Titbits

For the hors d’oeuvre, the punisher sprinkles Indian spice into my bulging eyes. She binds the embers with gauze to staunch the running mascara. I scream my inner god into a frenzy. She has me tethered like a goat on this dentist’s contraption. A muzzle holds my jaws shut fast. Thick leather straps hold my arms and legs spread-eagle Unmentionables dangle between. My much advertised scream is in reality a muffled whimper; I almost swallow the dirty undies lodged in my throat.

The plat de résistance consists of me wiggling like a fish as she dangles her ivory globes in my face. I resist her hold for the whole of 5 seconds it takes me to cave in. She ‘detoothes’ me without batting an eye, expertly handling the forceps and relieving me of teeth, both rotted and whole.

She eats a wilted banana for dessert. I watch her hungrily. Dark-painted lips and dark-painted finger-nails graze my skin. Her French curls and her sequin and feather apparel does a number on me. The vortex in place of my heart swallows up all feeling. Before long, even the hunger abates and I simply watch her. Unaffected.

Until she turns to leave.

I scream!

Bad idea.