Ste Letto
02-02-2003, 6:39 AM
1994(b)
John suddenly remembered something his captor, Angelina Lomax had said to him. He'd been lain on the floor of his cell. His cell floor was shaped to take his body, like a body cast, so half of him was below floor level and half above. This was when he'd still had arms and legs. Metal clamps held his wrists and ankles, while a leather strap ran across his forehead, keeping his head still and upright.
Angelina had stood to his side. She was tall and slender, with a slightly Italian look. She had long black hair and big green eyes. Her lips were wide, but narrow. She wore a simple white blouse, beige jodhpurs and black riding boots. John looked up at her and said "What future is there for mankind if this is how it goes?" Surprisingly Angelina had smiled at him, "You want a vision of the future do you?" She had laughed. "Very well! Picture a lady's booted foot stamping on a man's face - forever." She had laughed again. John had shuddered.
"Here," she said softly, "I'll help you to see it!" So saying the beauty had raised her riding boot high, then stamped on his face. Her sharp heel cracking into his skull, slamming it against the hard surface below. John had seen stars. Her foot came up again, then she stamped on his nose, bening it sideways. John had cried out in pain. "That's the way," Angelina had said, "acknowledge your pain beneath your dominator, beneath the superior woman, acknowledge it and be liberated from your narrow masculine bounds, acknowledge it and be free. We are all free when women dominate. We are not called the Ladies of Liberation for nought.!"
John had shuddered. Her words made sense to him now. He had smiled up as she stamped his eyes, his nose and his lips, even as his face swelled he felt a release ot tension. She had gone on to trample him for an hour. She trod his neck, standing sideways, raising her right foot and holding it in her hand she had crushed his windpipe until he passed out. Then she'd trampled his right arm. She began by kicking his bicep until it was numb. Then she stood on his forearm unil it too was bereft of feeling. She ground his wrist bones together beneath her solid heel and stamped on his fingers until the bones snapped like breadsticks. When she released his wrist clamp and squeezed his hand in her strong fingers he felt as if she were holding his hand over an open fire. With a twist of her arm the strong girl dislocated his at the shoulder. She let it fall, useless and powerless to the floor.
She repeated this destruction on his left arm, finishing with a mocking laugh as she dislocated that arm also. He lay in a starnge, dreamlike, detached state as she disappeared from view. His vision had faded then. When it returned he found himself laying on a bed, with a strange pain in his shoulders and a numbness where his arms should be. When he saw them, side by side on a nearby table he screamed. He was left, isolated, for five more days, until he stopped screaming.
John suddenly remembered something his captor, Angelina Lomax had said to him. He'd been lain on the floor of his cell. His cell floor was shaped to take his body, like a body cast, so half of him was below floor level and half above. This was when he'd still had arms and legs. Metal clamps held his wrists and ankles, while a leather strap ran across his forehead, keeping his head still and upright.
Angelina had stood to his side. She was tall and slender, with a slightly Italian look. She had long black hair and big green eyes. Her lips were wide, but narrow. She wore a simple white blouse, beige jodhpurs and black riding boots. John looked up at her and said "What future is there for mankind if this is how it goes?" Surprisingly Angelina had smiled at him, "You want a vision of the future do you?" She had laughed. "Very well! Picture a lady's booted foot stamping on a man's face - forever." She had laughed again. John had shuddered.
"Here," she said softly, "I'll help you to see it!" So saying the beauty had raised her riding boot high, then stamped on his face. Her sharp heel cracking into his skull, slamming it against the hard surface below. John had seen stars. Her foot came up again, then she stamped on his nose, bening it sideways. John had cried out in pain. "That's the way," Angelina had said, "acknowledge your pain beneath your dominator, beneath the superior woman, acknowledge it and be liberated from your narrow masculine bounds, acknowledge it and be free. We are all free when women dominate. We are not called the Ladies of Liberation for nought.!"
John had shuddered. Her words made sense to him now. He had smiled up as she stamped his eyes, his nose and his lips, even as his face swelled he felt a release ot tension. She had gone on to trample him for an hour. She trod his neck, standing sideways, raising her right foot and holding it in her hand she had crushed his windpipe until he passed out. Then she'd trampled his right arm. She began by kicking his bicep until it was numb. Then she stood on his forearm unil it too was bereft of feeling. She ground his wrist bones together beneath her solid heel and stamped on his fingers until the bones snapped like breadsticks. When she released his wrist clamp and squeezed his hand in her strong fingers he felt as if she were holding his hand over an open fire. With a twist of her arm the strong girl dislocated his at the shoulder. She let it fall, useless and powerless to the floor.
She repeated this destruction on his left arm, finishing with a mocking laugh as she dislocated that arm also. He lay in a starnge, dreamlike, detached state as she disappeared from view. His vision had faded then. When it returned he found himself laying on a bed, with a strange pain in his shoulders and a numbness where his arms should be. When he saw them, side by side on a nearby table he screamed. He was left, isolated, for five more days, until he stopped screaming.