Up For Review:
Diary of a Dead Girl (nc bd violence)
this is a dark story. it has nc and violence in it. it's also just a chapter of a longer work...we'd like to focus on how the two pov's come across. mostly on improvements or how the pov could be made better."
one.
This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion. -Tool
Sweating, Guadalupe turned and faced the dance floor, fanning her face with a hand. Idly, she watched the dancers through the press of the crowd. The bass of the dance music thumped through her bones. Her hips swung with the repetitive rhythm, aching to return to the floor where she had left her friend Olivia dancing between two good-looking men.
Reaching behind to the table, she picked up her drink and held the cool glass against her cheek. Taking a sip, she let the sour alcohol slip down into her. Then she tilted the glass until the ice slid against her lip and she swallowed the last of her drink.
Suddenly, Guadalupe's face felt numb.
Clumsily, she reached back for the table, managing to set the suddenly heavy glass back on its surface before her arms went lifeless.
"Hey! Watch it!"
Lupe felt herself slipping. Immediately, there were hands grabbing her, strangers' voices above her, staccato through the music.
"It's ok, I got her!"
She fought to reach out with a hand to steady herself. "Olivia," she called out.
"Help her up!"
"I got her!"
The cement was old. Cracked in places, and littered with dirt and leaf debris. But it was also thick, and ran deep into the earth behind the two-story craftsman style house sitting in an inconspicuous neighborhood nestled among others. Piles of weathered wood and car parts littered the ground within the fenced boundary where the cement and its heavy steel door were visible.
William walked quietly across the yard, fishing from his pocket the key to the padlock on the steel door. Finding it, he slid it into the lock and removed the hasp. The rusted hinges turned silently, revealing a set of steps descending into the darkness. At the bottom, he brushed his hand along the wall for the light switch. There was a second door here, a more recent addition, that opened with the practiced turns of its combination lock. And William, pushing this door aside, swept Guadalupe's unconscious body through the open doorway like a groom would a bride, and into the protective rooms beyond.
Guadalupe dreamed of darkness. She dreamed of slow-moving underwater currents, of silent and invisible forces that carried her weightless dreamform in its gentle embrace. She tried to relax and let herself drift, but the current was pulling her upwards. She felt hands against her, pulling at her dress. She tried to roll over, to sink back into the darkness, but the hands held her firm.
"Olivia?" she mumbled.
"Shh," a voice cautioned. Lupe groaned. The fog in her head was still too thick, and the surface was still too far away. But she could see its light, shimmering above her.
So she closed her eyes again and the hands continued. She hoped they would go away. She could feel the tug at her bra and the scrape of the straps as they were slid from her heavy limbs.
"Olivia, don't."
The currents were slowing and becoming colder. Her skin, thick and numb, was losing itself by layers. The light appeared again at the bottom of her vision. Something wasn't right.
"Shh."
The voice was wrong. The hands were wrong. Lupe fought to open her eyes just as something pushed at her face. The surface was coming nearer. She could make out shapes. Something was rubbing her. inside. She tried to turn, but a weight held her still. No, not still. Moving. The current was moving, but it wasn't a current, it was ....
Lupe screamed.
It was a man. On top of her. In her. She twisted under him, but his weight kept her pinned. She grabbed at a thin blanket to pull herself away, but it was under her. It was hard beneath her.
"Keep still!"
Lupe jerked. The hands came down onto her chest. Her own hands shot upward. The surface was so close. The shapes moved. She aimed at them. She hit something hard and struck again. She made fists, then something grabbed her wrists and pushed them over her head. She screamed and finally felt herself rise free of the darkness and fall into the harsh white light.
The girl writhed in William's grasp, threatening to spread the internal fire he was struggling to contain. He held her hands against the cement floor and continued thrusting. One. Two. Like a metronome, like a clock, like an engine purring beneath the hood. Meanwhile, the girl's legs had begun to flail, trying to kick him or push him away, but he wouldn't be denied.
"Stop it!" He shouted, emphasizing the words with a hard push deep into her, but it only caused her to struggle more. Inside him, the flames were pressing closer, licking at the glass, starving for the oxygen that would give them true life. He thrust again. He was in control. Again. The girl's eyes widened. She was waking fully from the drug. The glass was hot. It was beginning to crack. One. Two. So close. So close. He could see the rage waiting beyond the pane. So close. He could feel himself reaching for it, feel the glass giving way, blossoming outward with the rush of oxygen, feeding him enveloping him.
The man struck her. Hard. Lupe's vision flashed orange and red as he convulsed above her. Then he struck her again, and again. And Lupe's hands, now free, tried to shield her face, but the blows just shifted to her chest, to her stomach. Cooler air touched her as he rose off of her, but it wasn't for long. More blows struck her protective arms. Then the man pulled them aside and sat on her shoulders, forced his penis, still throbbing, into her face. Lupe wailed until her breath gave out. He was crushing her as he spewed over her, the semen mixing with the tears, until at last she gave out and the darkness enfolded her again.
1.2
Guadalupe woke to the sensation of a wet rag being wiped across her face. The world had rotated somehow, but she wasn't sure exactly how. All she knew was that she felt nauseous. Her body hurt where that man had hit her, and that memory shocked her fully conscious.
The man's eyes returned her gaze as she focused on the face in front of her. The rag continued to move, pulling at her lips then sliding beneath her chin. The man was a stranger. Who was he? Where was she? Where was Olivia, and how did she get here?
The man smiled, amused, as if he could read the confusion in her mind.
"Good morning, sleepy head."
Morning? Lupe's confusion turned into anger as the word brought up memories of the previous night. She wanted to scream at him, but something hard was pressed into her mouth. She wanted to hit him, kick him, but she couldn't move her arms or legs either. Now the anger was turning into fear, and the two emotions fought for control of her.
"Hhnn". Was the only sound she was able to make.
"I'm sorry, slave. Could you repeat that?" the man smiled. He had a handsome face, with short dark hair and the slightest trace of facial hair beneath his chin. But in spite of his attractive looks, she also noticed something unhealthy about him, lurking just beneath the surface.
The man then dropped the rag and stepped back, giving Lupe a better view of her surroundings. She was still in the basement, or at least what looked like a basement. Cement walls, floor and ceiling. There was a single door she could see behind the man. But that was all.
For some strange reason, he chose that moment to laugh. Lupe pulled at her bonds, for they were bonds. She could see them now, and her position. She was bent over at the waist with her arms pulled up behind her, the wrists tied together and pulled toward the ceiling. Beneath her, her feet were spread wide by a long black bar with leather cuffs wrapped around her ankles. The bar itself was locked into a metal ring imbedded in the floor.
Lupe squeezed her eyes shut. This had to be a dream. She had to wake up.
"You won't escape that way, girl." He chided, "In fact, you won't escape at all."
Lupe could hear the man's footsteps as he stepped around her. Soon his fingers brushed her skin, tracing the curves of her body as he circled. Lupe flinched at the unwelcome touch and was rewarded by having her left breast grabbed. The man rolled the nipple between his fingers, then dug the nails into the sensitive flesh. Lupe whined through her gag and kicked uselessly with her feet.
"There are," I believe, a few rules that we need established." Lupe twisted from his hand but couldn't evade his grip.
"The first," he continued, louder, "is that you are mine. My property. Mine to do with as I please. The second rule is that I am your Master. You will refer to me as Master, or Sir. Anything else will result in immediate punishment." He released her breast.
Guadalupe tried to breathe through her nose, but it had become clogged. Tears leaked from her eyes and ran down her cheeks to kiss the cement beneath her. The man waited while she got herself under control. Pulling at her bonds, she refused to look at him. This had to be a dream. This had to. Olivia wouldn't let something like this happen to her. Not after all she had been through. This wasn't fair.
The man stopped directly in front of her. Gently, he lifted her face to his.
"I think two rules are enough for today. I'll leave you to memorize them. And also remember, you exist for my pleasure. Please me and you just may live a while. Displease me, and, well, your shortened life will end very horribly, and very painfully."
The door closed behind him.