The Brand Ch. 12

9

Reluctant to come fully awake, Victria dawdled her way between her subconscious mind and the provocation of her senses. Warm, cozy, her heart beating a lazy rhythm and her lungs filling with the fragrant beckoning of fresh air, Victria luxuriated in her stupor. She felt in motion too; a sensation of torpid rocking, advancing ever forward and side to side. There was a sense, also, of someone close beside her. Victria smiled as she realized the warm breaths against her left cheek. Was it safe to come out? Was it okay to smile? Should she risk opening her eyes? Oh but it was so good there; cradled between the warm bosom of awareness and the lap of perfect oblivion.

Victria watched the slow parting of her eye lashes, like viewing the world from inside the mouths of two piranhas, their teeth modeled in murky shadow. Light came in, bayou blue syrup; bright and shimmering, as if looking into the surface of a pool. Then the blue turned to green, and there she was, her loyal slave: Melody; alert, focused, radiant like the sun. They were sitting together, knees touching. Victria realized that she had somehow dazed off in the middle of decorating Melody's golden brown hair; winding it inglorious loops around her crown and tucking it into brilliant leafy clusters of flowers. Her dutiful lover slave was the picture of utter perfection. Victria was instantly inspired; the feeling, the desire, to create, hot in her chest and along the line of her jaw. She needed a camera, paints and canvas, pastels, anything. Victria turned, and was suddenly struck dumb.

Crowded around her and Melody was a room full of people: patients, doctors, nurses and orderlies. They all waved. Timidly, she waved back; meeting the gaze of Dr. Peebles, the skinny blonde nurse with the big ass, Detective Powers and Dr. Gupta. She didn't know the others, but some of them certainly drew her attention: the small smiling man with the wiry tufts of hair behind his big ears and around the back of his otherwise bald head; the Buddha bellied old black woman with the white Barbi doll on her lap; and the young, long red haired, man with the scabs on his knuckles and elbows, picking at them in turn, one at a time. Victria looked quickly away.

"What do you say we get out of here Cowboy?" Victria said.

Melody nodded and smiled. Victria went to stand, but she was pulled right back down into her seat. Looking down at herself, Victria realized that both she and Melody were perfectly naked, and that they were linked by a gleaming silver chain, a length of three or so feet, which disappeared inside their chests. Victria watched her hand tentatively touch the spot between Melody's breasts where the chain entered. Then, slowly, she reached for her end, grabbed it, tugged, tugged harder, and then let go. Victria then turned quickly around again, to see if the crowd was still present.

They were; and, upon their mutual transfixion, the crowd began to shout and hoot and applaud with delight. Next, they all began to undress, one and all; lab coats, scrubs, robes and pajamas flying. Victria stared in amused disbelief at Peebles chubby sausage of a penis, Powers' lovely breasts and slender hips, Gupta's small, square paunch and the skinny blonde nurse's disproportionately big white but. The Buddha black woman was still getting naked, requiring the assistance of the two big orderlies she'd recalled having restrained her the afternoon before. The scabby man stood by; pulling his scrotum up to cover his little dick while he sucked at a bleeding knuckle on his other hand. The smiling, loony eyed bald guy had no dick, at least not one that was visible because his belly came over it, like the character embossed on the Operation game board.

Victria looked on as they all danced and laughed. She then began to hear the pounding of tribal drums behind the naked undulating crowd of bodies. The great black woman remained seated, her belly jiggling, her breasts plunging then rising like bungee boobs, her head lolling at the top of her fat neck. The ceiling above peeled away to reveal bright blue sky. The bodies began to divide and pair up. Couples and trios pressed against each other, sweating with their effort, excreting the necessary slip for amorous friction. Then, as the crowd grew silent with their focused ecstasy, the drums grew louder.

Victria crawled from her chair. Melody followed. They found an empty bed and hopped on. They too kissed for a time, a very long time; hands roving, mouths to breasts. Victria wanted badly to taste Melody's sex, but the silver chain seemed to have shortened. Still, there was the kissing, and Victria had longed for it, and therefore continued to indulge in each glorious new taste of Melody's luscious mouth. They glanced back at the moving, rocking mass of flesh around them. The bald man, eyes closed, chin up and drooling mouth agape, was doing Nurse Big Butt in her ass. Powers was getting eaten by Peebles and Gumpta was fucking the detective in her mouth. The scab man had found himself one of the big orderlies to suck his little pencil prick. The men moaned and grunted. The woman swooned, whimpered and howled. The calls of Exotic birds and the staccato chatter of little monkeys cut through the air.

Victria looked again and saw a lush green forest growing out from the walls. Some of the coital couples turned to rough stone while great ropes of leafy vines wrapped themselves around the writhing bodies. Next, Victria watched the stretch of shining linoleum floor before them disintegrate into the smooth black glass of a jungle river while the bed beneath her and Melody shifted its shape, which caused a very unusual yet welcome feeling in her nethers, as it morphed into a great lily pad, its petals succulently soft, moist, firm and giving.

With excitement in their hearts and joyous smiles on their lips, Victria and Melody drove their arms into the black water, sending their great lily pad forward. The jungle spread out before them, tall and lush. The air was palpable with moisture and with the lovely calls of brightly plumed birds, long tailed monkeys and hidden myriad insects. Victria looked behind, and then ahead; nothing but jungle and river as far as she could see. So they traveled, meandered along and slowly wound their way up river.

It seemed to Victria that it was the peak of the day, the sun high in the sky, burning off the morning's moisture. It was then that she'd let their petaled vessel drift to a stretch of river bank; where she'd spotted a long, perhaps an inch and a half thick, length of fallen branch. Victria withdrew the pole from its place along the river bank, and then used it to push back off into the middle of the river. She and Melody laughed together like children as Victria tried to maintain some kind of footing on their floating flower. But, it was to no avail, and so Victria and Melody crawled around each other until the most optimal position for sitting comfortably and rowing was assumed.

Victria sat crossed legged at the center rear of their lily pad while Melody lay beneath, her head cradled in the other's lap. As such, Victria rowed on, strong shoulders and arms pushing, raising the pole across the feathery bow of their vessel and then pushing their languid forward momentum from the other side. Meanwhile, Melody dozed, a content smile on her lips; opening her eyes with lazy intermittence to look up at her domme lover's breasts, the gleaming length of chain that dangled between them, the tall trees and the blue skies above them.

Victria saw no obstacles in the widening river before them. They glided freely along upon their green and pink petaled floating flower. Feeling a contentment, the likes of which she'd never known before, Victria leaned down to steal a kiss from her loyal love. Smiling, Melody raised her head and Victria pressed her lips against her slave's smooth forehead, to the bridge of her nose, to its tip and finally against her waiting lips. Victria's back arched, the pole held aloft in both fists, the position wasn't very comfortable at all. But, hungering, she let her mouth savor, remain there against Melody's; relishing their sweetness, their sensual truth.

Then came the sound, the barest, briefest, of ripples; just loud enough to pull Victria back to an alert state. She looked up and ahead to see that the river had swollen. Her breathing becoming rapid, the smell in the air had suddenly become rank and fêted. Melody noticed too and she sat up, horrified, to see that thousands of dead bodies were floating around them; river bloated skin peeled loose, jaundous white, their eyes cavernous black and their mouths filled with fat yellow tongues.

Victria began to seethe with sheer rage and contempt. Rising to her knees, she gripped her pole firmly. The sky above was still a bright cloudless blue and the great birds continued to sing while the river swelled to near the tops of the tallest trees and the river below boiled with the ecstatic frenzy of thousands of hungry fish. Victria watched as one body, a woman, to starboard, sank slowly beneath the water, only to rise again, turning, her spine and pelvis exposed, eaten clean of flesh, while an frothing explosion of tiny fish ravaged what remained of her.

Then Victria saw them; Rancourt's charred body, then Duffy's and Ricchio's; surrounding their lily pad and trying to force it under. Effortlessly, Victria rammed the end of her pole into their charred faces, knocking them back into the churning water. Eventually, a silence settled over the river; broken only by the occasional gentle slap of their vessel against the current, the choked screams of drowning animals off in the distance or the easy rattle of the silver chain between hers and Melody's hearts. The river had ultimately become an open, calm, bright green sea. Melody had wrapped her arms securely around her domme's waist. Squinting, Victria scanned the water's surface around them. Nothing; nothing but bright blue skies and calm, gleaming, Jade Ocean. Victria watched, gazed, deliberated and ultimately dropped the frayed ends of her thought.

Suddenly, there came a great splash. Victria felt her pole being seized. Turning quickly, she looked down into the water and saw Simon staring back at her, the end of the pole held tightly within his grasp. She stared in horror. He was laughing, speaking; his words slurred with his shortened tongue, though his message came through loud and clear:

"You dumb little bitch." He chuckled; spewing, spitting his words like some cartoon voice over version of himself, "You just don't fucking get it; do you? Well then let me put it to you this way. Even the most ardent feminists have only the mercy of men to thank for the freedom to believe in their own bull shit! If it wasn't for men's morality, we'd be beating every single one of you into submission whenever we felt like it; bitch! Do you get it now big girl? Huh, do you get it now?"

Victria screamed with rage, her teeth clenched tight as she tried to work the pole from Simon's grip. But, there was no give at all. She heard Melody begin to sob, felt her grip her waist more firmly. Simon howled with laughter as he pulled Victria's pole deeper into the water. In the next instant, she was under. She tumbled, spun around her end of the length of weathered branch, not letting go, feeling Melody, and not feeling Melody. Where was Melody? Victria opened her eyes. Furiously, she stared into Simon's sneering face. They struggled for a time, her dominant hand still gripping the pole while she tried to force him away with the other. Then with a fluid curl of her body, she brought her legs up to kick him in his chest. With that, Simon let go of the pole. Recovering, he swam back toward Victria, but only just in time for her to ram the end of the pole into his open mouth.

Victria took a second to look up toward the surface. Corpses were still floating by. Parting, they revealed a glimpse of Melody, leaning out over the side of the lily pad, eyes wide, fretting, fingers to her mouth, flower petals from her bound hair falling upon the surface, starting to obscure the view of her face. An instant later, Victria had only the silver chain, their tether, to look upon.

She knew it. Simon had her by her right leg. Something, someone, had her by the other. Victria kicked and paddled her hands; and sunk deeper and deeper still. She felt a new tightness in her chest. No; please. Her eyes went wide. She saw Melody once more. No; please. I'll be a good girl. I won't fight anymore. Please. But, it was too late. She heard the snap and crack of her sternum, felt the rapturous rupture in her core, and then watched as her heart burst from her chest; swaddled in sinew, broken veins and arteries, a smoldering cloud of reddening blue blood surrounding it as it hung from its silver chain. As her brain registered her final moment, Victria drifted down into the depths, gazing at Melody's hands reaching into the water and frantically pulling her lover's heart to the surface.

Victria burst into waking. It was twilight; the room model in dark shadow. The TTU was silent but for the occasional beep of monitoring equipment. She felt an unfamiliar warmth at the corners of her mouth and across her chin. Oh my God, I never drool. She brought the collar of her Johnny coat up to her mouth and wiped. Then there was the pain, what had likely woken her up, in her legs. Pain was a good sign, Gupta had told her. Pain was a sign of recovery. She reached forward and stroked down from her thighs. A sign of recovery, sure, but the pain felt different, its locus wider, the patches of numbness higher, above the knees. Shit! Fuck! Damn it! Is it time for another pill?

Victria began to pat the mattress beyond her left leg. Thinking more, recalling, she looked to her immediate left. There had been the blue chair and Vance had been in it. Now no blue chair; no Vance. Where's Vance? Victria glanced toward the window, looked away, and then looked back again. It was dark. The chair had been moved back into the corner of the room by the window. Victria squinted. Vance? Someone was there, dressed as Vance had been dressed, sitting crossed legged, looking toward the window, head turning, wet eyes flashing.

"Geralynne?" whispered Victria.

"Hmm." Said the other, "It's me."

Victria closed her eyes again for a few seconds and sighed. Opening her eyes, clear and alert, the dawn suddenly brightened; putting Geralynne into clearer view. Her hair was longer than how she'd seen it last. Her face was gaunter then Victria had remembered, and there was a gleaming steel in her eyes. Victria wished Vance hadn't disappeared, though she was sure Geralynne had settled him, convinced him into going home. Yet, her situation, Geralynne's presence, for however long it would last, was inevitable, unavoidable.

Victria was unprepared. She had had no time to think, to devote even the briefest deliberation over the prospect of her former friend's presence, to convey, to offer; to offer what? She was bankrupt of feeling for anyone more than who she'd been devoted to. She stared at Geralynne and thought about Yazmina at the Christmas party. Where had Christmas gone anyway? She thought back further, closer, nearing the lurid light of muzzle fire, masked faces, spraying blood, the gleam of gun metal, blood and her own naked skin. Jesus wept, that had been the night before Christmas. Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even one shot gun toting mother fucker.

"I always knew she was never mine." Said Geralynne, her voice possessing a soft quality Victria couldn't recall ever hearing before.

Victria closed her eyes again. It was true. Geralynne was smart enough to know better, but fell for the young Latina's lies anyway. But, maybe, she hadn't believed the lies. Maybe Geralynne had resigned herself to use Yazmina while being used for her opulence, sheltering the betraying young woman under the feathery shadow of her success, wealth and prestige.

"But," continued Geralynne, "I thought I could help her become a better person. That's what humanitarians are supposed to do; try to help others be more; human, have self-respect, respect for others, give up their sinful ways for righteousness."

Geralynne paused again. Oh please, you pompous, menopausal, hypocrite. Victria stared at her, her white lab coat whitening with the advance of dawn, the metal of her stethoscope gleaming dully before her chest, her grey face paling as with sickness. Sins, thought Victria. I'll just shut up for this one. What can I say? There's nothing I can say. This is for Geralynne; seeking some kind of comfort, seeking some kind of consolation, to maybe have a little funeral for two because her relationship, her domination of and scening with Yazmina will remain secret while Yazmina's mother, sisters and her extended network of cousins and neighbors cry and wail by her casket; some asking: Is that a wig? Why is she wearing a wig?

"I failed. Simply put; I failed. I was wrong. I was foolish and I will never endeavor to play such games again. And you?"

Geralynne slowly turned to face Victria. She seemed small to the hospital administrator; her body dwarfed, swaddled in the bed, her legs wrapped, straight and motionless. And me, Victria thought. Me what? Sure, I failed too. I was meant to. But it wasn't my fault that your control wasn't compelling enough to keep Yazz in line. My mistake was that I didn't anticipate that you'd head game my lover the way you did. So I got you back through Yazmina and between her part in the deception, her jealousy and my pushing her over the brink, created in her the hate I had coming to me. Submit to you? She didn't even love you enough to make it worth hating you.

"Well," Geralynne continued, "You'll get yours. Though, I suppose, you already have it. Don't you Victria? There you are, finally at the most comfortable point in your life, with power enough to shatter that glass ceiling, and then there's your love, just there for the taking, lost, helpless and impressionable, just waiting for you to grab her up and take home, your little stray kitten. And what is she now? And what are you now? Road kill, just like my sweet little pet Yazmina; damaged and destroyed. How truly fragile we are Victria, aren't we? Hmm? Yes, you've got your collared girl. I stopped to see her you know. It doesn't look good. She's damaged for life, I have to say. Such a pity. Such a lovely creature."

Geralynne smiled. Victria never took her eyes from her.

"And you: crippled for life, maybe an amputee, your little reign over, your ticket to ride made forfeit. I hear those homeless people eat well at those soup kitchens. I can see it now: you and Melody, seated in a quiet, candle lit, table at the far end of the shelter, you feeding her; homeless soup, wiping her drool away, then wheeling her back out onto the streets, you collecting redeemable trash, filling a bag you've fastened to the back of her chair, killing time before they let you go back into the shelter for lights out."

Geralynne sighed, and then slowly rose to her feet.

"But, that's life Victria, right?" she said as she walked to the foot of the bed, "Easy come; easy go."

Geralynne paused, leveled a bemused yet disdainful gaze at Victria and clasped her hands at her waist. Victria stared back, a steady fire smoldering in her eyes.

"How about this?" continued Geralynne as she made her way closer to the closed door, "Once you get settled into your new; life, and you'd like to wash the street off yourself, just give me a ring. That way, you come over, wash up, you pay with well, you can put on a show for me; let me watch Melody fuck your stumps, maybe you can watch me fuck your little puppet in her ass with whatever I find around the apartment. Then I'll give you a couple bucks and you can go back on your merry way."