Thursday, July 07, 2005

Girl in a Box

He was so bored. There was nothing on TV, he couldn't see her and his wife was visiting her mother.

So he pulled the box out from under his bed, and opened it up. Inside, the girl looked up at him and smiled.

"It's been a while," she said.

"Yeah," he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. Have you been uncomfortable?"

"Well, it gets a little hot in the summertime, but I'm okay." She smiled again. "Are you going to take me out, or were you just looking?"

He smiled back. "No, you can get out."

She climbed out, brushing stray packing material off the cheap lingerie she'd been wearing when he put her away the last time. She looked around nervously. "Your wife won't mind, will she?"

He laughed a little. "No. Since she had the kid, she doesn't mind much of anything any more. She thinks this whole thing is pretty wild, actually."

She put her arms around his neck and purred into his ear. "Is that what you want, baby?" She raked her fingers through his hair. "You want me to be wild?"

He shuddered and sighed. "I... ohh... what-what would you like to be?"

She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs, and looked up at him seductively. "I can be your slut, if you want." She ran her foot up his leg and around his thigh. He shuddered again. "You like that, right?" Her voice was a husky whisper. "Do you miss your dirty little whore?" She gripped his crotch with her toes and he gasped. She lowered her foot, sat demurely and fluttered her eyelashes. "Perhaps you'd like the sweet girl next door? I can do that too."

"But maybe you've grown tired of me," she pouted, lowering her head sadly. "Maybe you'll get rid of me soon."

"No," he whispered desperately. "No, never. I'll keep you until the day I die." He had a funny vision then, of his dead body sprawled in front of the TV at night, beer in hand and the love of his life by his side.

She giggled and leaped into his arms. "Ooh! Such a sweet thing to say! Does that mean you'll make me your bride?" She giggled again, twirling around the room. She spun back into his arms and kissed him. It was a violent passionate kiss that bruised his mouth. She bit down on his lip, drawing blood. He didn't care. He knew no pain when he was with her. He kissed her back, tearing the lingerie off her and grabbing hold of her ass with both hands as he pulled her tightly to him. She gasped. "Oh yes," she said. "She never brought this out in you, did she?"

He pulled away. She wasn't talking about his wife. She was talking about her. The love of his life. He turned away.

"I asked you not to talk about her."

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. "I won't mention her again. If I do, you can..." she searched for an appropriate punishment and laughed when she found it. "You can cut off my head."

"That's what you said last time you mentioned her."


There was an awkward silence.

"Do you want to?" she finally asked.

"No," he lied. He really did, but he wouldn't. He could never hurt her. She was his girl.

They had sex all that night. She straddled him on the bed, tearing the skin of his chest with her nails. She bit his neck, leaving dark bruises and even drawing some blood. She pressed her breasts to his face, forcing him to suck them. He did so gladly, then pulled her up so that his face was between her legs. When he finished with her, she lay panting on the bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering her. She sat up and straddled him again, leaning down to lick her juices from his face. She pulled him inside her, squeezing him so tight it almost hurt. She slid herself up and down, feeling him throb inside her. Finally, they came together, then collapsed on the bed, spent.

In the morning, he put her back in the box, and slid it under his bed.

Until next time.


Chris said...

I feel the need to explain this one. This story is my first attempt at writing a narrative based on song lyrics.

The song is "Girl in a Box" by the Blake Babies. It's an odd little tune, but it's always been one of my favorites of theirs.

And yes, the song includes the whole cutting off her head bit.

But I made up the sexy parts. ;)

Hope-So said... wow. I will be remebering that visual tonight when the lights are off and I'm laying in my bed. I will probably reach down and search under my bed for a man in a box. Do they really make those? Ohhh..Chris. You did more damage than good to me tonight.
You are just not right.
Umm...keep up the good work. I think I like this one the best.

Chris said...

Glad I left such an impression! I was hoping the visuals would resonate, though I hope I didn't cost you any sleep.

And alas, no. No real girls or men in boxes. I've looked. I tried hiring myself out as a man in a box once, but it really does get kind of stuffy in there, and boring. But that's how I ended up doing my cross-dressing burlesque show for the criminally insane...

Well. That's a story for another time.

Sar said...

Chris, thanks for commenting over at my site yesterday. Not sure if you've been back there since, but I introduced you as one of my gifted-writer friends and talked up your prose, referring them to this site through my blogroll.

So, great, now they'll surf over here and this story will serve as their introduction to your writing. I can only imagine the thoughts swirling through their heads. "What happened to the wholesome Sar I thought I knew?" "Sar is so deviant, she reads this and wants me to read it too?" "Hell yeah, baby, free p0rn!"

You, sir, are the deviant one.

Chris said...

Me? Deviant? Me?

Hm. Well, okay. Maybe just a little bit.

And... Greetings, Sound Destruction fans! Feel free to enjoy the rest of the stories. None of them are quite so steamy, but most of them are equally deviant in some way.

And none of you were really buying Sar's innocent act, were you?

Lisa said...

That was fantastic. I love the visuals, and the texture of it. You made us really feel his torment...I want to know more about the love of his life, though!!!

Chris said...

Ah, theirs was a tragic tale, filled with blood and misery, car chases and hard drugs, and the promise of easy money. He left her, bleeding to death from multiple gunshot wounds, in a fallow Iowa cornfield. The last word she spoke to him was his name, and sometimes, when he's alone, he can hear her calling to him on the wind.

Which is why he has the Girl, so he'll never have to be alone. Never have to hear his true love calling from her lonely grave.