'O' For Men
The hum of the kazoo signified that the vigorous working in and out of the strap on dildo up Conan's arse had breached even his high pain threshold. Alexandra, still mindful of the occasion he had left her trussed her up for hours in darkness, gave one last sphincter stretching thrust before withdrawing the ersatz member. It was coated with rectal mucus and lubricant, a faint smattering of shit.
Alexandra couldn't resist giving his arse a good slap with the studded paddle he had disciplined her with earlier. Before she released him from the bondage stocks she kissed him passionately on the lips. Alexandra felt closer to him than she had ever done; surely this proved there was some depth and sincerity of the emotions he professed to feel towards her. While he had never told her he loved her, or liked her for that matter, his eagerness to assuage her and genuine despair at the prospect of her breaking off their arrangement must surely hint at something beneath his chilly abstracted demeanour she had surmised.
"I love you," said Alexandra, momentarily drowning in his blue eyes. She immediately regretted saying it, seeing a curious mixture of alarm and disgust wash over his face. Then his face relaxed into a broad grin and he croaked, "I love you..." On his release from the bondage stocks he scooped her into arms and kissed her passionately, holding her tight. They dressed and smoked cigarettes.
Alexandra felt exhilarated, feeling they now both wanted the same thing, to be a 'proper' couple in a secure and loving relationship. Driving home in the car there was an easy atmosphere, and she had never seen Conan so relaxed. Alexandra was not neurotically needy and was smart enough to know pushing him for a further declaration of love would be counter productive so she just enjoyed the inane chit chat. Yet when he dropped her off at her parents' house he did not glance back or offer a wave. Disconcerted, Alexandra fumbled and dropped the front door key.
Metal Fingers in my Body
Alexandra's parents were elderly and clinically depressed and were always comatose on Zopiclone come 10 o'clock at night. She could troop around the house with impunity. Asleep her parents carried on as if they were their waking selves, bickering and mumbling, her father loosing farts of frightening velocity at regular intervals. She had her hair combed back severely and collected in a bead crochet scrunchie and looked like she'd just got back from the gym (which was her intention) in tracksuit and trainers.
She threw the sports holdall, which contained her switch hitter costume, onto the kitchen floor. Alexandra poured herself a generous measure of her father's vodka, dropped a couple of ice cubes into the glass and sat at the kitchen table. She lit a cigarette, using a saucer as an ashtray. She liked neat vodka and hated the fact that at social gatherings she was always offered white wine and hated the fact even more she never had the courage to tell them to fuck off and get her proper drink, one that would put 'hair on her tits' as her father charmingly put it.
She could hear her parents' synchronous rattling snores downstairs and derived comfort from it. If she was honest Alexandra enjoyed being at home, while her parents were cranky and demanding she felt secure there, and there was little stigma attached to her about still being in the family domicile. Everyone knew how hard it was to rent never mind to buy in the fucked economic climate and in most people's eyes her continuing residence made her a saintly figure.
There she was a beautiful intelligent young woman, who could go anywhere and be with anyone, yet she stayed at home to devotedly look after her aged and confused parents. She felt little real affection for them, as they had been cold and diffident parents, and she enjoyed the control she now exerted over them.
Alexandra bought dozens of strips of tranquilizers from a black market source and kept them topped up morning and night so their lives were largely somnambulant. Increasingly, she felt a compulsion to assert her power in relationships, to control, to pay back perceived slights. Alexandra wondered why she was still here. Her life with Conan was to her knowledge was still a secret and she was regarded as shy and virginal, a good girl.
She should be a model, people would say. Why are you still in this shit hole town. She'd mention her internship and hopes for the future and lowering her voice mention her parents. That was her cover story. Truth be told she was struggling to figure herself out. She was that rarest of things, a female outsider. She disliked the company of males, who she found on the whole to be boorish, arrogant or weak and yet she had no female friends either.
Alexandra reserved her most vehement loathing for 'girly' girls, like her erstwhile flatmate in the University Halls, who would squeal at the sight of anything pink and was endlessly pampering herself and preening. Alexandra poured another drink and lit another cigarette and got her smartphone from the holdall. No texts or missed calls. The prick was freezing her out she just knew it. In Conan she could sense a certain duality with herself; they were both in possession of compressed passions, paradoxical needs and confused emotional states.
