((PLAYER NOTE: This post is the example narrative used for this character, this is here as a guide as the type of player I am and the type of character this is. if any of this offends you please do not friend this journal.. as this is a mild post))
"I have dreams, not about tranquil clouds or silly pink bunnies. No, I think others would classify them as nightmares, every night a new nightmare, at least it would be if I didn't enjoy them so much." The words had flown smoothly from between my lips, in a clear accent that spoke of good education and wealth that women seemed to melt over. I lean closer, the leather chair had formed perfectly to my form when she had offered me the seat and now she sat leaning forward, the pen she used to write in her little notepad long forgotten as it dangled between her fingers. Her wide green eyes eager with anticipation at what I would tell her next. It was always like this when I came here to her office, revealing another piece of my thoughts to her, letting them slide to the floor and leave them for her to examine until the next time I graced her presence.
When I had first come to her she had been reserved, wearing turtle-necks and slacks, eyes hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses and hair a tightly woven bun. A cultivated look that was designed to keep her professional, distant. She had kept a desk between us as I sat on her comfortable couch and revealed whatever little broken thing within me had caused me to seek her out. But now she sat across from me in the second plush leather chair, the pair usually reserved for fighting couples but I had easily eased us into this sitting arrangement, drawing her toward me with small little mental tugs. Today I knew I had won, today she wore a white clinging blouse, a skirt that inched up her thighs when she sat down, pumps that when she walked gave a delicious vision of her calf muscles and that hair so bound before hung around her shoulders with only a clip to keep a bit of it back. Her green eyes were large on her heart-shaped face, she had gotten contacts some time ago. I liked her eyes, liked how they widened in fear and yet that need that every woman seemed to have that drew them closer and closer to a man like me... a spider to her fly.
I reach out, she's eager to hold my hand and I rub my thumb over her smooth white skin, "Do you want to know my dreams?" I ask her softly..
She nods, I don't think she realised what she said yes to.. but I know I won't meet any real resistance.. after all she's wanted this for a while, I could almost smell her desire the last few sessions, eager, wanting, hoping but keeping herself from begging. I can't help the smile that spreads over my lips. I'd won. Now to claim my prize... I guess this will be my last session with the dear doctor. After all, once a woman spreads her legs once, there's no reason to bother with her anymore. I start by telling her about the dream, drawing her into a world a hundred years ago... I start by leaning closer as I spoke of the fear, fear she should be feeling but all I see is the burning in her eyes.
....
When it's over, when I'm done, and she's still got her legs wrapped around my hips, her eyes closed, her breathing little shallow bursts of spent energy... laying back on her desk, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her blouse open, her breasts exposed and her nipples hard to the air conditioned air... only then do I lean down to whisper in her ear "Did you enjoy the reinactment? Just another whore aren't you?"
... I barely have to move as her face colours, as she pulls away and the horror sinks in, the knowledge.. I did it because I could. I'm already casually zipping up, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door. I'd warned her, hadn't I? warned her that I used women, that first session I told her. Now she knew, now she understood. They were just things to use, things to toy with, no little piece of paper claiming their equality would ever really stop a woman from surrendering to a man... from being the little dirty whore she's inside.
But it didn't hurt to remind women of that fact now and then. These 'strong independant women'... just cheap little whores.
