10 Minute Fiction: The Rape

Greetings all,

Friday morning I woke up with the last four lines of a story in my head. I knew I had to get up and write them down or lose them. So, at 7:30AM I got out of bed, turned on the laptop, and then wrote them down. Then I wrote the rest of the story (more of a flasher really). It total it took 10 minutes.

Some pieces are easier than others.

Be seeing you,

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The Rape
Copyright 2008 Mackenzie Cross
All rights reserved

The rape unfolds in a series of acts, like a well-known drama, whose ending is predictable yet still holds the attention with each repetition.

In the first act she is abducted. Her reality is removed and replaced by one of his own devising. In this new place there is nothing which comforts, nothing which is familiar. There is no safety.

In the second act she is made captive. Ropes are used to bind her. Cuffs hold her hostage. She is bent and shaped into a position which pleases him, but terrifies her. She is open, exposed, and vulnerable. She has no power to resist. He will do as he wishes.

In the third act, he begins his pleasures. He torments and teases her. He places the blindfold, stealing her vision. She can not predict where the whip may fall, where the wax may drip, where the blade will cut. The tension of her body, is like the tight string of an instrument. He plays her and she screams and her screams are music to his ears.

In the fourth act he uses her body, penetrating her holes, and eating her privacies. Sometimes ramming himself in, sometimes taking his time, he makes his pleasure (and her pain) last. Now her screams undulate, unstoppable, unquenchable, until he achieves his own release. This is always the climax.

In the fifth and final act she is set free, placed back into her former reality, a reality forever changed.

The dialog of this play is minimal. Simple harsh commands. Yet embedded within is a common thread which weaves its way through the acts. A single word, which she repeats again and again. Sometimes it is whimpered, sometimes it is screamed. The word is "Please".

The rest of the world hears this and thinks it a plea for mercy, a desire for freedom, an escape from the torment.

He hears it, and knows it for what it truly is, a request for permission, a dark craving for more.

The rest of the world calls him a rapist, a sadist, and worse.

She simply calls him, "Sir".
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