White Tiger on Snow Mountain

by David Gordon

the more i want to please you

  the more you humiliate me

  the wetter i get

  please tell me more

  im begging you

  the more you treat me like shit the more i want to serve you

  you have power over me

  I know, you are my slave. I have to go . . .

  just stay two more min

  please

  please

  please

  im beggin you

  two min

  PLEASE

  PLEEEASE

  can you talk on the phone? tired of typing

  i cant talk on the phone my bf is here

  but im so wet please if we talk for 2 min i know i’ll cum

  please

  im begginng you

  please stay and let me cum

  or at least tease me some more

  please i need you so bad

  I know what you need

  you need to craw lover here and take my cock out and put it in your mouth

  mmm yes while you call me a fat fuck

  and kick me in the ass

  telling me its jiggling too much

  I better be able to bounce a quarter off that ass

  u inspect me regularly

  and put me on a diet

  tell me more about it please

  and even if im in perfect shape what would you do if i wanted to eat a real dinner

  like a full meal

  If you are perfect and have served me well . . .

  I will let you cook me a steak and then kneel beside me

  for scraps that I feed you from my hand

  mmmmmmmm yess tell me moreee

  maybe you can lick the plate

  that is amazing

  for desert . . . I stick one grape up my ass and let you nibble it out

  mmmm yes

  shit i gtg bye

  I passed through to the acupuncture room, where the hands and feet, shoes and hats of my fellow sufferers poked out from the shifting edges of the curtains. I drew my shade and disrobed before lying on the table. It was February now, and the calendar showed a new picture, which I had been eagerly awaiting, sick to death of that wee winter village. This one was a puzzler, though: a slope, several vertical slashes representing bamboo stalks, and a cluster of curvy strokes that meant nothing to me, until I saw the small slit eyes, the tiny teeth, the claws. Then, like one of those 3-D puzzles, the image snapped into shape: The black waves were tiger stripes. Though lacking an outline, the form was there of a feline hunter leaping in the air, like a ghost rippling through space. The title read: “White Tiger on Snow Mountain.”

  Just then a cell phone blasted a jangling pop tune, and the old lady lying beneath the calendar sat up and answered, yelling in Chinese with a nest of needles poking from her face and hands. I looked away.

  Amy entered and greeted me with a slight chuckle that seemed to both express her general joy in life and hint that there was some joke I was missing. Maybe that very joke was in fact the key to her joy in life. Or maybe the joke was me, a goofy, pasty white guy lying in his undies, paying her to poke him with pins.

  I turned facedown in the donut hole, and Amy pummeled my back, sore from typing, and worked my legs, stiff from running, and dug her fingers into my neck, hard as cardboard from the stress of supporting my mind. I fought to hold still while she battered me, gripping the edge of the table, flexing my toes, and grimacing horribly at the floor, in part so she wouldn’t snort and call me sensitive, but also because each wrench or rip of pain was followed by a surge of pleasure, the one seeming to unlock the other, until the line between them blurred. Just as one imagines, or in my case recalled, ecstasy as a rising pleasure whose intensity approaches the unbearable, beauty as the door to terror, so too I now felt pain build into its own relief, blossoming, just when it seemed most fatal, into happiness.

  I sighed as she pierced me and attached the electrodes.

  “Too strong? Pain?”

  “Good, good,” I said. Lightning sparkled up and down my arms, twitching my nerves like prickly heat. My skull vibrated like a gong. I ground my teeth. But I had learned that the power came in waves, waves that swelled and towered, and just when you thought they were going to take you under, they broke. So I hung on.

  “Good,” I said, as the needle in my third eye danced, puckering my forehead skin. And oddly, while my left eye gazed calmly at the calendar and then went to sleep, my right eye, aimed at the blank wall, began to weep for nothing. I wasn’t even sad.

  I started chatting with a new girl, who went by blkrose. She was, her ad claimed, a “submissive masochist seeking dominant man.” Sort of. It was all very complicated and vague: She had been a good kid and a virgin until a slightly older girl became her mistress at fifteen. However, a lot of what that mistress had her do was “service” men. At twenty-one her contract expired and she was “free.” She was sometimes dominant with other women but never with men unless ordered to do so by a dominant woman or man. As of right now, she was her own mistress, dominating herself, which seemed not only less than satisfying to both parties but also extremely awkward and frankly exhausting.

  So what do you do to yourself?

  lots of stuff

  tell me some details

  lots . . . of . . . stuff

  You dont want to say? I know you cant really humiliate yourself alone in your room . . . haha

  i humiliate myself plenty, thanks, most of it not alone in my room

  like how?

  like lots of ways. why do you wanna know so bad?

  no big reason . . . just bored. Nevermind.

  what do you wanna know? i’ll be an open book.

  ok well, the last time you played alone . . . what did you do?

  bondage, clamps, wax, plug, ball gag, collar, corset, ballet boots.

  slapped myself, spent the night in my cage

  what are ballet boots? Toe shoes?

  they are fetish shoes. feet on point with a heel

  how do you bind and gag yourself? your hands are still free . . . I cant picture it.

  i do really complex ties i couldn’t begin to describe

  but there wasn’t alot of free movement sans immense pain going on

  and how does the humiliation and degradation come in if there’s no one to see?

  among other things i moonlight as a stripper

  you find that degrading?

  Yes! dude go into a skeezy strip joint some time and watch how girls get treated.

  We get slimeballs. it’s a rundown place in the middle of nowhere new jersey like a 20 min drive in either direction to civilization. i found it when i got lost in Newark trying to find the turnpike way the fuck out past the airport.

  fully nude or g-string?

  nude

  you make a lot or not cause its out in bumfuck?

  I make alot more at my real job

  What kind of work? Office you said, right?

  I said I work in an office. non secretarial.

  Still thats a lot of dough for filing or word processing no?

  I don’t file or word process unless you count memos or emails. I’m not in a support position. that’s why I specified non secretarial.

  then I guess everything is “office.” Lawyer, real estate tycoon, dentist . . . hey a masochist dentist! I bet there are a lot

  lol I work for a private investment firm. I oversee the buying/ selling/leasing of real estate. I’m like all kinds of underqualified for the job. I only got it because my father’s very good friends with one of the directors.

  you sound smart to me . . . all that math and stuff . . . I can barely add and subtract

  not much math, really. that’s for my pa

  So you dress all conservative at work? Skirt suits?

  in the office? casual. if I’m meeting a client it depends on what they’re like

  do you wear a butt plug or clamps ever to work?

  yes

  nice . . . you feel lik
e a whore talking to clients and your dad’s friend?

  he just got me hired i don’t interact with the directors

  do you give lap dances at your strip club? hustle drinks?

  yes

  you give handjobs?

  over the pants . . . yes, many. out, less.

  you find that degrading huh . . . having to touch the sleazeballs

  i find the whole thing degrading.

  the chumps come in their pants?

  i take it you HAVE never been to a really skeezy club. this place is great for someone who really enjoys suffering

  anyway i think its just a front for drug money anyway

  a laundry

  yes. everything about this place is weird. i feel like i’m on drugs when i’m there. a totally different universe from the one everyone else operates in. Even how i found it.

  How?

  dude. alright, i was out meeting a client at a site but i got lost, there’s NOTHING on this road, just warehouses and like a closed gross clam restaurant. it’s dark, i’ve been driving around in circles and finally i see the sign for this place in the distance, like revolving, so i pull up and there’s this guy standing outside smoking so i get out of my car and ask the guy where the highway is he tells me where the highway is and i start to walk back to my car and just on impulse i ask if they’re hiring

  keep in mind i’m driving a 50k car and i’m wearing, like, very nice conservative clothes, expensive jewelry

  haha

  the look he gave me was priceless

  so what happened they made you try out?

  i had to give the ‘management’ a private show

  you showed your pussy?

  i took everything off except my shoes and my jewelry

  they put a song on?

  yes

  what?

  Cam’ron

  ?

  Oh Boy a Cam’ron song it was popular a couple years ago

  I dont even know what the fuck that is. Ha

  lol

  what do you dance to now? you pick yr songs?

  i have my own cds, actually

  whats on there?

  black eyed peas a couple britney spears songs. Fergie

  At least I know those names

  Shakira. the ying yang twins

  Shakira I heard of . . . but I dont know her song . . . ying yang I dont know, ha.

  download dangerous by ying yang not shakira that’s my current favorite

  that and I got that boom boom which is britney and ying yang

  it’s an r*b song although it’s got a “rock edge”

  I like r&b but to me thats like james brown

  Where’s your straight job, in NY?

  they’re both in NJ but different planets

  hey

  you want in on my big secret?

  sure

  i’m planning my destruction.

  ?

  of my life

  how?

  everything. that’s what the strip club’s for. a place to land.

  so you dont mean suicide.

  no i don’t mean suicide i mean permanent suffering

  I suffer every day baby

  lol

  so tell me about your plan for total suffering?

  i’m going to be a 24/7 slave without an owner

  whats that mean? like a wandering samurai? a free lance warrior?

  ???

  Nevermind. Explain.

  i’m gonna turn myself into a bad joke at work until i’m fired. im going to stop making payments on the car and the house. burn through my savings and then after that i’ll be my own mistress. torturing myself and ordering myself around 24/7, cruel and vicious as i can be. i’m gonna live out every single fantasy i’ve ever had

  such as?

  dude the shit i’ll do to myself i don’t even know where to start.

  for a masochist i’m the most twisted sadistic person you’ll ever meet

  nice combo

  what do yo imagine most?

  sorry sailor bed time

  On the way home from my run I swung north through the NYU campus, impulsively, randomly, perhaps stupidly seeking Lyla, the daddy’s girl, who had told me she was prelaw. I scoped out the law school, sloshing through a lake of gray slush under the brick arches, wandering in and out of doors, smiling and nodding, impersonating a busy grad student on the move. Crisscrossing Washington Square, I saw a dozen Lylas: in their Uggs and sweats with “NYU” stamped across their rumps, in their Wellies and fur-trimmed parkas, their jeans and boots and clown-sized wool hats. For an instant, across the street or around the corner, each one became my nymph at play in the city. Each turned into a different human girl when I approached. Snow fell. I could feel the sweat chilling along my scalp and spine. An older black lady, in a heavy coat, said, “My, don’t you look lovely!” And when I glanced in a shop glass I saw my hair was beaded with frozen crystals. I hurried home.

  Still, searching for Lyla became another of my strange compulsions, my secret habitual rituals. Every time I cut through Washington Square, I looked. Every time I saw a blond girl, I wondered. I worked the law school and library onto my routes to and from the river. Once, when she claimed to be surreptitiously typing to me and even touching herself under the table while studying in the student union, I entered “BRB,” putting her on hold as it were, and dashed over, wandering the hall, scanning the faces. None seemed like hers. Was she lying? Had she moved? Was she even in New York, even a girl? Once we spoke on the phone and the voice matched, female, young, Long Island accent, but beyond that she could have been anyone. I didn’t know her last name and doubted of course that Lyla was her first, but while the odds of finding her in this downtown jungle of young blond women seemed ridiculous, it seemed equally bizarre that this person I was in intimate communication with was hidden a few blocks away. But “looking” for her only made this paradox more palpable: Searching snowy lamp-lit streets for the tracks of a girl I’d never seen felt like walking into a fairy tale, while shut in my room, seeing her words appear and form lines across the white box, she felt, if not exactly real then present, and if not present then at least closer, as close as anyone else, right there, almost, breathing behind the bright glass.

  IM with blkrose 1:32 AM

  hey

  hey, whats up?

  not much, down in georgia on business trip

  hows it going? been slutting it up lately?

  lol do you know what i did last night? i almost didn’t get out of it. you know those stupid hangers they have in hotel rooms?

  the kind you can’t steal?

  Yeah i hung myself on one by my nipples, standing on my toes

  nipple clamped or pierced?

  clamped but i also bound myself i thought i’d be able to like lift myself up a little higher with my toes but it turned out i couldn’t get high enough

  see this is where you need pics to send me!

  lol seriously though i was stuck for like 6 hours

  hahaha . . . the real humiliation wouldve been if the maid came in and found you!

  i was pretty close to yelling for help but i don’t know if anyone would’ve heard me

  haha . . . shit I have to crash . . . I have a busy day tomorrow

  psh

  psh?

  mmhmm

  pish pish? psshaw? is that some kind of georgia saying?

  you should hang around for a few and help me use myself.i’m in a mood

  where are you? What have you got?

  my hotel room

  clamps, cuffs, rope, plug, dildo, our respective imaginations, duct tape

  its a hotel or like a motel with seperate units and cars parked outside?

  it’s an actual fairly nice hotel but they’re seperate units with cars outside

  hmm . . . ok . . .

  you should strip to only high heels, tie your knees together, stick the plug up your ass, write FUCK ME on your stomach, clamp your pussy lips open, stick the dildo in y
our mouth, tape the room key to your forehead, cuff your hands and then walk around the parking lot and back.

  Hahaha that’s awesome

  haha . . . thought you might get a kick out of that

  hmmm . . . ok i’ll tell you how it goes next time we talk

  I should get to see this!

  hopefully i’l be lucky and no one will

  see you, space cowboy

  gnight

  IM with blkrose 2:26 AM

  so i licked every license plate in the parking lot last night.

  hey . . . did you do what I said?

  yeah. and licked every license plate in the parking lot to make sure i didn’t rush it took me like an hour and a half to get back to my room

  did anyone see?

  not that I’m aware of although some cars def went by as i walked by the road and the guy at the desk was giving me weird looks this morning

  maybe they got some complaints about a weird whore wandering around scaring folks

  lol i was a sight i’m sure.you don’t wander with your legs bound in heels.you teeter

  like being hobbled . . . i like that . . . too bad you didn’t get busted. Headlights. Cameras. Little kids jeering.

  lol that happened to me before, sort of. at the beach. i was wearing a bikini that ties

  and someone untied it both peices, not just my top

  wow who did it?

  i have no idea

  where?

  the. beach. i was in the water.

  they took it with them?

  or they got caught in a current or something. i definitely didn’t have them and i was trying to like

  you had to walk out naked

  signal my mom

  yr mom

  and she didn’t see me

  haha when was this? How old?

  so yeah, i had to walk up the beach to the blanket

  how old were you?

  15

  classic everyone was looking?

  i was mortified. no, who’d look at a naked 15 year old?

  ::smirk::

  but you like being mortified . . . you thought about it later when you fingered yourself

  yeah i did think about it later but at the time i was just mortified.

  i couldn’t run bc i couldn’t cover myself and we were waaaay the fuck up the beach and i couldn’t cover everything bc i only have two arms

  cover tits with one arm and yr pussy with the other . . . just show yr asscrack running by

  no i tried my tits kept coming out and then i wouldn’t be thinking so i’d like stop and throw my other hand up over my tit and then i’d realize i was standing there naked also i fell