Memories of Paradise Ch. 01

Memories of Paradise. A love story set in a harsh future.

This series features: BDSM, group sex, violence, power struggles, romance, deception, a dominant guy, and a submissive girl.

All characters over 18.

Author's note: I like detail, setting up the ambience and developing my characters. I try to keep it sexy and erotic throughout the whole thing, but I'm just saying, if you are looking for a one-page story that jumps straight to sex, this one is probably not what you're looking for...but there's no need to rush, is there? Just relax, get into the story, and let my words drive you into ecstasy... Oh and leave a comment if you like it ;)

-Serpens

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Chapter I. A Light Shining in the Darkness.

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You want to leave but won't go without me

I won't change but I can't live without you

There's a city of gold awaiting us. But all the gold won't matter.

The world will lose its color if you go.

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"Do you hear that?"

The woman leans on the window. Her voice a mixture of bitterness and nostalgia. From her right hand the embers of a burning cigarette fall to the floor. Through the tainted glass, her eyes stare at the scene: a broken city illuminated by the fading light of a bleak sunset. Past the city, the endless horizon. Remnants of an island paradise that was, now reduced to ruins and ash. She looks at it like a prisoner behind bars eyeing the outside, a promise of freedom, of something better, so close and yet so far. But she's not a prisoner, and the room is not a cell, only the poorly lit office of a hospital.

In the distance, the hated sound continues to play, just as it always did, three times a day like clockwork. It was an old public announcement, nothing more than one of those tedious pieces of propaganda that the lying government of the time uses to inspire their followers. It spoke of the bright future ahead, an era of progress and a life of prosperity.

Nobody knew exactly why they kept it running after all those years. Perhaps it was a way to pretend things were back to the way they used to be. Perhaps it was their way of keeping people in line by rubbing in their face how much they had lost. Perhaps it was just a sick joke. Nobody knew.

But whatever the case it was always there, taunting them.

"I listen to it every single day, and the desire to throw a rock at the screen and shut it up never goes away..."

The room was quiet but for the weak sound of a small fan, and a pen scribbling on a piece of paper. A typical slow end for a slow day with nothing much to do but contemplate one's life.

The woman keeps looking outside, past the silhouette of the buildings, and for a moment she is a captive of her thoughts. The entire world becomes silent. The shadows evokes a memory, visions of a life she dreamt in what seems like an eternity ago. Her youthful dreams of travels, happiness and love.

After a short sigh she turns her melancholic eyes across the room, to the person that was supposed to be listening to her. Under the pale light sits a doll-like figure, frail and skinny, diligently working on her desk.

"Are you even listening to me?"

The young girl does not allow herself to be distracted. She keeps doing her paperwork, visibly tired but completely absorbed with her task, only pausing occasionally to brush off a strand of her long, golden hair that despite her efforts, keeps falling over her eyes. Her expression is that of someone whose mind is absent while her body is going through the routine motions, as if she weren't even aware of the woman's presence.

"Excuse me..." the woman calls her, the tone of her voice reflecting her annoyance at the girl's attitude.

"You hate that announcement," the girl replies, her voice soft, tired and monotonous, mirroring her movements, "I know. Everyone knows. You never get tired of repeating yourself. Now, if you don't mind, I actually have work to do and it would be nice to focus."

The woman stares at the disheveled figure in silence for a moment, frowning deeply. She looks like she wants to say something, but her pity prevails. Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head dismissively and goes back to stare through the window.

For a moment, the scarred city seems to stare back at her. The woman had lived long enough to see the city grow and prosper, and she had lived long enough to see it go straight to hell, like a mirror of her life. A terrible thing, to be able to remember something like it used to be, then watch it burn without being able to do anything about it.

"I think this will be my last year," she says after a while, seemingly unconcerned about the girl's attitude, "I know I keep saying it but... It's time. If I make the effort, I can save enough money. It will be a rough year, but I'm used to rough. I know it's out there somewhere. I have to find it. I can't stay here forever."

The woman expects to at least elicit the girl's usual derisive snort but was again met with silence. The disheveled figure keeps herself busy, not even pretending to be interested.

Without uttering another word, she spends a few more minutes watching the dusk cover the world. Once the sky becomes completely dark, she puts out her cigarette and moves away from the window to gather her belongings. It was the end of the day for her.

"Are you sure you want to go alone?" She asks the girl as she packs the last of her personal items.

The disheveled figure nods affirmatively. Once again, she doesn't even pause to look at the woman.

"I really don't mind waiting," the woman insists, but the girl doesn't even acknowledge her.

"Sweetie, come on, I'm just trying to help," she insists again, finally letting her frustration show, "It's not a good idea for you to walk around alone at night. The gangs have been so active lately..."

The girl finally stops her work and flashes her a crooked smile. A smile that is not genuine, warm or even polite.

"It's fine. I can take the car. It has enough fuel to get home."

The woman sighs a little and shakes her head but doesn't insist any further. She picks up her bag and leaves her alone in the empty office.

Without her, the next few hours come and go in almost complete silence. Only the sharp ticking of the clock, the sound of a lonely girl working at her desk, and the occasional person walking briefly into the room to deliver more work. She pauses only sporadically to pour herself some more coffee to help fight her exhaustion. By the twelfth hour of her shift she had lost count on how many of cups she had drunk. Her hands were trembling, but she needed to keep going.

The end of her shift arrives at midnight. Weak from so much work and eager to get some rest, she unceremoniously starts putting away her belongings. The crushing exhaustion has her toying with the idea of simply staying the night and getting some rest on one of the hospital beds. She's going to have return there in only six hours anyway. It would mean spending 40 extra minutes sleeping, rather than on the road. God knows she could use it. But that's what she's been telling herself for the past week.

She can't stay. Not that day.

-----

"Anything interesting happened while I was gone?" she half-jokingly asks her car.

More than once she's come to find that someone has slashed her tires or broken her windows. Sometimes people get so desperate even hospitals are not sacred. They break in, take what they can carry and trash what they cannot. This time around though, everything seems to be in order and at least that lets her breathe easily.

The car is an old model her parents had bought some time ago. The years and poor care showed, but with a lot of effort she had managed to at least keep it working. Staying awake during the drive is going to be a challenge, but she already endured 20 hours anyway, she can last 20 more minutes. Less perhaps, there's not likely to be much traffic.

The way back home is meant to be a simple, uneventful drive along what had once been Dawnlight Boulevard, a thriving area of charming apartments and boutique shops.

If not for the fact that it is the only direct, moderately safe way to get home, she would have avoided it completely. It never fails to bring her bitter memories.

She remembers going shopping there with her parents back when she was a little girl. Her mom used to go to visit the grocer. She was very conscious about health and wanted only the highest quality food for her family. Her dad knew nothing about that, but he was a bit of a dandy, and liked to use the time to visit the haberdasher to get his shirts and ties so he would always be well dressed for work. There were several restaurants in the area but the one they visited the most was her mom's favorite; a cute, quaint creperie. Afterwards, they would stop at the candy shop to buy a sweet for her. Gummy bears, it usually was... Those were her favorite...

No... the memories are happy. It's reality that's bitter.

Along the way she is distracted, mentally going through all the things she still needs to do: Her fridge is almost empty. It has been for some time. She's not sure how much longer she can go without buying food. Her apartment needs cleaning. Probably. It's hard to tell how bad it is as it's been a while since she actually checked. She still needed to pay rent. Hopefully, the landlord won't be around to harass her about it. She is in no mood to deal with that.

Usually, those worries are the only thing she can think about when she's not inundated with work. That night would've been no exception, until a sound she was all too familiar with sent a freezing cold creeping down her spine.

"No... please, not now."

She knows what it means, but she refuses to let it happen. She can't have that kind of bad luck.

The girl begs the car to work, to not leave her stranded in the middle of the street. First as a whisper, then almost a shout, but her pleas are hopeless. With every meter forward, the car worsens, and her desperation grows. It doesn't take long before it breaks down completely.

She hits the steering wheel in anger, panicking as she tries to force the engine to start, but it is useless. The car is completely dead, and fate doesn't seem to smile at her that night. She sits alone, her mind flooded with her frustration, as she tries her best to resist the urge to cry.

"But I just got you fixed... I just got you fixed you son of a bitch. How can you do this to me?" She mumbles behind gritted teeth.

It takes everything she has to suppress the crushing feeling of defeat enough to try to find a solution. She forces herself to lift her eyes and look around, trying to find any sign of help, but there is none. The streets are lifeless, the doors to each home, are all closed, and their lights, all off.

She knows she can't stay there, trapped inside the car in the middle of the empty street. But there is no one she can call for help. It's at that moment that the horrible realization hits her.

She's going to have to leave the car behind and walk home.

She tries looking around again, even more frantic than before. The car, old and beat-up as it was, is her most valuable possession. If she abandons it, it won't be there the next time she comes looking for it. She has no money to get a new one, not even enough to get an old one. With so much of her livelihood dependent on it, she's not sure how she would recover.

Once again, the streets are merciless with their response.

An unnoticed tear slips down her face as she begins to gather whatever she can carry, anything that might be of importance, and stuffs it in her bag. She steps away from the car, locking it and starts walking, her pace brisk and light, covering herself protectively with her jacket and trying to hide as much of herself as she can.

Her apartment is not too far away. Driving down that road was part of her daily routine. She reckons if she walks inconspicuously she can make it. But the gut feeling telling her she shouldn't be there won't quiet down. It screams at her to run, to get out of there as fast as she can. She won't listen to it. She doesn't want to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Moving slowly and quietly was the safest option she has.

Everyone will be inside, sleeping. Just keep walking. We'll be alright. A desperate effort to reassure her own mind.

For a little while it actually comes close to working. Maybe she can make it. Maybe that at least will go well for her. It doesn't last. A faint sound behind her makes her heart jump in terror. She quickly turns around and stares, but there is only the empty street.

It's nothing. And continues walking, a little faster this time.

It takes only a few moments, and the same faint sound makes her turn again. This time, her eyes widen in terror, as she spots a figure skulking around in the dark.

One look is all it takes. She runs with all she has. Her lungs feel like they are going to burst. The adrenaline rush is the only thing that manages to keep her going even past her limit, but the more she runs, the greater the horror that takes over her mind. She won't be able to outrun her pursuer; she knows it better than anyone, but she's not sure what else there is to do, and with the sound of the shadow getting louder and louder, she is too frightened to think. She keeps hoping that perhaps there will be an open building, a policeman, something that can help her, that can protect her, but the streets are cold and merciless; they always are.

Ahead of her she thinks she can see a small alley. The lights have burned out and it's hard to distinguish anything. It takes half a second for her to decide. She closes her eyes for a moment and swallows hard, then turns around, throws whatever she can throw at her pursuer, and seizes his confusion to turn around in the alley.

It's a gamble. She knows it. But there's not much else to do, and she may be able to hide in there. That was the plan anyway, but on that cold night, fate seems determined to make things worse for her at every turn.

What she finds is a dead end, and far, far smaller than she had anticipated. The only things in the alley are a dumpster, a metal door, and a large, brutish man reclined on the wall, smoking. Stunned by her horror, and unsure of what to do, she considers pleading with him. It takes a second for the man to turn to face her. He puts out his cigarette and cocks his head. The girl is witness to one of the most terrifying expressions she's ever seen...

"What a pretty little thing. So alone at this hour..." A thick creole accent echoes across the alley.

With the speed of a small prey fleeing her predator, she turns on her feet to sprint back the way she came, only to find what before was the skulking shadow, now fully visible, standing behind her.

Both figures begin slowly closing in on her. In that moment, the girl's mind disconnects from the world, engulfed in blind panic. It's a feeling of nausea and sickness in her stomach, ice and needles in her muscles, and screams of terror inside her mind. She closes her eyes and simply runs, without thinking, without knowing what to do. All she wants is to get out of there.

Immediately, she feels herself clashing with one of the brutes. They descend up on her like ravenous wolves, cruelly holding on to her wrists to immobilize her. Terrified, she tries to fight out of instinct, throwing around a random, uncoordinated series of punches and kicks.

One of her kicks seems to find its target, as she thinks she can hear a pained grunt, and feels their grip on her wrists loosen, but as soon as she tries to run there's already someone else holding her from behind. She keeps screaming desperately for help, but no one shows up. Her struggles are in vain.

One arm goes around her neck, choking her, another keeps her lower body in position.

"Look at me!" shouts a guttural voice, but she doesn't respond.

"Look at me, slut!" repeats the voice, this time accompanied by a hand roughly gripping on her face.

She opens her eyes to find a large, disgusting-looking face, bloated with anger, looking hard back at her.

"P-Please..." she squeaks. Her voice barely comes out. A spit in her face is the answer before she even has time to get out a half sentence. She doesn't get any time to react; a painful punch to the gut leaves her gasping for air. Then another, and another, and another. Hit after hit, her entire body is mauled.

Her mind is forced to reconnect with the situation. There's too much pain even for feeling panic. Everything around her looks dim, as if she's about to pass out. She gives up and hopes only that they'll make it quick.

Half conscious, she is lifted up like a piece of meat and her limp body pushed against the wall. One hand grabs her by the hair and presses her head against it. Her chest jumps up and down to the rhythm of fast and shallow breaths. Tears run down her cheeks. Her clothes, all her clothes, are ripped off forcefully. A sharp object that she doesn't dare to look at is pressed against the soft skin of her neck. She can feel them unceremoniously shoving their hands on her. No fingers penetrate the inside of her body, but that hardly makes it better as their coarse hands grab and pinch her. They take their time to have fun hurting her, slapping her face and breasts, burning her with the lit cigar, only to throw her against the ground again once they're done. She tries to stand but the moment she puts pressure on her ankle, she falls to the ground.

There's laughter, though she is not sure which one of them it is coming from, followed by a kick to the gut. She falls flat on her stomach, completely defeated, but the abuse doesn't stop. They delight in the humiliation and fear, describing how they're going to cut her and stick all sorts of painful things inside her.

It's a feeling that hurts like no other, burning the very soul. She can't stop crying, wondering why anyone would want to do something like that to her.

When they finally seem to grow tired, she feels one of them pressing her head and wrists against the cold ground, preventing any movement, while the other one places himself behind her, roughly grabbing the delicate curves of her ass. She hears him taking his pants off, and feels as he begins prodding her, mocking her while he does. She realizes the man is not even going for her pussy; he's going for her ass.

"My god, someone help me! Anyone! Please!" she shouts, with all the strength she has left. The laughter only grows louder.

"Cry, little bitch. Cry for mommy."

She clenches her teeth and closes her eyes, defeated. Her mind, heart and soul, as torn and ripped apart as the ruined rags that were once her clothes. She tries to clench her teeth and tense her body to resist, but shaking as badly as she is, with her heart violently pounding and her lungs barely able to gasp at some air, even that seems too difficult for her.

Time seems to slow down around her. Her only hope as the thug starts pressing against her body is that she'll pass out soon and not have to endure it all.

Then... gunfire. Bursts of gunfire, furiously roaring through the night, seemingly out of nowhere. The alley walls are painted crimson red as the two thugs fall down to the ground as if they are ragdolls.

The girl becomes a pitiful sight. Curled up on the dirty floor, covering her head and shaking, her muffled weeping echoes in the alley. She wants to run but her body doesn't seem to respond anymore. There's blood on her, but she is not sure if it's hers or her assailers'.

For a moment there's silence. Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound, except for the brutalized girl. It's as if the entire world around her is holding its breath, waiting to see what else is there to come. But nothing else happens. The dust settles, and the cold night is witness to a stranger that carefully approaches.