The Worm Turns:  Chapter 2  Entrapment in Black and White
By Richard Gross   Constructive comments welcomed: rgross@juno.com
She invites him in, and he finds himself utterly lost. Rules of the game.
Update: 17/01/1998 to gross


Copyright   1991 by Richard Gross


He walked through her door and into dream land.  He blinked his eyes as if
the early evening light were too weak.  He just stood in the middle of her
living room and blinked.  But, it wasn't the light.  He'd just never seen
anything like it.  He couldn't remember a room he'd been in that hadn't
reeked of smoke and beer.  Early Salvation Army had accented the
hospitality of every home he had ever known.  There was nothing in his
crabbed little life to prepare him for this.  He might have seen its like
in the home decorating magazines he could find in any market if he had
bothered to read them.  But, men didn't read that junk, he knew. So, ten
seconds on her turf had already left him with a feeling of helplessness. 
He couldn't figure out in his confusion whether to sit or not, much less
where.

So, he did nothing but stand in the middle of her living room and blink. 
She saw all this, of course, and almost laughed again.  "Feel free to look
around if you like."  He looked around.  This dream land was all in black
and white, with silver and chrome that sparkled.  There were sculptured
things that held up the glass table tops.  The whole place glittered.  This
much he could recognize.

He also recognized that there were pictures on the walls.  But, as for
their subject matter, he found them weird, disturbing.  There were people
and animals and other things he understood in the pictures.  But, somehow
they all had wings and strange faces, and some were coming apart, and all
were doing things he couldn't dream of doing himself.  He noticed the
artist's name on many of them.  Parkes.  "This guy, Parkess, is really
nuts, you know."

"Parks" she said, barely holding back her contempt.  "God, what a jerk,"
she said under her breath into the blender.  She was calculating just how
much vodka she could get away with before he tasted trouble.

"Whatever.  Can't he paint real things?   What's this supposed to be?  I've
never seen people doin' shit like this.  This guy's really sick, you know
that?"

She just smiled as she offered him the drink.

"What's this stuff?  You got a beer?"

"No," she said, having planned on this "stuff."

"I'll pass."

"So you will," she giggled out loud this time.  Ok, so much the better. 
She really didn't need any help to handle him anyway.  When it's done,
she'll have done it by herself.  Ok, no help.

"Maybe you'd like to see the bedroom," she offered.

He leered again.  "Course, lead the way, darlin'."

It was only a few steps into her bedroom, but she arrived there and found
he hadn't made it.  Looking back into the hall just outside, she saw him
staring transfixed, mouth open, swearing.  She knew what was coming.  She
joined him and put her arm through his.

"What the fuck is this bitch supposed to be?"  He was looking at another of
those fantastic paintings.  And, this one was really more than he was
prepared to let pass.  A statuesque woman warrior stood triumphant over a
vanquished dragon.  Fire raged  through her eyes.  "Women aren't supposed
to do this kind of shit."

"Man's work, I suppose,"  she ventured.

"Damn right,"  he laughed, thinking he had her going now.  "Get her out of
that armor and back into the kitchen before that mother beastie has her for
dinner."  He was warming up again.  "Besides, they didn't have fuckin'
women's mother lib back in those days."

Yeah, he could still get to her.  That worm was stirring inside her again,
deep within her crotch, fighting her resolve to keep it down.  It was so
seductive; she could have him here and now, and the temptation to do it was
almost overwhelming.  Almost...  She called up her resolve.  It had gotten
her through before when she needed unswerving discipline; it would win out
now.  And, the very thought was victory.  The worm sunk back to its depths,
deep, deep inside her.  Quiet again.

She pulled on his arm again and smiled up at him that secret weapon of
hers.  It worked and he forgot about St. Georgette and her dragon.  She led
him into her bedroom with that smile.  He followed eagerly, libido back in
gear.  She would have sworn she could smell the elastic of his underpants
melting.

Even he could tell he was being ushered into the center of her privacy, her
inner sanctum.  It had its own atmosphere.  The room was dominated by a
huge four poster bed in black and white like the rest of the room.  There
was a soft black spread with white pillows and large black feathers into
which you could sink blissfully and lose yourself, as she had so often. 
Draped over the post frame was an extravagance of black and silver gossamer
lace, which she had shaped herself, and which closed it all in like the
holy of holies it was.

He had stopped again, taking it all in at the foot of the bed, trying to
make some sense of it.  He didn't know if he was going to like screwing in
black and white pillows and feathers and lace, even with her.  She gave him
a sharp shove in the small of his back that sent him sprawling into the
softness.  And that settled that.

"Let's get undressed,"  she invited, lighting candles.

"You first."

"Ok, I'll start with the first layer,"  playing his game and knowing full
well she had on panties and a T-shirt underneath.  If memory served her, he
wore nothing under his jeans and shirt.  He was tough, didn't need anything
more.

Off came her sweats.  He was swearing again.  Partly because he figured
she'd have nothing else on and partly because of the body that confronted
him.

"Holy fuckin' shit, whatchyou been doin' to yourself?"

"I've been doing a little body building here and there.  Like it?" she
teased.

He was kneeling there on her bed, his fly halted half way down its track,
staring at her, his mouth fallen open again in surprise and horror.  Here
was the swarthy, athletic body he remembered alright, but far more
developed than he had known it, more defined and hard than he could have
guessed, more lithely powerful than he would have wished.  He shuddered,
and she saw it.

"Why body building?" he suspicioned.

"All the better to pleasure you."  She really had in mind the wolf's line
about eating.  "This is all for you tonight."  She crept onto the bed with
him and knelt face to face with him.  "Touch me."  As he started to run his
hands up the back of her legs she saw the look of incredulity in his face
as his fingers encountered her hamstrings, flexed and impossibly hard in
this position.

"Oh god, oh god" he chanted.  This was delicious, she thought.  She hadn't
laid a hand on him and already he was on the run.  Psychological warfare at
the dropping of a sweat suit.  She let him have a good feel, then she
reached for his polo shirt, and with one quick movement had it down around
his ribs, his arms trapped underneath.  He looked puzzled, but she
reassured him with her warmest smile.

"Here, let me help you get undressed."  With that, she had his pants down
to his knees.  She gave him a little kiss on the tip of his nose, and with
one finger at his sternum pushed him over backwards.  He lay there, his
arms useless at his sides, his knees wiggling trying to get his pants the
rest of the way down his legs.

She laughed.  He laughed.  She let him struggle a moment, then freed him. 
His clothes off now, he felt more than a little vulnerable as she lay down
on her back and eased him over on top of her.  She took in his body at a
glance.  Moderately tall, lanky and lean.  The right body, she mused, for
old jeans that nearly cover the heels of cracked and peeling cowboy boots,
that never need a belt, and always look fine with an under shirt that
smells of cigarettes and chewing tobacco.  Nothing exciting, but ok for her
purpose tonight.  And, certainly not a threat, hell no, certainly not a
threat.  He would be giving her no trouble at all.

"Hey, you still got clothes on!  Aren't you gonna...You know?" he hoped out
loud.

"In a little bit.  Right now I just can't wait to have a piece of those
lips.  Bring 'em here."

He obliged by planting his lips heavily on hers and applying what he knew
to be the irresistible kiss.  He was not one to waste time.  She slowed him
down by sucking his tongue deep into her mouth and holding it there 'til he
got the idea.  She taught him by example, alternately nibbling his lips
softly and slipping her tongue over his teeth slowly, so slowly.  He was
breathing shallowly now, his lungs unable to catch up with the desire that
was already constricting his gut.  A couple more minutes and he would be
ready for the taking.  She would know the moment when he was no longer able
to resist her.  So, she held his head in her hands and kissed and chewed
away at his resistance while she allowed the worm to work its way back to
life.  The seductive warmth and quiet excitement rose quickly around her
pelvis, surging up through her vagina until she was as ready as he.

The time she had longed for since she opened her front door... and way
before that...longed for since the days of his taunting her years
ago...since she had fantasized about doing him in the lonely quiet of her
motel rooms on the road...that time had come.  A dizzy excitement swept
over her as she allowed the worm of her desire sway within her, and she
smoothly slipped her legs up his flanks, over his shoulders, then down
again and crossed her ankles behind him, pinning his arms against his sides
and encompassing his rib cage between her legs.

Still he kissed her.  She gave him a little squeeze, a little love hug.  He
looked down at her, smiling at the joke.  She smiled back and watched him.

"What?"  he puzzled.

"I'll be needing your attention now, your complete attention."  She began
to squeeze him, slowly applying pressure and watching his face while the
hint of a smile made its way over hers.

She increased the pressure little by little.  The look of dumb confusion in
his face grew with each increment of tightness.

"What?" he tried again.  No answer.  He blew.  "Listen, bitch, you mess
with me, and I'll have your cunt on a stick!"

"Tsk, tsk," she scolded. "Bad attitude.  We'll have to change that straight
off."  She kissed him warmly once more on the mouth, then she straightened
her legs, which had been bent at the knees.  He was pulled down her body by
this action until his head lay on her stomach.  She raised her upper body
on her elbows so she could continue to watch him.  The tightening
abdominals pushed into his face, their succulent hardness forcing him to
turn his head sideways and upping by one more degree the fear which was now
spreading insidiously in him.

He lay there unable to make any effective movement while she mounted the
pressure in minuscule steps.  His arms were being driven into his rib cage
now and causing as much havoc as her legs.  He began to grunt and cough in
frustrated rage, then real pain.  He used what little energy he had left
and lifted his head until his chin rested on her abdominals.  It was a hard
position because it bent his head back uncomfortably.  But, he had to know
what was going on.

"What, what, WHAT?" he got out between clenched teeth.

She merely upped the pressure another notch and watched its effect on him
with a curious detachment.  Her face showed no emotion.  Just interest. 
There they lay, him suffering, she watching.

After a while, she got what she wanted.  He began to yell.  She noted the
amount of squeeze for future reference.  "Any more threats?"  He indicated
"no" without hesitation.  "You ready to listen?"  She got her affirmative. 
"Good," she sighed.  She let up a bit on the pressure, and grabbing his
ears, pulled him up toward her face while bending her legs again.  She lay
back comfortably.  His face was above hers again and very close.  Seeing
that he was having trouble holding it up, she curled her right forearm
behind his neck to keep him near and wedged her left hand under his chin
till she cradled his jaw in it.  He had no choice but to look directly at
her.  He was embarrassed.

Judging this a satisfactory position, she began with the tone of a school
teacher.  "Now, pay attention.  You really don't want me to repeat myself." 
She paused to let him get the message.  "It's important that you understand
tonight's agenda.  There will be three phases to our time together.  Are
you listening?  Good.  In the first phase I will break you down.  I will
destroy your will to fight me, to resist me in any way.  This phase will
end only when you agree to do everything I demand without question.  I can
see that you're skeptical, but you'll do it, believe me, you'll beg to do
it."  And, she underscored this with a quick jolt of power through her
legs.  He jerked rigid from the force.  "More about that in a bit."

The second phase will be more fun.  I will play with you.  Anything I
please.  And, I am very inventive when it comes to play.  You will do
everything I say without complaint.  Phase two will end when you're ready
for the third phase.  Phase three is...a surprise.  But, you'll like it,
it's what you've wanted all these years...sort of."  She laughed, and that
laugh sent demons to work in his head.  He began to dread phase three.

"You listening?"  She'd caught him drifting.  Her fingers knew just where
to pressure his jaw.  The raw nerve pain was instant, compelling.  He tried
to shake his head yes.  She let up.  "Phase three will end when I'm through
with you.  Then you'll want sleep like nothing you've ever wanted in this
life.  Trust me.

"Now, a final word about the first phase -- did you guess that it started
the moment you stepped into my home? -- every so often we'll get together
just as we are now for a little chat.  I'll have you here just like this" -
- she rubbed the heels of her locked feet up and down his spine -- "and
I'll be asking you whether you're ready to obey me."  "Obey"  She'd chosen
the word carefully for its effect on him.  "I know you're stubborn and
you'll fight me on this.  I'm depending on it.  Please don't submit too
soon.  Anyway, sooner or later, you'll give yourself over to me and we can
move on.  But, understand me, my friend, the only opportunity you'll have
to give up will be during these chats.  Think carefully before you refuse. 
You never know when I'll feel like giving you another chance.  And, they
will be your only chances at stopping what I am going to do to you.  Any
questions?"

Another chill slithered up his spine quite independent of what her heels
were doing there.  He looked into her eyes for some clue of what was
coming, for some sign that this might still be a joke.  But, there was no
help there, so he just waited, little beads of sweat forming on his upper
lip.

"Good,"  she said.  And with that, he found, to his surprise, that his arms
were suddenly free.  It was no improvement.  Those legs had left his trunk
to go for his head.  They were there now, rubbing him seductively while she
decided exactly how to place them to best effect.  And then, without hurry,
without concern, they enveloped him in the thickest part of the thighs.  He
felt hopelessly lost in them as they began to swell around his head. 
Instinctively, his hands went to them to pull them, pry them apart.

Nothing had prepared him for what he felt.  He knew immediately that his
instincts had been right years ago when he dreamed of fondling these legs,
but somehow dared not touch them even if she had given him the chance.  The
reality was hard and huge.  The reality was monstrous and it was upon him.