Story Discussion: October 22, 2006. African Adventure by Otto26

[Otto26]

Hello. Thank you for taking the time to read this. This story was an experiment in pushing the envelope. I was trying to write a 'hard' story in moral boundaries that were tolerable for me. You will, hopefully, find this story much less cruel than many of the stories that fall into the Non-Consensual/BDSM categories. Rape is not glorified or excused, violence is presented as characterization to establish who the bad guys are, and I try to avoid asking the reader to have to suspend too much disbelief. An excerpt from the story is presented below. The story may be viewed in its entirety at:


http://english.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=245957

African Adventure
by Otto26 ©

Copyright Otto26

With grateful thanks to my editor, snooper.

*

Only one shot was fired and the attack was over in less than five minutes, but it was the most violent event she had ever witnessed. Young Henri, the boy soldier assigned by the Ministry to accompany her, was the victim of the single shot. It splattered blood and brain matter all over her, stunning her into total immobility. For the entire attack she stood there, staring at the gore covering her clothing and feeling the warm trickle of urine running down her legs. The soldiers worked methodically, moving from house to house with practiced ease, sweeping from one edge of the village to the other. As they passed her, an enormous man pointed at her and yelled. A smaller man trotted over and knocked her to ground with indifferent violence. He placed a foot on her neck, pinning her face to the earth. Those villagers that had fled discovered other soldiers awaited them, the net to the beaters of the first.

The small soldier kicked her to her feet and pushed her roughly towards the center of the village where the soldiers were herding the people. When they arrived, he kicked her legs from beneath her, forcing her to kneel with the rest of them. The enormous soldier yelled a few commands and soldiers hurried to obey. Some began searching the houses, others scurried off in multiple directions with purposeful looks. The leader began to speak to the villagers in a firm tone. She understood none of what he said, but the villagers seemed resigned.

When the man finished speaking he began to walk through the crowd pointing to villagers. Subordinates followed him, hauling those he selected over to a separate area. She barely registered being selected and half-dragged to the other group or being herded over to a pile of goods and being handed a large sack of rice. She and the others were marched out of the village, through the fields, and into the jungle. The moment when she crossed from the sunlit fields into the darkness of the jungle was when it all caught up with her and she screamed and fell to her knees, vomiting and shaking uncontrollably. The soldiers were unsympathetic and solved the problem by kicking her until she rolled to her feet, picked up the bag of rice and followed the column deeper into the jungle.

They marched through the day, stopping once a sunset to be given a drink and to have a rope attached to their waist; the entire column of baggage carriers were tied together in this rudimentary coffle. When this was done, they marched again. The night was something she would never forget; a hell of sweaty, blind exertion marked by periodic falls to the ground, either from losing her footing or being dragged down when the person in front of or behind her fell. Close to dawn the column stopped and a few shouts were heard from the front. After a few minutes, much longer than it usually took to get someone back on their feet, the column started forward again. In a minute she stumbled over the reason for the delay: a corpse.

When dawn broke the column came to an abrupt halt. The coffled porters stood in abject exhaustion, too tired even to find the willpower to fall to their knees. The leader of the group came over and undid the rope securing her. Knocking the sack of rice from her numb grasp he dragged her behind him. They came to a man seated on a rock and peering at a map. He looked up as they approached and, even through the haze of terror and exhaustion, she noted that he was not black. The white man looked at her with exasperation and asked something of the black man. He in turn launched into an explanation that ended when he tossed her satellite phone, from the Land Rover she realized, into his lap and turned and walked away.

The white man looked at her for a long moment before speaking, "Sind sie Deutsch?"

"Francais?"

"English?"

"American," she mumbled, "I'm American."

He nodded.

"You have been well and truly fucked by fate, my countryman. My name is Robert Taliaferro. I can tell you this because you're supposed to be dead. I told them to shoot anyone who might be trouble. Do you know why you are still alive?"

She remained mute and shook her head.

"You're alive because I have no intention of dying of AIDS. So while my merry band of murderous boys has raped their way across a fairly broad swath of this God-forsaken country, I have been celibate. And because I like being able to sleep at night without having my throat cut I haven't insulted them by telling them that I don't want to contract some disease from the women they offer to share. I have told them that I only fuck white women. So when they found you, they brought you to me. They reasoned that you were as good as dead, so I could have a little fun with you before they actually shot you. What I should do is rape you and cut your throat. I find myself unable ... no. Unwilling. I won't sink quite that low. So, you have two options. You can die now or you can come with me and probably die later."

He squatted down next to her and took her chin between the fingers of one hand, lifting her face until her eyes met his. He searched for and, finally, found a spark of comprehension. His next words were low and barely audible.

"I swear to you by what little I hold dear that if you choose to die now it will be painless. If you choose to come with me I will bring you out with me or I will die in the attempt. But if you come with me you'll do anything I say, and you'll hop to it. Do you understand?"

She nodded weakly and he shook her head sharply.

"Do you understand?" he demanded.

She nodded again, this time with vigor.

"Choose."

In a daze she tried to look around her, to avoid his eyes. But his hand held her chin, not permitting her to look away, and his gaze transfixed her. She tried to speak and croaked instead. Taking a deep breath she tried to bring some sanity back into the situation.

"My father is rich. He'll pay you a ransom. Call him on the ..."

His hand seemed to move slowly but it still struck her with blinding force. She staggered, off balance, and felt herself falling. He dragged her upright with his hand in her hair, surprised at the feeling of satisfaction that he felt. He shook her roughly, twice, and leaned in close to her, his face an inch away.

"Ransom doesn't matter, girl. Daddy can't help you. You live or die on your own strengths and luck out here. Which will it be?"

She felt the warmth replacing the sting on her cheek and the pain in her scalp. In her stomach she felt a knotting that had nothing to do with fear. She looked back into his eyes, suddenly irrationally furious at everything and this man in particular.

"I'll live," she declared.

Robert nodded slowly as he assessed her. His fingers remembered the soft feel of her skin and he idly wondered what the rest of her flesh would feel like. He released her hair and sheathed his knife in his harness. By the look in her eyes he guessed she hadn't seen him draw it.

"Okay then," he responded, "Don't make me regret giving you a choice."

Robert closed his eyes for a moment and shook himself. He reopened his eyes and looked about him, appearing to suddenly take conscious notice of the circle of men.

"Kiu attentas la perimetro? Kiu attentas laj portuloj? Laboru! Jam nun!" he ordered.

The men, chastened, hurried back to their duties. Most of them were not real soldiers, and never would be, Robert knew.

"You've made your choice," he said, "We'll try to live with it. Lie down there, next to my pack. We're going to get moving in an hour. Sleep until then."

She nodded absently and fell asleep before she hit the ground. Robert gave her a long look and went back to the tasks at hand.

After an hour, he shook her awake.

"Wakey, wakey. The nightmare is back. Time to march or die."

He took in the condition of her arms, scraped raw from holding the sack, and sighed. He took her shirt off, leaving her in a cotton T-shirt and bra. Ripping the shirt in half, he used the two pieces of fabric to pad the shoulder loops of a makeshift rope carry-pack. He lifted the rice sack and seated it in the carry pack. He ran a finger over her lips and noted that they were dry and cracked. He took his canteen out and poured a small amount into her mouth. He capped the canteen and handed it to her.

"Small sips. Let the water be absorbed by your mouth," he ordered

He pulled out a small fabric wrapped bundle, extracted a small brown bar of jerky and put it into her other hand.

"Small bites. Chew it until it's all gone, and then take a sip of water. Monkey, water, monkey, water. Repeat until it's gone. Understand?"

Her nod was, he judged, the only response he was going to get. He lifted on the rope pack, pulling her to her feet and leading her back to the coffle.

"You're at the back of the coffle today. Don't fall. Focus on one foot in front of the other. It's a long walk, but you get to sleep and rest at the end of it."

One of the soldiers tied her back into the coffle and, a moment later, they were off. Robert watched the line of bearers walk off and then went over to consult with the leader of the force he was leaving behind to ambush any pursuers. N'Dele had a bloody streak that meant he sometimes failed to run away at the right time. Robert meant to break that habit, one way or the other.

When he was sure that N'Dele understood him, and the sincerity of his threat, he took the rear guard and set out after the column. Despite the heavy pack each soldier wore, they soon caught up. Robert caught sight of ... he didn't even know her name he realized. But she was gamely keeping up.

The march went on through the day and into the night with a short break every hour. The bearers were mindless automatons at this point, and the soldiers weren't much better. Around two in the morning the column arrived back at the base camp. Robert ordered the quartermaster to get the new 'dependents' to a place to sleep and to collect and inventory the goods. He personally went over and grabbed her from the coffle, dropping the sack and the rope carrier to the ground. She was, he judged, well into the shock stage of exhaustion. He passed by the mess hall and grabbed some food. She didn't even fall down when he stopped pulling her, just stood stock still, staring at nothing.

He led her to the covered platform that was his home and sat her down on the hammock.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

She was too far gone to comply, so he used his fingers to force her mouth open and then put a chunk of banana in. She chewed it slowly and swallowed. He repeated the process, alternating sips of water with a little salt in it, until she had eaten two bananas. He unlaced her boots and removed the bloody socks. He swung her up into the hammock and pulled the mosquito netting closed. Satisfied that she was asleep, he sat down and cleaned his weapon with meticulous care. When that was done, he walked around the camp looking for anything amiss. A few of the soldiers were already having a party. Three of them were gathered around one of the dependents, drinking and taking it in turn to rape the woman.

He returned to his platform and stripped off his clothing, hanging it on a hook in one of the roof support poles. He carefully covered his rifle and hung it on the pole where the head of the hammock was tied. Then he crawled into the hammock next to her.

Her screams awoke him sometime in the darkness. He sat up and grabbed her legs. The knots of the cramps had pulled her ankles all the way up to her ass. He roughly massaged the muscles, hitting the largest knots and forcing them to relax. He continued massaging the calves and thighs of her legs, delighting, despite the situation, in their smoothness. He would have to find some way for her to keep her legs smooth he decided, marveling, even in his exhaustion, that he could think of such trivialities in the midst of this much danger. Her screams tapered off into low moans and whimpers of remembered pain. He lay back in the hammock and pulled her against him, hand idly stroking her spine as they both fell back into slumber.

He awoke, despite his exhaustion, just before first light; the habit of a lifetime of soldiering.

He was conscious of two things: the soft woman lying next to him, the first one in a very long time, he realized, and a painful erection. He considered his options and sighed, resigning himself to the task at hand. It would, he thought, be difficult enough for her. He could make it easier, in a way. And he hated that a part of him was delighted at the thought. That part of him gleefully pointed out that he was rationalizing. He shrugged off the mental conflict and got on with the task at hand.

Getting out of the hammock he unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them, and the panties under them, down her legs and off. He dropped them on the floor. He pulled on her legs, turning her crosswise in the hammock so that she lay on her back, legs spread and dangling off the edge. He stepped between her legs and reached down with his hand, caressing the folds of her sex.

A few minutes of this and she was wet. He inserted a finger, testing to ensure that she was well lubricated. He went to his rough chest and pulled out an ancient condom. Slipping it on, he stepped back between her legs and inserted himself into her. The heat of her took his breath away and he paused, fighting the tightness in his chest. He began to stroke back and forth into her, slowly. His free hand fondled her breasts through the thin T-shirt and bra. As she began to stir he brought his hand up to her mouth. Her eyes flew open and she opened her mouth to yell. His hand clamped down and she bit it, hard. He ignored the pain.

"A rape. Nothing you can do but survive. This is the reality right now. You made your choice. Live with it."

Robert grimaced at the pain lancing through his hand and up his arm as she screamed into his hand, teeth tearing the flesh of his palm. He reached down with his free hand and took one of her labia between finger and thumb, savagely pinching the tender flesh to send lancets of pain through her body.

"No screams, damnit. You made your choice," he hissed.

Slowly, tears in her eyes, she quieted but for a few whimpers and Robert released the pressure on her, but not the grip. His fingers remained, a reminder of the pain that could return to chastise her should she again behave counter to his wishes. He removed his bloody hand from her mouth dropping it down to her belly and pushing it up and under her shirt and bra. Roughly he pushed them up to her neck and shoulders, exposing her small, finely-formed breasts to his view. His callused hand rubbed the breasts leaving a small trail of blood on them. Fingers pulled gently at the tiny nipples, teasing them to erection.

"Moan," he commanded, nodding at the passersby that had stopped to watch the activity in the hut, "We have an audience. Moan like this is the best thing you've ever felt. Loudly. Wrap your legs around me."

Fingers gently tweaked her labia, reminding her of the penalty for disobedience.

She lifted her legs, hesitantly, but she wrapped them around him. He nodded and pumped slowly into her, reveling in the feeling of her soft flesh wrapped tightly around him, grasping at him each time he pushed in. She moved her hips against him, surprising him and forcing a gasp from deep in his chest. Tentatively she moaned, and the world didn't end. She moaned again, a little louder. His hands flew to her hips pulling her back against him, impaled to his full length, as his body suddenly convulsed. A sharp cry of pleasure was strangled by the contraction of his throat. He shot into her repeatedly, a year's worth of abstinence releasing itself in moments. He held her against him, using her to steady himself until his legs no longer felt weak and then released her, pulling out and stepping back. He looked down at the condom, wet with her lubrication and blood.

"I will be damned," he muttered, "A virgin. Huh."

He removed the condom, tossing it into a wicker basket on the floor, and took his rifle from the hook, hanging it over a shoulder. He looked over at the woman, sitting on the hammock attempting to cover herself. The bloody T-shirt again covered her chest while her legs were crossed and her hands covered the juncture of her blood streaked thighs. A question suddenly drifted across mind.

"What's your name, girl?"

Trembling in fear and shame, she raised her eyes from her crotch to look blankly at him.

"Sa ... Sara," she whispered, "Sara Elizabeth Harman."

She stared perplexedly at him for a moment and then returned her gaze to her body. She whimpered in frustration as she tried to cover herself. It was an impossible task; her shirt was a tiny thing that barely covered her upper body, the kind of thing adolescent girls buy to make themselves feel like grown-ups. Her lips moved soundlessly in prayer as her hands tugged at the shirt, trying to make it stretch farther than it could possibly go.

She lifted her knees to her chest in an attempt to supplement the shirt, her arms wrapping around her legs. Leaning back in the hammock it only brought the swollen folds of her sex into view, damp with her blood, moisture and sweat. She reached back to brush some hair out of her face and stared in horror at the small clump of bloody flesh she found there.

"No," she whispered, "No. No, no, no, no, no, noooooo!"

With an unoccupied moment to think, the enormity of the situation was washing over Sara again. Robert grunted in disapproval. She was going to have to wait until later to grieve. He would have to keep her busy or she could go catatonic with shock. He took a grasp of her hair and pulled her out of the hammock. She would have fallen to the floor but for his grip and it took her a moment to find her feet as he pulled her head and body upright.

"Quiet," he ordered in a polite and soft voice.

She took no notice but sobbed louder as she began to slip deeper into her misery. His free hand darted out, striking her sharply in the solar-plexus. She doubled up under the blow, breath stolen from her body, and dropped to her knees. Robert cursed and hauled her to her feet, yanking on the matted hair in his grip.

"Up!" he commanded.

She struggled to her feet, gasping for air. When he judged she was steady he released her and began picking up articles of clothing and thrusting them into her arms. He pulled on his pants and motioned for her to follow him. Her breath ragged, she complied.

 

[Otto26]

In addition to any general comments you might care to offer I have some specific questions regarding this story.

-Is it believable? Particularly, for those of you with the inclination to read all the way to the end, the conclusion.

-I have tried to portray Sara as a victim of events, but not as a victim. This doesn't, I feel, become apparent until the end of the story. Do you feel it becomes apparent at all?

-If you were giving this a title and sentence description designed to attract attention, what would you use? Would the current title and description attract your attention?

-For those of you that read into the middle of the story, does the use of the foreign language detract from your enjoyment of the story?

 

[Caroline Covington]

Hello Otto

The full story page would not open for me, so I was only able to read the posted excerpt. From what I read, it was not much of an adventure for the protagonist, Sara. More of a horror, actually. If seen from the antagonist's POV, then I suppose it may have been an adventure, albeit cruel and heartless. Personally, based on what I read, I'd call it "African Horror."

Was it believable? I know very little about Africa and it's current state of affairs other than it seems to be a mess. I know even less about wars and mercenaries. However, the white Bwana amongst his black minions struck me as cliche, but then again, perhaps this is a common sad scene in Africa. I don't know. Or maybe you were making an allusion to "Heart of Darkness"? Hard for me to judge without having read the whole story, so I apologise.

I'll just post the paragraphs where I thought there were typos or ambiguities.

Only one shot was fired and the attack was over in less than five minutes, but it was the most violent event she had ever witnessed. Young Henri, the boy soldier assigned by the Ministry to accompany her, was the victim of the single shot. It splattered blood and brain matter all over her, stunning her into total immobility. For the entire attack she stood there, staring at the gore covering her clothing and feeling the warm trickle of urine running down her legs. The (attacking) soldiers worked methodically, moving from house to house with practiced ease, sweeping from one edge of the village to the other. As they passed her, an enormous man pointed at her and yelled. A smaller man trotted over and knocked her to ground with indifferent violence. He placed a foot on her neck, pinning her face to the earth. Those villagers that had fled discovered other soldiers awaited them, the net to the beaters of the first.

(Good opening paragrapgh)

When dawn broke the column came to an abrupt halt. The coffled porters stood in abject exhaustion, too tired even to find the willpower to fall to their knees. The leader of the group came over and undid the rope securing her. Knocking the sack of rice from her numb grasp he dragged her behind him. They came to a man seated on a rock and peering at a map. (either They came to a man seated on a rock, peering at a map; or, They came to a man seated on a rock who peered at a map) He looked up as they approached and, even through the haze of terror and exhaustion, she noted that he was not black. The white man looked at her with exasperation and asked something of the black man. He in turn launched into an explanation that ended when he tossed her satellite phone, from the Land Rover she realized, into his lap and turned and walked away. (Awkward sentence… where did the land rover come from… also, this is the first indication of the time of events… When I started reading, I imagined it happening in the late 1800's or early 1900's.)

The white man looked at her for a long moment before speaking, "Sind sie Deutsch?" (should italicise foreign words)

"Francais?" (should italicise foreign words)


"You're alive because I have no intention of dying of AIDS. So while my merry band of murderous boys has raped their way across a fairly broad swath of this God-forsaken country, I have been celibate. And because I like being able to sleep at night without having my throat cut I haven't insulted them by telling them that I don't want to contract some disease from the women they offer to share. I have told them that I only fuck white women. So when they found you, they brought you to me. They reasoned that you were as good as dead, so I could have a little fun with you before they actually shot you. What I should do is rape you and cut your throat. I find myself unable ... no. Unwilling. I won't sink quite that low. So, you have two options. You can die now or you can come with me and probably die later."

(The speech strikes me as grandiose, but then I suppose mercenaries may have that self image of themselves.)

In a daze she tried to look around her, to avoid his eyes. But his hand held her chin, not permitting her to look away, and his gaze transfixed her. She tried to speak and croaked instead. Taking a deep breath (comma needed) she tried to bring some sanity back into the situation.

She felt the warmth (the warmth of blood? vague) replacing the sting on her cheek and the pain in her scalp. In her stomach she felt a knotting that had nothing to do with fear. She looked back into his eyes, suddenly irrationally furious at everything and this man in particular.

He took in the condition of her arms, scraped raw from holding the sack, and sighed. He took her shirt off (He stripped… avoids beginning two successive sentences with 'He took'), leaving her in a cotton T-shirt and bra. Ripping the shirt in half, he used the two pieces of fabric to pad the shoulder loops of a makeshift rope carry-pack. He lifted the rice sack and seated it in the carry pack. He ran a finger over her lips and noted that they were dry and cracked. He took his canteen out and poured a small amount into her mouth. He capped the canteen and handed it to her. (a lot of sentences beginning with 'He'. And the one that doesn't begins with a gerund. This happens in a few places; try to mix it up).

He pulled out a small fabric (hyphen, compound adjective) wrapped bundle, extracted a small brown bar of jerky and put it into her other hand.

Her nod was, he judged, the only response he was going to get. He lifted on the rope pack, pulling her to her feet and leading her back to the coffle. (OK... what's a coffle? couldn't find it in my OED, although i have an idea from context)

When he was sure that N'Dele understood him, and the sincerity of his threat, he (vague… Robert or N'Dele?) took the rear guard and set out after the column. Despite the heavy pack each soldier wore, they soon caught up. Robert caught sight of ... he didn't even know her name he realized. But she was gamely keeping up.

The march went on through the day and into the night with a short break every hour. The bearers were mindless automatons at this point, and the soldiers weren't much better. (At) Around two in the morning the column arrived back at the base camp. Robert ordered the quartermaster to get the new 'dependents' to a place to sleep and to collect and inventory the goods. He personally went over and grabbed her from the coffle, dropping the sack and the rope carrier to the ground. She was, he judged, well into the shock stage of exhaustion. He passed by the mess hall and grabbed some food. She didn't even fall down when he stopped pulling her, (but) just stood stock still, staring at nothing.

"No screams, damn (space) it. You made your choice," he hissed.

Slowly, (with) tears in her eyes, she quieted but for a few whimpers(comma) and Robert released the pressure on her, but not the grip. His fingers remained, a reminder of the pain that could return to chastise her should she again behave counter to his wishes. He removed his bloody hand from her mouth dropping it down to her belly and pushing it up and under her shirt and bra. Roughly he pushed them up to her neck and shoulders, exposing her small, finely-(no hyphen after an –ly modifier)formed breasts to his view. His callused hand rubbed the breasts(comma) leaving a small trail of blood on them. Fingers pulled gently at the tiny nipples, teasing them to erection.

"I will be damned," he muttered, "A virgin. Huh. (A virgin, huh?)"

She lifted her knees to her chest in an attempt to supplement the shirt, her arms wrapping around her legs. Leaning back in the hammock (awkward gerund phrase… doesn't make sense with what follows… perhaps delete 'it') it only brought the swollen folds of her sex into view, damp with her blood, moisture and sweat. She reached back to brush some hair out of her face and stared in horror at the small clump of bloody flesh she found there (where? her face? her crotch? her hand?)

With an unoccupied moment to think, the enormity of the situation was washing over Sara again. Robert grunted in disapproval. She was going to have to wait until later to grieve. He would have to keep her busy or she could (might) go catatonic with shock. He took a grasp of her hair and pulled her out of the hammock. She would have fallen to the floor but for his grip(comma) and it took her a moment to find her feet as he pulled her head and body upright.

 

[Otto26]

Thank you. The URL was copied improperly (my fault) and I have edited the post to correct it. The correct URL is below:

http://english.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=245957


I agree about the horror. As I mentioned, this is a pushing the envelope story for me. In many ways you've seen the worst of it and I feel the ending redeems the story slightly. When you look at it from a realistic point of view it doesn't have a happy ending, but it does have an ending that satisfies both characters. As I understand them anyway.

As for the setting... in some cases and some places, Africa is as bad, or worse, than the portrayal in this story. Africans are afflicted with a wide variety of brutal parasites.

Thank you for the grammar correction. I'm going to go through it all and try to make use of it in my other stories too.

 

[Penelope Street]

Hi Otto,

Thanks so much for allowing us to discuss your story. Now, on to the questions!

Is it believable? Particularly, for those of you with the inclination to read all the way to the end, the conclusion.
The posted opening, aside from a few minor things, is believable, yes. Even though this doesn't seem like my kind of story, I can still appreciate how well-written it is.

I have tried to portray Sara as a victim of events, but not as a victim. This doesn't, I feel, become apparent until the end of the story. Do you feel it becomes apparent at all?
I guess I'm not sure what you mean by this.

If you were giving this a title and sentence description designed to attract attention, what would you use? Would the current title and description attract your attention?
African Adventure seems, well, corny, like you couldn't quite think of anything better. But just at this moment, neither can I, though it's certainly more horror story than adventure from where I'm sitting. 'Sara is kidnapped and must survive' isn't a bad description, although I'd have gone for something like 'A tourist is kidnapped and must survive.'

For those of you that read into the middle of the story, does the use of the foreign language detract from your enjoyment of the story?
The few bits in the opening did not make the story any less readable. When the man shouts to his subordinates and they react, I can figure out pretty much what he said without knowing the meaning of individual words. I thought it was a nice touch.

Rape is not glorified or excused, violence is presented as characterization to establish who the bad guys are, and I try to avoid asking the reader to have to suspend too much disbelief.
I think the killing and other brutality preceding the rapes established well enough who the bad guys are- all of them.

Only one shot was fired and the attack was over in less than five minutes, but it was the most violent event she had ever witnessed. Young Henri, the boy soldier assigned by the Ministry to accompany her, was the victim of the single shot. It splattered blood and brain matter all over her, stunning her into total immobility. For the entire attack she stood there, staring at the gore covering her clothing and feeling the warm trickle of urine running down her legs.
I like this opening moment- especially the bit about her peeing herself; it's a nice touch that really brings the full horror of the event home. I'm not sure if it might work just a little better if the reader sees Sara doing some ordinary, everyday thing before her world suddenly changes forever- but it's still good the way it is.

... from the Land Rover she realized
What Land Rover? Did I miss something?

"You have been well and truly fucked by fate, my countryman. My name is Robert Taliaferro. I can tell you this because you're supposed to be dead. I told them to shoot anyone who might be trouble. Do you know why you are still alive?"
If you wanted to create a despicable character in a hurry, good job! Although when he said 'well and truly fucked' - I laughed a bit and thought, "Truly fucked? Not yet, I bet!"

He squatted down next to her and took her chin between the fingers of one hand, lifting her face until her eyes met his.
This makes it sound like she's a child, instead of just short. Is that what you want? Or is she kneeling, if so I missed that.

I think there might be a few subtle shortcomings with the way the piece is presented, chief among these being the shifting point of view, leading me to wonder, "Whose story is this?"

As an example, within a few paragraphs we have both of these:
His POV:
He dragged her upright with his hand in her hair, surprised at the feeling of satisfaction that he felt.
His fingers remembered the soft feel of her skin and he idly wondered what the rest of her flesh would feel like.
Her POV:
Taking a deep breath she tried to bring some sanity back into the situation.
She felt the warmth replacing the sting on her cheek and the pain in her scalp.

Although it doesn't bother me so much, some readers have a problem jumping between characters like this in a scene and I think sticking with either protagonist would have been better than switching back and forth. That said, I think this is a much bigger story for her than it is for him, yet the proverbial camera stays on him most of the time after they meet. Maybe it's just my preference, but I think the story might have had more impact the other way, especially when she's raped that first time. Is she wishing she'd taken that quick, painless death instead, or has she decided this isn't really worse than the march and she can endure it too, or is she wondering if she'll at least get a chance to kill him before she dies? I couldn't tell, not at that point, and I really needed to know.

Another minor technical thing, but I noticed more than a few adverbs creeping into the prose. Consider searching for "ly". For more on why this can be an indication of a weak sentence, this site says it better than I can:
http://www.users.qwest.net/~yarnspnr/writing/adverbs/adverbs.htm

These are a few lines that stuck out for me while I was reading:

He went to his rough chest and pulled out an ancient condom
Ok. Why would he pull out an ancient condom? I mean, if it's so old that it's not reliable, why use it? Plus, if he has condoms and they are available, well, why insist on a white woman? Really, like there aren't bigger dangers in his line of work than a broken condom?

She nodded absently and fell asleep before she hit the ground.
Maybe I've never been that tired, I found this a bit hard to believe considering her state of stress.

"Small sips. Let the water be absorbed by your mouth," he ordered
Nice touch.

"We have an audience. Moan like this is the best thing you've ever felt. Loudly. Wrap your legs around me."
I'm not sure why he wants this. Being the leader of a bunch of murdering rapists, (or should that be raping murderers?) would he really want to be seen giving her pleasure? I guess I don't know, but it seemed kinda odd.

He looked down at the condom, wet with her lubrication and blood. "I will be damned," he muttered, "A virgin. Huh."
This seemed even more odd, coming all but out of the blue like it does and being even a bit cliche- but it depends on what you meant to achieve. Women can bleed for other reasons too, so are you trying to show he's ignorant regarding female anatomy? Hard to imagine he doesn't consider at least one obvious alternative to virginity, but then he should have noticed this before too, so I'm going to assume she really is meant to be a virgin. Hymens differ quite a bit among women, but with 'blood streaked thighs' I'm thinking hers was substantial enough that I just can't believe her sleeping through its rupture even though the story did sort of establish that she was a heavy sleeper. Plus, I have a hard time believing he didn't notice when he entered her, maybe even when he fingered her. I guess I'd need to know what you were trying to achieve to evaluate it further. When I have to stop and wonder about these things, I'm out of the story. I did like her biting his hand though- pity he didn't opt for a blowjob.

"Small bites. Chew it until it's all gone, and then take a sip of water. Monkey, water, monkey, water. Repeat until it's gone. Understand?
Ewww! Ok, I know it's not really different from traditional western sources of meat, but still! Great job. I really kinda like it. I'd also like to see her react with more than just a nod- even if she just darts her eyes to the offering, wrinkles her nose, then nods. Plus, what's it like later when she takes her first bite? I kinda wanted to see that too. I think you're missing some small moments I can share with Sara, you know?

"Wakey, wakey. The nightmare is back. Time to march or die."
Wakey, wakey? Is he trying to be sarcastic or what?

Tentatively she moaned, and the world didn't end.
The world didn't end. I like it. More, please.

Trembling in fear and shame, she raised her eyes...
This is so subtle it may seem like a nit, but I think it's a little more important than that. What if the reader is not told why she trembles, but only that she does? I think it forces the reader to decide why she trembles, and in doing so the reader joins her for just at least that moment. This may be part of what's missing for me in this opening- I watch what happens to Sara, but I'm not there with her.

By the time I got to the end of the posted piece, I hadn't really bonded with Sara enough to care what happened to her afterward. It doesn't help that I'm pretty sure this story is going into Gagland for me- she does end up feeling romantic toward him, doesn't she? I suppose somewhere along the way he's going to be rehabilitated into a good guy too? Pretty sure I'm not part of your target audience- I've a hard time getting into that kind of story. Non-consent pieces are good in that there's instant tension, but they're also so touchy in that readers react to them in so many different ways based on their own beliefs and experiences.

Please don't take that as a slam or a flame. I suspect those who might enjoy your story would cringe at the very thought of reading some of mine. Maybe one of them even tried! I got a recent comment along the lines of, "Three pages of flowery crap before the action starts." I laughed and thought, "So why didn't you quit reading after the first page of flowery crap?" Classic case of not being able to please everybody.

The piece is written well enough I really didn't have any problem following the action. I was never close to bored even if I wasn't ever really on the edge of my seat either. I think I just needed to be shown a few more hints about what the characters were feeling and thinking so that I could experience it too. Good level of detail and nice pacing, although some of the marching bits got just a tad tedious. I really did like the way you described the events and the nice little details like urine, bloody stockings, the rice and the, Ewww!, monkey.

Thanks again for allowing us to discuss your story!

Take Care,
Penny

 

[Penelope Street]

From what I read, it was not much of an adventure for the protagonist, Sara. More of a horror, actually. If seen from the antagonist's POV, then I suppose it may have been an adventure, albeit cruel and heartless. Personally, based on what I read, I'd call it "African Horror."

I know very little about Africa and it's current state of affairs other than it seems to be a mess. I know even less about wars and mercenaries. However, the white Bwana amongst his black minions struck me as cliche, but then again, perhaps this is a common sad scene in Africa.

African Horror- I thought that too, and looks like we're of a similar mind regarding the POV issues. I guess I didn't really notice the white Bwana cliche, but now that I think about it, you have a good point.

I agree about the horror. As I mentioned, this is a pushing the envelope story for me. In many ways you've seen the worst of it and I feel the ending redeems the story slightly. When you look at it from a realistic point of view it doesn't have a happy ending, but it does have an ending that satisfies both characters. As I understand them anyway.

Now I'm a little more interested in reading the rest. So these two don't ride off into the sunset together?

 

[Otto26]

African Horror- I thought that too, and looks like we're of a similar mind regarding the POV issues. I guess I didn't really notice the white Bwana cliche, but now that I think about it, you have a good point.


Now I'm a little more interested in reading the rest. So these two don't ride off into the sunset together?

Quick summary:
-Violent attack, Sara is kidnapped.
-Mild rape, mild rape, mild rape, some violence and control
-New external threat to create Stockholm Syndrome
-Diamond heist goes wrong
-Sara saves Robert's life, twice
-Robert escapes, Sara gets therapy
-Time passes
-Robert and Sara end up together, in a dysfunctional but happy sort of way

You'll have to read the story for more detail. I have tried to avoid too many cliches and, to be honest, I didn't do a great job of it. This story still ends up being fairly typical rape fantasy, but I'd like to think the characters end up having their eyes wide open about the serious issues. Really, the only way I can justify putting this story into the public view is the fact that neither of the characters attempts to gloss over the events. Rape is bad and Robert feels bad about enjoying it. Sara is seriously traumatized by events and finds her own solution, which many people will feel is demeaning and out and out wrong. But, and this is important, I feel that these characters end up seeming like real people and asking some interesting questions.

If you read the entire story then I'll ask you this question:

Who ends up really being in charge in the relationship?

 

[Otto26]

Hi Otto,

Thanks so much for allowing us to discuss your story. Now, on to the questions!

Is it believable? Particularly, for those of you with the inclination to read all the way to the end, the conclusion.
The posted opening, aside from a few minor things, is believable, yes. Even though this doesn't seem like my kind of story, I can still appreciate how well-written it is.

I have tried to portray Sara as a victim of events, but not as a victim. This doesn't, I feel, become apparent until the end of the story. Do you feel it becomes apparent at all?
I guess I'm not sure what you mean by this.

Victims sit around and tremble and wait to be rescued. Sara ends up doing a fair amount to rescue herself.

If you were giving this a title and sentence description designed to attract attention, what would you use? Would the current title and description attract your attention?
African Adventure seems, well, corny, like you couldn't quite think of anything better. But just at this moment, neither can I, though it's certainly more horror story than adventure from where I'm sitting. 'Sara is kidnapped and must survive' isn't a bad description, although I'd have gone for something like 'A tourist is kidnapped and must survive.'

For those of you that read into the middle of the story, does the use of the foreign language detract from your enjoyment of the story?
The few bits in the opening did not make the story any less readable. When the man shouts to his subordinates and they react, I can figure out pretty much what he said without knowing the meaning of individual words. I thought it was a nice touch.

Rape is not glorified or excused, violence is presented as characterization to establish who the bad guys are, and I try to avoid asking the reader to have to suspend too much disbelief.
I think the killing and other brutality preceding the rapes established well enough who the bad guys are- all of them.

Only one shot was fired and the attack was over in less than five minutes, but it was the most violent event she had ever witnessed. Young Henri, the boy soldier assigned by the Ministry to accompany her, was the victim of the single shot. It splattered blood and brain matter all over her, stunning her into total immobility. For the entire attack she stood there, staring at the gore covering her clothing and feeling the warm trickle of urine running down her legs.
I like this opening moment- especially the bit about her peeing herself; it's a nice touch that really brings the full horror of the event home. I'm not sure if it might work just a little better if the reader sees Sara doing some ordinary, everyday thing before her world suddenly changes forever- but it's still good the way it is.

... from the Land Rover she realized
What Land Rover? Did I miss something?

No. I didn't write anything in, but I figured she must have gotten to the village using some means of transportaion.

"You have been well and truly fucked by fate, my countryman. My name is Robert Taliaferro. I can tell you this because you're supposed to be dead. I told them to shoot anyone who might be trouble. Do you know why you are still alive?"
If you wanted to create a despicable character in a hurry, good job! Although when he said 'well and truly fucked' - I laughed a bit and thought, "Truly fucked? Not yet, I bet!"

He squatted down next to her and took her chin between the fingers of one hand, lifting her face until her eyes met his.
This makes it sound like she's a child, instead of just short. Is that what you want? Or is she kneeling, if so I missed that.

I think there might be a few subtle shortcomings with the way the piece is presented, chief among these being the shifting point of view, leading me to wonder, "Whose story is this?"

As an example, within a few paragraphs we have both of these:
His POV:
He dragged her upright with his hand in her hair, surprised at the feeling of satisfaction that he felt.
His fingers remembered the soft feel of her skin and he idly wondered what the rest of her flesh would feel like.
Her POV:
Taking a deep breath she tried to bring some sanity back into the situation.
She felt the warmth replacing the sting on her cheek and the pain in her scalp.

Although it doesn't bother me so much, some readers have a problem jumping between characters like this in a scene and I think sticking with either protagonist would have been better than switching back and forth. That said, I think this is a much bigger story for her than it is for him, yet the proverbial camera stays on him most of the time after they meet. Maybe it's just my preference, but I think the story might have had more impact the other way, especially when she's raped that first time. Is she wishing she'd taken that quick, painless death instead, or has she decided this isn't really worse than the march and she can endure it too, or is she wondering if she'll at least get a chance to kill him before she dies? I couldn't tell, not at that point, and I really needed to know.

It would be much more effective to tell this entirely from Sara's point of view. That just wasn't working for me from a writing standpoint. I would love to see a story with Sara's point of view, but I'm not going to write it.

Another minor technical thing, but I noticed more than a few adverbs creeping into the prose. Consider searching for "ly". For more on why this can be an indication of a weak sentence, this site says it better than I can:
http://www.users.qwest.net/~yarnspnr/writing/adverbs/adverbs.htm

These are a few lines that stuck out for me while I was reading:

He went to his rough chest and pulled out an ancient condom
Ok. Why would he pull out an ancient condom? I mean, if it's so old that it's not reliable, why use it? Plus, if he has condoms and they are available, well, why insist on a white woman? Really, like there aren't bigger dangers in his line of work than a broken condom?

I pictured Robert as having a deathly fear of AIDS. Mostly this was a reaction on my part to all the fantasy stories that completely ignore STDs, pregnancy, and other inconvenient realities. The condoms should have been explained later (they were meant to be containers for the diamonds he's going to steal) but it never quite fit into the prose. Sara does use condoms to smuggle diamonds at the end of the story.

She nodded absently and fell asleep before she hit the ground.
Maybe I've never been that tired, I found this a bit hard to believe considering her state of stress.

"Small sips. Let the water be absorbed by your mouth," he ordered
Nice touch.

"We have an audience. Moan like this is the best thing you've ever felt. Loudly. Wrap your legs around me."
I'm not sure why he wants this. Being the leader of a bunch of murdering rapists, (or should that be raping murderers?) would he really want to be seen giving her pleasure? I guess I don't know, but it seemed kinda odd.

Guy thing. 'Look what a fucking stud I am.' It's meant to help convey the general atmosphere of the camp. No privacy, malignant machismo run rampant, and the utter indignity of what Sara has to go through.

He looked down at the condom, wet with her lubrication and blood. "I will be damned," he muttered, "A virgin. Huh."
This seemed even more odd, coming all but out of the blue like it does and being even a bit cliche- but it depends on what you meant to achieve. Women can bleed for other reasons too, so are you trying to show he's ignorant regarding female anatomy? Hard to imagine he doesn't consider at least one obvious alternative to virginity, but then he should have noticed this before too, so I'm going to assume she really is meant to be a virgin. Hymens differ quite a bit among women, but with 'blood streaked thighs' I'm thinking hers was substantial enough that I just can't believe her sleeping through its rupture even though the story did sort of establish that she was a heavy sleeper. Plus, I have a hard time believing he didn't notice when he entered her, maybe even when he fingered her. I guess I'd need to know what you were trying to achieve to evaluate it further. When I have to stop and wonder about these things, I'm out of the story. I did like her biting his hand though- pity he didn't opt for a blowjob.

Virginity was a tough one. I wanted Sara to not be a virgin, but I also wanted a convenient excuse to do away with condoms. So Sara ended up a virgin. I guess my prose wasn't up to the task of describing this. I pictured her as waking up when her hymen was broken. I also pictured her as still being exhausted asleep during the events leading up to the actual deflowering.

"Small bites. Chew it until it's all gone, and then take a sip of water. Monkey, water, monkey, water. Repeat until it's gone. Understand?
Ewww! Ok, I know it's not really different from traditional western sources of meat, but still! Great job. I really kinda like it. I'd also like to see her react with more than just a nod- even if she just darts her eyes to the offering, wrinkles her nose, then nods. Plus, what's it like later when she takes her first bite? I kinda wanted to see that too. I think you're missing some small moments I can share with Sara, you know?

"Wakey, wakey. The nightmare is back. Time to march or die."
Wakey, wakey? Is he trying to be sarcastic or what?

Yes.

Tentatively she moaned, and the world didn't end.
The world didn't end. I like it. More, please.

Trembling in fear and shame, she raised her eyes...
This is so subtle it may seem like a nit, but I think it's a little more important than that. What if the reader is not told why she trembles, but only that she does? I think it forces the reader to decide why she trembles, and in doing so the reader joins her for just at least that moment. This may be part of what's missing for me in this opening- I watch what happens to Sara, but I'm not there with her.

By the time I got to the end of the posted piece, I hadn't really bonded with Sara enough to care what happened to her afterward. It doesn't help that I'm pretty sure this story is going into Gagland for me- she does end up feeling romantic toward him, doesn't she? I suppose somewhere along the way he's going to be rehabilitated into a good guy too? Pretty sure I'm not part of your target audience- I've a hard time getting into that kind of story. Non-consent pieces are good in that there's instant tension, but they're also so touchy in that readers react to them in so many different ways based on their own beliefs and experiences.

Please don't take that as a slam or a flame. I suspect those who might enjoy your story would cringe at the very thought of reading some of mine. Maybe one of them even tried! I got a recent comment along the lines of, "Three pages of flowery crap before the action starts." I laughed and thought, "So why didn't you quit reading after the first page of flowery crap?" Classic case of not being able to please everybody.

As noted, I fail to avoid some of the rape fantasy cliche. But some of it is upfront. Robert is disturbed to discover he's a rapist, that he enjoys it. Romance? Yes, it happens, but that's because whatever other form a story may take, I write romance. And it seems like logical, if not typical romance.

The piece is written well enough I really didn't have any problem following the action. I was never close to bored even if I wasn't ever really on the edge of my seat either. I think I just needed to be shown a few more hints about what the characters were feeling and thinking so that I could experience it too. Good level of detail and nice pacing, although some of the marching bits got just a tad tedious. I really did like the way you described the events and the nice little details like urine, bloody stockings, the rice and the, Ewww!, monkey.

Thanks again for allowing us to discuss your story!

Take Care,
Penny

Thank you. I appreciate everyone taking the time to read and comment on this. I've already started applying advice and questions asked here to stories I have in development.

 

[Verdad]

Hi, Otto. The excerpt you provided made me curious enough to read further, and so I did. I thought to maybe just give it a peek, but thanks to your fluent writing and careful construction of the story, I read the entire piece. Because of its length, I'll keep my comments on the macro level.

I particularly appreciated how you didn't give away much about the setting until the story was well on its way. I first continued reading only to find out where and when this is happening and what the hell is going on. By the time I did, I was thoroughly hooked. That was very cleverly done.

The what-the-hell factor wasn't the only hook, either—you maintained uncertainty throughout, which along with a good pacing assured a hard to put down read. As long as it may be, the story never stumbles or appears drawn out. (Except perhaps in the conclusion, but I'll come back to that in a minute.)

To immediately answer your question about Esperanto, no, I didn't mind it for a second. I thought it was one of the nicest touches, actually, a tool you used in good measure and to a great effect. It lent the story much of its nightmarish, surreal quality as well as something more to keep the reader guessing.

I might add I'm pretty clueless about the setting, so I don't really know how realistic it would be for the mercenaries to use Esperanto, but once you provided the rationale, it seemed perfectly reasonable and I was perfectly ready to buy it. The same thing goes for the rest of the story's believability—while I have no knowledge of the subject that would allow me to really judge, the internal consistency is sufficient to make it appear plausible.

I'm guessing you wondered more about the psychological credibility when you posed your questions, though, and I'll come back to that, too.

On the technical side, I had but one quibble, and that's the shifting point of view. I'll admit that I would have preferred it to be either Robert's or Sarah's story in its entirety. I can see your reasons for including both of their POVs, though, and for the most part, you handled that gracefully, too. Switching was made seamless enough by the same tendency that allowed you to maintain suspense—the tendency not to delve too deep inside the characters' heads. Sections that clearly belonged to one or the other character weren't a problem either.

However, I do recall a couple occasions of classic head-hopping, instances where the switching appeared gratuitous and confusing. One I can cite from the top of my head is during one of Sarah's orgasms (first, I think), where you kept with Robert throughout the scene only to include a full para of her feelings at the point of her climax. I saw no justifiable reason for that, especially since it didn't offer anything that couldn't have been perceived through his eyes.

While I'm being picky, I also remember an occasion or two where you went in too lengthy explanations. As an example, the reason for Esperanto was made beautifully clear in a single paragraph, but you gave it another two that bordered on patronizing. I appreciate that being patronizing is in Robert's character, but even so, it tasted my patience a little. It's by no means something I see as characteristic, though. Aside from these rare indulgences, you displayed a great sense of measure, never beating the reader over the head.

I generally have little but compliments for your writing, but the content might be a trickier issue. Your assurance that you're not glorifying rape was a factor that helped me through the story—and I don't doubt it was sincere—but in the end, I'm afraid I was left with the feeling that it was just what the story did.

The beginning struck me as realistic, and so I thought it was going to be a non-erotic piece, a realistic portrayal of a horrible ordeal. In fact, I couldn't imagine how it could be anything else, much less how it could be erotic.

To your credit, I have to say that my suspense of disbelief wasn't tested too hard as Sarah became more compliant, and for a longest time you actually managed to maintain a precarious balance between a realistic, skin-crawling story of Stockholm syndrome and a BDSM fantasy. The mere concept of such a combo sounds rather distasteful, but you managed to pull it off almost till the end. The fantasy facet became more apparent as the story progressed, but it was still ambiguous enough that I was ready to believe I'm reading a "real" story with real consequences and that what I'm observing are the gray shades.

With that in mind, it's even more surprising that I actually found one of the sex scenes arousing. The one when she rides him kind of sneaked up on me and made me willing to believe that it sneaked up on Sarah too and gave her a brief moment of relief.

True, she orgasmed far too often and far too easily for a rape victim and some parts of Robert's Benevolent Master routine raised a flag or two, but both characters kept their cards close enough to their chests for me to explain that away fairly easily. I indeed saw her as afflicted by Stockholm syndrome, surviving by the rules of the moment, and I saw him as an uncritical psychopath type. His "positive" streaks were just positive enough to make him barely palatable but never as positive as not to fit that picture. I cheered for you to keep it up that way and not succumb to the temptation of sugarcoating him and making excuses for him.

The ambiguity had to be resolved sooner or later, though, and your resolution decided (for me) that the story served only as an elaborate vehicle for a BDSM fantasy. I found that very disappointing.

Not to dabble in delicate questions of 'artistic justification', but I feel that all the disturbing ugliness the story evoked should have been there for a better reason than to offer a novel setup for a girl's "training". I'm not saying you planned to use it only for that, but that was still the impression I was left with in the end, and as I said, I was disappointed. (Lest I forget and speaking of disturbing ugliness which, per se, isn't a bad thing: the scenes of evening bath were terribly painful, but powerful too, in an almost Hieronymus Bosch way.)

As you rightfully noticed, worse practices than those you portrayed can be found in many BDSM or Non-Consent stories, along with the always same resolution; a girl is "raped", but it typically leads to her enjoying it and discovering whole new depths of her own sexuality. It appears to me that the difference between these stories (the ones I'm familiar with, at any rate) and your story is in the quotation marks around "rape", though.

Not that the acts committed in these stories are any less rape-ish or brutal or morally reproachable, but oft times the entire level of realism is deliberately or less deliberately set so low that the story remains safely encapsulated in the world of sexual fantasy, following its own fantasy logic and rules. Some readers are outraged with this kind of "causality" even so, but many are more permissive, accepting it for fantasy.

The trouble with your story seems to be that it reads too realistically to be perceived as such, though. You set the bar higher, so to speak, or at least you set it differently, and so I expected the conclusion to maintain that realism responsibly. Anything less strikes me as a romanticized apologia of rape, and perhaps unjustly so, a more jarring one than the kind found in a poorly written gang-bang story.

I'm not saying it's categorically impossible for a woman with a Stockholm syndrome to lastingly fall in love with her once captor, as I guess it's not impossible for a guy to do the deeds Robert used to do without being a cold psychopath. I suppose one might even argue they could make a reasonably happy couple even if he is one. But the best I could possibly say about such an ending to a story is that it's sugary, unlikely, and unconvincing.

Don't get me wrong, though, I don't think that a happy, if not a happily-ever-after, ending couldn't work. It's not that I'd have to see Robert die a horrible death in punishment for his deeds and Sarah spend twenty years in the psychiatric ward to ensure our understanding of how horrible her experience was. That would be contrived in its own right, and besides, the experience speaks more than eloquently for itself.

I have no trouble seeing Robert retreat to a peaceful life, with more or fewer personal demons to fight. Perhaps he's a changed man on a path of redemption—his conduct during their escape opens such a possibility—perhaps he's simply a bastard who got tired of hard life and got away with it. Likely he's some of both.

I have no trouble seeing Sarah get out of it as a true survivor, either, victimized but ultimately not a victim, just as you said, stronger in a way in which only hardship sometimes makes you. That's how I was already seeing her during their escape. Her strength was visible in her composure in the whole ordeal and wouldn't come as a surprise. Perhaps a lasting and even liberating mark on her sexuality wouldn't be entirely out of line, either, as an unexpected and perhaps dubious gift she'd be able to draw out of it given enough time. Poetic plausibility, if no other, would allow that.

But actually getting them together? Eh. That, in my opinion, was pushing the envelope, indeed.

What bothers me about it isn't just the unlikeness of such ending, but also the light it casts on the story in the retrospect. It's especially true since you offered little comment throughout the story—a tactic that worked very well for a number of reasons I already mentioned, but also one that put all the weight of interpretation on the ending.

And the interpretation I'm reading is, unfortunately, that rape is a perfectly good place to start a romance, perhaps even inherently conducive to one. A raped woman, apparently, has no choice but to fall in love with her rapist, albeit after some sincere soul-searching, and the rapist himself will, given enough enticement, reveal himself a hero in disguise who was really only doing what needed be done.

Had there been clues in the story that would make me think they fell in love despite and not because of the circumstances, and had Robert shown more signs of internal struggle, I guess I would maybe easier accept it as a romance story. (Although the question would remain whether a story with no other aspiration than to be romantic would require such a vivid depiction of the human misery surrounding the protagonists.) Since it was painted as romance only after the fact, though, I'm afraid I find the conclusion both contrived and reproachable.

I'm convinced the messages I was compelled to draw out of it weren't the ones you intended, though, so I sincerely hope you'll take no offense.

If I were making any suggestions, I guess I'd say that you could do with a shorter epilogue, and not only from the content reasons. At the beginning I mentioned how it was the only part of the story that struck me as drawn out, the only one belaboring a predictable point.

If you wanted the perspective of time, I believe it could have been done in a form of a shorter vignette from one or the other character's life. But the story seemed rather rounded to me when the "adventure" reached its end, too, and a couple well-placed words could have sufficed to seal the interpretation I was already prepared to give it; that it was a nightmare which is ending although it can never be undone; that Robert will change his ways to the best of his capabilities; that Sarah has it in her to emerge out of it unbroken and even empowered.

In the end, let me once again sincerely compliment the overall execution of the story, even though the content precluded me from enjoying it.

Best of luck,

Verdad

 

[Caroline Covington]

Hello Otto,

Another quick comment that may or may not be of use to you:

When I first breezed through the excerpt, I missed the musings of Robert that the woman he'd just raped was a virgin (like another comment, I too assumed that he'd have gleaned that fact without the blood; but with his insensitive nature, perhaps his reaction is consistent). Given the horrific setting, I assumed far worse--I thought that she had miscarried and lost her baby. When I re-read the excerpt and realised that, no, it was just her viginity that she lost, I breathed a sigh of relief.

C

 

[Otto26]

Wow. Thank you, Verdad. I really can't find much of anything to argue with in your assessement. I have to admit that my characterization is less due to writing skill than it is to staying true to the characters. I just write what I think the characters would say and do and the story largely takes care of itself.

Regarding the ending, I see your points. And I do want the readers to question the ending. Why would someone do that? Leaving a few ends loose is one of my chosen techniques for engaging the reader's imagination and, hopefully, drawing them into the story. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. In follow on stories I try to make it clear that both characters are, in some way, broken and just trying to cope. I hope this story suggests that possibility, but perhaps it doesn't.

The ending is also somewhat predictable because I write romance. There has to be a happy ending of some sort. In the first draft of this story the ending was far more ambigious and left the reader with the unanswered question of whether Sara got together with Robert or shot him. But test readers wanted a definite ending and, in the end, so did I.

Thank you, very much, for taking the time to comment. Very helpful.

 

[Otto26]

Comments thus far have been very interesting to me. Two items stick out in my mind.

1) Violence. I have received two tentative offers to have this story taken to publishers. Both of those offers, which assumed I would expand upon the story, suggested that I needed to raise the level of violent sex (detailed descriptions of the horror at the river rather than allusions, for example). What I consider the far end of the spectrum is apparently not.
2) POV. This story would unquestionably work better if told exclusively from Sara's point of view. I have observed that male point of view erotica tends to do poorly. Men don't care what the male protaganist is thinking because they know what they are thinking and they are putting themselves into the protaganists place. Women don't care what the male protaganist is thinking because they are, apparently, empathizing with the female protaganist. I don't write well from the female POV so I tend to avoid it.

 

[Penelope Street]

Not that the acts committed in these stories are any less rape-ish or brutal or morally reproachable, but oft times the entire level of realism is deliberately or less deliberately set so low that the story remains safely encapsulated in the world of sexual fantasy, following its own fantasy logic and rules. Some readers are outraged with this kind of "causality" even so, but many are more permissive, accepting it for fantasy.

Among Verdad's many excellent points, this one struck a distant cord with me. I've read my share of stories where the naive young lady is kidnapped by the sympathetic rouge, then he awakens her sexuality and she tames his. Not exactly the epitome of realism, but I wasn't seeking realism when I read them. Could it be that the both ends of the n/c spectrum reach their widest audience when they aren't quite so believable?

I have observed that male point of view erotica tends to do poorly. Men don't care what the male protagonist is thinking because they know what they are thinking and they are putting themselves into the protagonist's place. Women don't care what the male protagonist is thinking because they are, apparently, empathizing with the female protagonist.

Hmmm... Interesting idea, but I'm not convinced. I think most short stories, including erotic ones, work best when told from the point of view of the central character, regardless of that character's gender. Plus, even if I am prone to identify with the heroine, I still care what the hero is thinking and feeling.

 

[Verdad]

Thank you, Otto. It was an interesting read. As were some of the things you said:

1) Violence. I have received two tentative offers to have this story taken to publishers. Both of those offers, which assumed I would expand upon the story, suggested that I needed to raise the level of violent sex (detailed descriptions of the horror at the river rather than allusions, for example).

I think I can understand this, if not feel the same. It makes me think of a useful analogy that might make my reaction clearer:

In a, say, action movie, no one has any problems with a hero who's a hitman and whacks 30 people in an hour's time, right? We're perfectly able to consider him a good guy and cheer for him to get the girl. When it's a drama, though, about someone with 30 murders on his conscience, we're likely watching with different eyes.

I guess the readers who'd like more violence, aside from having a taste for such erotica, easily adopted an erotic equivalent of the action-movie paradigm and stayed happily inside a fantasy world. They're kind of asking for an equivalent of bigger guns and more car crashes, and all that could be said about that is - to each his own.

I found myself reading with my drama glasses on, though (with instances of something like 'erotic relief' serving in a way like comic relief), and so my only objection that isn't just a matter of personal taste could be formulated like this: the story didn't consistently (or early enough) anchor me in the appropriate paradigm.

2) POV. This story would unquestionably work better if told exclusively from Sara's point of view. I have observed that male point of view erotica tends to do poorly. Men don't care what the male protaganist is thinking because they know what they are thinking and they are putting themselves into the protaganists place. Women don't care what the male protaganist is thinking because they are, apparently, empathizing with the female protaganist. I don't write well from the female POV so I tend to avoid it.

It's great you brought this up because I find this question very interesting. The question of male vs. female POV in erotica.

From what I could notice both in published erotica and here on Lit, there does seem to be a predominance of female POV, yet I don't know whether this is truly a reflection of reader's preferences or a self-perpetuating myth of a sort. To me it makes just as much sense that men might prefer to read the stories written from the female POV while women might prefer those written from the male POV.

For your story, I guess going with Sarah instead of Robert could be the more publishable choice (glad to hear about the offers, by the way; they're well deserved), yet if you feel more comfortable with male POV, I can't but feel a bit sorry that you should change that. I, for one, like reading male POV erotica.

Much luck,

Verdad

 

[Verdad]

Could it be that the both ends of the n/c spectrum reach their widest audience when they aren't quite so believable?

Yep. That's just what I'm thinking.

I think most short stories, including erotic ones, work best when told from the point of view of the central character, regardless of that character's gender. Plus, even if I am prone to identify with the heroine, I still care what the hero is thinking and feeling.

This is absolutely true, too. The only POV that's "better" is the one that's right for a particular story, the one that suits its purposes best. Still, what Otto said about the female POV isn't the first I heard of it, so maybe it is possible that readers have some preferences when they're choosing their erotic thrills. I'm just not that certain they're in favor of the female POV for readers of both genders. Maybe it could be interesting if we had a poll about that? (Or it's been done a zillion times before?)

Verdad

 

[Caroline Covington]

If you do rewrite and expand, perhaps you could play with blood as imagery and symbol, if you haven't already. One thing that struck me in the excerpt was that Robert, a man with an abundance of blood on his hands, protects himself from getting blood on his penis (yes, it was unwitting… had he known that she was a virgin, he wouldn't have, etc.). You could somehow tie, connect, or contrast his blood lust and his lust for Sara. Maybe have him always wear a condom? (Just because she's a virgin doesn't ensure she's HIV negative—perhaps he has a deathly fear of the blood he sheds so freely?) The condom could be a symbolic coating or protection from getting too close emotionally, avoiding true human contact? Just some silly ideas.

 

[Penelope Street]

This is absolutely true, too. The only POV that's "better" is the one that's right for a particular story, the one that suits its purposes best. Still, what Otto said about the female POV isn't the first I heard of it, so maybe it is possible that readers have some preferences when they're choosing their erotic thrills. I'm just not that certain they're in favor of the female POV for readers of both genders. Maybe it could be interesting if we had a poll about that? (Or it's been done a zillion times before?)

I haven't seen any such poll, but I'm certain readers have preferences when choosing their erotic thrills- how could they not? IMO, the best author by far at this site is a man and the bulk of his work, at least what I've read, is from a male perspective- but he's such a good writer I can still imagine what the female characters are experiencing.

The more I consider it, the more I'm inclined to believe a mixed POV is right for this story- by the conclusion both characters have changed, right? What I think may not have been the ideal choice is switching back and forth within a scene.

If you do rewrite and expand, perhaps you could play with blood as imagery and symbol, if you haven't already. One thing that struck me in the excerpt was that Robert, a man with an abundance of blood on his hands, protects himself from getting blood on his penis (yes, it was unwitting… had he known that she was a virgin, he wouldn't have, etc.). You could somehow tie, connect, or contrast his blood lust and his lust for Sara. Maybe have him always wear a condom? (Just because she's a virgin doesn't ensure she's HIV negative—perhaps he has a deathly fear of the blood he sheds so freely?) The condom could be a symbolic coating or protection from getting too close emotionally, avoiding true human contact? Just some silly ideas.

I disagree. I think those are clever ideas!

 

[Otto26]

If you do rewrite and expand, perhaps you could play with blood as imagery and symbol, if you haven't already. One thing that struck me in the excerpt was that Robert, a man with an abundance of blood on his hands, protects himself from getting blood on his penis (yes, it was unwitting… had he known that she was a virgin, he wouldn't have, etc.). You could somehow tie, connect, or contrast his blood lust and his lust for Sara. Maybe have him always wear a condom? (Just because she's a virgin doesn't ensure she's HIV negative—perhaps he has a deathly fear of the blood he sheds so freely?) The condom could be a symbolic coating or protection from getting too close emotionally, avoiding true human contact? Just some silly ideas.

And now you're suggesting art that is currently beyond my skill level. Good idea. The only imagery I really conciously worked with was the river (sex) as a hellish place (I had Bosch and Dante in mind). Sort of a reflection of Sara's experience and the epitome of all that was wrong in the story.

 

[Verdad]

I haven't seen any such poll, but I'm certain readers have preferences when choosing their erotic thrills- how could they not? IMO, the best author by far at this site is a man and the bulk of his work, at least what I've read, is from a male perspective- but he's such a good writer I can still imagine what the female characters are experiencing.

Yes, yes, agreed. That's just what I'd say of my favorites, too. It's just because of that that I'm questioning the "common knowledge" that everyone prefers female POV. If Otto feels he has more to offer writing from the male's, I think it'd be a shame if he saw that as a disadvantage.

If you do rewrite and expand, perhaps you could play with blood as imagery and symbol, if you haven't already. One thing that struck me in the excerpt was that Robert, a man with an abundance of blood on his hands, protects himself from getting blood on his penis (yes, it was unwitting… had he known that she was a virgin, he wouldn't have, etc.). You could somehow tie, connect, or contrast his blood lust and his lust for Sara. Maybe have him always wear a condom? (Just because she's a virgin doesn't ensure she's HIV negative—perhaps he has a deathly fear of the blood he sheds so freely?) The condom could be a symbolic coating or protection from getting too close emotionally, avoiding true human contact? Just some silly ideas.

Wow! Agreed again, and most heartily. A great, great idea.

Verdad

 

[Otto26]

As the week winds down I'd like to thank all of you very much for the comments you've offered. I appreciate the time you took on a story that many of you found distasteful.

 

[Penelope Street]

Hi Otto,

Thank you for sharing your story! It's worth noting that at no time did I feel like there was a negative comment about the story that extended to the author. Plus, even if some of the artistic choices didn't suit every reader, we all appreciated the gritty realism and found the writing style engaging.

Take Care,
Penny

 

[Otto26]

Whoops. My post above apparently made people think that I felt personally attacked. I'd just like to make sure everyone knows that nothing could be farther from the truth. I felt that every response directed criticism at the story and that all the criticism I received was constructive.

I also understand that the subject matter of this story was not to some people's liking and I wanted to thank you all for taking the time to read and comment despite this. I know from experience that this is difficult to do.

Again, thank you all very much for your time and comments. I really appreciate them and feel that I will be able to use them to good effect.

A final comment, I claimed there was a preference towards erotica written from the female POV. As Verdad commented, this is probably skewed towards the BDSM/Non-Consent sub-group of erotica and, in this light, makes perfect sense. To me, anyway.

 

[Varian P]

Hi Otto,

Forgive me for chiming in so late.

I am one of those readers who does seek out stories in the non-consent category, and specifically I enjoy those tales which have a dynamic like the one you've depicted—elements of coercion, but with extreme mitigating circumstances, and therefor a male lead who can be redeemed, to an extent, and so is a believable, sympathetic object of his victim's/lover's affection, obsession, etc.

Even though I'm a sympathetic reader for the kind of sexual dynamic that was the focus of this story, I was surprised at how much the rest of the tale held my attention; it's rare, with a work of erotic fiction, that my interest in anything beyond the sex and the relationship dynamics that make that sex interesting, but in this case I was eager for each turn of events in the broader plot. So, my compliments.

To answer your specific questions:

-Is it believable? Particularly, for those of you with the inclination to read all the way to the end, the conclusion.

Generally, yes, I found the story believable. You did well, including a lot of small (without getting extraneous) details that made scenes and events textured and tangible. The ugly, violent reality of the setting doesn't demand much suspension of disbelief, and so even when you were giving only broad strokes, that worked fine.

I did have trouble believing the progression of Sara's response to Robert. Not her ultimate attachment to him, and not her compliance with his orders, under the circumstances, but her sexual eagerness strained credulity in the beginning.

That Sara would find her way back to Robert made sense to me, and I quite liked her trick with the diamonds, but her stripping naked in the cafe was way over the top. It spoiled the illusion, I'm afraid.

-I have tried to portray Sara as a victim of events, but not as a victim. This doesn't, I feel, become apparent until the end of the story. Do you feel it becomes apparent at all?

Sara handled her situation with strength and intelligence, I thought. I did wonder why she didn't seem to even think through the possibility of escaping. She might have ruled it out fairly quickly, but with the prospect of potentially being violently gang-raped then murdered always looming, I wanted to see her really think through her options.

-If you were giving this a title and sentence description designed to attract attention, what would you use? Would the current title and description attract your attention?

I wish I had an alternate title to suggest, because I feel strongly that the current title doesn't do the story justice. I'm not even going to touch the sentence description—I dread coming up with those for my own stuff.

-For those of you that read into the middle of the story, does the use of the foreign language detract from your enjoyment of the story?

For the most part I liked the smattering of Esperanto—it added to the texture of the setting. There was at least one place where I felt it went on too long, the most memorable being Robert's interaction with the doctor.

I did have a few other thoughts, as I read.

I was troubled by the depiction of Sara and Robert against a backdrop of essentially hollow representations of African exotics. I realize that the kinds of situations depicted in your story—warfare, mass rape, etc.--is a reality in many regions of Africa. And I understand that the context, and the way that Robert and Sara are both part of and apart from it, is what sets them apart and brings them together, as far as the plot goes. But, in effect, what we're left with is a story where the one white man is depicted as trying to keep all the Africans in check, lest they murder all the women they gang rape (and the childred they'd gang rape if the white man wasn't there to stop them), etc., and the one white woman is the only one 'worth' raping (since he didn't know she was a virgin when he did rape her, and for all he knew, she'd been gang raped by a pack of AIDS-ridden villagers six months earlier). I found myself wanting Robert to be essentially the same character, but African.

OK, rant over.

One bit of exposition jarred me: when Robert tells Sara that he didn't want to get his throat cut for offending his men by saying he was afraid of catching AIDS, I had a hard time not thinking they'd be more offended that he would “only fuck white women.” There's a big cultural schism here, I realize, and ethnic preferences versus implying something about disease may be vastly different where Robert is, but as your reader, I found his reasoning suspect.

In the opening paragraph of the story, this line:

“Those villagers that had fled discovered other soldiers awaited them, the net to the beaters of the first.”

pulled me out of the immediate scene, and the syntax was also a little confusing. I might cut it.

I found the sexual situations between Sara and Robert quite arousing, but they all felt a bit rushed. I'd have liked more physical detail and, even more so, additional emotional detail—that could go far in making her growing attachment to Robert, and her eagerness for more sex, more believable.

I like Robert immensely, as a character. I appreciate his conflicted duality—his endeavors to ameliorate some of the awfulness around him even as he selfishly takes advantage of it, and his cynical way of taking stock of his own immorality. His efficient, detached way of looking after Sara is great. He feels real to me, and you fleshed him out nicely. Sara felt less real, less developed, but she's almost there. She comes through most strongly at moments where she's working out the Esperanto, negotiating her role with Robert—cleaning his hut with her dress, trading the perfume for the broom, etc.

I hope something in there is helpful, and in time to be of some use.

And thanks for sharing your story—again, I thoroughly enjoyed the read.

-Varian

 

[SimonBrooke]

An even later reply...

Sorry for an even later reply. I read this story when it was on 'new' and I left feedback at the time.

So, comments - some two or three weeks after I first read the story.

Firstly, title. What about 'The Price of Diamonds'? Alternatively, what about 'A Handful of Diamonds'? The economic driver for so many of Africa's mercenary wars is mineral resources, and, in the case of your story, quite explicitly diamonds. It's not a bad idea to make the point that lots of those pretty diamond rings people like to have come at a huge cost in blood.

Secondly, overall feel. I admire and applaud you on trying to write realistic and credible stories about the nexus between sexuality, dominance and violence, and to look at the real moral consequences of it. It's what I try to do myself. I don't feel you wholly succeed - there is too much 'rape fantasy' in this.

Robert is credibly cynical and brutal, but you do set him up as redeemable when you introduce him:

"What I should do is rape you and cut your throat. I find myself unable ... no. Unwilling. I won't sink quite that low."

The first rape doesn't wholly work for me. It is credibly brutal, but I find it hard to believe that Sara could sleep so long (although I suppose she might pretend) As others have said, the sensation of breaking through a hymen is quite distinctive - I've done it twice in my life. There's no way you could not notice, unless the hymen was vestigial; and if it was would it bleed enough to notice? If she is virgo intacta - with a normal hymen - he must know she's a virgin from first penetration. The detail of asking her name as an afterthought is good.

However, if Robert is sincere in his promise to try to get Sara out, can he afford to treat her so brutally? She will be in a position to bear witness against him, and, in these days of war-crimes trials, could be a devastating witness. Robert could of course be (as she suspects) insincere, using the promise to gain her semi-compliance; but I don't think that's the impression you want us to get.

Sexual bonding happens at a level which is below rational thought, and, in my personal experience, for young women it can happen quite quickly. It doesn't seem implausible to me that repeated rapes should cause Sara to bond to Robert, and to desire him - in effect, to desire continued rape and abuse. And in our society we are rather trained to interpret sexual bonding as 'love'. But this cannot have occurred by the time of the second rape. I'm not denying the power of the physiological parts of human sexual response. I'm not even claiming that it is utterly impossible for Sara to orgasm in the second rape - that is completely outside my experience! But nevertheless I don't find it persuasive that Sara could this early find any enjoyment or pleasure in her rape; I feel sure that at this stage any woman with any degree of self esteem would still be psychologically resisting with all her strength, even if she physically submitted. By their third sexual encounter she really isn't resisting at all at any level.

Like I say, I acknowledge that young women can bond sexually very quickly, and tend to rationalise sexual bonding as love. That is, after all, the mechanism which allows acutely abusive relationships to happen and to persist, and is related to the fact that abducted people come to defend their captors. Rape is part of our very primitive wiring and women have evolved to see very dominant, even brutal men as good mates because their offspring have good survival chances. And I acknowledge the need to move the plot of the story along. But this is too quick.

Someone else has commented on how little we see of Sara thinking about escape. She's got to. And she's got to think about it seriously. She is being systematically abused, humiliated and raped daily. Things can't possibly get a lot worse. People do have a drive to stay alive, but it isn't unconditional, and at some point Sara has got to ask herself whether the undoubted risks of escape are really worse than the present reality of her torment. There really cannot be much in it - you have successfully painted her situation as very bleak.

Robert's enjoyment of dominating and humiliating Sara is well drawn and credible, but it doesn't contribute to making him sympathetic. The scene in which he forces her to masturbate is really very disturbing (and scarily, uncomfortably, sexy - yes, I did identify with him).

As someone else commented, you're a bit heavy-handed with the Esperanto. We don't need a lecture about it. It's use is interesting and tells us something about Robert, but... less is more.

Your ending is much too quick. And as I say, it's not unreasonable to suppose that Sara would bond quite strongly to Robert and to have acquired pattens of extreme submission to him as a consequence of her experience. But (like someone else) I don't like the stripping in the bar scene. I wouldn't mind it so much if Robert had ordered it, but... I don't like it.

She may have become a submissive as a result of her experiences; she may feel very bonded to him; she may well like him and even have some actual affection for him; but doesn't she have any dignity?

 

[Penelope Street]

Hi Varian and Simon,


Great comments! I hope no one imagines there's a time limit on a discussion.

But, in effect, what we're left with is a story where the one white man is depicted as trying to keep all the Africans in check, lest they murder all the women they gang rape.

The more I think about this, the more I agree with Varian. Seems to me this might have worked better as an ancient Roman tale or some sci-fi adventure- anything that would give us that little distance and take the edge off, you know?

Firstly, title. What about 'The Price of Diamonds'?

I like it!

However, if Robert is sincere in his promise to try to get Sara out, can he afford to treat her so brutally? She will be in a position to bear witness against him, and, in these days of war-crimes trials, could be a devastating witness. Robert could of course be (as she suspects) insincere, using the promise to gain her semi-compliance; but I don't think that's the impression you want us to get.

Great point.

The scene in which he forces her to masturbate is really very disturbing (and scarily, uncomfortably, sexy - yes, I did identify with him).

Now I'm curious. I didn't read much past the initial section. Where is this scene?

I did wonder why she didn't seem to even think through the possibility of escaping. She might have ruled it out fairly quickly, but with the prospect of potentially being violently gang-raped then murdered always looming, I wanted to see her really think through her options.

Someone else has commented on how little we see of Sara thinking about escape. She's got to. And she's got to think about it seriously. She is being systematically abused, humiliated and raped daily.

So true!

Even though I'm a sympathetic reader for the kind of sexual dynamic that was the focus of this story, I was surprised at how much the rest of the tale held my attention; it's rare, with a work of erotic fiction, that my interest in anything beyond the sex and the relationship dynamics that make that sex interesting, but in this case I was eager for each turn of events in the broader plot. So, my compliments.

Secondly, overall feel. I admire and applaud you on trying to write realistic and credible stories about the nexus between sexuality, dominance and violence, and to look at the real moral consequences of it.

Even more true!!