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Yellow Room Vignettes


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In yellow rooms the clock ticks on. He can hear it dull through the prison of her flesh.

Her cunt is suffocation, her muscled thighs a vice which holds him still. The world is blind, is black, diluvian. Heavy. Awash in heat and the smell of her.

Of sweat and her coarse soap.The jagged coarseness of her tangled hair upon his face, like prickly pear, like tumbleweed, like all the needled dangers of the natural world that has been banished, sent away from the pale light and the fever dream which is this room.

Far away, above the black which is all that he can see and know,  in another world she is laughing.

Mistaking the frenzied movement of his tongue for enthusiasm and or for fondness. Instead he probes her core in parched desperation and breaks his fever and his en***d fast upon the burning essence of her sodden sex.

His rampant cock, throbbing desperation, is proof of life and *** of death.

As the penitent  leaves a dream behind and is born anew, to drown within his ladies cunt.


She says, “I do not want to hurt you …

But you must be good for me…ok? I do not want to punish you, it grieves me to see you hurt, but all the same you must be good, and you must learn.

There are rules within this world…maybe you did not know that. You have always been alone, I think. Out in the wilds…your own little life, your own little wants, little needs. You never thought of what you did, or what it meant…empty headed you simply went along. Never thinking that anyone would know, that anyone could ever discover the secret depths of you…but you are no mystery to me, my pequeno pollo…I fathomed you in the first instant.

One look at you and I knew…I saw you in my mind, through all your lonely days and nights. The dress shops of New Orleans and San Antonio, where you lingered beyond the panes of glass, looking in with wonder at things you sought, without knowing why…fine things to feel against your soft flesh, silk and creolin, and the best cotton brought in from Egypt…You wanted them, but did not know why.

And I know as well the secrets of your nights, on knees  with your face pressed into the earth, eating dirt and stones as you worked that phallic stone into your ass, longing to feel hot flesh upon your own and still never knowing why you would. Hungry for something, desperate for something, a name that you did not know but still cried out to as you shot your semen upon the earth…

It was I you were calling for, my sweet.

Calling out for a *** to claim you, to sweep you up and break you as a wild horse, to reshape you to the higher will. I am that which you have longed for, that for which you have searched and hungered.

I am the law and through my will comes all that you desire…but you must learn. You must obey.

Will you be good for me?

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