| It’s a comfortable cage. It really
is. Big enough to stand up and walk around in. If I stretch my neck I
can see a tree through the window. When I sit down I see nothing but the
sky. Sometimes I hear children laughing and water splashing as they dive
into a pond. Sometimes there is the swishing, popping sound of a tennis
game being played in the sun.
The Man keeps the cage
warm so there is no need for clothes. I have a thin mattress on the floor
to sleep on and may use the bathroom almost whenever I need to. He gives
me enough hot wax to keep me smooth and enough food to keep me hungry.
To keep me in shape he puts me on a treadmill. The control panels are
covered. I go as long and as fast as it takes to make my heartbeat strong
and my muscles hard.
My laptop doesn’t
have an internet connection. I’m free to roam in my own mind for
stories that please him.
On special nights he takes The Cunt to his bedroom.
He puts metal rings around her wrists and her neck to chain her to the
wall. He doesn’t fuck The Woman sleeping next to him; he just puts
his arm around her. Her white shoulders wrinkle softly as she cuddles
up against his chest. The Cunt watches the pair until her eyes are on
fire and her knees give in.
In the morning they are
gone. The Cunt changes their sheets. She breathes in the scent of their
skin on the silken fabric. They smell of sunny afternoon picnics, of champagne
and music and candlelight and of sitting on a sofa watching old black
and white movies till midnight.
She wishes she could keep
just one tiny pillowcase but there is nowhere she can hide it. She dusts
the nightstands and the headboard and vacuums the thick blue carpet. Then
she goes back into the cage.
‘This is a cute story’, The Man says, “But
today I’ve come to tell you that I’ve given you shelter and
food for long enough and it’s time for you to earn your keep.’
I think of a man I once
met. He is married and hasn’t slept with his wife in many years.
He took me to a restaurant he couldn’t afford and sent flowers the
next day.
I asked him if he ever
paid for sex.
‘How much did you
have in mind?’ he replied.
I never met him again.
Now I give The Man his
number.
The Cunt is naked when she steps into The Man’s
living room. He sits on the sofa, The Woman next to him. The Cunt doesn’t
look up but she knows the room is full of well-dressed couples, drinking
French wine, smoking imported cigars, nibbling caviar.
The Punter is wearing
a sweaty suit. His tie is askew. There are nervous red patches on his
throat and cheeks, and shiny drops on his nose and forehead. The Cunt
stretches out her hand and he gives her a couple of bills. She doesn’t
count them. She just holds them tight.
He fondles her breasts,
breathing heavily. He turns her around and makes her kneel down, her hands
on the floor. She holds still while he fucks her from behind clutching
her breasts mumbling ‘oh my god, oh my god.’
Like dogs romping in the
park they are. The owners nudge each other and whisper: ‘Look at
the animals. They know no shame.’
When The Punter is finished
The Cunt crawls over to The Man. He takes the money.
She looks up and sees
his guests staring at her, like they would stare at a train crash –
repulsed but gagging for more.
During dinner she kneels
between The Man’s legs underneath the table. Sometimes he pushes
her away. Then one of the guests opens his or her legs to welcome the
Cunt’s tongue.
Does The Man know her
knees hurt as if a thousand needles were stuck inside them? Does he know
her jaws are cramped and her mouth feels like an unwashed, dried out cheese
grater? Does he have any idea how tired and cold and hungry she is?
‘I do,’ The Man says and embraces me. ‘And
I like your story.’
‘It’s just
your run of the mill porn,’ I say.
‘I know it’s
more than that,’ he replies.
I shrug and he kisses
me. His mouth tastes of beautiful women and the energy it takes to run
after them.
I look into his eyes,
blue as the sky, never tired of the chase.
‘Tomorrow I can’t
see you,’ he says, ‘I’m out shopping furniture.’
I roll up on the shabby,
single mattress on the floor and watch him walk away.
As always, he leaves the
cage door open.
One day I’ll get
up and sneak out, I think. I’ll throw the door shut behind me, drown
the keys in his pond and be free.
Then the cage will be
nothing but a memory and I will sleep easy again.
Just not yet.
Not yet. |
