Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Fiction
vr 3.00
2008-02-16
"When She Says, 'Osuwari,' Sit." by Abraxas | 2006-06-08
Chapter Seven
Not wanting to fail, he stood and lurched into the bathroom. He kept his eyes transfixed upon the figure so much so that as he passed by he did not notice the features of the tiny, cramped chamber. He stopped only at the moment his legs hit the sides of the toilet. There he remained not more than a yard from the figure that he saw clearly now even through the twilight.
His flesh throbbed, his heart pounded at the horror of it: it seemed to be a mass of hair with torso and limbs attached. The hair itself was several feet long and white from the scalp to the tip – it was wet and clung onto the body like a stringy-shroud enveloping and cloaking the bulk of its features. The skin, too, devoid of light for years was as white as a geisha’s.
Kabuki, he thought.
The figure spread its hair with its arms and exposed the nakedness of its body – preserved by that quiet, eventless existence it was, effectively, the body of a fifteen-year-old not a thirty-year-old.
Noguichi blinked and staggered aback. It unsettled him – no – it disturbed him the way his body reacted. How, despite the twisted and perverted depravity, the round, firm breasts and the swollen, moist vagina – just the sights of those things – still aroused him through the fear.
The figure reached outward and laughed as the teenager inched backward. Her flesh was soaked and her hair seemed to be like a spider’s web attached to her skin. Slowly though not carefully he eased away further but she caught him and touched him. Teasingly, lightly, she felt about his cheek then clutched against his clothes and pulled him toward her. Naturally he wanted to resist but at that juncture recalled the instruction and let himself be drawn closer and closer into the figure.
When they were near enough to each other her tugging of his body ceased. Then she discovered an obsession: she was fascinated by his neck while he was nervous about her attention toward it but his trepidation was moderated by his arousal. Her exploration of his upper-body was insatiable. It was not complete until she peeled off his jacket and shirt, leaving his chest and back exposed – those articles of his outfit dangled, limp and lifeless, by the obi around his waist and felt like a yoke that with her wet, cold skin and hair fixed his body into position.
She kissed his cheek and he shut his eyes for at that moment, at that instant, the face was revealed. Yet it was not physical ugliness that repulsed him – indeed, the face was beautiful – it was the realization that it was a sick, perverted over a whole, new order, infinitely more grotesque and deviant than any fetishism known to humanity.
And what he hated most was his body’s seemingly-involuntary response. He had been aroused before, now at the physical, intimate contact he felt himself stir. Could it be a reaction to the naked woman figure or to the fear of it – or to both?
He sensed she waited for a kiss and, after a pause, he kissed her. She hugged him. Though he was afraid he touched her anyway suggesting a hug with tentative, semi-embraces. All the while she grabbed onto his buttocks and pressed his lower-body into hers.
Noguichi realized what contact his stiffness was making with her wetness and gasped – it was a level of intimacy he did not know of.
The figure released him from the hug yet kept her hands busy roaming and exploring about his exposed flesh: his chest and back, his shoulders and arms, all of which were showing signs of muscular tone and development. Strangely, neither the neck nor the ears escaped examination.
She released him completely and noticed the fullness of the tent of his pants. She teased his twitching through the rough and course fabric of his clothes. Knowing what she was doing, she tugged the obi until it was undone. His jacket tumbled off; his shirt – the upper-portions of a kimono – and his pants collected about his knees for his legs were spread. His genitals were exposed and though he was not afraid, he was not comfortable – he had had only one experience with a girl up to that point and neither she nor he had been naked.
He sat at the edge of the toilet; he worried that he acted without prompt but it did not disturb the figure. She knelt and spread his legs apart further – his genitals hung off the edge of the seat and she cupped them. She stroked his penis and palmed his scrotum; she was very loving and gentle with her affection, the way she teased his gonads and foreskin, as if she had been utterly familiar and caressing his private parts for years. The play continued along that line of that rhythm-less, random manner until the last, dim rays of light were exhausted – and when the bathroom was as pitch as a tomb, she kissed the tip of his penis and released the hold of her grip.
She tickled his scrotum and the two giggled like there was nothing wrong with what happened.
While he sat, she slithered out of the bathroom into the bed – she crawled over the floor half snake-like spine-twisting, half ape-like knuckle-dragging, for the years spent in bed in the room weakened her strength and ruined her balance.
Noguichi stood and recollected his clothes. There was no light in the bathroom and he could not refasten his costume. Instead he walked out of that shadowy chamber into the next dark chamber with his jacket and shirt clutched by one hand and his pants kept against his waist by the other. His penis stood exposed through the folds of the fabric, sensitive and erect, wondering if not hoping she might be moved to bring him to orgasm.
He sat at the edge of the bed and was shocked by the feel of her hand upon his neck, his back – and then he smiled. After all, it was just another human being and not a ghost or a demon. It was just a woman, a very lonely woman.
Now he kissed her and she shut her eyes – he rubbed her shin and she fell softly but heavily asleep.
He stroked her hair and it exposed her cheek. He ran his finger up from her face down to her breasts. It was a slight, innocent feel of their outlines, more or less, but t led to the feel of their nipples. And it threatened to lead to worse.
“You’ll survive because you know the difference between what’s real and what’s imagined.”
He shrugged it off and sighed. Maybe next time she awoke the play would be extended. He covered her with a blanket and left the bedroom.
END OF CHAPTER
Submit a Reivew