Writing dark
Sep. 25th, 2015 11:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdSo, yesterday I had an idea for some dark erotica:
A really brutal S&M scene, culminating in a gangbang (painful, involving no one under 9 inches and possibly fisting by the end). Followed by the top putting his bottom on display, removing the collar and announcing that the bottom is soiled, filthy and unworthy of him, an irredeemable old whore that should be chained in a set of stocks for the rest of his life as another piece of club furniture, and that he can no longer bear the sight of his man and he's done. He walks out of the club without another word.
In the silence that follows,the sub gets up and walks back to a changing area. He showers and dresses. One of the guys from the gangbang comes back, saying "Man that was harsh. I'm sorry, if I'd known-" The bottom says, "No regrets. It was exactly how this needed to end. Thank you for helping." "Hey, if you need aftercare, or want someone for tonight?" "No, thank you. I'm looking forward to living like a grad student for a while." The bottom goes out and gets in the car he and his top parked here earlier. He goes to a small apartment, sparsely furnished, has another shower, puts on his pajamas and goes to bed in his single bed.
I figured out who the guys are.
They're Victor and Shane from "Raising the Dead." And that is the UPBEAT ending.
For those who don't remember, I wrote this in 2007 for Ellora's Cave.
The story opens thus
Fresno Blue paused at the door of the closet, sniffing deeply and very loudly. He could smell the girl’s fear: the adrenaline in her sweat and the piss in her pretty little pink panties. Fuck, he really hoped they were pink.
In a high sing-song voice, he started a grotesque parody of a nursery rhyme, ignoring the cooling blood that dripped down his arms to puddle on the hardwood floor. More, plenty more, soiled his flannel shirt.
“I love little pussy,
her cunt is so warm
If I vivisect her,
she’ll do me no harm
So I’ll fuck her tail
and rip her tits away.
Then pussy and I
very redly will play.”
He sniffed again and licked her rich daddy’s blood off the blade of the straight razor. “One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve,” he sang in a cadence familiar to anyone who had grown up on PBS. “Ready or not, here I come, princess.”
Fresno opened the closet door
~~~
Shane Davis saved the chapter and closed his word processor. He stretched, rubbing his hands behind his neck to work out the kink and then around to massage his jaw, which ached from hours of being set in Fresno Blue’s trademark killing leer. It was a bad writing habit he couldn’t shake, just like talking to himself in Fresno’s voice when stuck on his dialogue.
He’d done ten pages this morning, which wasn’t bad, especially for a Saturday. It wasn’t great, not his usual fifteen-page count, but given how sick he was of writing Fresno, it wasn’t bad at all. There were days—more and more days recently—when he couldn’t face opening the files and forcing himself back into the head of his psychopathic sex-spree killer, whose only goal in life seemed to be the single-handed depopulation the United States, one raped torture victim at a time. On those days, he wrote very fluffy gay romance as S. W. Davis, or edited for pay.
Fresno Blue was very popular. He’d bought Shane the late-model Ford sedan, the Victorian house in the historic district and a secure old age. His depredations had filled the house with nice antiques, comfortable furniture, lots of books and real art. In contrast, while Shane’s lover, Victor, wrote the occasional book under the “publish or perish” dictum that governed his tenure, he seldom sold more than a few thousand copies, all to college libraries. Victor’s teaching paid the utilities and bought groceries, as well as keeping Victor’s ancient Volvo running.
The conflict of the story is that Victor needs more brutality than Shane can give him. He's in charge of everything on the job and wants to be taken care of and not required to think when he gets home.
The short goes to a fairly dark place, as Shane starts channeling more and more of Fresno to give Victor what he craves. They pull back before the line is crossed. The short is 10K.
I'm thinking of expanding it and taking the story darker. I always called this my tribute to The Dark
Half. Let them cross the line, sinking deeper and deeper into dangerous territory, and Shane, horrified at how close he came to actually re-enacting one of his book scenes, draws back. The relationship dies a slow death, until the public break-up.
I can give them the ending above.
Or I can end it like this:
"Victor rose at the knock on the door. He'd half-expected this. The pounding grew louder and he opened it.
Shane, no, Fresno Blue, stood in his doorway, killing leer on his face, and straight razor in his hand.
"Hiya, doc. Thought we could take the party a little more private."
Victor smiled and let his death in by the front door.
I'm kind of ready for this right now.
A really brutal S&M scene, culminating in a gangbang (painful, involving no one under 9 inches and possibly fisting by the end). Followed by the top putting his bottom on display, removing the collar and announcing that the bottom is soiled, filthy and unworthy of him, an irredeemable old whore that should be chained in a set of stocks for the rest of his life as another piece of club furniture, and that he can no longer bear the sight of his man and he's done. He walks out of the club without another word.
In the silence that follows,the sub gets up and walks back to a changing area. He showers and dresses. One of the guys from the gangbang comes back, saying "Man that was harsh. I'm sorry, if I'd known-" The bottom says, "No regrets. It was exactly how this needed to end. Thank you for helping." "Hey, if you need aftercare, or want someone for tonight?" "No, thank you. I'm looking forward to living like a grad student for a while." The bottom goes out and gets in the car he and his top parked here earlier. He goes to a small apartment, sparsely furnished, has another shower, puts on his pajamas and goes to bed in his single bed.
I figured out who the guys are.
They're Victor and Shane from "Raising the Dead." And that is the UPBEAT ending.
For those who don't remember, I wrote this in 2007 for Ellora's Cave.
The story opens thus
Fresno Blue paused at the door of the closet, sniffing deeply and very loudly. He could smell the girl’s fear: the adrenaline in her sweat and the piss in her pretty little pink panties. Fuck, he really hoped they were pink.
In a high sing-song voice, he started a grotesque parody of a nursery rhyme, ignoring the cooling blood that dripped down his arms to puddle on the hardwood floor. More, plenty more, soiled his flannel shirt.
“I love little pussy,
her cunt is so warm
If I vivisect her,
she’ll do me no harm
So I’ll fuck her tail
and rip her tits away.
Then pussy and I
very redly will play.”
He sniffed again and licked her rich daddy’s blood off the blade of the straight razor. “One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve,” he sang in a cadence familiar to anyone who had grown up on PBS. “Ready or not, here I come, princess.”
Fresno opened the closet door
~~~
Shane Davis saved the chapter and closed his word processor. He stretched, rubbing his hands behind his neck to work out the kink and then around to massage his jaw, which ached from hours of being set in Fresno Blue’s trademark killing leer. It was a bad writing habit he couldn’t shake, just like talking to himself in Fresno’s voice when stuck on his dialogue.
He’d done ten pages this morning, which wasn’t bad, especially for a Saturday. It wasn’t great, not his usual fifteen-page count, but given how sick he was of writing Fresno, it wasn’t bad at all. There were days—more and more days recently—when he couldn’t face opening the files and forcing himself back into the head of his psychopathic sex-spree killer, whose only goal in life seemed to be the single-handed depopulation the United States, one raped torture victim at a time. On those days, he wrote very fluffy gay romance as S. W. Davis, or edited for pay.
Fresno Blue was very popular. He’d bought Shane the late-model Ford sedan, the Victorian house in the historic district and a secure old age. His depredations had filled the house with nice antiques, comfortable furniture, lots of books and real art. In contrast, while Shane’s lover, Victor, wrote the occasional book under the “publish or perish” dictum that governed his tenure, he seldom sold more than a few thousand copies, all to college libraries. Victor’s teaching paid the utilities and bought groceries, as well as keeping Victor’s ancient Volvo running.
The conflict of the story is that Victor needs more brutality than Shane can give him. He's in charge of everything on the job and wants to be taken care of and not required to think when he gets home.
The short goes to a fairly dark place, as Shane starts channeling more and more of Fresno to give Victor what he craves. They pull back before the line is crossed. The short is 10K.
I'm thinking of expanding it and taking the story darker. I always called this my tribute to The Dark
Half. Let them cross the line, sinking deeper and deeper into dangerous territory, and Shane, horrified at how close he came to actually re-enacting one of his book scenes, draws back. The relationship dies a slow death, until the public break-up.
I can give them the ending above.
Or I can end it like this:
"Victor rose at the knock on the door. He'd half-expected this. The pounding grew louder and he opened it.
Shane, no, Fresno Blue, stood in his doorway, killing leer on his face, and straight razor in his hand.
"Hiya, doc. Thought we could take the party a little more private."
Victor smiled and let his death in by the front door.
I'm kind of ready for this right now.
