out.”
“Good night, Jane,” the good doctor then
said, as he rose up from chair and walked over to the door and called out . .
.”
“Nurse Ratched!
-----
Day 68; The Jig Is Up
“Good Morning, Jane, I hope you rested
well.”
“Now, let us see where we left off,” he said
while thumping through his notes. Oh,
yes, you were about to tell me how eager Santino was
to teach you as his uncle Silvino taught him about
adding that ‘sparkle in the eye’ to his creation. To add life, breathe life into that marble
stone, so that when you stand close in, you can actually hear her laughing, or crying
or screaming, how ever you see it.”
“I guest that might be something along the
lines of a mummy rising up from sarcophagus,”he
smiled, and chuckled for having pulled out a plum on that one.
“Sorry, Jane, couldn’t help myself,” he said
with a smile, though given her unmoved, unfazed expression on her face, it came
to him that he probably would have fared better had he asked the wall.
But that too was just another manifestation
of her illness she suffered, as were her delusions of persecution and crazed
illusions, like that face in the wall she spoke to.
“Well,
don’t let me distract you, Jane, you were saying . . ?”
I don’t know, doctor, I seemed to have lost my
place,”she said staring blanks at the wall.
“No problem, Jane. I asked whether you recall Santino asking you for your help in bringing his lifelong
dream come to life, by adding that which only you can. Your youth, your beauty,
that special sparkle in your eye that separates the living from the dead.”
Yes, I remember, that’s were we left off.
“Okay, good.
It’s good to see centered again, welcome back.”
“Now again, when Santino
asked you give up so much of yourself to help bring his nymph in stone to life,
why didn’t you just say no? I mean, I
find that disturbing, didn’t you?”
Yes, well in truth I found everything he
said disturbing, but what would you have me do?
Remember, I was the one without a voice, something I’d surrended the moment I set foot in
“Yes, that has become quite clear to me. So
what else had he to say?”
Nothing much, that is other than what he had
to say to me upon our leaving the restaurant.
“And that was . . .?”
He told me not to worry, that everything was
come up roses and soon ‘our’ efforts will be admired by one and all, forever
and a day.
----
“Good morning,
Yes, doctor, thank you.
“Well, good. Now, if you would give me a moment, I’ll get
this recording started so we can begin todays
session.”
“One-two-three,” he said into the mic. “Good, right on the money, Jack,” he said to
assistant.
“Now then, where were we,” he turned to ask Jane? Oh yes, you were explaining to me you and you
alone who was the voiceless one in all this.”
I was doctor. No one would listen to me. Not Tomas, not Santino,
not his maid nor his butler. Heck, not
even those blasted dogs who roamed about outside wouldn’t stop jumping on me,
chasing me, and burying their teeth in my skirt to ah, well, you know,” she
said, and reddened as she looked away.
“No, Jane I do not. This is not a quiz game and I am not Alex Trebek”
I know that, but you are a man.
“I am, but I’m not a mind reader. Furthermore, I’m here to ask the questions and
you to answer, not play Miss Prig.”
Okay, then I will just say it, blurt it out,
and you don’t have blow up like a blowfish.
“Thank you, Jane, do tell.”
Well, like I said, in the wild land, you’ll
not find much in the way of discrimination. Amy, me, whom ever, we were one and alike.
Something in a skirt that instinct and a twitch of the nose told them they need
jump on and tug away.
“Did they succeed?” he asked, though again
with his nose buried in his notebook, totally disinterested in hearing yet
another fantastical delusional constructs, a product of her crippled mind.
“No, stop, don’t answer,”he
then called out. “It’s mine to listen
not provoke.”
I wasn’t, it’s not for a woman to say. But it is mind to say, and for you to
understand how voiceless Amy & I were in all this. And I suspect the same could be said of all
women in that South American cowboy land where women were handled and manager
like cattle, and the herding dogs they owned treated them noless
the same.
“Well that’s putting it bluntly. Okay, so I
now know what you mean when you say you were voiceless.”
“Yes and you also now know why a walk though
the yard was like walk through a happy hunting gounds
for starving hounds!
----
After lunch, Doctor Mann took it upon
himself to take the conversation off in another direction . . .
“Okay Jane, why don’t we begin afternoon’s
session with you telling me more about the series of events that followed your spenting spree in
Alright, doctor. As I recall we arrived back late. So immediately I went upstairs to kiss Amy a
good night, before turning in myself.
When I awoke I found
Amy already gone, presumably downstairs eating breakfast alongside Santino.
So accordingly I walked down to join her
only to find Santino sitting alone enjoying his
morning tea.
I was about to ask him where she was when he
rose up from his seat to return his empty cup to the kitchen, and that’s when I
spotted Lusy crawling out from under the table bare
naked and wiping her mouth with the back hand presumably to wipe away what
looked me like the remnants of her morning porridge.
“You scold her, did you?”
Yes, doctor, of course. I told her that was very unlady
like to be eating under the table.”
“Okay, so what happen next?
“Let’s see”she
pondered. “I belived that was about the time Santino returned from the kitchen to wipe Amy’s mouth clean
with a dish rag, and a quite thorough job he did of it too; taking care to wipe
clean her mouth, her lips and the dripping that hung in long pasty white strands
down to her chest.
It was only then as I approach that he thought
to tell me the time has come for me to visit his studio to begin our project.
So instead of breakfast I went back upstairs
to change while in the background I could here Amy spitting and sputting and bemoaning a ‘yucky’ through a mouthful of rag.
“When I returned she was nolonger
there, so I asked Santino were she was, to wit, he
point out the dinning room window, where Amy was doing all she could do to
remain upright amongst the dogs who where doing what they need do to haul her
to the ground.
“Is that so?” DR. Mann,
was quick to asked.
Yes, and when I asked him if he was going to
go out to help her before something awful happened, he just shrugged me off and
told me sit as he need first explain to me what it was he expected of me on my
first day in his studio, helping as I could, to bring his dream to life.
“Well, that said it clear enough! Amy was about go down like the Titanic, and all he cared about was bringing that inanimate,
cold hard stone to life.”
“Now that is gasily,”
the doctor chuckled, grinning like a Buffoon. “Although I do admit, it does make for a good
story.
“Although I think it’s only fair that I
remind you that you have told me this story before. Only the last time you tended to be abit more frank with me about how Amy fared out in the
yard, trying as she might, to keep her bottom covered by something other then
those Dogs.”
The last time you told me this story?
“Yes.
While many Therapists believe it’s best to wait until the patient is suitably
prepared to accept the true with regard to what is real and what is not. But I perfer
the little by little approach so the lot isn’t so much to swallow all at once.”
I don’t understand, doctor.
“No, of course not. Nor
would you believe me, nor would it change a thing, if I were to tell you that
we’ve gone over this time and time again!”
“But not to worry, Jane. I
feel quite certain that one day you will come to understand why this
merry-go-round, goes round and round and you’re never so much the wiser.”
---------
Day 72; The day of
Trial
“Good morning, Jane”
“Today I’d like to concentrate on the day Santino brought to his studio for your first day of
work. To be exact, I’d like you to go
over it step by step.”
Yes, well as I said. He led me by hand through the yard, following
the trail of skid marks left behind by Amy’s hands & knees.”
“The studio, standing abreast the barn,
looked rather non-descript, that is until he open the door, and I saw the
ultimate horror upon horrors, and I screamed!”
“Oh, yes, yes, scream my beauty. I do love that sound, and it will sound
sweeter yet once you’re encased in stone,” he said, with a profoundly wicked
glint in his eyes.”
“You know, you’re so lucky to be the
first. Once seen and admired by the many,
you’ll no doubt serve as an inspiration to one and all. But there can only be one first; you! The one
they will admire. The siren with her beast, cast in stone at
the moment of coupling.”
“Ayeee . . .”, he
smirked wryly, “Just think, today, tomorrow,
10,000 years from now, you’ll still have my finest Argentine Cordoba tied to
your cunt, but how sweet is that! And don’t you worry about Amy, she’ll be
keeping pace.”
Oh doctor, oh doctor, I wish I had the words
to describe to you the horror I felt.
“There upon the floor lie what Santino called the mold in which I would lie in rest with
his chosen beast, while directly above, feet up to the rafters, stood
Matias the Butler, alongside the cauldron that
contained the casting mold to be poured.”
Oh, the horror, the horror. I felt faint, lost to this world,
the whole of that heart gutting scene was tearing me in two. And then all too the worse, the scene was punctuated
further yet by the sight of that Argentine
“STOP THAT!
I said stop that, Jane, right now!
He spat out angrily. I’ve told you
before, none of this real, none of this ever happened! There is no Santino
Cabrera or Tomas Cabrera, or Amy, nor anyone else you speak of. All this is but
an illusion that your subconscience mind has created
to protect you from harm should any of it become known.”
“Now, you best get a hold of yourself, or I’m
going to call, Dr. Know, to put you back in the toaster, up the amps, and flip
the switch!”
“Trust me, 10 sec
wired up to the electrical grid will have you talks in tongues for a month of
Sundays. Now I’m calling it a day!” he
abruptly terminated the session as he press down upon button on the intercom.
“Nurse Ratched,
“Yes, Doctor,”she
promptly replied, and then . . .
“Oh, yes, before I forget. Jane has visitors.”
“Honestly?
Are they Friends, neighbors?
“No, they’re family!”
“What?
No way, that
can’t be, nurse Ratched. Her admin papers say quite cleanly that she
has no living extended family still alive.
None, Zero, neither through birth nor married.”
“Well, I have no answer for that, doctor,”
she replied. “All I can say is that a
Mr. Santino Cabrera, his son Tomas, and his daughter
Amy have come to visit. They’re a bit
dusty given that they just arrived from their home in
“Sorry Miss Ratched,
but you’re wholly mistaken. Check the
records!”
“Doctor, I am looking at her records right
now, and it reads quite clearly, Jane Lamb, admin date,
“No, you nitwit! The
woman who is my patient is
“Ahhhh . . .”she sighed ruminantly while Doctor Mann waited patiently. Then after a few minute of paper shuffling, a
quivering voice came back on line.
“Doctor, I have no idea how this
happen. But apparently you were assigned
the wrong Patient!”
“Did you hear me, Doctor?” She then repeated,
“It appears you’ve been shrinking the head of the wrong Jane!”
“Did you get that, Doctor, hu? All I can say is thank goodness you didn’t order that lobotomy
afterall,” she said, in a finger wagging, told-you-so
voice.
“Well to any extend I apologize, for the
unfortunate mishap. Still friends, doctor?” She asked, while on
other end of the line she could hear the sound of an anguished groan. The good doctor, his good name ruined, his
life in shatters, no longer had the means to reply, or cry, or anything else other
than call to the angels as he fall faint to the floor. . .
Justice served???
J
---
Das ende
by Hunsi
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