Norwegian melancholy and NIN

So I've been wondering wether or not I wanted to post my last short story, but I came to the decision that if you chose to misinterpret it, you're stupid. Well no, but I have taken precautions and come up with a little warning. First of all, if you're faint at heart or just not interested in stories with sexual content, look away now. That being said I will asure you that this is not an erotic short story, nor is it a story about self pity. Other than that, you can interpret however you want, please don't pick on the errors in grammar and language and I hope you'll enjoy it.


With Teeth

The door was never locked. She had unlocked it ages ago in hopes that one day someone would pass through and save her. She waited for days and days until one cold winter night when he finally came. A gentle hand would stroke her back and tell her everything was going to be alright. His fingers were long and lean and they traced her bones and curves with admiration. Sometimes they would hit a special spot and she felt shivers down her spine. The saviour wore a mask, but his lips were visible. A smile stretched the soft, pink lips at almost all time, and when it touched her neck the shivers resulted in tingling between her scrawny legs. Sometimes she tried to convince him to take the mask off, but every time he refused. “My face must remain hidden,” he said. “If you see it, no one wins.” And she knew it was not for her.

After a while the saviour asked if they could play a game.
“It’s something new. You won’t dislike it. In fact, I think you might well enjoy it.”
“Will it make my legs quiver?” she asked curiously.
“Darling girl, it will make your legs go weak and your centre explode with joy.”
She liked this idea and agreed to enter. Filled with anticipation she let the masked saviour lift her pale arms over her head and wrap them in cold steel hanging from a hook she had never seen before. The chains were hard against her tiny wrists, and an entirely new kind of shiver sent through her. For a second she wondered if she really wanted to go through with this and she let a soft whimper escape her lips. Then she felt lean fingers brush her arms and soft words were whispered in her ear. This time, when the saviour’s hands touched her sweet spots, they didn’t move away, but continued to caress them until her whole body trembled. As the slender fingers put pressure on her centre, the place where her legs met, her lips parted and let out a sound of joy and something she had never felt before. The noises continued as his fingers found their way deeper in between. Later she would discover that the feeling she couldn’t explain was called pleasure, and that it was highly addictive, but right now all she knew was that she liked it and wanted it to never stop.

Night after night they continued to play the saviour’s game, and night after night the feeling (pleasure) grew stronger. Every time they played, the game would evolve, but her masked lover never let it completely reach its climax. She yearned for this climax, not knowing what it was, but the curiosity kept her going. Many times she had begged him for it, but like the removal of the mask, he refused.
“In time, my love, in time,” he had responded, followed by a whisper about how she one day would get everything she deserved. The he grabbed her hands and chained her to the ceiling.

Oh joy! The day had finally come. The day when she was to get everything she wanted, the day she had been longing for. No words had been exchanged about the matter, but she could feel it in her core. It was time. Her saviour followed her to their room, and as he watched she raised her arms and wrapped the chains around her own wrists. Their game started with the usual caressing of her bruised arms, and as usual she moaned when the hands moved towards her sex. This night he entered her from behind. One of his arms was clenched around her waist and the other was grabbing her left shoulder. The change was subtle, but she noticed it anyway. It was a change of intensity and a change in the game. The grip on her shoulder tightened as he increased the pace. In the back of her neck she could feel how his warm breath was starting to hit her faster, and in between her pleasure sounds she could hear him panting. Again he increased the intensity, and the grip tightened even more. The sensation was almost overwhelming, the mixture of the pain brought by the nails now digging deep into her skin and the exceeding pleasure in her underbelly made her moans evolve to a high pitched scream. This drove the saviour wild, and behind her head, where she couldn’t see, he bared a row of razor sharp teeth. With a motion so quick she almost didn’t register it he had removed his hand from her shoulder only to pull her ginger hair to the side and bare her throat. A sharp sting of pain hit her as his teeth penetrated the gentle skin and with an excruciating scream she came.

Days passed and her door stayed unlocked. Time had been moving slowly and it seemed like years since her saviour went away. At first she hadn’t understood what was happening, she was still dizzy from their little game. Blissfully happy, her mind had sort of switched itself off, and she didn’t at all register the world around her. When she first came to her senses it was because the chains had begun to tear up the skin around her wrists. Only after releasing herself did she start to wonder why her saviour wasn’t resting on their bed as he usually did when they were done playing. He wasn’t in their room at all. Gripped with panic and horror she left her house for the first time since he got there. She ran looking for him, but her legs were weak and she collapsed in the fresh snow. While the cold painted her skin red, purple and blue she could see a trail of scarlet from her doorstep to the place she was now resting. In a way she took comfort in this, because it proved he hadn’t drained her completely.

A few days later a new man entered her house. He too refused to remove his mask, but she accepted it quickly. They played the game by her saviour’s rules and when he had bitten her, he left. One by one she invited them in, and sometimes they were women. Some of them returned for another bite, but none of them stayed for long. Even after realizing that none of them could save her she let them feed on her. She never asked them to remove their masks anymore.

Six months passed playing the same game with her masked strangers. By the end of the seventh she was drained and bruised to the extent that she contemplated about locking her door. But that very moment, something changed. There was a knock on the door and a sweet scent. In crawled a man, lean like the others, but bruised like her self. She nurtured him, cared for him even, and after a while she dared to ask the question she had been neglecting for so long. Shock went through her as he did the unexpected and removed the mask. His eyes were dark and red and his skin unclean. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. At night he agreed to play her game, but she knew he never got completely comfortable with it. After a while he would release her arms from the shackles and place her softly on their bed. Tears ran down her cheeks as long fingers wrapped themselves around hers and a pink tongue licked her wounds. When his fingers traced her bones and curves the familiar tingling came in addition to warmth that spread from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers. The new lover never stopped before the game climaxed, and when they were finished playing he held her close until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long before she understood that this was the saviour she had been waiting for all along.

Years passed and the saviour continued to make her happy. She continued to nurture and care for him, and in return he healed her wounds and gave her pleasure. By now the wounds were merely scars, and her throat was white and clean again. Still he nursed the teeth marks, always afraid of new infections. She had had so many, and they always made her so aggressive. Some times though, while playing together, she missed the smiling lips of a masked man pressing against her neck and a playful roughness only one had managed to give her. Whenever she thought of this her new saviour would feel it, smell it even, and his eyes would be filled with agony and emotions she couldn’t understand. One time, when her infections were real bad, they had screamed at each other and he had left. When he came home that night his eyes were red, and like the first time she saw him, he crawled. He had left many times after that, but he always came home, and he always crawled. She didn’t like it when he left. Every time he came back he smelled a little bit different. Every time he came back he smelled a little bit worse.

“Darling, you reek.” Her infections were bad again, and he’d just come back for the second time that day. It wasn’t the first time he’d left more than once in one day, but it was the first time she had seen him like this. A quiver shook her spine as she looked into his big, black eyes which were starring back at her. For some reason he insisted to play the game the old way and chained her to her familiar spot. He continued to hold his expanding black eyes on hers as he took a firm grip around her waist and placed a hand on her scarred left shoulder. Already she could see what were to happen. Truly forcing herself, she looked into his growing eyes and permitted the following action with a hard nod before she tilted her head to the side. They starred at each other as he opened his mouth and bared rows on rows of yellow, sharp teeth. There was a soft kiss and a deep breath, and then he sucked her dry.

One by one the strangers walked through her open door. She divided them into two categories: gentle and violent. Both of the types were just as lost as her, she had realized this now, and what they did to her was no different from what she did to them. Shortly after the last saviour went away she started wearing his mask. It was one with her skin now and she could no longer remember how she had looked without it. Every lover left their mark, and even her body had changed beyond recognition. Some times she imagined, believed even, that this was all a dream, that she still lived with her masked saviour, that she was still beautiful and pure, and that in any minute she would wake up from this horrible nightmare and go back to normal. But once again she raised her mutilated arms above her head and let a lust scented stranger chain her to the ceiling.
"Oh, what I’d do for you” said the masked man, sincerity streaming through his soft voice.
“Oh, what we all do for this” she replied, kissing his bruised neck. “What we make ourselves do for the thrill of company”.