LM
An extract from The Menagerie
I welcome your suggestions on who LM is.
Perhaps these words will provide you with the clarity you seek.
⚠️ Darkly seductive, sex, games, and devilish delights. Alcohol, control, dominance and submission, and some language which may be deemed harsh.
I shall be leaving this short story available here for approx. two months, after which it’ll only be available via ebook and paperback. I hope you understand.
He came to me in a dream. Appearing and coaxing me to believe in him over time. I was never reluctant, but I was cautious as he danced his steps before my closed eyes. When the witching hour threw her blanket across the twilight, he would stand and beckon me. All in black with a glint of malice in his smouldering eyes.
It was the malice that intrigued me. He offered such gentle promises and exquisite glimpses of a paradise I could not yet understand.
These sweet words were tainted with such pain. An evil that could both destroy and release me from a body and soul I only pretended were mine. His voice was tender, pouring words into me I found difficult not to respond to.
I would wake with his image and my body ached.
Initially, he only came to me as I slept. He filled me every night with a rapture only he could provide. He would break my body as I slept; my limbs bent and moulded as he desired.
I yearned.
I craved.
And I would wake exhausted as the dawn broke through the soot of night, my body drenched and muscles sore.
My fingertips would trace my body, moving as an extension of his thoughts and his commands. Skipping over skin trembling, the rhythmic motion of a dead heart brought to life. Veins alive with passion, with a power he would provide. A surge of life that had lain dormant. It was real and it was a fuel that once tasted could never be denied.
I needed it.
Every gentle touch burned deep within me, scarring my soul as he slowly lit the fire which burnt me alive. I willingly offered my soul, and he took it over months, dragging me deeper into his world.
There was never a doubt, never a hesitancy.
His strength overpowered me; and I allowed it.
He took me pore by pore, muscle by muscle, cell by cell.
My tender somnolent mind pursued the wicked images and words he delivered to me. Each night he came to me and whispered into my ear, into my brain. The words echoed and cascaded, sparking visions which held me captive.
I witnessed things that made me wide-eyed and hungry. An erotic vision of pain and pleasure Sade would have blushed at. He gave me images I chased with a desperation and a desire I never knew existed. A vision behind my closed eyes which moved my body to a rhythm of his choosing, which drove my breath harder.
Which brought a scream to my tight throat.
His hands would guide mine and press so gently on my neck, then suddenly twist and I would choke. But it only made me more responsive, saturated with the craving for him to take me, destroy me. I needed his kiss to steal my breath, for his hands to cage my wrists, for him to play with me as he wished.
The nightly visits escalated. And with them, the images grew more vibrant, more strong, and my sleepy explorations increased. His coercive turning of me released a burden from my heart, freeing me and providing me with purpose.
My eyes were open. I saw flames and chains, dungeons and towers, lakes and wide oceans. And he would guide me, leading me to the very darkest corners and the roughest walls, then tie me there.
No matter how it hurt, the rewards were worth the pain.
His hands posing me as he required, his nails scraping flesh from my bones with such tenderness. Blood running down my body like wine which he lapped from my skin. His tongue curling and sucking on what he had claimed.
I would bite my lip so hard, by morning my pillow would be covered in blood-stained kisses.
He would draw his fingers over me, his hands tracing every inch, he would tease and play. The pressure light, then brutally fierce. Heavy and hard. He would knock me to the floor, my tied arms stretched as my knees hit the stone. He would whip me and pull my hair, my back arching as gratification mingled with stinging agony.
The boundaries I used to believe in vanished.
He always found the core of my desire. His fingers, through my mind, guided the strength of my hedonistic lust, led me away from the tortures inflicted, to sweet dissipation.
An increasing pressure my body embraced completely.
A rhythmic stroke that made my breath heavy and heart pound. My body ache and limbs light. Flesh on flesh, patterns traced and dipped with cruel brutality. My body soaked with desire for him. He would push into me over and again, until I could take no more.
Then he would take me higher still.
His tongue playing with a body I would give up for him.
This was something I could feel, despite the emptiness of the bed I dreamt in. I could feel his touch; his hot breath against my thigh and his wicked mouth against the wetness of my cunt.
My body twisted and it shook as he took; his fingers, his tongue, and his cock taming me. Forcing me to be obedient while bringing impulsive demands to my moans. I was filled with a desire I had never witnessed before. My body slick as we moved, syncopated, pushing harder. And harder still. His nails raked my skin, blood following his touch. His teeth pierced my flesh, and his language pierced my heart.
Every night I was faithful and loyal to him.
The dreams a reality in my midnight prowls.
He invited me to his domain, and I followed. I did not care if I could find my way back. He would visit me, and I would welcome him with a smile. The dawn would tear me apart each time he faded from me. My body, offered for crucifixion, spent but still needy. Like a moth to a flame, dancing close and oblivious to the pain.
The days were a torment that almost destroyed me. I tried to fill the empty hours, numb to the mundanity of life. Tasks were a blur. My friends ignorant of the longing within me. My sated eyes drowned with visions of the night and the things I would discover.
I learnt such things, things no-one would ever believe.
Humiliated, humble, cracked, and broken, but always the satisfied delight overtook the sense of failure. I knew I failed. I knew he punished me for my errors. But I was, and am still, a good student. He taught in a demanding fashion and would tolerate no mistakes.
I learned this early.
This is as all masters should teach.
The rewards for success were exquisite.
Such promises are what got me through each day. The time heavy as I waited for the moment I could lay my body down. Ready for him to visit, to deliver salvation.
I was tied and dependant, I know this. But I was unaware of what he planned. He was the dominating force, and I was utterly subservient to his whim. I had no choice but to obey, and obey I did. Following his every command provided me with such sweet relief, a delicacy so exquisite any plans for rebellion disintegrated.
The sublime feelings resonated through every day, every hour, every minute, every second. Every division of time was his. Though he deserted me during the daylight hours, I could still sense his touch. My quim felt his presence and I ached.
My back arched as though he was playing tic tac toe with my spine. I would shudder and smile. People asked if someone had walked over my grave, unaware my soul was already taken. Readily. In a way, I had already died.
For I had given up everything for him.
He owned me.
I wore a ring on the fourth finger of my left hand, betrothed to the vision who dominated me. Faithful with my body and mind, my soul his and no other. I had been seduced and the darkness of his devoted love enveloped every part of me.
He filled my veins, my heart, my mind.
Should he leave, I believed my heart would shatter and my breath would catch in the splinters of my chest. For I knew that all I could do was live for him. I yearned to meet him for real.
The visions filled me, but it was not enough.
Never enough.
The more I saw, the more I felt, the more I needed. The pressure was building, and I had no real outlet. Daily life felt distant. Food tasted bland. He consumed me, and I was a slave to the feelings, addicted to him. The emotion burned.
I looked for him everywhere; searching faces and my periphery for his vision come true. But I was always let down.
The drug he promised kept me alive, but I was fading.
I started drinking; something to numb the intensity of the feeling. For I could not keep going any other way. I was lost, living for the night and his visits. Barely functioning day to day, searching for his body in black to sweep me into his arms and provide all he had shown me.
For him to lead me to his heavenly hell.
Then, one day, I found him.
Walking through town, the sunshine casting hardly any shadows in the midday-soaked pavement, I saw him.
He smiled and I felt my heart stop then leap. His eyes glinted, white sparks in intense amber. Almost glowing in the summer light. Our gaze locked and my body instantly burned, yearning for him to drag me down and fuck me.
Yet, instead, it was far more subtle.
Playful.
Cruel.
Our bodies brushed. My skin bumped when his muscular, corded forearm caught my slender frame. Electric, my body surged.
Then he was gone.
I glimpsed him turning the corner, and I could only stand, aware of how wet I was between my legs and the frozen crack of my heart.
Could life be so unkind?
My devilish vision had finally become reality; felt, seen. But he had been snatched away before we could pursue the promises we made. The devastation and loneliness swept over me swiftly, the sunshine grew cold and all I wanted was to curl up there and die.
Had I devoted my time for nothing?
Had I given my body for nothing?
Had I given my soul for nothing?
Nothing but lies.
My heart was pounding, straining. My eyes were sore. I clenched my jaw; teeth forced together to embrace the pain. Searching for any avenue of escape from such exposure, certain everyone could see how lost I was, how fragile; the crowded street making me feel more alone.
I was being observed and judged.
My body felt raw, my emotions bitter.
I needed a drink.
Alcohol to numb the loss.
I found liquid salvation; the vodka a fire slipping down my crushed throat. It fought the pain in my heart, washing over the bruised feelings and dampening the blaze as it burned. But the flames smouldered; a pile of embers just waiting for the spark.
I was in too deep to forget everything I had experienced; everything he had shown me. Giving up on the visions, on the feelings, was far from my way of thinking. I thought that if I could fill my veins with fire, the heat would destroy me. I drank as though there was nothing left to live for, and in every way this was true.
Every day I had lived for the night, every night I had welcomed him with my whole being. I was entirely dependent and now he had ignored me. He had tempted me but now… nothing.
The bar was dull, webbed in shadows, the sun barely creeping into the corners. I watched the world, unseeing, my heart constricted and my eyes sore with tears I refused to cry. I could not yet believe he would meet me then disregard me as he had.
Yet, I reasoned, cruelty was part of the lessons he preached. Was this merely part of game? His plan? Could his ignorance of my need be a way to draw me in deeper yet? Like an addict, there was only him who could fulfil the craving in me, and he had provided a living glimpse of my salvation. Only to take it away.
The sugared glass blurred people passing by as I crumbled. The murder of ravens carved into the bar seemed to glint, their haunting eyes malicious. My inner body disintegrating even as the shell remained, ready to shatter at the lightest touch.
Sunlight cracked the room.
The change in luminosity creating prisms.
And he was here.
His presence filled the pub; he waited for the door to close behind him before striding to the bar. Even though the room had been quiet, a new silence crept across the subdued floor. He spoke softly, his voice sure and his body relaxed.
But primed.
A shiver coursed through me as he turned. His shadow impossibly brushing over my skin. Our eyes met. The raw intensity of his stare burned into my pale irises. Without another word he grabbed his drink, and another, then strode toward me.
My heart was tight. I could barely breathe.
Heat crawled my back, a chill clawed my constrictive thoughts, and there was a keening emptiness in my cunt.
He sat before me, his statuesque body regal and eyes roving. I was caught, being inspected for faults. I was aware of every slight movement my body made, each blink, each beat of my heart, pulse in my veins. The vodka on my breath.
The wanton need in the very core of me.
We did not speak. Just looked each other over. The heated ache was intense, the pressure channelling my focus. All I could see was a vision of us. Of my back dipping while I crawled across the table. Of me curling into his lap to feel how much he desired me. Of my spine pushed against the veneered wood and my skirt rucked around my hips.
— Would you like that?
I said nothing, my eyes glinting with the suggestion. The cloud of my irises shrinking with the dilation of my pupils. I made the smallest of nods, unsure of whether he had really seen what I had. Though, I considered, I had no reason to doubt his skills.
— It seems destiny wants us to be together.
My body tensed, uncertain of how to respond. This time, my nod was larger as I watched him swill his drink around the glass.
— It would be unwise to fight destiny.
He pushed the other glass to me, inviting me to drink with him.
— Especially after all this time.
He waited.
— I agree.
My voice sounded strange, not really mine. It seemed odd to talk to a vision I knew so well, yet had only just met.
I was unsure if I had spoken at all. My acceptance more of a thought transmitted in the expectant air between us. Anticipation shook me, every nerve alive with the promises being laid before me; this was everything I had dreamt. And could be more.
So much more.
— Now begins the journey, if you choose to travel my path.
It was not a question. Not a choice I could make. For the answer was already written in every night we had spent. It surged from my quim to my brain and back again, making my body tremble. There was only one answer, and it screamed from every pore. From every cell.
— Take my hand, my love, and I shall show you heaven.
And I knew he would.
I knew he would deliver all he had shown and every vow he had made. I knew he would treat me unkindly and like a priestess, like a lover and a slave. I knew that he was my everything and that every vision I had experienced was merely a taste of what he was about to serve me.
I also knew his heaven would be hell.
I was breathless with repressed, surging, need. Without hesitation, I stretched my hand across the table to nestle in his.
You can find this, and other short stories, poetry, and vignettes, in The Menagerie. Or, you can get a feel for the dark vibe of the book with a listen to the playlist.
Fantastic maintenance of atmosphere and tone in this. Slightly outside my genre wheelhouse, but consider my horizons broadened!