Disinhibition

(This is something I wrote for a fetish website back in 2013. Content warning, it speaks of my fantasies regarding rough and non-consensual sex. These are strictly within the realm of fantasy/consensual kink.)

I want absolute disinhibition.

Self-consciousness is paralyses, thoughts distract, detract. Shut the fuck up.

I want to forget that I forgot to shave my legs. Wait, no, I just don’t want to care. I normally enjoy emphasising my femininity but right now I want the animal, untamed, uncivilised. My physicality is imperfect biology, I want his fingers digging into the subcutaneous fat around my waist, my hips, my heavy and low breasts all manifestations of nature’s plans for my body. I never want children and the fact that I was made for reproduction is redundant but nevertheless, there it is. Blood, bone and meat, I was born to die and already I can see the signs of my aging and mortality in the tiny lines that have begun to appear on my face, in the changing shape and mass of my arse, gravity compels my skin with its downward pull, as if slowly dragging my flesh into the dirt I will someday rot in.

In this moment I don’t want to hide or deny my mortality under makeup, I don’t want to style my hair into a semblance of obedience, I don’t want to awkwardly attempt to shape myself into a simulacrum of a more slender and firm 18 year old self in order to get the sex I want so much more now than I ever did then. It is nature or culture’s dirty trick that in the apparent prime of my desirability, my desire was the flick of flame on a matchstick. Now it’s a goddamn bushfire that is spreading interstate.

I want my hair grabbed in fists full, I want to hear the ripping sound as strands tear from my scalp because fuck my vanity. Fuck beauty, fuck clean, sanitised, organised. I want to fight, frenzied, violent, teeth, nails and the guttural screaming of a woman who might just kill you if only she could. I don’t want to win. I want to be defeated by my smallness and relative weakness, overpowered by an animal larger than I. I want to be brutally invaded from behind and to lose track of what is in what hole where when what. I want to be nothing but sweat, spit, tears cum and the taste of blood in my mouth.

I will be viciously, brutally, repeatedly raped in a way that is a complete cessation of any semblance of the civilized. In the aftermath, I want to lie for a long time, still trapped underneath him, neither of us speaking. Eventually he will pull out of me and we will fall asleep, warm, mute, mammalian.

Later, I will shower, shave, deodorise and civilise. I’ll scowl in the mirror at my imperfections then head out the door. Smart, crisp, clean I will smile and spend my day being a productive citizen.

I will wince when a stranger brushes by and unknowingly knocks one of my bruises, my white panties will be wet from his semen which has trickled out of me and the tenderness in my cunt and arsehole will not subside for several days.

Her

Her skin looks as if it is stretched taut across her frame but when you touch it, it is almost too soft, as if under the thin layer of epidermis, she is made entirely of spreadable cream cheese. She smells a little like bubblegum and a lot like bleach.

Your touch causes her eyes to flutter open and they are green marbles, her mouth widens into a grin made entirely of teeth. Now she looks like she is laughing maniacally but no sound escapes her body apart from the wet, sucking sound of her hand disappearing into her cunt. Thick, fluorescent orange fluid seeps down her thighs and if you looked closely, you would observe the liquid is populated with water beetles and mosquito larvae.

Now you hear a noise like a thick bolt of cotton being slowly torn in two. This is the sound of her ripping herself open; starting from her crimson cunt she tears her skin along her centre in a perfect line right up to her scalp.

Then, gripping at the middle of her torso, she pulls herself open like a jacket which she steps out of and allows to fall unceremoniously to the ground. She is now muscle, sinew and veins, the colours are all pinks, purples and that fluorescent orange. She glistens in the clear, cold autumn sunlight.

Her exposed insides are as sticky as tree sap and a light breeze soon causes her to be decorated in brown leaves, old feathers and dead insects. She is no longer laughing, instead she seems calm and disinterested, an animal that knows you’re not a threat and therefore has no concern for you. She is rubbing her clit and staring into the distance.