The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 13-15

Chapter Thirteen – Sandro.

Did she remember? Did she remember what remembering was?

Time was irrelevant; there was no past, no future. Just this one moment – stretching tighter, winding up to a point of breaking, but never breaking. Her skin rippled as her spine arched. Hunger consumed her, but it wasn't for food. The gasping throats of her flesh needed filling of a different kind. Gaping holes they were, not just the obvious ones, but every hole she had, down to the tiniest pore. She wanted them stretched to the limit, needed them to be drowned in boiling liquids.

Come was the word... cummmmmmm.

But she never came, although she was always almost there... always almost. Her cracked nails clawed, her mouth drooled. Night fell, and darkness swallowed her. Cold stone chilled her burning skin.

***

For Evelyn Connors, moments of clarity were rare. They shone like steppingstones, strewn across a sea of darkness. But clarity didn't give her peace of mind. All it brought were pangs of reality. And the bitter taste of doubt.

Steely-blue eyes were forever on her mind, forcing her to forget the little refuge inside her, the tiny tranquil paradise beyond the treacherous pool of black ink, spreading. A row of steppingstones might lead her there. She had to find her way back, fight for it, didn't she? But the blue eyes made it so much easier to slip off the stones and drown in the black pool of forgetfulness. They forced her little girl's feet away from her sweet inner haven into nightmares of rape.

Whenever she fell asleep, an army of demons invaded her mind, feeding on her blinding lust. Time and again they dragged her to pinnacles of ecstasy, cackling and screaming while she tottered on the brink of a climax – just to dump her again, and throw her into the stinking maws of frustration.

In those moments of cruel clarity, ugly dreams paraded before her mind's eye. For a very short instance, she was stripped of her perverse arousal – making her sink into a cesspool of shame. Ah, shame – eluding sign of sanity. But, even crueler, those clear moments brought happy memories too, though scarce and far between. They grew dimmer with time: a naked girl racing through wind and woods and springtime sweetness – a girl on a huge throbbing creature, rising and falling between her bare thighs. Those moments were desperate pinpoints of innocence, lit up behind her eyelids. Through all her misery she tried to hold on to them, cursing the futility of her efforts.

When time (time?) went on, the slippery stones of awareness became smaller. They sank under the surface of inky waters, engulfing her feet. Eventually, she would sink and drown, she knew, and the thought should frighten her, but it didn't. After all, not going through those moments of clarity anymore, meant no more nightmares, yes? No more painfully sweet memories.

She had no choices left but to trust the woman, had she? In the end, the blue eyes would save her from these cruel moments. Wouldn't they? She herself ran back to the woman, remember? She submitted herself to her on the sundrenched driveway. She'd sunk on her bare knees into sharp white stones and offered her hairless body, her mindless soul. And the blond Norse goddess had gracefully welcomed her back. She'd accepted the excuses Evelyn laid at her feet – the true ones mixed with the half-lies. And most of all, she'd touched her shaven head and lifted the numbness off her senses. Life had returned when the woman's tongue opened her mouth while cool hands cupped her face. Feeling her body respond, she'd wanted to melt into her. She was her guardian angel, wasn't she, saving her from hell? Ah, yes, maybe. But would she save her from purgatory?

As righteous angels do, they claim their vengeance.

"Of course, you're welcome back, little darling," the woman had said, sweetness oozing from her words, "but you'll agree that I'll have to punish you." In the bliss of her return, the words had hardly registered. They'd been wrapped in marshmallow, dripping with honey. Muffled by the storm in her head, Evelyn didn't know if she should rejoice in being welcomed back, or cringe with fear for the added promise.

Had there been a choice either way? The woman's words sounded – reasonable. Evelyn had run off, offending her, betraying her hospitality. And now she took her back, didn't she? Back in her home of fragrant meadows, where sweet horses roamed. She'd been saved from her zombie life, her limbo existence and allowed back into a place echoing with an innocent child's memories. So, there was only one choice left, really, wasn't there?

To drown in the black ocean and be accepted.

***

In her private hell of jingling chains and scary nightmares, Evelyn recalled her first clear moments. She'd found herself chained in a large, empty stable. The straw was clean, and a warm scent of horses hung around her. For maybe days (and nights) she must have lain there, alone, on and off visited by hellish cravings – cravings she could only endure, while praying not to lose her mind. A cold metal chastity device denied her even the sad and lonely comfort of rubbing her sex.

She got food and water in a trough, never seeing who brought them. Once, sleeping, she woke up from a sharp sting in her thigh. It seemed to start a fire that smoldered and spread. The heat entered her cunt; then it circulated all through her body, making her shiver with a bittersweet desire. From that day on a thirst grew, a well-known aching thirst that she didn't know how to slake.

The third (fifth? eights?) day the door opened. Dressed in an elegant gown, the tall blonde goddess with the calm blue eyes entered the dusky stable. It was the woman she'd crawled back to, bald and defeated. That same woman now made her shrink back with awe. She smiled, though, as she said she came to visit her loving pet before leaving for a party – just to see how she was doing. Evelyn, her head buzzing, groveled at her towering heels. She knew she begged for something, anything, but her words were garbled, her voice cracked with disuse.

"It surely would improve our conversation if I understood what you're saying, sweet slut," the woman mocked, pushing Evelyn away with a patent leather shoe-tip. "I guess there must be some begging in it, somewhere." Then she turned on her stiletto heels and left.

Perfume lingered in the air.

A next clear moment must have been quite a few days later. The air had turned stuffy by then, the straw smelling of piss, and worse. Clouds of flies buzzed and landed on the her grimy body. It had been a while now since she swapped at them or even noticed their presence. Her world had shrunk to a circle, its diameter defined by the length of her chain. She slept most of the time and spent the rest in a stupor.

Once in a while, sudden stings shook her out of it. She supposed they were injections that induced awareness and nightmarish dreams of impossible intensity. In one dream she heard a growl from the darkness behind her. Rough bristles chaffed her skin. Hands (claws?) pulled her up and spread her ass cheeks. A stiff cock filled her bowels, burning its way inside. Overcome with helpless arousal, she just closed her eyes and moaned as her body responded. Anything to get off; anything now. She humped against the burning spear. The lights were low, but over her shoulder she saw a garish snout and mean little eyes of... what was it – a giant boar? An ape? A demon? Its tongue dangled between its jaws. It whined in high-pitched ecstasy. Then she felt the flooding of boiling semen.

Insanely aroused, she almost came.

It must have been a nightmare – not real for sure. How else could there have been these ghosts on another night of enhanced clarity – these black in black, hardly visible silhouettes? They rose around her, grunting and laughing. Then they drowned her in steaming rivers of pungent urine. Vomiting, she again tottered on the edge of an inconceivable orgasm.

Whenever a hot needle induced the mind-fucking combination of arousal and clarity, Evelyn croaked for forgiveness. But no one seemed to hear but the monsters of her nightmare, and they only growled. So, she slept a lot; and she dreamt a lot. Her mind turned to mush; her memory became a dark, deep tunnel. At the far, far end of it shone a pinpoint of light. It was the bright Italian summer sun, for sure. The sweet hot light that had welcomed her when she returned, in the humming car, an eternity ago – a sun that had wrapped her in its sweltering embrace as she knelt in front of the woman.

But the light dimmed, and the tunnel fell in upon itself.

***

One day (night?) Evelyn sat on her haunches, looking through unseeing eyes. She slowly rocked her body, as her by then fuzz-covered head rested in her hands. Her mouth hummed a toneless melody. Then the door creaked open. A boy walked in. It was the stable boy, Evelyn remembered, the one with the girlish body, the sun-burnt skin and the sapphire eyes. What was his name again?

It hardly registered with Evelyn that the boy was naked but for his riding boots, his slim body shining with oil and grease in the stable's solitary bulb's light – a tiny penis peeping from his loins. All she saw was the horse he was leading in.

It was Votan.

She jumped to her feet, scaring the horse with the rattle of her chains. It snorted as it pulled on the bridle, eyes wide, ears flattening.

"It's me! Votan, it's me!" Evelyn cried out, her voice cracking. "Oh God, you're here." When she tried to embrace the creature, she ran into the end of her chain, falling down on the filthy straw, her clawing hands only inches from the animal.

"Not do!" the naked boy cried out, wrestling with the prancing horse. "Back, back! Go back!" Evelyn climbed to her knees, reaching out, sobbing.

"Votan," she croaked. "My sweet Votan. Bring him to me, boy. Please, bring him." Someone chuckled.Behind the boy and the horse was a third figure, stepping out of the darkness like a ghost. Evelyn moaned when she recognized her – the blond hair, the tall frame, the steely gaze. Shying back, she bumped into the rough planks of the wall. A thundering rush of blood invaded her ears, making the woman's words inaudible.

The boy with the pale eyes, who had fastened the horse to the far wall, turned and came closer now. One of his swollen nipples had been pierced; a jewel danced from it, sparkling against his grimy skin. He didn't look Evelyn in the eyes when he took the chains off her wrists and ankles. Up close, a wild, pungent scent oozed from his body. Evelyn felt her senses respond; it made her groan from the pit of her throat.

Something must have been said. The woman and the boy-creature watched her with intense stares. She had no idea; the storm of blood still impaired her hearing. The woman's blue eyes pinned her to the spot. Then the stable boy grabbed her shoulders. Evelyn tried to flee by pulling herself free, but the boy was strong, and the woman's eyes paralyzed her. She was dragged forward and forced to her knees. Slowly the storm in her head abated. She started hearing shards of conversation and tried to concentrate. Sandro, ah, yes, the boy's name was Sandro – Alessandro. Things went on. Evelyn nodded. She tried to give a semblance of understanding. There were new words from the blue-eyed woman – haphazard, meaningless phrases. Words she almost understood.

"Need," the woman said, and "weakness." "Promise," she went on, and "sister." Sister?

The boy called Sandro was on his knees next to her. He talked with turned-down eyes in a garbled mix of languages. He was sorry, he said. Evelyn felt sorry for him; the boy oozed misery. She looked up. Names came back into focus. People had names. Ah yes, even she had a name, remember? Evelyn.

What was the woman's name? Did she have one?

M.

Was M a name?

There must have been a question – a question to be answered. Evelyn's eyes dashed from one face to the other. What was it? Where was the answer? She tried to push a sound past her lips. The steely eyes filled her vision. A huge wave of shame drowned her.

No... No questions, please, no answers.

Evelyn jumped and fled to the horse. She hid behind its generous body, using it as a shield against a world of hate and cruelty. The body throbbed against hers, intensifying her helpless arousal. She buried her face in the neck, feeling the beat of a deep, calm pulse. Every layer of protection had been peeled off of her; her bare soul stood stark and raw against a fiendish world – her fingers clawed at the manes to keep her from collapsing.

The women watched from the shadowy space across the straw-strewn floor. The boy with the pierced nipple held a chain, prepared to tie her down again. Evelyn pushed her body deeper into the animal as if to find new clothes for her naked soul. There was fear in the eyes of the boy, Sandro. And surprise in the eyes of the woman – what was her name again? Did she ever give one?

M – a black spidery letter danced in front of her.

When the woman opened her mouth, it was as if Evelyn's ears popped open.

"Sweet darling, please tell me," she said, her voice dripping patience. "What is it you want out of this, I mean: really? Why did you return? You knew you'd be punished for what you did. You even agreed that I should punish you, remember? But do you know why or for what? Is it to cure you of your weakness? Your treason?"

Weakness, treason – they were words she knew. But she wasn't weak, was she? Treacherous, maybe. But weak? Over the curtain of the horse's manes Evelyn saw the woman smile. It struck a great fear in her heart. When this woman smiled, it aboded pain, she knew now, pain and humiliation.

Misery.

Inside her, a scream was building, but there was no way for it to get out. She sobbed and buried her face into the fur, inhaling the scent of a fading paradise. The woman with the steady blue eyes took two more steps to close the gap, watching her over the back of the horse. Suddenly another horribly sweet smile washed over her features.

"I know, darling," she said. "Of course, I do. You returned for the horse. I knew you couldn't stand to be separated from sweet Votan. You came back for him, didn't you? Not to repent; not for me at all." The woman nodded, smiling wider. In response, Evelyn clawed her hands into the horse's manes, pressing her dirty face into its fur, its throbbing neck.

So, the woman knew; she'd always known. She'd played her. There had never been an escape, just an illusion. She felt herself shrink while she held on to the animal's neck. The awesome truth bit into her stripped soul like a wave of vitriol. All this time her secret had been known. She'd been steered and manipulated, dangling like a powerless puppet. The reason of her flight had been known. It hadn't been her hair, nor her pride. The woman knew all along that she would return – and why.

She was dressed in leather, Evelyn saw now, a tight jacket that pushed the pale V of her tits up. And she wore, how do they call them, breeches, leather riding breeches with flaring thighs. Looking up from the heeled boots, Evelyn saw another sickening smile wash over the woman's Nordic features. Wagner, she thought, a Valkyrie exposing white teeth. Fangs.

"I knew, darling, of course I did," she said. "I did all the time. Because I know you. And I know that you know that I do. We're stuck with each other." The woman had walked around the horse by then. She reached out to touch Evelyn, who retreated to the horse's head, holding on to it. The wall checked her. The blonde chuckled. Her fingers touched Evelyn's turned-away face.

"Don't be like this, honey. Look at me, please," she whispered with the begging voice of a friend. Evelyn refused. She heard another chuckle. "I bought you, honey, never forget that. I bought you for a lot of money, and for a reason, you know," the woman went on. "A reason you might not believe."

There was a pause. The horse snorted, pushing its soft nose into the girl's chest, sending hot air down her belly. And a shiver.

"I care for you," the blond woman said. Stunned by the words, Evelyn turned her face and looked into the blue gaze. She... cared? Liar, she thought, liar, liar. It's all lies I came back to. The woman is a sadist, she just feeds off my suffering. Look at the boy – the fear in his eyes. How he shivers. Like me.

"Yes," the woman went on. "I know you think I lie, that I'm just some sadistic monster. I may be that, honey, but this time I speak the truth. I bought you from that black woman because she didn't care, and I did. I saw you on that street corner, being bullied. She'd have destroyed you, you know; you'd be a ten-dollar heroin whore by now – if not a dead one already.

"Who else but that woman do you think ordered to have you raped after you fled? She hates white girls, you know. She loves to destroy them."

Evelyn could only stare, her mouth open, her mind in chaos. There had been rape. There had been humiliation by Zelda. She'd been fucked by strangers for money, injected, haunted by never-ending urges, desperation, cruelty. There had been causes and consequences, mistakes and disappointments, choices and decisions. But had there, really? Had she ever chosen, ever decided anything? These past days (weeks?) must have scrambled her memories. What happened when? Who did what and why? Who was this woman? What cruelties had been hers? What about others? There'd been a Zelda, Olivia, Katrine, Carlotta... When? Who? Why? Why couldn't she think?

Why think?

"You know, sweet Sandro," the blue-eyed, nameless woman said, turning to the young boy. "Evelyn loves to be with horses. I mean, really loves to, just like you. Maybe even more." A peal of silver laughter rang as the boy blushed. "Aah," she sighed, turning to Evelyn again. "You'd have so much fun together, you and my sweet little Sandro." Her Sandro.

The woman grinned, while frowning.

"Tell me, Evelyn, sweet slut," she went on. "Wouldn't that be what you want? Oh, I'm sure. I bet you'd want to be with your new sissy brother. You on your Votan and he on his pretty white horse, what's it called? Snowflake. Racing my meadows together, trotting through the woods, sloooowly grooming your sweethearts, ever so slowly. Enjoying life, and each other." Evelyn didn't answer. The woman came another step closer, their brows touching. Eyes catching eyes.

"Shall I tell you how I know?" she asked. "I mean how I know what you really came back for, besides needing to run away from that dreary, horrible little life you had?

"You told me all about it, in here, during your dirty, lust-filled stable nights when I visited you. I visited you often, you know? I saw how your ecstatic soul floated on so much fucking juice, that it turned itself inside out, showing me your deepest secrets. Little Eve I saw, and her pony; and sweet innocent Evelyn with her Votan, roaming her tiny, secret paradise... no cruel people there, just naked skin on sweating fur – and ecstasy... oh my..."

She clicked her tongue and giggled. Evelyn paled. Her green eyes raced to outrun the blue ones, but she was captured – captured and exposed.

The woman retreated. She walked over to Sandro and pressed his naked body against her tall, leather frame, squeezing the metal piercing that pinched his nipple.

"And you?" she asked. The boy stiffened in her embrace. "Don't be like this, Sandrito mio," she said. "Look at your new little sister. I know that you crave to be with her. I know you so well, little Sandro. Your grandma was right handing you over to be tamed. All this silly rebellion, hanging out with the bad boys... trying to be a real brat." She chuckled as she pushed the boy to arms' length, regarding his lean little body.