Grassroots Disc: Varian, 11/28/04, SDC common queue

[Varian P]

Hi everyone. Pure's given me the green light for this week.

Yes, another chapter from "Changed Girl," but if I've achieved my goal, it's quite different from the others, and, the action here precedes everything that's happened in earlier chapters, so it can stand alone for those who haven't read the beginning of the novel.

Here's the link: Vaughn's Journal

And here are a few questions addressing my specific concerns (though any feedback will be appreciated):

1) How does the encounter read, ie: is it erotic? Creepy? A mix? Just boring? Something else entirely? Are you on the edge of your seat at all, or reclining and yawning?

2) So, this is meant, obviously, to be Vaughn's journal. Does the writing style seem believable for this character (ie: a man in his mid-30's who's not necessarily incredibly educated, but who's well-read, who's got a certain poetic flair, perhaps, since he writes song lyrics, etc.)?

3) In attempting to make it believable as a first-hand account of something traumatic, have I made the prose and the revelation of action utterly boring? Have I undercut the erotic potential?

4) Does the method of coercion detract from/enhance the erotic or disturbing qualities of the events?

Thanks in advance for your feedback!

-Varian

 

[Pure]

That's a nice job, Varian; it's well written. I don't think most men have 'been there,' so it's all an act of imagination, fairly plausible in that there's a lot of discomfort (principally fear), besides the pleasure.

I think it has elements of erotism, but his paralysis sort of works against it. As you know, in a standard rape fantasy, the victim 'gets into it,' which he never does**{see note below}.

The writing is reasonably believable. Nothing odd jumps out.

I think the elements of trauma come through.

The method of coercion, as it's worked out, detracts from the erotism, ultimately. For instance, if I, the reader, had a vivid impression of his body 'coming to' and of his finding himself in a frenzy of fucking, that, perhaps would have been more erotic to me. **{see note below} I guess plain rape (story), at the expense of and without regard to the victim is not such a turn on. This does remind me of a non fiction account of a traumatic rape.("Lucky" by Sebold).

As far as 'gripping-ness' goes, it's moderately so, and I did want to see the end. OTOH, the end was reasonably predictable, and the reactions never changed that much. That is what makes it more of a chapter. Here are a couple of the sorts of things that would have added to the 'story' nature of the piece, imo. For instance, if he'd always had this rape fantasy, tells the reader about it, and how it bumped up against reality. OR, if afterward, after a day of shock, etc., he began to be obsessed with it, and then turned on by it, despite its demeaning quality.

But let's stick with what's there, in incidents. A major detractor, is that the woman do NOT appear interested in delivering a mind fuck. She does not taunt him or 'play' with him, or, say, heighten his fears, for fun. It's my belief that a good proportion of male rapists want to do that. She doesn't seem to. This is where the true asymmetry of the piece is evident. IOW, it's a 'get sex and leave, scenario. Not 'capitalize on it' or 'rub it in' or 'gloat' etc.

Altogether, very readable and professional. An interesting series of events, but somewhat uniform (terror,terror, terror), non dramatic. Some issues detract from the piece's impact, esp. the lack of mindfuck.


----

**Added note on re reading

There are passages my reading above did not take account of:

What I really wanted at that point, however scared and creeped out I was, was for her to suck me. I wanted to blow my wad in the back of crazy Barbie's throat. I wanted that at least as bad as I wanted her to clear out. Maybe I wanted it more.

Nice, but atypical, not much followed up (b. only, below) .

a.It gave me the shudders but my cock was raging.

b. I was starting to really want her to blow me, to stuff my impossibly hard cock between those glossy pink lips and suck me dry.

c. I shuddered and flushed, startled and unbearably aroused, in spite of the freaky situation. I moaned.

d. But, if I'm honest about it, the animal part of me wanted her, wanted her to press her cunt to my mouth.

e. Those moments of suffocation added to my terror and nausea. And, god. Yeah. In a weird way, to my arousal.

f. …in some perverse way it thrilled me, charged my dick with new heat.

These are signs of arousal, but don't really get it across that strongly; I'm not sure why. Maybe they are too localized in the genitals. Maybe the terror is a bit over-amped in adjoining passages.


And then I came. Violently. All my muscles so soft and useless, and my cock and balls seemed to throb and release with the whole power of my limp body. I was cumming. And I was crying.

This is very understated. Although the words are there, 'violently', 'power', it doesn't have that much power in effect, on this reader.

 

[Varian P]

Pure,

Thanks for the feedback, and for being so diligent as to read the chapter not once, but twice!

I think it has elements of erotism, but his paralysis sort of works against it.

Yeah, I go back and forth on that, myself. I suppose it might only appeal erotically to a rather narrow segment of possible readers, but (at times) I see his complete immobilisation as having its own peculiar kinkiness.

As far as 'gripping-ness' goes, it's moderately so, and I did want to see the end. OTOH, the end was reasonably predictable, and the reactions never changed that much. That is what makes it more of a chapter. Here are a couple of the sorts of things that would have added to the 'story' nature of the piece, imo. For instance, if he'd always had this rape fantasy, tells the reader about it, and how it bumped up against reality. OR, if afterward, after a day of shock, etc., he began to be obsessed with it, and then turned on by it, despite its demeaning quality.

I agree. The second half of the journal (which I broke into 2 chapters to make it more digestable) does explore his long-term reaction to what's happened, and a few revelations brought about by the encounter. But, as you say, within this chapter there isn't much in the way of revelation or epiphany.

A major detractor, is that the woman do NOT appear interested in delivering a mind fuck. She does not taunt him or 'play' with him, or, say, heighten his fears, for fun. It's my belief that a good proportion of male rapists want to do that. She doesn't seem to. This is where the true asymmetry of the piece is evident. IOW, it's a 'get sex and leave, scenario. Not 'capitalize on it' or 'rub it in' or 'gloat' etc.

Yes, you're right. In this encounter, the attacker isn't malicious, she's just a reality-challenged fan intent on sleeping with her rock star. I was trying to go for the creepiness and scariness of her amost childlike unawareness of the implications for him of what she is doing.

At the risk of overstepping the bounds of credulity, there's a second attack in the second half of the journal, and the ringleader in that little escapade has a grand time messing with Vaughn's head.

Altogether, very readable and professional. An interesting series of events, but somewhat uniform (terror,terror, terror), non dramatic.

Hmmm, yes. Something about this chapter just doesn't quite satisfy me, and I think you've spotted it--not enough relief in the emotional topography. The whole of Vaughn's journal was a real struggle for me to write--narratively and thematically--and it's not reached the pitch I'd like it to have. Hopefully, with your feedback and others', I'll find a way to get back to it and give it a little more impact.


What I really wanted at that point, however scared and creeped out I was, was for her to suck me. I wanted to blow my wad in the back of crazy Barbie's throat. I wanted that at least as bad as I wanted her to clear out. Maybe I wanted it more.

a.It gave me the shudders but my cock was raging.

b. I was starting to really want her to blow me, to stuff my impossibly hard cock between those glossy pink lips and suck me dry.

c. I shuddered and flushed, startled and unbearably aroused, in spite of the freaky situation. I moaned.

d. But, if I'm honest about it, the animal part of me wanted her, wanted her to press her cunt to my mouth.

e. Those moments of suffocation added to my terror and nausea. And, god. Yeah. In a weird way, to my arousal.

f. …in some perverse way it thrilled me, charged my dick with new heat.

These are signs of arousal, but don't really get it across that strongly; I'm not sure why. Maybe they are too localized in the genitals. Maybe the terror is a bit over-amped in adjoining passages.

And then I came. Violently. All my muscles so soft and useless, and my cock and balls seemed to throb and release with the whole power of my limp body. I was cumming. And I was crying.

This is very understated. Although the words are there, 'violently', 'power', it doesn't have that much power in effect, on this reader.

Yes. I'm having a damned hard time satisfying my dual goals of having Vaughn, as narrator, being kind of detached at this point in his journal--a bit in denial about the intensity of what he's been through, but still making the story an intense experience for the reader. I would LOVE any advice you might have on how to cope with this.

Thanks so much for your comments. You've articulated lots of reactions that are in line with my own thoughts on the shortcomings of the chapter--exactly the things I'm hoping to rectify.

-Varian

 

[Pure]

Thanks for the gracious response. Just a few odd thoughts.

Within the context of a 'normal' fan (of abnormally perfect body), it might be worth considering having her move, instead of (or in addition to) into sadness--which has little effect-- into anger or pique, and a transient meanness or mindfuck, at least for a time. That would alter his 'emotional topography' in varying, i.e., intensifying then relieving his fear. Just a thought.

Incidentally, the 'critique' format tend to have misleading proportions of praise and blame. The work, in fact, has more merits than 'shortcomings'; I just find it taxing to list all your virtues

PS If there is another attack-- what is it with you? and where can we meet?-- maybe you can have it come about somewhat differently (in a more complex way), e.g, a kind of sex-drugs party that takes an unexpected turn.

 

[Penelope Street]

Varian,

Answers to direct questions:

1) How does the encounter read, ie: is it erotic? Creepy? A mix? Just boring? Something else entirely? Are you on the edge of your seat at all, or reclining and yawning?

I did not find the encounter erotic. Creepy maybe. I was not on the edge of my seat, but neither did I yawn.

2) So, this is meant, obviously, to be Vaughn's journal. Does the writing style seem believable for this character (ie: a man in his mid-30's who's not necessarily incredibly educated, but who's well-read, who's got a certain poetic flair, perhaps, since he writes song lyrics, etc.)?

The writing style was believable. What I had a hard time believing was that someone would write this in a journal. This is my biggest reservation. I envision a journal entry being choppier, more emotional, less detail.

Vaughn starts that way, at least close, but then he quotes Faulkner and soon adopts a style that reads more like a standard first person narrative, including explicit dialogue. Or is it monologue since only the rapist speaks? Whichever, I don't recall any genuine journal I ever read that recorded a conversation in such a manner. Of course, maybe that's just me. Perhaps a rock star would write his journal like that, but since I wouldn't have and it doesn't read like any other journal I've ever read, I found it hard to buy.

3) In attempting to make it believable as a first-hand account of something traumatic, have I made the prose and the revelation of action utterly boring? Have I undercut the erotic potential?

Aside from as noted in my reservation regarding a journal entry, I thought the first hand account was believable. I had no problems following the narrative. For a short scene, there's some decent conflict, the mental anguish versus the physical pleasure.

4) Does the method of coercion detract from/enhance the erotic or disturbing qualities of the events?

For me the drugging makes the scene less erotic and more disturbing. This is no surprise. I find almost all rape scenes, even ones I write or am otherwise a party to, more disturbing that erotic.


Stray thoughts:

Although this scene can stand alone, I'm not sure it stands alone well. Regardless of how this chapter fits the overall story chronologically, I didn't know Vaughn as I started reading this piece and I didn't know him much better when I was finished. Really, how much could I learn? He lays there thinking, "She's scary, a monster! No, wait, I want to cum in her mouth. Ok, done that; now she's scary again. Oh, wait, that feels good too, maybe she's not so scary..." All that may well be exactly how most men would react, but it didn't show me much about the one man that is Vaughn.

This may be the crux of my involvement problem, that I have a hard time identifying with Vaughn as a character. In this regard, having read the previous chapters might have made the scene more engaging. I have an even harder time identifying with anyone who has a celebrity fixation. I know rock stars and deranged fans exist, so I had no trouble believing the scene, but I didn't much care if she carved him up like a turkey after she'd had her fun- although I also knew that was all but impossible. The knowledge that Vaughn lives to write the journal thus lessens the potential tension.


I was more interested to learn what happens after the incident. Vaughn can't do anything during the rape, but afterward what he does can say a lot about who he is. Sure, Vaughn beefed up security and started working out, but that's not what I meant. Does he dream or even fantasize about the rapist? If so, in what way? Does he want to meet her again? If he does meet her, how will he react?

I read a bit into the next chapter hoping for some answers to the above questions, but the subsequent entry did not appear to address these issues. Vaughn's reflection on why he didn't call the authorities was a step in that direction. I wanted more of that.

I believe I also could have enjoyed this scene much more if Vaughn had told his story to a close friend rather than a book. That goes double if he tells Edi and the reader learns about the incident as she learns it. That could be an intense exchange.

Given all my gripes, I still find the chapter a quality piece. It is realistic and well-paced. Even knowing Vaughn would not end up in dozens of zip-lock bags in the girl's freezer, the scene conveyed the victim's emotions well enough to have an odd, surreal quality. The narrative is believable in that way. Though it didn't stir me in an erotic manner, I can't say that it ever bored me and I did read on with some curiosity into the next chapter. As n/c is not a favorite theme of mine, it says something of your skill as an author that I continued to read more.

Take Care,
Penny

 

[Varian P]

Hi Penny,

Thanks so much for your thorough and thoughtful feedback!

The writing style was believable. What I had a hard time believing was that someone would write this in a journal. This is my biggest reservation. I envision a journal entry being choppier, more emotional, less detail.

Vaughn starts that way, at least close, but then he quotes Faulkner and soon adopts a style that reads more like a standard first person narrative, including explicit dialogue. Or is it monologue since only the rapist speaks? Whichever, I don't recall any genuine journal I ever read that recorded a conversation in such a manner. Of course, maybe that's just me. Perhaps a rock star would write his journal like that, but since I wouldn't have and it doesn't read like any other journal I've ever read, I found it hard to buy.

Yeah, that's an excellent point, and one over which I've been in a state of strict denial. For a number of reasons I want this to be a journal, not part of the novel's main narrative; I want it to have the dialogue(/monolgue); and I want it to be realistic. Hmmm, I fear something must give. At this point, it's clearly the realism that's been sacrificed, but guess it's within my power to change that, eh? I'll have to think this over carefully, as it impact the next two chapters, as well. Very helpful-thanks!

Although this scene can stand alone, I'm not sure it stands alone well. Regardless of how this chapter fits the overall story chronologically, I didn't know Vaughn as I started reading this piece and I didn't know him much better when I was finished. Really, how much could I learn? He lays there thinking, "She's scary, a monster! No, wait, I want to cum in her mouth. Ok, done that; now she's scary again. Oh, wait, that feels good too, maybe she's not so scary..." All that may well be exactly how most men would react, but it didn't show me much about the one man that is Vaughn.

This may be the crux of my involvement problem, that I have a hard time identifying with Vaughn as a character. In this regard, having read the previous chapters might have made the scene more engaging. I have an even harder time identifying with anyone who has a celebrity fixation. I know rock stars and deranged fans exist, so I had no trouble believing the scene, but I didn't much care if she carved him up like a turkey after she'd had her fun- although I also knew that was all but impossible. The knowledge that Vaughn lives to write the journal thus lessens the potential tension.

Another very helpful point. I played with interjecting a few personal tidbits about his past, his life, his attitudes on things like the groupie scene, etc., but ultimately yanked them for fear that they were interfering with the main action. I also struggled with offering revelations that would have seemed out of place in the context of a journal entry, in that he wouldn't likely write about things that were obvious to him (as opposed to the encounter, which is something he's ultimately trying to work through emotionally/psychologically). But I do see your point that, in the course of this chapter, we don't really see much about Vaughn as a unique human being.

I was more interested to learn what happens after the incident. Vaughn can't do anything during the rape, but afterward what he does can say a lot about who he is. Sure, Vaughn beefed up security and started working out, but that's not what I meant. Does he dream or even fantasize about the rapist? If so, in what way? Does he want to meet her again? If he does meet her, how will he react?

I read a bit into the next chapter hoping for some answers to the above questions, but the subsequent entry did not appear to address these issues. Vaughn's reflection on why he didn't call the authorities was a step in that direction. I wanted more of that.

Most of Vaughn's revelation about his suppressed reaction to this encounter and the next come at the very end of that next chapter. I still feel that needs to be developed further, though.

I believe I also could have enjoyed this scene much more if Vaughn had told his story to a close friend rather than a book. That goes double if he tells Edi and the reader learns about the incident as she learns it. That could be an intense exchange.

I agree. However, that would work against a few of the goals that are served by this being a journal entry (there's an ongoing thread of intertextuality that's woven, however clumsily throughout the novel, and the journal also serves as an important plot device).

Given all my gripes, I still find the chapter a quality piece. It is realistic and well-paced. Even knowing Vaughn would not end up in dozens of zip-lock bags in the girl's freezer, the scene conveyed the victim's emotions well enough to have an odd, surreal quality. The narrative is believable in that way. Though it didn't stir me in an erotic manner, I can't say that it ever bored me and I did read on with some curiosity into the next chapter. As n/c is not a favorite theme of mine, it says something of your skill as an author that I continued to read more.]

That's immensely gratifying, and I take it as a huge compliment--thank you! And thanks again for your helpful suggestions.

Sincerely,

Varian

 

[dr_mabeuse]

As usual, you turn in a very well-written piece of work, and it’s a fascinating idea, the idea of being date-raped by a female. I’m not sure if it’s a fantasy that especially appeals to me, so I might be biased and that might color my review, so bare that in mind.

As I said, very well-written, but strangely unerotic to me. This could be one of those cases where the basic premise of the story is more affecting that the actual sex, so it constanly diverts our attention away from the erotic elements. In any case, I never got comfortable with the basic premise.

I had a lot of trouble with the idea of his being so drugged that he couldn’t speak and yet was able to think and perceive with such crystal clarity, even to the point of being able to get hard and ejaculate. I know, I know: it’s sexual fantasy, and she’s laced him with Viagra, but I wonder if it might have worked a little better if he’d been a little more scatter-brained and hazy in his recollection. It might have made it seem more real had he been all foggy on some things, and then remembered some images with crystal clarity.

It might have helped in the tone of the story too, because to me, this reads like a frist-person POV story, and nothing like a journal entry. It’s far too linear and explanatory and, well, story-like. In my experience, journals tend to be more fragmentary and intimate, and they tend to ignore big events, or just take them for granted. Since you’re writing to yourself, you know what happened. It’s the details you tend to record.

In any case, I found his physical state to be so alarming that it eclipsed the sex for me. I mean, if that were me lying paralyzed on my back, I would have been in a state of total panic and fear for my life, and throughout the piece his helplessness and paralysis kept on nagging at me, diffusing the erotic heat as fast as it was generated. It was kind of like reading a story about a guy having sex who’s just broken his leg: you keep on worrying about his leg. So I guess I have doubts as whether this central premise can even work: can sex with an unresponsive person be made hot? Or is it sunk by the very fact of their unresponsiveness?

I kind of rewrote the story in my head imagining that she’d given him some post-hypnotic commands rather than drugging him, just to see what it would feel like, because I’ve read hypno-sex stories where one person doesn’t respond much that I still thought were pretty sexy. But in mind-control stories you have the implicit D/s element, so it’s hard to tell. I’ve always thought, though, that a lot of the heat in an erotic story comes from the interaction and interplay of the characters, and that’s just not possible with this premise, so I just don’t know.

So that’s kind of a large hump for me to get over. Within the context of the story, though, there are some really nice touches. I really liked the way you made her almost supernaturally perfect physically, like a living doll. That really played well given the bizzareness of the situation. I also like the way she started crying, and his tears when he came as well. It was a beautiful insight to realize that, paralyzed though he was, he was still capable of tears.

I had trouble with her striptease. Most written descriptions of stripteases just aren’t sexy to me, and I think it’s because the sexiness in the striptease in all on the part of the stripper. It’s essentially masturbatory for her. It’s not about her showing her body, it’s about her getting herself aroused by showing her body. I would have liked to see her striptease be a lot more about trying to arouse herself off rather than about trying to arouse him.

In fact, I think that would have been a good scene. She’s already drugged him helpless, and now she gets to play with him. She gets to show him how hot and seductive she is. I can relate to this helplessness fantasy that way: I think most men would like to know what a woman would do with his body if she had it all to herself. I would have liked to see her playing with his helplessness more. Maybe even posing him for her while she masturbates.

I’m rambling, I know. I guess that’s a measure of how much trouble I’m having with this story. It’s very well written, and I can really appreciate the craft that went into it, so I’m somewhat at a loss to explain the lack of heat I felt while reading it. Was I too alarmed at his condition to get into the sex? Was it too unbelievable? Was there too little interaction between characters? Or was it just not my own personal cup of tea? I’m just not sure.

---dr.M.

 

[CharleyH]

Hey there Varian. I will start out by saying that the chapter is an overall interesting concept, I like the freshness of a male as opposed to female rape, and in this I think that there is a challenge in writing it. I admire your tenacity in doing so.

To the specific questions:

1) How does the encounter read, ie: is it erotic? Creepy? A mix? Just boring? Something else entirely? Are you on the edge of your seat at all, or reclining and yawning?

This is not dull in the least, I was interested and engaged enough to read more. However, although there were certainly erotic elements, I did not find this chapter especially erotic. The question is to pinpoint why? I think because the character was so repulsed by the woman that I felt repulsion as a reader as well. In this way, I think you were successful in making me identify with Vaughn to a certain degree, but his repulsion at her outweighed the eroticism, even when he was turned on. Perhaps further explanation is needed in this case. For example, further explanation in his journal about his darker fantasies (you mention they are there, but skip over it) so that it becomes believable to the reader that he would be turned on, and thereby aligning the reader with his balance of erotic repulsion. As the story stands now, I think the balance is tilted in the opposite direction from eroticism.

While the story was smooth, and I was elicited to respond in a repulsed way toward her character, I did not feel a strong sense of terror. You had me associating with his repulsion, and so I did not find this chapter particularly creepy either. What I mean is that while her look is rather creepy, her actions are not really all that creepy to me, and I don't get a strong enough feeling that he was truly frightened, and so did not feel suspense. Yet I wanted to know more about what was happening, wanted to feel the suspense. For example:

“I started to get scared. I was ready to call the front desk, maybe even have them call an ambulance. But I couldn't hold myself up. I fell onto my side. I couldn't even lift my arm to reach for the phone. I wondered if this was what it was like to have a stroke, if I were dying.
Then I heard the door to my room opening.
In came this woman. I didn't get it at first, why she was there, the connection between her and what was happening to me.”

I believe that you could generate more suspense by having him recount the experience more actively. “I started to get scared,” is a passive statement to me, and “I was ready to call . . . I wondered . . . I heard . . . I didn’t get it at first . . .” all strike me as passive description, which I did note in a lot of places. If he was scared, then I would expect more urgency in his narrative voice. “I WAS scared . . .” with a description of why so that the reader FEELS the terror. For example: Did his heart race? Did he feel sweat building, a knot in his stomach, what are the symptoms that made him feel as if he were having a stroke? I think it is one thing to say it passively, but it would have quite another effect to describe it actively.

“I heard the door…” If he didn’t see the door, what did he hear that scared him in this moment? Perhaps prolonging this would raise suspense: IE. Not to simply hear the door, but to listen to the door to watch the room change as she enters (just example): the door slowly creaked open, the sound inching into my ears, shards of light from the hall infecting the room . . . or whatever you as a writer imagine. I simply believe in more description to make the reader associate with his fear.

Just a thought.

2) So, this is meant, obviously, to be Vaughn's journal. Does the writing style seem believable for this character (ie: a man in his mid-30's who's not necessarily incredibly educated, but who's well-read, who's got a certain poetic flair, perhaps, since he writes song lyrics, etc.)?

I liked the short sentences sometimes abrupt, with thoughts interrupting the flow of other thoughts, which made this successfully feel more like a journal entry than a narrative, while retaining the narrative quality needed to make sense of the story. I have read all kinds of journals, some fragmented, some written as log, portions told narratively, and portions only about a particular feeling. I think you balance the aspect of narrative and journal. It was also clear that he was a musician, that she was an obsessed fan of sorts, that he had read a bit, and that he was particularly in tune with pop/youth culture, but I did not get that he was especially lyrical or poetic.

Being a fan of pop culture, I have to say your use of pop references were fabulous. David Lynch - the association with horror films, all added to the overall atmosphere, and your creation of her as herself, a creation of a nightmarish doll who walked out of the pages of a glamour magazine, gloss and all was, ironically LOL, perfect.

3) In attempting to make it believable as a first-hand account of something traumatic, have I made the prose and the revelation of action utterly boring? Have I undercut the erotic potential?

Again, I was motivated by your style and concept to read the story. I think that your words are erotic where they should be however, I mentioned that the repulsion outweighs the erotic nature of the action. As for traumatic. I do not get a sense that he is traumatized.

The reason is because in the end he just isn’t emotionally traumatized to me. He doesn’t hound over it, rehashing, recounting, believing, disbelieving, going through anger, denial, acceptance, denial again. In the end he is non-challant about the whole thing, and this contradicts the beginning, where he can barely write it out in his own journal to himself to recount it, to admit it, and then in the end try to repress it, as I think you are trying to achieve in the end and perhaps use to revisit in a later chapter.

Example:

“Yeah, it was scary, and ugly, and strange. I guess it's normal, to want to move on, even to live in some kind of denial, when someone's broken in and…raped you. I guess that's what she did to me. She raped me. It seems weird to say that about myself.”

“Anyway, in the end, I never told anyone.”

To me these sound like, yeah whatever, with no emotional impact.

4) Does the method of coercion detract from/enhance the erotic or disturbing qualities of the events?

On the one hand, as a fiction, I did not feel detracted at all by the method. If creating something as close to reality as possible, I see other reviewers point about the reality. I really do not know much about the drugs used, so cannot comment, like Dr. M, on the effectiveness of using them in this story and whether or not that affects Vaughn’s performance.

However, if you are trying to create a real person in her character, despite her over-dramatic look, the one thing that does stand out to me are her eyes. I don’t know if you have ever seen a crazed, obsessed individual, but their eyes, the look in that moment is utterly determined and terrifying, and so I had a bit of difficulty with her vacant, or veiled eyes. Just something that stands out as not real to me.

Nice job.

 

[Black Tulip]

Pant, pant, I'm back from NaNo. LOL

Varian,

I have not had the time to read the other parts of your story, so I hope I did not stumble over things that were covered in the rest of it.
As usual I did not read the other comments so this could be superfluous babble.
In any case, if my contribution is not fitting ignore it. Only take what's useful.

First I have to say I like non-consent, but then I think you know that already. But I do not like a dominant female, well it can be fun reading but it's not something that I find erotic.

Well, off to answer your questions:

1) How does the encounter read, ie: is it erotic? Creepy? A mix? Just boring? Something else entirely? Are you on the edge of your seat at all, or reclining and yawning?
Given the theme I do not find it erotic, but it is very interesting to read. I find it fascinating because of the mixture you made of being repelled and aroused. The workings of the mind here are good reading.

2) So, this is meant, obviously, to be Vaughn's journal. Does the writing style seem believable for this character (ie: a man in his mid-30's who's not necessarily incredibly educated, but who's well-read, who's got a certain poetic flair, perhaps, since he writes song lyrics, etc.)?
I believe it's a male in his mid-30's. I can also believe he has a way with words. In fact that is a part of your work I really appreciate.

Fucking übergroupie. Everything I hated about that scene wrapped up in a spa-perfected package and raised to the nth degree.

A sentence like that has me savoring language like a piece of chocolate. Ummm.
Or this one, it had me grinning in approval:

keep me as a Ken doll dildo for the rest of my fucking life.

In my opinion you could have done more with the verbal aggression, make that part more violent, since at the time of the events it's the only thing he has in defense of his integrity. Lash out in his mind.

3) In attempting to make it believable as a first-hand account of something traumatic, have I made the prose and the revelation of action utterly boring? Have I undercut the erotic potential?
As for the erotic potential, don't look to me.
As for a believable first-hand account I have a bit of a problem with your style of writing.
If it is a journal, a personal account, you would find more half sentences, more I remember ..., oh and ... or ... happened too. More fragments and less chronologically correct. I think that would make it more believable.
The way your story builds up towards what happened is fine by me.

4) Does the method of coercion detract from/enhance the erotic or disturbing qualities of the events?
It is definitely disturbing. I think you did a good job on paying attention to the two sides of his emotions: the horror and the fear which made him reject her and at the same time the response of his body which caused him to be aroused and wanting her and adding to his horror. I would have liked to read more on this double feeling. But that's just my sick mind. LOL

Good examples:

Fuck, that was the weirdest thing, that close-up view of her cunt, swollen and seeping, normally something that would fill me with excitement, anticipation, something that, on its own, would get me rock hard. It shocked me, how revolting and terrifying it was.

And

Somehow it was connected to me, the pain this psychotic girl was going through, and I didn't even know who she was. I was torn between pity and a pure, violent hate.

One thing had me puzzling a bit. I thought he had fallen on the ground when he was on his way to the telephone? But later in the story I read

She struggled a little to get them off me, dead weight laying there on the bed.

Maybe I misread the circumstances?

All in all, I had a good read, not erotic but certainly fascinating. Hope this is of some use to you.



Edited to add: after reading the other comments I'm glad it's not my piece. Talk about conflicting advice.

 

[Varian P]

Hi Pure, Dr. Mabeuse, Charley and Black Tulip,
I owe all of you a big thanks and a reply, and I'm going to get to it ASAP--travel and some unexpected work caught me by surprise. Just didn't want you to think your generous efforts are unappreciated.
-Varian

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

Varian,

A great try at something different. It was a interesting read and IMHO you did a good job with the narrator’s voice.

On the downside: the beginning lines, while realistic, might not hook a lot of readers,

I might have been more involved had I known more about the characters.

IMHO, there was little to the beginning and even less to the end. However, the middle was action filled.

I’ve tossed out a fair number of suggestions. You are, of course, well-advised to toss them right back. These are just writer-to-writer suggestions. Most are technical (add a comma) however if something felt awkward or confusing, I noted that.

Again, congratulations on taking a chance with something that was, for me at least, different and interesting.

Rumple Foreskin

--

1) How does the encounter read, ie: is it erotic? Creepy? A mix? Just boring? Something else entirely? Are you on the edge of your seat at all, or reclining and yawning?

RF: A little boring. In part it may be because I know nothing about the characters and since the narrator is relating something that happened to him a year ago, we know he lives.

2) So, this is meant, obviously, to be Vaughn's journal. Does the writing style seem believable for this character (ie: a man in his mid-30's who's not necessarily incredibly educated, but who's well-read, who's got a certain poetic flair, perhaps, since he writes song lyrics, etc.)?

RF: Two thumbs up on the style. I made some suggestions, such as shortening several sentences, but tried not to mess with his voice. IMHO, you did that well.

3) In attempting to make it believable as a first-hand account of something traumatic, have I made the prose and the revelation of action utterly boring? Have I undercut the erotic potential?

RF: That’s a good point and could be the problem.

4) Does the method of coercion detract from/enhance the erotic or disturbing qualities of the events?

RF: No diffeence


--

January 14th

Weird, fucked(HYPHEN)up shit has happened to me. And now I guess I'm a weird, fucked(HYPHEN)up person. I don't know. I don't know what I think I'm going to write here.

Just fucking write.

Reading Faulkner the other day(COMMA) I came across this line:

"MEMORY BELIEVES BEFORE KNOWING REMEMBERS."

It fits, but I'm not sure how, exactly.

Edi's gone. I have to tell her. Maybe she'll come back, if she knows the truth. If I can figure out what that is. Not what happened. I know what happened. What I need to figure out is…(USE A COMMA OR EM DASH. ELLIPSIS INDICATES MISSING WORDS NOT A PAUSE) how to get back to being who I was. To being a husband to my wife, a friend to my friends, and somehow, to carry on with the band.

I don't know where to start. Christ(COMMA) this is hard. Okay. I'll start with where we were.

Last year, last March, we played a big stadium in Austin. As usual, after the show was over, the guys all hung out, doing the backstage party thing. And, as usual, I blew it off. I just wanted to get back to my room, be alone. I made my escape and the driver took me to the hotel, dropped me off. I peeled off my sweaty clothes, rinsed off in the shower, put on a fresh pair of boxers, and got into bed with a book.

I'm pretty sure I know how she did it. Before all that(COMMA) I'd been chugging water. I was dying of thirst after the concert. After I was in bed(COMMA) I was still dehydrated,(PERIOD – BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) I gulped down some more water, and went back to the bathroom to get a refill.

--

It was like a weird nightmare—my body dead and useless, that stranger in the room with me. I wanted so badly to wake up, for everything to be okay. My heart hammered—I didn't know if it was from fear or illness. She started walking toward me and I felt (A) terrible, vague dread. I had no idea what was going on, but I felt something awful was about to happen. My face, the skin of my whole body felt hot, flushed, but inside, at my core I felt icy cold.

--

Then she leaned over me, reached down and put her hand on my cock.

Christ. Fuck. That moment. I froze in cold panic. She rubbed me for a minute, then reached into my shorts and I felt her fingers curve around my limp dick and give it a tug. (IN THE LAST PARAGRAPH SHE “REACHED DOWN AND PUT HER HAND ON MY COCK.”)

"Come on, baby, you're gonna have to do better than that," she sighed in a revolting simper.

Oh(COMMA) my (G)god, I thought,(OMIT “I THOUGHT” THAT’S SELF-EVIDNET) she's not going to...I could not fucking believe it.

She went on for a while, trying to jerk my cock to life. It wasn't working. She looked exasperated. And, thinking back now, hurt.

Turning her face from me(COMMA) she went over to the dresser and rummaged around in a bag for a second. I thought I heard a rattle, and her head was bent over something, as if she were examining or reading it. She tossed whatever it was back into the bag and turned around looking all sunny. I didn't get it then—what had the bitch so fucking happy all of a sudden.(?)

--

She went back to it, licking, sucking, biting. My dick already hurt it was so fucking hard, and she was making it worse. She put her hand on my cock again. I could feel it, as if nothing was wrong. (I’M NOT SURE WHAT THE LAST PHRASE REFERS TO.) She smiled this bitchy little smile and whispered in my ear,

"That's a good boy, nice and hard. How 'bout if I stroke it a little, hmmm?"

She leaned back then, to look me in the face, though I couldn't have answered her, even if I'd been inclined. She wrapped both her hands around my shaft and alternated their pulsing grip. I sucked in a lungful of air. Then she gave my cock a sudden squeeze. Jesus fuck—(OMIT THE EM DASH, ADD A PERIOD, BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) I didn't know if she was going to break it or make me cum on the spot. Even now(COMMA) I can almost feel it, that awful mixture of terror and…fierce pleasure. My cock felt like a gun with too much powder behind the bullet.

"I'll bet you've broken in a few virgins with this. Hmmm?"

My anxiety spiked to nauseating terror as she started working my shorts down. Jesus Christ, was she really going (TO) do this? She struggled a little to get them off me, dead weight laying there on the bed. But she managed. My fiercest impulse(COMMA) to shove her back, to grab her arms and yank her hands off my shorts(COMMA) got me nowhere. I felt her fingers against my skin, my boxers sliding down, saw my stiff dick bob into view. She paused for a second to look at it, like she'd never fucking seen a hard dick before or something, then went back to it,(OMIT “IT,”) dragging my shorts the rest of the way off my floppy legs.

--

Her French manicured index finger took up the pearl of liquid at the tip of my cock and slid it around the swollen head while I watched, the rest of my body limp.

"But let's not rush things."

I watched (REPETITIOUS – YOU JUST USED “I WATCHED”) as she pushed my feet apart, felt the backs of my legs sliding over the bedspread. From the foot of the bed(COMMA) she climbed up between my legs, then spread them wider. She must have seen my terror on my face.

"Just relax, baby. I just want to see everything. Every delicious inch of you."

She bent over then,(OMIT “THEN,”) and all that long, shiny, blond wig hair fell down over her face, onto my stomach. (JAS: MOVE “BEHIND THAT VEIL” HERE) I felt her mouth on me, behind that veil. Kissing my stomach. Nibbling. Licking, her tongue warm and soft. It gave me the shudders but my cock was raging. She slid down and started licking and biting my thighs and I knew where this was going, knew that in a few seconds I'd feel her mouth on my cock and the thought flooded my dick with another violent surge of blood.

But she sat up and looked at me. I don't know what she saw on my face then. Horror? Desire? She gave me a big, plastic Barbie smile of pink(HYPHEN)pink lips and white(HYPHEN)white teeth, (THERE’S A VERY PROSAIC REASON TO USE A HYPHEN IN THAT SITUATION, NAMELY, IF YOU DON’T, EVERY EDITOR WHO GOES OVER THE STORY WILL WANT TO CUT THE “EXTRA” WORDS.) her big blue eyes sparkling but frighteningly vacant. No, maybe not vacant. Veiled. Like everything behind was sealed off.



"I'm gonna show you what you've been missin', baby. I'm gonna show you how good I am, how good I can make you feel. You don't have to do a thing, baby. Just relax."

Like I had a choice. She tucked her hair behind her ears and when she bent down again I had a clear view of her face, her tits, my cock. She took me in her hand and I caught my breath, still terrified, but Christ I was hard. I wished my cock would go limp in her hand, that she'd leave in frustration.

No. That's not true. What I really wanted at that point, however scared and creeped out I was(MIGHT BE?), was for her to suck me. I wanted to blow my wad in the back of crazy Barbie's throat. I wanted that at least as bad as I wanted her to clear out. Maybe I wanted it more.

"God, Vaughn, you've got a beautiful cock."

Holding it in one hand(COMMA) she traced over it with the index finger of her other hand like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen, and(OMIT “AND” BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) I felt every little touch as her fingertip went slowly around the head of my prick, down the shaft, and down, wandering over my balls. Then she started nuzzling against my dick, rubbing the head and shaft against her cheek, burying her nose in my pubes, sniffing in a big whiff of me, still sniffing at me(JAS: OMIT “STILL SNIFFING AT ME” ADD “INHALING DEEPLY”) as she drew her face up the length of my shaft again. It was like she actually fucking adored the thing, and I was starting to really want her to blow me, to stuff my impossibly hard cock between those glossy pink lips and suck me dry.

Shifting position, sitting between my knees and draping her long tan legs over mine, she bent forward so my cock was framed between her tits, impossibly round and firm. Her light brown nipples were hard and jutting. I watched as she pressed her tits together, then bent to press my dick against the cleavage. She slid them up and down against the underside of my cock. It was ready to burst, it was so fucking hard. Then she let a little valley open up between her tits, leaned forward, and when she pressed them together again(COMMA) my cock was swallowed up between them. She rubbed them up and down, massaging my cock, and I saw the head pop up now and then between those fat globes, then sink down between, over and over. (AWKWARD) Then she stopped, my prick straining up between those beige hills.

She looked up at me, watching me watch, and licked the tip of my cock. I shuddered and flushed, startled and unbearably aroused, in spite of the freaky situation. I moaned.

She smiled like she was damn fucking proud of herself. Her long pink tongue flicked out again and swiped at the head of my cock, over and over, wetting the pink dome and the beige flesh of her tits with her spit. The tip of her tongue teased my hole and my body writhed weakly in uncomfortable pleasure.(IMHO, IF HE CAN’T TALK AND CAN’T MOVE, HE CAN’T WRITHE)

"Do you want me to suck it, baby?"

She let go of her tits, grabbed the base of my cock in one hand, and wrapped her lips around my shaft. I still couldn't move a muscle. (THEREFORE HE CAN’T WRITHE – SEE ABOVE) If I could have(COMMA) I might still have shoved her off. Or I might have grabbed her by the hair and rammed my dick into the back of her throat. I hated the crazy bitch. I was terrified, not knowing what was wrong with my body. But fuck, I needed to cum. I was actually afraid, at that point, of being abandoned, left with that agonizing hard-on.

She was really putting on a show, lapping my raging hard-on with her long pink tongue really(ALREADY USED “REALLY” IN THIS SENTENCE) like she was eating an ice cream cone, licking up the length of my shaft again and again, running her tongue around the base over and over, working her way up to the head, not missing one millimeter of my dick. Then she dove down between my legs and started licking and sucking my balls. Her technique was aggressive, bordering on rough. My limp body wanted to squirm with pleasure-pain, with need-fear.

--

She leaned forward and showed me her finger, shiny wet with her juice. Then she slipped that finger(OMIT “THAT FINGER” ADD “IT”) between my lips and wiped it over my tongue and (OMIT “AND” BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) the pungent taste of her filled my mouth. I was as aroused as I was repulsed, smelling and tasting the cunt of this crazy bitch.

Then she sat up on her knees and touched herself for a while, squeezing her big porn-star tits, rubbing and pinching and tugging her nipples in front of my face, playing with her pussy,(OMIT “PLAYING WITH HER PUSSY” TELLS US WHAT SHE DOING, BUT THEN YOU SHOW WHAT SHE’S DOING. YOU DON’T NEED BOTH AND SHOW IS BETTER THAN TELL.) teasing her glistening slit, rubbing her clit, stuffing a finger inside herself, sliding it in and out, then spreading her lips with her free hand so I could see the deep pink of her, her shiny wet creases as she did it all again. Then she kissed me, biting my lips, pushing her tongue into my mouth.

"God," she whined, biting her lip in another trite seductive pose, "my pussy is so hot for you. Do you want to taste my pussy, baby?"

She maneuvered around and straddled my face. Fuck, that was the weirdest thing, that close-up view of her cunt, swollen and seeping, (NEW SENTENCE) normally(COMMA) something (LIKE) that would fill me with excitement, anticipation, something that, on its own, would get me rock hard. It shocked me, how revolting and terrifying it(THIS?) was.

My cock was still rock hard. I mean, what guy wouldn't be hard with a girl sucking his rod like it was the best thing she'd(SHE) ever tasted? But I guess, well, maybe there was more going on with me. I don't know. Even through that nauseating disgust, part of me was responding sexually to her—to fucking psycho-Barbie. Not just to her mouth on my cock, but to the smell of her, the sight of her. Shaved smooth except for a trimmed thatch of light brown hair on her mound. The rest bare, her pale outer lips already slightly parted, the pink inner folds already glistening. Rationally, emotionally, it was awful. But, if I'm honest about it, the animal part of me wanted her, wanted her to press her cunt to my mouth.

She lowered herself onto my face. There was nothing I could do. I was too paralyzed to shove her off, and too paralyzed to do what she wanted, even if I had tried. I felt her, her soft wetness come down over my mouth, warm and smooth. I felt her rubbing her cunt back and forth over my lips, my chin, my nose. She moaned obscenely as she ground over my face. Maybe she did that just to humiliate me—I can't believe she was getting much pleasure out of my flaccid mouth.

Then she tipped forward and started sucking my dick. Except that (OMIT “THAT” ADD “FOR THE FACT”) I couldn't move, it felt like any other blowjob with a stranger. The nerves in my cock were perfectly alert, and the combination of her diligent sucking and the disturbing visceral reaction I was having to the feel and smell of her sitting on my face had me painfully hard. A couple times she pushed down and back hard enough that she was smothering me, her cunt glued over my mouth, my nose buried in her ass, and even in cold panic I couldn't move. Then she would grind forward again and I would desperately suck at the air. Those moments of suffocation added to my terror and nausea. And, god. Yeah. In a weird way, to my arousal.

I don't know just when I finally managed to really think, beyond just reacting, and start to figure out what was actually happening. Somehow, before she started fucking my face and sucking me, it seemed like kind of a demented joke or something. It seems idiotic now, but until that moment(COMMA) I hadn't really put together the girl and the fact that I couldn't move. With her on top of me(COMMA) I finally got it—she'd drugged me. While I was in the shower, she had let herself in and put something in my water. So she could do this, so she could fuck me, so that I couldn't throw her out, call security, say no. And that was why I was so hard. Not just erect, but so hard it hurt. She'd given me something for that, too. Viagra(COMMA) or some shit.

She went on sucking my cock and humping my face. At first she'd(SHE) seemed to be kind of going through the motions, rubbing her cunt over me, but she'd(SHE – IMHO, THE LESS PAST PERFECT, THE BETTER) started to really get into it, her little grinding movements small and purposeful. With my cock stuffed in her mouth she was whining in that needful, almost-there way.

"Oh god, baby—your mouth feels so good on my pussy. You're gonna make me cum, Vaughn."

I didn't take it in then. Or later, even. (HE MUST HAVE SOMETIME OR HE COULDN’T BE WRITING ABOUT IT NOW) But ignoring this shit hasn't been working. So…okay…the thought of her actually cumming, me just laying there under her, it was weird. And the weirdness, the depravity of it all, my helplessness in this, even my…my victimization…in some perverse way it thrilled me, charged my dick with new heat.

She kinda pulled up for a second, off my mouth, slurping noisily on my cock, her cunt and ass hovering over me, her thighs shiny with her pussy juice. She touched down on my lips for a second or two, let out a little moan, then lifted off again, ramming my cock deep into her throat, then sliding up and sucking away at it. I was about to cum. Maybe she was just waiting for me before getting herself off against my face.

"Yeah baby, that's it. Cum for me like a good boy. I want to taste you. I want to feel your hot cum shooting into my mouth."

Her pathetic porn talk sent me over the edge, and (OMIT “AND” BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) when she pushed my cock between her lips again, sucking the head and sliding down until I was deep her in her mouth, I started to cum. At the first spurt(COMMA) she moaned and plastered her cunt over my mouth, twitching against me, moaning and whining over my spasming prick. I kept shooting off in her mouth in the most violent, endless orgasm, and she kept rubbing her cunt on me, and (OMIT “AND” BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) after a few more seconds(COMMA) she really fucking smashed herself down on me and groaned out, and(AS?) I felt her twat spasming over my lips. After what seemed like an endless minute of this(COMMA) she lifted herself off my face, off my cock, and turned around.

"Oh God, Baby. Oh God," she sighed, dismounting. "Vaughn, baby, you make my pussy feel soooo good."

--

My cock was stiff as ever thanks to whatever she'd slipped me. She reached down and started stroking it. I wanted her to leave, but my cock was jumping and twitching at the chance of another orgasm. If she kept jacking me like that(COMMA) I'd be raw meat in the morning.

"Oh God, baby, I want to feel that big, beautiful cock of yours in my pussy. You wanna fuck me, don't you? Hmmm? Doesn't baby need a good fuck?"

Paralyzed, I watched as she went up on her knees, her cunt hovering over me, and(OMIT “AND” BEGIN NEW SENTENCE) she took hold of my dick, sliding the head along her slit, whimpering and panting as she rubbed it against her swollen clit.

--

She sat there, straddling me like a god-damned succubus, sniffing(COMMA) all snot-nosed from her crying, my Viagra-fortified rod of steel rammed up her cunt. I was getting more and more uncomfortable. That's a dumb word for it. Wretched, fearful, mortified. I don't know. The fucking…the assault. That was one thing. But this crying—wrenched, body-shaking sobbing—with me inside of her, it was so ugly.(COMBINE WITH A COMMA) So scary. Somehow it was connected to me, the pain this psychotic girl was going through, (MORE “IT WAS CONNECTED TO ME” HERE) and I didn't even know who she was. I was torn between pity and a pure, violent hate.

She had snapped and I was scared of what would happen next, afraid I was about to see the seven faces of Sybil or something. Her fucking slowed down for a minute as she bawled out a few more tears. Then she swiped at her face a couple times, wiping away her tears and smearing her flawless makeup. Red-eyed and sniffly(COMMA) she half-heartedly went on with her fucking. Why wouldn't she just give it up and go away? It was a pathetic sight, but my cock was oblivious to my disgust. It was just waiting for her to pick up the pace and satisfy it with a good, hard fuck.

After a while(COMMA) she kind of pulled it together again and it was like her moment of painful reality had been a hallucination I'd had. Her eyes were still bloodshot, her nose red, her face streaked with drying mascara trails, but her teasing look had come back, and she started jerking over me again, jogging up and down like she was sitting a trotting horse, her silicone globes bouncing in perfect opposition to the rest of her. And then, as if she hadn't cracked and fallen apart a few minutes earlier, she started up again with the dirty talk.

"Oh, God yeah." Then a bunch of little porn flick whiney sounds. Then, "Oh yeah, give me that big cock, baby." More whining. Then she threw herself down on her hands and with her tits jiggling against my face she went on in a low voice,

"Oh, baby, I can't believe how big you are. You're really filling up my hot little pussy."

She kept talking, whispering in my ear. Riding me, sliding her slick cunt up and down my hard prick. I was stuck there, immobile, and she just fucked and fucked. At one point(COMMA) she sat up straight and spread her lips with two fingers, and I watched as my cunt-slicked cock emerged hard and red under her as she rose up, watched it disappear up inside her again. With her other hand she started rubbing her clit, looking at what she was doing, then looking at me.

--

She was whining, almost squealing as she bounced over my cock, rubbing her clit, her beige Barbie body glistening with all her effort. She came, or pretended to, and fucked some more, riding me in (MAYBE ADD “WHAT SEEMED LIKE”? – YOU INDICATED EARLIER IN THE SENTENCE SHE MIGHT BE FAKING) a total frenzy.

It was killing me. I'd been on the edge forever, having just cum, but my throbbing, Viagra-fueled prick raging for more. (AWKWARD) All her stroking, her frenzied fucking, the sight of her touching herself and cumming and jerking over me as she fucked my miserable, needful cock with her relentless cunt. I was in agony. And it felt like it would never end, like this fucking, this pain, this anxiety would go on and on forever.

Then, finally, mercifully, I felt I was about to cum. She sensed me tense, or breathe differently.

"That's a good boy, you just let me fuck you until you cum."

She pushed herself back up, away from me so I could really see her, moving up and down, her tits moving up and down. She took my hands and pushed them against her tits, squeezed her breasts with my hands, pinched her nipples with my fingers. And then I came. Violently. All my muscles so soft and useless, and(OMIT “AND”) my cock and balls seemed to throb and release with the whole power of my limp body. I was cumming. And I was crying.

 

[Varian P]

Finally! The madness is at an end (or at least a pleasant pause) and I'm back home from out of town, and can begin to respond to eveyone's feedback. I can only hope I'll be forgiven for my shameless tardiness.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse
As I said, very well-written, but strangely unerotic to me. This could be one of those cases where the basic premise of the story is more affecting that the actual sex, so it constanly diverts our attention away from the erotic elements...

I do see what you mean--his condition and situation --if not one's personal cup of erotic tea--does seem bound to distract and detract from whatever thrill might be had from the rather one-sided sex.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse
I had a lot of trouble with the idea of his being so drugged that he couldn’t speak and yet was able to think and perceive with such crystal clarity, even to the point of being able to get hard and ejaculate. I know, I know: it’s sexual fantasy, and she’s laced him with Viagra, but I wonder if it might have worked a little better if he’d been a little more scatter-brained and hazy in his recollection. It might have made it seem more real had he been all foggy on some things, and then remembered some images with crystal clarity.

Yes, I considered that, and he was more foggy-headed in some earlier drafts. Ultimately I decided to go with the idea of a drug that affected his muscles but not his mind, but I know I'm asking for a huge suspension of disbelief.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse It might have helped in the tone of the story too, because to me, this reads like a frist-person POV story, and nothing like a journal entry. It’s far too linear and explanatory and, well, story-like. In my experience, journals tend to be more fragmentary and intimate, and they tend to ignore big events, or just take them for granted. Since you’re writing to yourself, you know what happened. It’s the details you tend to record.

Indeed--something else I struggled with in writing this--trying to make it seem plausible as a journal entry but making it interesting as a chapter in a story. In the end I'm not really satisfied, and I think you're right that it's too much like a first-person narrator, rather than a journal, and perhaps working in some drugged confusion would alleviate that.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse In any case, I found his physical state to be so alarming that it eclipsed the sex for me. I mean, if that were me lying paralyzed on my back, I would have been in a state of total panic and fear for my life, and throughout the piece his helplessness and paralysis kept on nagging at me, diffusing the erotic heat as fast as it was generated. It was kind of like reading a story about a guy having sex who’s just broken his leg: you keep on worrying about his leg. So I guess I have doubts as whether this central premise can even work: can sex with an unresponsive person be made hot? Or is it sunk by the very fact of their unresponsiveness?

I wonder that, too. In the end, I'm ambivalent about my goals for the chapter. I guess, since it's on Literotica, I want readers to feel they got what they came for from it, but for me, the larger purpose is that this event in Vaughn's life should make the reader of the previous chapters understand why he's so reclusive and freaked out. The chapter, in my view, needs to be scary more than it needs to be sexy, though I'd hoped I might make it both.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse I kind of rewrote the story in my head imagining that she’d given him some post-hypnotic commands rather than drugging him, just to see what it would feel like, because I’ve read hypno-sex stories where one person doesn’t respond much that I still thought were pretty sexy. But in mind-control stories you have the implicit D/s element, so it’s hard to tell. I’ve always thought, though, that a lot of the heat in an erotic story comes from the interaction and interplay of the characters, and that’s just not possible with this premise, so I just don’t know.

I had that problem in writing it--it was hard to feel that I was achieving something particularly sexy, what with him just laying there unable to talk or move, so I understand you feeling that as a reader.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse So that’s kind of a large hump for me to get over. Within the context of the story, though, there are some really nice touches. I really liked the way you made her almost supernaturally perfect physically, like a living doll. That really played well given the bizzareness of the situation.

Thanks--I like that aspect of it, as well--taking standard traits of the 'hot girl' and just blowing them out of proportion to the point of strangeness.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse I also like the way she started crying, and his tears when he came as well. It was a beautiful insight to realize that, paralyzed though he was, he was still capable of tears.

Gosh, thanks.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse I had trouble with her striptease. Most written descriptions of stripteases just aren’t sexy to me, and I think it’s because the sexiness in the striptease in all on the part of the stripper. It’s essentially masturbatory for her. It’s not about her showing her body, it’s about her getting herself aroused by showing her body. I would have liked to see her striptease be a lot more about trying to arouse herself off rather than about trying to arouse him.

Ah, yes--I agree that building on her excitement at stripping would help the scene a lot.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse In fact, I think that would have been a good scene. She’s already drugged him helpless, and now she gets to play with him. She gets to show him how hot and seductive she is. I can relate to this helplessness fantasy that way: I think most men would like to know what a woman would do with his body if she had it all to herself. I would have liked to see her playing with his helplessness more. Maybe even posing him for her while she masturbates.

Ooh, extra delicious creepiness! I'll have to think about working that in.

Originally posted by dr_mabeuse I’m rambling, I know. I guess that’s a measure of how much trouble I’m having with this story. It’s very well written, and I can really appreciate the craft that went into it, so I’m somewhat at a loss to explain the lack of heat I felt while reading it. Was I too alarmed at his condition to get into the sex? Was it too unbelievable? Was there too little interaction between characters? Or was it just not my own personal cup of tea? I’m just not sure.

I'd guess that it's a combination of all of those things, and since female domination of an inert man isn't my cup of tea, I fear that ultimately the scene lacks the heat which comes from the author writing about something he or she finds really hot. But that's also made it really hard for me to judge the erotic potential of the scene for myself, so your feedback is immensely helpful. Thanks for taking the time to respond so thoughtfully.

Varian

 

[Varian P]

Hi Charley,

Thanks for the in-depth, thoughtful feedback, and my apologies for my long delay in replying.

Hey there Varian. I will start out by saying that the chapter is an overall interesting concept, I like the freshness of a male as opposed to female rape, and in this I think that there is a challenge in writing it. I admire your tenacity in doing so.

Thanks--it was fun (if occasionally frustrating) trying something different.

This is not dull in the least, I was interested and engaged enough to read more. However, although there were certainly erotic elements, I did not find this chapter especially erotic...I think because the character was so repulsed by the woman that I felt repulsion as a reader as well. In this way, I think you were successful in making me identify with Vaughn to a certain degree, but his repulsion at her outweighed the eroticism, even when he was turned on. Perhaps further explanation is needed in this case. For example, further explanation in his journal about his darker fantasies (you mention they are there, but skip over it) so that it becomes believable to the reader that he would be turned on, and thereby aligning the reader with his balance of erotic repulsion. As the story stands now, I think the balance is tilted in the opposite direction from eroticism.

You've got a good point, I think, and to some degree this was a conscious choice on my part--I've put off exploring the darker side of Vaughn's sexual nature for reasons of plot, but in doing so, as you say, I've left the reader with a situation which emphasizes the repulsion rather than the eroticism.

While the story was smooth, and I was elicited to respond in a repulsed way toward her character, I did not feel a strong sense of terror. You had me associating with his repulsion, and so I did not find this chapter particularly creepy either. What I mean is that while her look is rather creepy, her actions are not really all that creepy to me, and I don't get a strong enough feeling that he was truly frightened, and so did not feel suspense.

That's quite helpful. I suspected that I wasn't really managing to create the feeling of terror I wanted to put across.

I liked the short sentences sometimes abrupt, with thoughts interrupting the flow of other thoughts, which made this successfully feel more like a journal entry than a narrative, while retaining the narrative quality needed to make sense of the story...It was also clear that he was a musician, that she was an obsessed fan of sorts, that he had read a bit, and that he was particularly in tune with pop/youth culture, but I did not get that he was especially lyrical or poetic.

That's encouraging-thanks!

Being a fan of pop culture, I have to say your use of pop references were fabulous. David Lynch - the association with horror films, all added to the overall atmosphere, and your creation of her as herself, a creation of a nightmarish doll who walked out of the pages of a glamour magazine, gloss and all was, ironically LOL, perfect.

Thanks--I don't know if it's cheating or not--but sometimes I think the most economical way to make an impression is by referencing cultural artefacts that embody the atmosphere or imagery that are part of the scene.

Originally posted by CharleyH
in the end he just isn’t emotionally traumatized to me. He doesn’t hound over it, rehashing, recounting, believing, disbelieving, going through anger, denial, acceptance, denial again. In the end he is non-challant about the whole thing, and this contradicts the beginning, where he can barely write it out in his own journal to himself to recount it, to admit it, and then in the end try to repress it, as I think you are trying to achieve in the end and perhaps use to revisit in a later chapter.

Example:

“Yeah, it was scary, and ugly, and strange. I guess it's normal, to want to move on, even to live in some kind of denial, when someone's broken in and…raped you. I guess that's what she did to me. She raped me. It seems weird to say that about myself.”

“Anyway, in the end, I never told anyone.”

To me these sound like, yeah whatever, with no emotional impact.

Good to know. I'll take that into account as I revise--I don't want it to come across as "whatever," but narratively, it's a fine line between indifference and suppressing something he's not quite managing to deal with yet. I'll have to work on finessing, there.

Originally posted by CharleyH ...However, if you are trying to create a real person in her character, despite her over-dramatic look, the one thing that does stand out to me are her eyes. I don’t know if you have ever seen a crazed, obsessed individual, but their eyes, the look in that moment is utterly determined and terrifying, and so I had a bit of difficulty with her vacant, or veiled eyes. Just something that stands out as not real to me.

Interesting. I don't know if it's realistic or not, but I had in mind that she's deluded herself, to a certain degree, about what's happening between them, and that veiled look comes from her active denial, her unwillingness to see the reality of the situation--her coercion, his victimization.

I really appreciate the time you took to respond in such detail--your feedback will be a big help when I get back to revising!

-Varian

 

[Varian P]

Hey there, Black Tulip,

First I have to say I like non-consent, but then I think you know that already. But I do not like a dominant female, well it can be fun reading but it's not something that I find erotic.

Strangely enough, and as I've already confessed above, I don't find it all that erotic, myself. But it was amusing, trying something new, and it serves my plot well.

Given the theme I do not find it erotic, but it is very interesting to read. I find it fascinating because of the mixture you made of being repelled and aroused. The workings of the mind here are good reading.

That's good to hear--thanks.

I believe it's a male in his mid-30's. I can also believe he has a way with words. In fact that is a part of your work I really appreciate.

A sentence like that has me savoring language like a piece of chocolate. Ummm.

Fucking übergroupie. Everything I hated about that scene wrapped up in a spa-perfected package and raised to the nth degree.

Or this one, it had me grinning in approval:

keep me as a Ken doll dildo for the rest of my fucking life.

Oh, you flatter me so, Black Tulip! As a couple of my kind critics can attest, poor Vaughn often has no voice of his own, so I'm very pleased that I've managed to inbue him with a bit of character, and that it made you savor and grin!

In my opinion you could have done more with the verbal aggression, make that part more violent, since at the time of the events it's the only thing he has in defense of his integrity. Lash out in his mind.

I agree, and that's something I've wanted to do, although I worry a bit that his mental lashing out will come across as misogynistic--I'll have to tread carefully there.

Originally posted by Black Tulip
As for a believable first-hand account I have a bit of a problem with your style of writing.
If it is a journal, a personal account, you would find more half sentences, more I remember ..., oh and ... or ... happened too. More fragments and less chronologically correct. I think that would make it more believable.

Charley excepted, there seems to be a consensus that the chapter reads more like narrative prose than a journal. I think I'll have to work on that--thanks.

Originally posted by Black Tulip
It is definitely disturbing. I think you did a good job on paying attention to the two sides of his emotions: the horror and the fear which made him reject her and at the same time the response of his body which caused him to be aroused and wanting her and adding to his horror. I would have liked to read more on this double feeling. But that's just my sick mind. LOL

You sick, sick girl!

Originally posted by Black Tulip One thing had me puzzling a bit. I thought he had fallen on the ground when he was on his way to the telephone? But later in the story I read Maybe I misread the circumstances?

He's meant to have fallen onto the bed, but I'll check that bit for clarity.

Originally posted by Black Tulip All in all, I had a good read, not erotic but certainly fascinating. Hope this is of some use to you.

Absolutely--thanks for taking the time to read the chapter and offer your thoughts. And, as I've said to the others, sorry it's taken me so dang long to reply. I really am grateful.

Originally posted by Black Tulip Edited to add: after reading the other comments I'm glad it's not my piece. Talk about conflicting advice.

Indeed--I'll just have to bear it all in mind as I go through to revise, and figure the cumulative input will mesh with my own thoughts and show me the way!

Varian

 

[Pure]

(bump)