Electra complex

Dieter is rich. Dieter is sadistic. He is my German lecturer and teacher in the art of cruelty and submission. He enjoys demeaning me and he said I would enjoy it too. And I enjoyed part of it. He says we are two of a kind.

Oh, I remember how we met at the little cafe in front of the Uni. He came and sat next to me. Me the goody goody pupil so desperate for top grades and validation.  School prefect, daughter of an army colonel and all that. I wanted to be recognised by someone exceptional.

” Mind if I join you?” Steely blue eyes staring at me.

” I was just about to leave actually.” I feigned indifference and gave him that disdainful look.

” I won’t stay very long. And I would really like to get to know you better.”

I stayed. That was his first victory. It was far from being his last.

I soon left the digs I was sharing with my friends to move into his flat. The first day I roamed in a bit disorientated. His flat was so pristine and luxurious. I wondered where he got his money from. He told me he had a private income. I did not dare inquire any further. I was dazzled by his brilliance and his intellect. For once I had someone I could look up to. I was up for anything. Let me repeat this to you. I was up for anything. Restaurants, nightclubs in London, so unlike the local disco in the dump where I come from, fine wines and silk lingerie, and a spot of cocaine now and then. And the sex of course. At first he was gentle and caring but I knew he wanted things to get a bit rougher. I told him I wanted it too…

” Don’t be afraid of hurting me.” I cried a little but there was pleasure in it too.

Today I am wearing the nightdress he bought me for my birthday and lying in bed, stroking his cat Obama, a real persian beauty. That cat was pestering me and nearly tripped me over when he wrapped himself around my leg, purring loudly. I gave him some Sheba to keep him quiet. How can Dieter be so kind to that animal, as cats are by nature untamable? Another of life’s little mysteries…

I am going to have a bath. I want to be nice and fresh when he comes back. He hurt me more the last time we made love. He told me he would rub some cream on me or he would take me to see a doctor.

” She’s a lady. She’ll understand. We just got a bit carried away baby. I love you so much.” I kissed his silky blond hair and blue eyes. My German baby… I want to surrender to him utterly with all my heart, body and soul… Cliché! Time for punishment. What will it be this time?

 

 

 

Her Phantom Prince

He wants her and doesn’t want her. He needs her as a shoulder to cry on when is is scared of his demons and has no one else to confide into. He is ashamed of his dark desires but at times his secrets are too much of a burden for him to bear. His irresistible impulses, his unholy drives… She is the only one who can help him keep his delusion of sanity. Sometimes he fears he might hurt her. She is so frail, so fragile, so innocent… She really has no clue. But he thirsts for blood, fresh blood, and the Night is his natural habitat. He does not feel too much remorse after his actions, mainly a sense of relief as his lust has been satiated. He may feel some regret after each kill, panic and fear of getting caught. At times he believes himself to be godlike and invincible, at other times  he just feels a sense of terror and unreality. Then he needs to phone her even in the middle of the night, just to her her soothing voice, grounding him back to a normal life if only for a little while. He is an old Presbyterian at heart and believes himself cursed. There can be no mercy, no forgiveness for him, no pardon for his sins, no unburdening of the heart. Only she can offer him some temporary solace. She holds him against her chest, they kiss and cry together. She asks him where he has been during his increasingly frequent absences, he says he cannot tell her or makes up some more lies. What else could he do? He cannot bear the thought of losing her even though he is lost to himself.

His craving for blood is stronger than anything. He will prowl the streets at night, waiting for the next available prey, a young woman with long dark hair, full of life, full of hopes and expectations. He knows he holds the power of life and death over her. That is the main thrill. Mastery of other people’s lives is his only form of control.

He cannot tell how much she suspects. She will cry herself to sleep waiting for his return. She is sick with worry and anxiety. She has more doubts than he could possibly imagine, even in his most paranoid moments. She could not handle the truth. Although deep down doesn’t she know the truth already?

Demon Lover

He comes to visit me every night. At first I tried very hard to resist his power but something irresistible drags me back to him over and over again. He is my Master, my Dark Angel, my Demon Lover. He hurts me and tortures me. He loves to degrade and demean me and yet I yearn for his kisses, for the powerful hold he has over me. He wants to master Life and Death and I surrender gladly to his will.

Each of his caresses leaves me weaker and weaker. He preys on my vitality and my vulnerability. He gorges himself on my blood and leaves when his appetite is satiated for he has no heart.

He is depraved and unprincipled. He knows every vice there is to know. His only pleasure is to inflict pain. He is my Prince of Darkness and a whimsical, capricious child. I am his mother, his sister, his lover and his slave.

I dream of him and get restless when he is not around. I await his return, when I will abandon myself wholly to his desires. At times, I long for his rough touch, at other times l just want to hold him in my arms and gently rock him to sleep.

Perhaps his kisses will kill me some day but this is a death I am more than willing to embrace for we depend on each other and I cannot conceive of my existence without him.

My Fallen Angel, my Lucifer, I fear I cannot save you… Then let me just quench your thirst and take me down with you…to everlasting Life or Death.