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Message-ID: <62963asstr$1397729410@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ignorance (MDom BDSM dystopian)
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Date: Thu, 17 Apr 2014 06:10:10 -0400
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I am currently trying to write a piece of erotic flash fiction a day. I 
would love any feedback you may wish to give. My blog is at 
http://bawdybloke.com/flash-fictiondarker-flame-ignorance/

* * * * *

The year: 2037.

I'm lead to believe that the new Ford Clarity that everyone is raving 
about can reach speeds of 250mph at 10,000 feet but I've not been in a 
car for twenty years, let alone a flying one, so I don't know. We've 
seen them on the television though. Maybe I'll get one.

No, I've not been working on a Shale Gas rig or flying on a space 
mission, but imprisoned: incarcerated at His Majesty's Pleasure for an 
act of violence I never committed. I remember the trial vividly as past 
lovers were hauled to the court to recount scandalous tales of my sex 
life. It caused a lot of media stir, sex stories always do: I was "The 
Savage," I was "perverted" and a whole host of other ridiculous terms. I 
was a danger to women, an affront to my country. I even got a misleading 
"documentary" made about my life on YouTube Channel 5. Truth is, I'm 
none of those things.

I am a sadist, but I've never hurt anyone.

I know that sounds silly, but it's true. I've inflicted pain to errant 
ladies, laid bare their innermost desires and taken them to within a 
gnat's whisker of their safeword, but I've never hurt a soul.

And especially not Lucy. I loved Lucy. She was the centre of my world, 
the one I wanted to marry and be with for the rest of my life. She said 
she wanted the same, I believed her. Her safeword was "lollipop" but I 
never heard it. Even as we sank deeper into our depraved games, taken 
her further and further into the unknown, she never used it.

Night after night we'd play: sometimes experimenting, sometimes taking 
her to places we'd been to before. She always thanked me, us cuddling 
afterwards as her welts and bruises appeared on her abused skin. She 
loved me, and I loved her.

But I had to be harsher to show that: she needed more and I gave her 
what she wanted. I organised for two football teams to fuck her 
senseless, watching as her body became little more than a ragdoll to 
their brutish testosterone. That afternoon, she existed to satisfy their 
urges and needs, as they cared not for her pleasure. She loved it, 
coming repeatedly under their rough treatment.

She wanted to go further, and I obliged: I kidnapped her walking home 
from work, bundling her unceremoniously into a van and ripping her 
clothes into shreds as I tore them from her body. Eight masked men had 
their way with her in the warehouse as we assaulted her, striking her 
bare skin with our terrifying arsenal of whips, canes, floggers and crops.

She was bloodied and bruised: abused and used for six hours, flying 
through subspace and succumbing to dozens of orgasms. She slept soundly 
that night. It was her birthday present.

But, my most infamous session was the one that made it onto the 
Internet. It was filmed for our private enjoyment, the journalist stole 
that Blu-Ray disk from our house after my arrest. I don't care that 
no-one on the video saw her give consent, she did. I would not have used 
any of my toys on her if she hadn't.

She screamed as we electrocuted her, she yelled as we flogged her, she 
begged for mercy with the inflatable dildo and rocked as Andrew's fists 
pushed past her anus. We pissed on her, we fucked her, we gagged her and 
we tortured her. She loved it, we all did.

But that was the beginning of the end. She told a friend about our play, 
and they went to the Police. They brainwashed her under questioning. 
They made her believe she had never consented to anything and I was a 
violent, dangerous man not a loving partner.

The prosecuting lawyers portrayed me out to a nasty, vindictive, 
malevolent beast who had tortured my lover for three years, dragging her 
deeper into the fires of depravity to satisfy my own twisted needs. The 
establishment declared war on me, because I wasn't their version of normal.

And I paid for it, with twenty long, hard years of my life. While they 
retired with gold-plated pensions and Lucy married an achromatic banker, 
I rotted in prison until today.

They gave me my things in a cardboard box as the door slammed shut 
behind me. I had my prison discharge grant in my pocket and a plan. I 
knew where she now lived, and I had my trusty flogger in storage. No 
matter how much she may have been conditioned to dislike her urges, they 
would still be there. She couldn't change her sexual orientation to 
please the politics of the day and one look at me, my flogger and my 
fiery eyes, she'd need to come with me. She'd need it again and I would 
be taking her far away from this Septic Isle. Far away from her husband 
of bland respectability to a life we should have had twenty years ago.

Until the politicians meddled with something they will never understand.

And I paid the price for their ignorance.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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