This story is related to two earlier ones, but it was directly inspired by an item from Saturday’s column; after you read this, I’m sure you’ll be able to go back and find the one I mean…by my introductory comment if nothing else.
For as long as she could remember, Greta had been fascinated by the struggle of sex. Whether it was the violent couplings in nature videos, or the erotic violence of internet porn, it would hold her attention far more than the gentle, soft-focus love scenes found in more mainstream fare. When she became sexually active herself in her mid-teens, she was repeatedly frustrated by the cautious, respectful dance advocated in “consent” seminars and followed by all the decent young men and women she knew; when she dared to push boundaries a little or attempt a few love bites or playful slaps, she was greeted by expressions of shock and horror (and more than once by threats of assault charges). Eventually, she discovered the kink community and at first thought she had found her natural environment; unfortunately, decades of lawsuit proliferation had wrought havoc there as thoroughly as it had on contact sports, and she learned to her chagrin that almost nobody had engaged in the kind of rough play she craved since the late ’20s or early ’30s. True, some of the old folks still got up to stuff like that in secret, but even if they could’ve trusted her enough to admit her to their circles, none of them could’ve still inflicted or received the level of intensity she wanted at their ages (even assuming she could’ve found an octogenarian she was attracted to).
And so the years had turned into decades, and though a career as a dominatrix had allowed her a taste of what she yearned for, it was never quite enough; there were a few clients who would’ve gladly obliged her, but both her lawyer and her insurance agent had let her know in no uncertain terms that they would drop her in a red-hot second if they found out she had accepted one of those offers. And since she loved money, comfort and her reputation more than she lusted for the dark pleasures of her hottest fantasies, she had to be content with losing herself in virtual simulations of the real thing achieved via a combination of drugs and high-tech special effects.
But she never gave up on the dream, and one night at a party she overheard a conversation which piqued her interest and set her on a course of research that, after a few weeks, revealed that she could have what she was looking for…and not only once, but as often as she wanted. The price was high, but what of it? She was past middle age and had no heirs, and what was money for if not this? A few calls and the deal was made, and three interminable weeks later she drove out to pick up her eagerly-awaited purchase.
With trembling hands, Greta pried the crate open and unlocked the container inside to reveal her new plaything; looking back at her with frightened eyes from inside the heavily-padded box was a beautiful girl who looked to be about twenty. Neither said a word, but Greta beckoned her to step forth and the girl mutely complied, sinking to her knees at Greta’s feet in response to a further gesture. But she did not remain mute for long; before long she was gasping, then whimpering, then crying, and finally screaming, as her mistress unleashed decades of frustrated desire upon her. The world outside that room vanished for Greta and time seemed to stand still; nothing else mattered but her lovely victim, accepting everything she could inflict.
Greta was unsure of how long she had whipped the girl, or when she had drawn her knife; she was completely lost in a kind of wild abandon she had never known, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of a session in which she didn’t have to hold back in any way or even consider the wishes and needs of her partner. And when she stopped at last, she was a bit shocked at what a mess she had made of the girl’s skin, and of how much blood there was on the floor and surrounding objects. She collapsed into a chair, breathing raggedly, then succumbed to her first experience of total satisfaction.
She awoke sometime later to find the large blue eyes of the girl upon her. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but you gave me no orders. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to do anything now.”
“So I didn’t; I guess I got carried away when I saw you.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”
Greta looked around dazedly. “Good grief, what a mess!”
“Not to worry, ma’am, it’s inert; it won’t stain like real blood. I can clean this up in just a few minutes.”
“I’m sure you can. But what about you? How long will all that take to heal?”
“Well, ma’am, there’s an adjustment for bruising; by default it’s set to ‘normal’, which means these will take a week or so to fade. If you turned it all the way to ‘high’, they’d be gone by tomorrow morning if I devoted all my resources to healing. As for the lacerations, I’ll have to repair those myself; I’m afraid the damage is fairly extensive, so I’ll need most of the night. All in all, I estimate roughly 14 hours to restore optimum cosmetic appearance, starting after I replace the broken right wrist.”
“I’m sorry about the wrist.”
She smiled. “It’s all right, ma’am, you ordered the deluxe kit; there’s a spare in the crate and I can fix it in half an hour.”
Greta suddenly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “I can see you’re going to be a handy creature to have around!”
“Oh, yes ma’am! In addition to my sexual and domestic skills, I can repair any household device for which specifications are available!”
“I remember. For right now, you just concentrate on repairing yourself and cleaning up this room. We’ll work out some other protocols tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am. Goodnight, and pleasant dreams!”
“That is a certainty,” said Greta, and as she trudged up the stairs her mind was already beginning to consider all the delicious possibilities.