To Have and To Hold
As I slide my hands over her body, round and smooth, I feel the nicks on her side and the scratches down her back, a fresh one from tonight. She’s worn and abused, yet hard and firm, there’s still something left in her. She’s locked away until the next time I feel an urge to play. I remember that night, when she became mine, when I first brought her home. I carried her from the trunk of my car, through the garage to the basement, wrapped in a black cloth, hidden from prying eyes. She was mine, to do with as I pleased. That was many years ago, now I keep her locked away in my own private room. Bringing her out when I feel the urge rising in me to play.
I got her at an auction; it wasn’t your usual auction. This was a specialized event, with special merchandise. It wasn’t open to the public, and it wasn’t cheap. I had an invitation from a friend of a friend, who shared the same interests as me. I’ve been back every time since then, sometimes bidding, but mostly just to inspect the merchandise.
A hundred were on display, half of them it was their first time being auctioned off. Others had been here before; they were seasoned, their age beginning to show. As I looked around my head swam. It was dizzying, there were so many to choose from, so many beauties. Which one did I want? I spent the hour before bidding inspecting some, looking for flaws and trying to decide which I would bid on. There was too many and not enough time to fully appreciate them all.
There was a size and style to suit any need, young or old, white, black and all in between, whatever you prefer. They were from Mexico, Sweden, England, Germany and Asia, you name it they had it, something to meet your every demand, your every pleasure. No matter how basic or depraved it might be. All locked up inside glass cases for inspection. I saw one that looked familiar, she was golden, a lot older than most. She’d been here last time, and still hadn’t been sold. One stood out above the rest, taller than the others, long necked, dark black, an ebony goddess. Twins a matching pair, two identical, exactly the same in every way. One number different between them, just a minute apart, they’re always expensive, and almost always get auctioned off together. They all stood ridged on display, most not knowing what was in store for them, others prepared for the abuse that would eventually come. You could look at a few and tell they were almost ready to weep.
Many know exactly what they want before they even step foot inside. Some go for a style, preferring her to look the part more than anything else. Some want them hard edged and rough, some smooth and rounded. Others want her to be experienced; being with one of them is almost effortless, they make it so easy for you. Some just want to make them scream. I had been like that once, if I could make her scream, I’d done my job. I’ve made some mistakes over the years. One I gutted ….just to see her insides, I completely destroyed her. Head and neck are all that’s left…. I still have them. Another, I heard her neck crack when I bent it backwards too far one too many times. Out of dissatisfaction I slammed her against the wall so hard her neck it broke instantly, it was her own fault. They were Chinese, cheap and everywhere. I picked them up on the street. Since then I’ve learned…a lot.
People buy them for different reasons. Some just want them to display, to show off, and not even use them. I could never understand why someone would spend so much then never use her. Some use theirs daily, even gently cleaning them up afterwards. Many just use theirs on the weekends, usually after a few drinks, knocking them around. To them it’s a casual hobby. And a few would have theirs hanging by a hook, lifeless, before the night’s conclusion, that’s almost a guarantee.
For me it’s almost a lifestyle. Not everyone has the fortitude to stick with it, it’s not easy. Some don’t have the skills. No matter how hard they try they’ll never master it. Never be able to bend her to their will. Some just don’t have the stomach for it. Most people have never even tried. I believe deep down inside of everyone, no matter how far suppressed, they all wish they could do it.
As I was taking my seat, preparing for the event to begin, out of the corner of my eye I saw her, just on the farthest edge on the room. She was a blonde with a beautiful neck, a classic body style, smooth lines and a nicely rounded bottom, stunning beyond words, flawless. I was attracted immediately. Oh the things I could do with her. She was the one I wanted.
She was in great shape when she became mine, expensive, but well worth the price. The bidding had gone a bit higher than I’d planned. Over the years she proved worthy. Willingly she took all the abuse I could give her, with no complaint. Even when I scarred her, my hands around her neck, slamming her body down to the floor in frustration, she remained silent. She was stubborn and uncooperative at first, then one day as her body slid against mine, my hand firmly gripping her neck. Her spirit broke, there was no more fight left in her. She had finally given herself over to me completely. I dominated her, and she sang. Her song was beautiful, soulful, and sweet, something from an angel. I thought she was mine. I was wrong. At that moment we became one. I wept...while my guitar gently weeps.
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