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    Demiurge
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Trash Polka - 13. Chapter 13

*Mental health
Poor River's going through it

All I could hear was a dull roar as the blood rushed to my ears. My eyes were locked on impossibly dark ones. I had registered that his hand was gripping my hair at the back of my head, holding my head immobile. It was strange. Part of me felt like I should be startled. He’d moved so fast. His grip was so tight. We didn’t know each other. This was our first real meeting as more than just a customer/employee interaction. I should be weirded out. Upset perhaps. Maybe even angry. Who did this man think he was? Grabbing me like this and staring into my very soul.

I felt exposed. A little vulnerable even. His hand loosened on my hair and I registered that I hadn’t completely closed my mouth after being torn from the brief kiss. His fingers relaxed in my hair and dropped down, sliding over my nape and then up my shoulder. From there, long fingers moved to the front and cupped my jaw. It was far gentler. I swallowed and his eyes dropped to follow the movement. My brain seemed to kick back on after its very violent force quit and I stopped my best impression of a gaping fish. The inside of my mouth felt dry and I wondered how long we’d been stuck in that position. Him looking down at me, holding me still, while my mouth hung open and I stared at him like an idiot. How attractive.

“Now, let’s try to calm down. This was supposed to be a discussion.”

He stepped back and, horrified, I bit back a whine. His hands smoothed down his black suit that was probably worth more than my rent and took his seat again. I stared at him. I didn’t know if I could even talk. Something about that exchange had short-circuited my brain and I was waiting for the poor thing to reboot.

“I’m glad you said something about safe words. It’s a decent segue. Since you seem…”

“What?” I asked. Was that…My voice? Me? River? Was that a word or a croak? Good God, you’d think I was a blushing virgin. How terribly mortifying.

“Troublesome is the first word that comes to mind. However, I was going to say distracted.” He sighed, “But you didn’t give me a yes or no, so I think maybe we should go over the specifics.”

I picked up my drink to have something to do while my brain continued to sluggishly restart. Taking a drink, I thought about it. Maybe more than I had in the last few days. I hadn’t wanted my entire focus to narrow down on this one issue. I’d limited my research. To a normal human level. Not the hours my squirrel brain would’ve thought appropriate. Sleep was important. I’d been told.

All of it had sounded intriguing with a little bit of weird mixed in. I was still hung up on giving another person that much control. I did however like that the control could be limited to “Scenes”. After the generally prearranged times, I’d get my control back. The issue was, I didn’t know how easy it’d be for me to let go.

Apparently, if you asked my still stuttering brain, I was more than willing to give it up. I’d throw caution to the wind as soon as an attractive man grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. Well, not exactly. I’d had men grab my hair before and generally the reception had been lukewarm. Maybe it was his hands? I glanced down, aware he was still watching. They were nice hands. Ordinary, long fingers, rings. Nothing remarkable. They were nice hands. My attention slowly crept up from his hands to land on his face again. His eyes were something. That was for sure. Meeting them again had slowed my poor brain’s chugging along.

What was so damn different about this man?

 

My, my those eyes like fire

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre

Come now, bite through these wires

I’m a waking hell and the gods grow tired.

 

Things around me were muffled. I could barely make out the song playing from my little speaker. I was staring off into space and startled when a hand landed on my shoulder, “Christ!”

“Sorry man. I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes. We were going to order lunch. Cameron wants Chinese.”

Luke had a smile on his face-Lukas always had a smile on his face-but this one looked a little strange. It was tight and something in his eyes was off. Oh. It was concern. I wasn’t acting right again and I was making the rather large teddy bear nervous.

“Oh yeah. That’s fine. Whatever you guys want. Sorry, I didn’t sleep well.”

It was the wrong choice of words in the wrong arrangement. The corners of Lukas’ mouth dipped fractionally and I watched his chest heave with a deep breath. It was standard Lukas for “I’m gearing up to have an unpleasant conversation with you and I hate confrontation so I have to brace myself.”

“Seriously. I got caught up messing around painting the wall in my living room and I lost track of time. I think I finally fell asleep around like five am. I’m just a bad adult Lukas. No need to set off the alarms.”

He released his Deep Breath for Preparedness (trademark pending) and his smile grew less forced, “Alright. Sorry. I know I need to just calm down but for a while there, you really had us worried.”

I flashed him what must’ve been a convincing grin as he waved, turned on his heel, and left my room. I leaned back in my shitty desk chair, resting my hands against my eyes. It wasn’t that I was upset. No, that wasn’t it. I was just confused.

 

It’d taken me until I got home after my meeting with Kenji to put some pieces together. I’d gone through the motions of getting ready for bed, all while staring blankly into space. Only when I was curled in bed, knees pulled to my chest did something occur to me. When Kenji had looked at me, gripping my hair, my mind had quieted. The silence had been as overwhelming as it was brief. It gave me a weird thrill thinking about it. My mind wasn’t quiet. It didn’t do that.

Which is maybe why, when we’d continued to speak. I’d talked myself into trying. I didn’t know if it’d been a freak thing or if I could find that quiet whenever someone else took control. Not someone-Kenji. I don’t know if the dynamic would be the same with anyone else. His presence and the way it filled a room was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

Either way, it was like I’d tried a hit of something and now I was craving more. I’d gone through the following Saturday in a fog. Pictures had gone up, people bought them, I think I’d made it out okay? I couldn’t really remember. Sunday had been a little better and now on Monday, I would hesitantly say I was back to normal.

Or as normal as I could be.

I could hear Lukas and Cameron talking up front. Cameron was quiet, but Lukas laughed loudly and happily at something he said. I let my hands drop to my sides as I considered the ceiling. Tomorrow, Tuesday, Kenji and I would meet again. Very briefly. It’d be to sign an actual contract. Like a real one. That’d be notarized and everything. The whole situation was decidedly not mirroring cinema’s greatest tribute to BDSM. The shades of grey were not greying. I giggled quietly to myself as I bemoaned the stupid movie and book series boasting all the variants of the most boring color. Lord, what garbage. I’d read them, of course, for research purposes. Thinking about the ridiculousness of them sent me into another fit of giggles. I needed to rein it in, the giggles were teetering on the edge of hysterical.

For fuck’s sake, there would be an honest to god NDA. I had never even seen one of them in real life. Never heard of anyone signing one either. Another giggle. I should be terrified or at least nervous, but all I could think about was getting my hit of silence. The man could rip my head clean off if it meant I was free from myself for however long our scenes were.

The cherry on the very disturbing cake, was that I got sex with a very attractive man as well. An antidote to the chaotic waves in my head and an orgasm? Who, in their mentally ill mind, would say no to that? Perhaps there was a stronger neurodivergent out there, but it was not I. I was going to sign whatever that man wanted and just let go. It was thrilling. I should reflect. I really should, but I didn’t have time. Clients, friends, mental spiraling to do, ya know?

“River! What do you want from the Mexican place? The usual? We changed our minds.”

“Yeah!” I yelled, trying to peel the crazy little smile off my face.

Shaking my head, I kicked myself into gear. The deranged River was stomped to the back of my brain. Along with all my mental snapshots of pretty, dark eyes and too nice suits. Following them were the images my brain had burned into my memory of the way that impeccable suit had pulled tight across his arms and shoulders when he moved certain ways. I bet everything under the suit was impeccable too.

That thought was also punted to the back of my mind.

I set about preparing for the small memorial tattoo that would come in after lunch. I printed out the design in a couple different sizes and pulled up a picture of the guy’s arm I’d taken to make sure the placement and scale would look right. It was for his mother who’d died recently and I didn’t know what the different items he’d asked for meant to them, but memorials always put me in a weird headspace. Especially if the people got emotional when we were working. My first instinct was to fix things for people, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t bring people they loved back. So, I sat in my helplessness and worked, offering empty words that I knew wouldn’t soothe the pain. It was awful, but I would never stop doing them. At least the tattoo did something for them. It was one itty bitty way I could help. Maybe it was a dim light from shore when you were getting tossed about in a maelstrom with only a dinghy to keep you above water, but hey, it was something.

I swallowed hard and rubbed my neck. There was a locket, a sailor’s hat-like the navy, a real one, and a life preserver. They were universal symbols and I’m sure I could figure out deeper meanings, but I didn’t want to. Especially when I’d just given myself emotional whiplash going from Kenji to this. I shook my head again and glanced up at the clock. They were coming in soon and I cringed a bit. My thoughts had been so centered on Kenji that I wasn’t sure I’d mentally prepared myself for this customer. If they made me cry, I was really going to be upset with myself.

 

[K: The time and location still work for you tomorrow?]

I’d just walked into my apartment. I felt wrung out and my chest hurt. My customer had told stories about how amazing his mother was for the whole four-hour tattoo. They were beautiful but his pain was palpable. He’d had that sharp, needling pain that someone who recently experienced loss had. It’d dull to a throb with time, but I wasn’t a person who thought time took the pain away completely. I’d kept it together even when my brain had dropped into thinking about my own mother. I didn’t even open Kenji’s message, I sat on my ratty couch, tugging my knees to my chest as my phone dialed and then rang.

“River!”

“Hey ma.” I swallowed and it felt like choking down sand as I rubbed my thumb gently over my jaw, “How are you?”

“Oh, just fine baby. Cleaning up after dinner.”

“Sure.” I said and there was a long pause. I heard something being set down, maybe a pan, and the slosh of water. I could picture her at the kitchen sink. Washing up with the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder. I’d seen her do it a thousand times when I’d live at home, but for some reason, it sent a pang through my chest that hurt.

“Baby, you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

I could hear the worry in her voice and I sucked in another breath, my head falling back. I was hitting a low mentally. Today had been a lot and I’d been having low level sadness for months now. It seemed like the Big Sad was descending and for the first time in a long time, hearing my mother’s voice made me want to cry.

“Just a rough day.” I said. My voice was shaky and strained. No amount of swallowing was working now. The hurt was bubbling up inside and I didn’t know what to do.

“Well, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m…”

“Sad?”

It seemed so inadequate for what I was feeling. It made me irrationally angry. I was intelligent and rational. It should help, but really the awareness made it worse. I knew how ridiculous it was that my brain just couldn’t fucking work right. I knew it. I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t miraculously talk myself out of it when I was submerged headfirst into melancholy, taking gasping mouthfuls as I struggled. Hard to fight back when the one holding you under was yourself.

I didn’t want her to worry. Never wanted anyone to worry about me. No, I had to be strong. I’d been keeping that streak alive since I was a child. Must keep it together for mom. Must keep it together for Alec, for August. For Lukas and Cameron. If they saw me slip, they’d be uncomfortable. Or worse, concerned.

“Sorry. Yes.” I cleared my throat and finally swallowed down the emotion. I was proud of my voice when it came out level and solid. It was okay. I was okay. I’d make it through this bout like I made it through all the others.

“Are you positive, honey? Maybe you should come for a visit.” It was there. The goddamned worry. I could hear it. Taste it’s sourness in my mouth.

“Yeah! That’d be nice, I think. We should figure that out soon.”

Hesitance, but she was letting it go. I could feel it. She always did. It was far easier for Julie to go with my rapid mood changes and denials of any bad feelings. She didn’t deal with her own feelings. Why would she deal with mine? Why should she have to? Broken brain acted broken and it stopped being her responsibility a long time ago.

“River, you’re not okay. I know you aren’t. I can hear it.” It was her turn to adjust. Maybe she was swallowing the feelings too? It didn’t matter because my brain was processing her addressing the issue. What was this? The Twilight Zone?

“I know we may not be in a place where you want to confide in me, and that’s…that’s okay, but you aren’t alone. Even all the way across the country. I love you. You’re my baby. If you need me, I’m here.”

The amount of breathing I was doing in the quiet room out of context might sound vulgar to be honest. It was borderline panting. I’d thrown the phone to the cushions and jammed my fist into my mouth as my eyes locked on a particularly ugly part of the popcorn ceiling. The tinny sound of her voice was still going. There was no making out the words, but I didn’t care. I picked up the phone after releasing my fist from its toothy prison.

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice. A customer got in my head today. He lost his mom recently.”

“Well, poor thing. I can see why that’d be hard. I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah, thanks ma. I’ll look into flights out there.”

“That sounds great. Are you sure that-“

“Bye mom. Thanks.”

I set my phone on the couch and dragged my hands down my face. I shoved them back up into my hair and gripped hard. Maybe if I pulled just right, it’d mimic what Kenji had done at the club and the swirling vortex of thoughts in my head might quiet. As my thoughts strayed back to him for the first time since before lunch, I remembered his text. I’d written it off so fast when I’d gotten home. Now, though, I was looking for a distraction.

[R: Oh, the dementia’s taken hold again, huh? Poor baby.]

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for a response.

[K: There’s going to be a list of kinks. I await your response to being gagged with bated breath.]

It pulled a startled laugh out of me and I fell over onto my side, curling up into a ball on my couch.

[R: You want me to gag you that bad?]

[K: Insufferable.]

[R: Do something about it you grabby motherfucker.]

The swirl of emotions was starting to abate a little and breathing had become easier. Although, my breath did hitch when a call came in roughly five minutes after I’d sent my last text.

“Heylo?”

“What do you have against the word ‘hello’? Has it victimized you in some way?”

“No, but I’d let you victimize me in several ways if you were amenable.”

There was only silence for a moment and I thought maybe I’d gone too dark. Then there was an incredulous bark of noise. Possibly a laugh? Odd sounding from years of disuse maybe? Either way, I grinned to myself, twirling my hair around a finger. At this rate, I just needed to kick my feet to complete the downright ridiculous image I’m sure I made. Again.

“While I don’t wish to ‘victimize’ you, it will be…fun to…correct certain behavior.”

“Listen, you can try to beat the attitude out of me, but several high schoolers already tried over the span of four years, so I’m not scared of you.”

“They beat you? In school?”

“Again, they tried. I can hold my own.”

“Of that I’m certain.”

“Anyway, this got dark. What’re you wearing?”

“A suit. Why?”

“Lord, you’re a weird one.” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“What else would I wear to work? Why does that make me weird?” The confusion in his voice was absolutely adorable, “How am I the weird one when you asked what I was wearing? I told you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself now. It was a joke. A pop culture reference kind of.” I closed my eyes.

“What reference?”

“The internet is a place full of wonder and awe. Also search engines where one could type in their questions to find answers.” I said.

“You are incredibly frustrating.”

“I'm nearly withering away waiting for you to do something about it.” I sighed heavily.

“We’ll address it after you’ve filled out all the paperwork.”

A thrill shot down my spine. Where his voice had sounded like a mixture of confusion and irritation earlier, now it’d dropped a register and my stomach had gone with it. There was so much dark promise in the tone and I quietly wondered why I couldn’t sign the papers now. He was at work. As per usual. Why didn’t we just get this ball rolling now. He was eager to put a stop to my sass and I was eager to stop feeling so goddamned much. I wanted that quiet. It’d been so brief. I wanted to submerge in it. Kenji could be like a deprivation tank.

I wanted him to drown me in the silence.

https://ko-fi.com/baidemiurge

Take me Back to Eden- Sleep Token
Copyright © 2024 Demiurge; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

River's brain short circuited because it received a moment of quiet.  Now he is going to chase that feeling.  If an addiction actually makes your life better, shouldn't you seek it?  The danger is putting someone else in charge of not only his body, but of his mental health.  Scary for someone as stubbornly independent as River.  I think Kenji appeared in River's life at the right time.

  • Love 5

River is thinking something that I did not understand at first. He has a clear and maybe not common view of what submisson and being controlled means.

He is not bothered by having to experience/endure kinks and maybe pain and strange feelings. Often a story about a master dominting a sub shows the sub as sensing terror or humiliation or feeling parts of his body in great stress and wanting relief with a master who only wants his exotic pleasures fuilled. 

River is not acting as a masochist who will derive sexual gratification from pain.  River commented on Kenji---"He was eager to put a stop to my sass and I was eager to stop feeling so goddamned much. I wanted that quiet. It’d been so brief. I wanted to submerge in it. Kenji could be like a deprivation tank.

I wanted him to drown me in the silence."

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@akascrubber  your comment re: sexual masochism and how River is acting, yeah I agree.

But he is acting exactly like a masochistic subby in need of the physiological & mental reset pain offers.

(And if nobody minds too much I am gonna go off on a bit of a ramble because as stated before, I am a pain in the ass...)

We know that River self-soothes with pain and we also know that he would not necessarily - up to this point anyway - have allowed himself the opportunity to explore pain play as a means to get off - or anything else for that matter - (because of the trust and submission required) with previous sexual partners so it's impossible to say with any level of accuracy whether or not he's wired to accept - or expect - sexual gratification from pain.

But, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it doesn't really matter. The line between deriving sexual vs psychological/physiological gratification from pain in and of itself, while definitely clear, is also very, very fine and, as some would argue, not always necessary to draw because so much - not all by any means, but a large proportion to be sure - of the gratification experience is derived from the neurophysiological and mental process.

So for him, pain could be the means by which he acheives the silence (via a change in brain chemistry due to sensory stimulus) he so desperately craves (which we have already seen), which in turn (due to being relaxed & calm) could lead to a deeper and more enjoyable sexual experience. Or, he could find pleasure - sexual or otherwise - in the experience of pain itself which would result in a similar outcome. Either way, the stimulus of pain is essential.

And yes, I absolutely second your comment re: shibari & the list!

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This chapter... Man, it is GOOD. So. So. GOOD. Sad, obviously, but the insight into River? Absolutely brilliant.

And yeah, that silence. Switching off the brain and all its endless shit? Absolute bliss. Regardless of which side of the equation one occupies.

 

As far as cinematic bdsm masterpieces go, The Secretary, if one was in the mood to search really really hard for it, is - imo - a far safer & more reliable option than the one sure way to fuck shit up that other drivel offers...

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