Into Painfreak

by Lee, Edward

  The abortion was not painful for her. It was pleasure.

  ««—»»

  The pain came later. There wasn’t a lot of it, and it didn’t last too long, or at least as long as she had expected or secretly felt she deserved. The wicked woman who performed the procedure, had said that she had come early enough and that she would be just fine. She said some girls wait so long that she can’t really help them. She claimed that even she had her standards. Ceely wasn’t so sure about that, but she had kept quiet.

  That had been almost a month before. Now Sarah sat across the table from her, staring. Ceely had just finished cooking the woman’s breakfast, and Sarah had come down to eat it instead of making Ceely serve her in bed. This was the first time the woman had stepped foot in the kitchen practically since she had gotten there two months before. Ceely ate quietly, looking up only momentarily to see the woman staring back at her. Now that things were quiet and Ceely had had a moment to steal a good look, she noticed that Sarah was quite beautiful when her face wasn’t contorted into the painful grimace of ecstasy. No wonder that her husband lusted after this woman. She was handsome in a way that Ceely was not. And she was available in a way the Ceely could never be, they both knew as they shared a table that morning.

  This revelation did not make her jealous, however. Instead it intrigued her. She could see beauty in the woman, but she also found her attractive, found her body beautiful in a way that she had not experienced before. She had seen the woman naked, her soft skin, thickened thighs and wide hips. But now she saw more than just a tired old whore looking for somewhere to stay for a few weeks. Ceely felt no shame for how she felt about the woman.

  But the woman’s glare did make her uneasy. She did not like the way she looked at her in that moment. As if she could see inside her, see her deepest secrets hidden from the rest of the world. Ceely looked away first. Did this woman know what she had done? Had she somehow found out? What did she want from her?

  Finally, the woman spoke. Softly at first, then more intense. “Men deal in pain,” Sarah suddenly said to her. “They want to hurt and humiliate you. It makes them feel good to know that there are weaker people that they can manipulate. They want to break you. All of you, all of us.”

  “Yes.” Ceely knew. They all knew deep down, didn’t they?

  “The only thing that we can do is to find pleasure in what we can. Find a place that they cannot enter. A location that they cannot manipulate.”

  “Like in your head?”

  “Yes. In your head. But it’s more than that,” the woman said. “There are places, places that can teach you pleasure…and pain, if you like. Those things are so very closely linked, don’t you understand.”

  Ceely did not know how to respond, but the question came so quickly, she couldn’t stop it, “Do you like the things he does to you? The way he shoves it inside you?”

  “Like?” The woman seemed to think about this longer than Ceely expected. “I find it pleasurable, yes.” She smiled coyly, never taking her eyes off Ceely. “But it’s more pleasurable when I do it back to him. Those are the parts he doesn’t let you see.”

  Ceely was disgusted, but mildly intrigued. Sarah had never sat down and talked to her this way and she wondered what she had done so now. Perhaps, as she had reasoned, she knew the things that Ceely had done to eliminate his seed from within her. Or perhaps the woman could sense that something was completely different in her. It didn’t matter, something different had occurred between them and Ceely would explore it. She had questions.

  “How…” she stopped, not quite knowing how to ask what she so desperately wanted to know, needed to know.

  The woman cocked her head to the side, “How what? How did I come to enjoy it?”

  “Yes. I mean, no…no, why would you want to do that? Why would a decent woman like something like that?”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t want to like it?”

  “No!” Ceely did not raised her voice, it was undignified. But she was noticeably upset.

  The woman stared at her. For too long. Too long. “There is a moment, right before he twist too hard, that your nipples are aroused, harden and you think, if you can just keep that feeling for a bit longer, you will understand what women moan about in the dead of night. There is a time, just as he’s finished inside of you and he grows soft, that you feel just the tiniest of tingling down there and you want more and more of that feeling.”

  “No. I do not find pleasure in what he does to me. I am repulsed. Every moment of every time he touches me.”

  The woman smiled. “I do believe this is the first time you have been honest with me. Let’s go.”

  ««—»»

  Sun, Kentucky was like every other town in that part of the south. The buildings sat a little too close together in town, and a little too far apart outside of it. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t too small either. The population poster read just over 4,000.

  Ceely followed Sarah, walking behind her like a tethered child unsure of her destination. Of course Ceely had no idea where they were going, but it didn’t matter. She was out of the house and she enjoyed the fresh air and seeing people. He kept her locked away in the house as much as he could to isolate her. And she kept herself there out of shame. The two walked down town, stopping at the windows of the store fronts that caught Sarah’s eye, she seemed in no particular hurry. This was the action of a single, carefree woman, a woman bound by no man. Ceely did not understand it. Sarah didn’t talk much and that was just fine by Ceely, because she didn’t particularly care to be walking down the middle of down town conversing with the likes of this woman.

  On Main Street, the stores lined the street like the rejects of a ghost town. The paint was chipped and some of the roofs showed wear and tear, but for the most part there was pride in those places. The people cared about the town, and they made it accommodating for shoppers, Ceely had always like it. She greeted a mother and her daughter coming out of a coffee shop, but did not look them directly in the eyes. She was not doing anything wrong, but most knew Sarah’s reputation and most women feared their husbands were next, or longed for her to come into their homes to relieve them of some of the pain, too, Ceely never really could tell which was the case with some of the women in that small town—too many ended up running into doors and getting black eyes for anyone to really know.

  At the end of Main, a tall, broad building stood, as if watching over the town. The sign in front of the building read: Sun Police Department. It didn’t really look like a police station. It looked more like a converted cathedral of some sort. The old gothic looking building was large with stained glass windows that belonged more on a church than a jailhouse. The town was proud of it, Ceely knew, because it cost a fortune to maintain, but they had done it expertly. It had history, it had memories, and it was the center—the heart—of Sun.

  “We’re going to the police station?” Ceely was confused.

  “Just in the back, there’s a door. That’s where it is. In the basement. It’s down there.”

  “What’s down there? What is it?”

  Sarah looked down at her. The woman was a full foot taller than she. “You know I only come here to visit every few years. That’s when it comes back. When it’s needed again. When all of you women here simply cannot take it anymore. It comes to you. And I come to it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Painfreak.”

  “I…I’m scared.” Ceely was not lying exactly, she just wasn’t telling the whole truth. She as more intrigued. Painfreak?

  As they walk toward the back of the building, a tall bald-headed man stood in front of a door connected to the police station, but somehow completely separate from it. The man was huge and scared and intimidating. Ceely looked around, searching for the police who should be surrounding this place any moment.

  “They don’t really see it.”

  “Huh?”

  “The cop
s. They don’t really see this place. I mean, it’s here, but it’s not here, ya know?”

  No, Ceely certainly did not know. She tried to understand what her new found friend was trying to explain to her, but there was no way that it was true. She noticed that all of the cops stopped short of coming to the back of the station toward the alley that she found herself in now (I mean, why would they come back here in the first place? Maybe because all of the traffic that was coming in and out would be the first clue, Ceely.)

  After answering her own imaginary question, she figured she’s just ask, “Why?”

  “They don’t want to see it; they don’t see it. It’s that simple.” Sarah didn’t seem to be bothered by her questions. On the contrary, she seemed to welcome them, or perhaps even expect them. After a moment, Sarah walked up to the strange looking man at the door and held out her closed fist. He took her hand into his, perhaps searching for something itched into the woman’s hand that was invisible to Ceely in the dying light of day. Finally, he nodded and then motioned toward Ceely. “She’s with me,” Sarah said, not taking her eyes off the man.

  Then he stood aside and let them by, Ceely still following Sarah like a duckling waddling after her mother. The mother that would teach her about all those naughty things she did when she hoped no one was looking—or more likely, when she wished they were. More and more Ceely began to relish the thought.

  There was a hall. A long hall with lights lining the floor, leading them down a long corridor. Sarah walked slowly, deliberately, as if she was expecting someone to jump out at them around every corner. Ceely wasn’t sure if the woman was afraid or so excited that she had become overwhelmed. Both thoughts made Ceely anxious.

  Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and it opened up into a large room with beds lining the walls, and tables in the center. There were people seated at the tables, talking, drinking, touching, too intimately to simply be friends. But then as she glanced at the beds against the walls she saw large groups of naked bodies on each of the beds. At least four or five people per bed. In the moment, she saw Pearl Hardwick, on her knees, surrendering like a dog to a man that was not her husband.

  Without thinking, Ceely marched over to the woman, incensed. “Pearl Hardwick. Pearl Hardwick, you stop that, this very mom…”

  Before she could finish, Sarah grabbed her arm. “Don’t do that. Not here. Your moral superiority went out the door the moment you stepped into this place. Either get it together or learn to find pleasure in pain that that man inflicts on you every night for the rest of your life.”

  Ceely yanked her arm out of the woman’s grasp, but she did not move to approach Pearl again. The woman continued as if she was unbothered or had not heard her friend.

  Sarah looked down on her, angry, then she walked off, somewhere into one of the back rooms. Ceely watched her go, but she was too afraid to follow. There was screaming and laughter, pain and pleasure in those back rooms, Ceely knew.

  She knew.

  As she got ready to give it up and leave, someone touched her. She turned to see him staring at her. She knew him, but it took her a moment to realize who he was. Oh, she remembered, this was her paper boy. Tommy had been delivering her papers for almost three years.

  “Ma’am. You don’t need to be back there.”

  “Oh, I’m…I’m not going back there. I just…”

  “And you shouldn’t be leavin’ neither. Let me show you things.”

  “Tommy…you’re just a boy…I can’t. How old are you?”

  “Old enough to get into here, ma’am.” Ceely didn’t know exactly how old that was, but she guessed that a place like this, somewhere between heaven and hell and pleasure and pain, didn’t exactly seek verification.

  “Let me do for you what he cannot.”

  Without a word, she followed him into a private room. The room was perfect, everything she had ever imagined that her first time would and should be like. As a young girl she had had fantasies about this room and here it was in the flesh. Candles lined the walls, flickering back and forth to a soft breeze that was undetected. Ceely did not spend much time search for it, as she knew that it probably did not really exist.

  Instead, she focused on the boy…the man before her.

  Before she could think not to, she kissed him, slowly, letting her entire body embrace the emotion. His tongue found its way to her lips, searching. When their tongues met, a sharp chill shot up her legs through her body. She wanted to fall into what she was feeling right in that moment, she needed it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling him, touching him, wanting him.

  He kissed her right cheek, and then down her neck, unbuttoning her blouse, then stopped staring into her eyes. Her husband had never done that before; he had never cared. Suddenly the new man picked her up, and carried her over to the bed.

  A million and two things rang through her head, but none of them staying for longer than a millisecond. She thought about actually, willingly making love to him, she thought about having his hands on her body, touching her, she thought about how it was a sin to have sex outside of marriage. But none of it mattered, because she wanted him in that moment and for once, she was going to have what she wanted.

  “What do you want?” he asked softly in her ear.

  No one had ever asked her that before. “Do…things to me. I…want…”

  “I know. Mostly you want me to ask permission. This place tells me, I know.”

  As he laid her down, she caught a scent of his soap and cologne, which excited her even more. He caressed her breast through her shirt, pinching at her nipples. She shivered in pleasure, then she tore at his shirt, lifting it over his head, and touched his chest, the tiny hairs, mingling between her fingers. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel his weight on top of her.

  He kissed her one last time, and then stood up. She was breathing so hard, she thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She held her hand out to him, and he squeezed it, leaned down, kissed her one more time, and whispered into her ear, “I’ll be back.”

  When he came back to her, he smiled, and held up his hands, and showed her what he had. His eyes twinkled, and he smiled again. “Get undressed.”

  He watched her as she slowly took off her clothing, reveling her naked pink body to him. She reached out and helped him take off his pants, feeling naughty and excited at the same time. Then he handed her the large sheet of plastic he had brought back with him. It was huge, big enough for her to wrap herself in.

  He draped it over her, leaving most of her body completely covered, then knelt over her, leaned down and kissed her again and again, but through the plastic. It covered her face, but just as she felt she could not breathe, he seemed to sense it, stop, open it for her to recover and close her within it again. She was asphyxiated, but elated. The sensation of suffocating and suddenly catching her breath again just as she lost it once more, was indescribable.

  It was torture, beautiful. Painful, but desperately desired.

  It was Painfreak.

  She pondered for a moment leaving just long enough to go home, bashing her husband’s skull in for everything he had done to her and escaping back to the labyrinth of Painfreak. Perhaps one day she would even do that. But for now, she would not leave this place. Not by choice. Not by force.

  | — | — |

  Sing Blue Silver

  ————

  John Everson

  She came in a silver limousine. Stepped out onto the empty street in a black chauffeur cap, and a black formal jacket. Black hose. Heels that could be used as weapons. As she walked towards the curb, Aaron saw that her jacket hugged something a bit less formal—a blue satin corset with silver thread. Formalwear taunting night wear. She was Asian, as he’d requested.

  “Mr. Ogden,” she said.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  Her lips pursed in unspoken amusement. She said nothing, but glanced slowly back and forth down the broken street. There was nobo
dy else in evidence. One streetlamp still worked a block away, though it flickered randomly, as if on the brink of extinction. None of the buildings appeared habitable. Roofs caved in, windows boarded. It was an abandoned place. A place for the lost.

  His chauffeur bowed faintly, and then opened the rear door of the car for him. Aaron slipped across decadently soft dark leather seats, and sighed as he settled in. There were some comforts he could still appreciate, if not as he once did.

  “There is vodka in the bar,” she said. “And bourbon. Whatever you like.”

  He nodded, and fingered the door of the small refrigerator/bar custom fitted to the space along the sidewall of the vehicle. A cable of light illuminated the bottles from behind.

  “Why are you out here,” she asked. Her voice was soft…but clear as bell chimes. It reminded him…

  “Just remembering days gone by,” he said.

  “Memories or fantasies?” she said.

  He snorted. “Memories of fantasies fulfilled,” he said. “Twenty-five years ago, this was the place to come to if you needed…something different.”

  She nodded. “If you knew where to look.”

  He frowned. “You weren’t even born twenty-five years ago.”

  She said nothing. The car idled. He poured himself a bourbon, neat, swirled it around the bottom of the glass. The interior lights made the liquor glow; liquid fire. There’d been a time that he’d come here, to this neighborhood, after 10 p.m. on any given night, and waded through writhing bodies to a back room where a Japanese girl lay in wait for him, surrounded by candle flames and silver chains and finger hooks and…

  “Where do you want to go now?” She asked, finally.

  Aaron laughed. “Places that don’t exist anymore. Maybe they never really did.”

  “Give me an address,” she said. “I’m your driver for the night. I will take you wherever you want to go.”