WRAITH interviews ALEX SEVERIN & HERTZAN CHIMERA
The door at the top of the staircase opens slowly, an elongated painful creak resounding from its ancient hinges. A slick-black shadow, bosom heaving with excitement, pours itself down the stairs, spike heels sadistically gouging the old wood. Vinyl-rope bound and ball-gagged the luckless Chimera and Severin watched their captor move slowly closer, the shadow lightening as it neared the flickering of candle flame. A face began to take shape. It is the Bitch Goddess, Wraith, Mistress at the House of Pain. Chimera and Severin have a forearm-thick cable of sexual tendrils running between their bubbling brains. Temple to temple. These two love-birds of sex-horror literature communicate via screams and punches and ripped open flesh and whiplash for vocab – good that they found themselves in this festering Hell-hole at the mercy of this interviewer.
CHIMERA: (sends a goofy grin wave across the cable) Wonder where the fuck SHE is going all tarted up to the nines like that? SEVERIN: (tittering like an infant) Yeah, good job she can’t hear us. Come here Chimera, launch more of your greasy fetish vocab across into my brain so that I can defocus from the grilling she is about to bore us with. CHIMERA: (shudders as he passes spunky protection across the broadband cable) Yeah, it’s like we’ve done anything wrong lately... WRAITH: (shows her shaven skullcap where a detector device picks up the fetish thought being passed between the writers) Fuckin’ dimwits, I can hear all your naughty little thoughts and let me tell you two something .... Being the sick, disgusting perverts that you are, and don’t get me wrong, I love that in a man/woman symbion, you may have gone just a wee bit too far this time. I’ve been keeping an eye on you two, you’ve been writing some pretty delightful tales over time but I’ve gotten a hold of some bits and pieces of your new book, BoyFistGirlSuck, and I must say, you two deviants have undone yourselves this time.
Wraith slowly circles the two tied and gagged in chairs, with a smile. She rakes her claw-like nails across their flesh as she passes behind them, raising goose flesh. The Bitch Goddess contemplates her prey …. "Can’t wait to hear their excuses for this recent work of depraved horror porn. Where DO they get their ideas from, life experience?" The scent of fetish-want rises off her skin and intoxicates her captives. It seems this potent aroma is like truth serum to the writersymbiont who begin to squirm beneath her stark authority, the room suddenly uncomfortably close. They are compelled to tell the truth to the Bitch Goddess.
SEVERIN: It's all his fault! He is the root of my corruption! I was sweet and innocent until he lured me away from safety into the depths of his deviant mind and made me wear a coat of many cunts. CHIMERA: (wearing an expression which lies between pull-the-other-one and wounded) Severin! Deliver to these lips a Judas kiss – you butcher my credibility as a cunt-slavering cohort! Beat on my heart like a taut drumskin and tell more lies about me. SEVERIN: (the glint of his corruption shining in her eyes) Tell her then, Chimera, tell her from whence your inspiration glimmers. CHIMERA: A tempting little proposition, my anti-Christ of womanhatemanbutcher, to spill the beans and say "Why I did it." but I’d rather have Wraith here, with her wicked sharp breasts of armour plating and her dripping groin of trip flashback, beat it out of me with the blunt end of her black is the new black leather bullwhip. Her egg shield if you like. Wonder what she is like disarmed of that authority? Eh, Wraith, care to go bareback with Severin and I? Would you wallow in the red, red wine of our dedication to the horrification of a dead genre? Care to show us your scarred and tooth-marked flesh? WRAITH: (cocking her head to side, sizing up this arrogant pair before her) Hmm, sorry Chimera. I’m sure that it would bring you much pleasure to know my dirty, and I do mean dirty, little secrets. The sordid life I’ve led, the dangerous liaisons that I’ve had, the wonderful scent of well-lubed leather. Ahhhh, the compelling iridescence of his bleeding flesh! (Wraith pauses, absorbed in memories) BUT!! I’m here to drag that out of you, at cost of your blood and torn flesh if need be. So, what shall it be? I could take the whip to Alex in order to make you spill but I have a feeling that wouldn’t do much good as far as getting you to talk. Back to the book……..there are some deeply, wonderfully disturbing stories. I particularly liked Egg, a sordid tale of caveman lust. Chimera isn’t co-operating, he’s giving Wraith a defiant smirk as he enjoys her frustration with this pair. She circles them like a Black Widow spider sizing up her next meal. She walks to a table and opens a black leather duffel bag. As she leans over the bag, rummaging through her toys, Chimera and Severin start to look nervous. WRAITH: Alex , maybe you’ll talk if I use this!
As Wraith turns around she holds out a little black box giving birth to multi-coloured wires like some tentacled Lovecraftian beast, steel-jawed clamps like toothful mouths waiting to be fed the body and the blood of these star-crossed motherfuckers. They wait in silence to be gorged on them, reduce them to ash. Wraith moves ever-so-slowly towards the helpless form of Severin; the victim twitches with both fear and delicious anticipation, the intoxication of adrenaline pumping through her veins and sending her somewhere over the rainbow.
WRAITH: Well? Must I connect these puppies to your pink bits in order to loosen those lycopersicum esculentum-coloured lips of yours? Chimera convulses in his chair, the shared mindfuck delivering a jerked-back elbow-blow to his needy brain. CHIMERA: Do it to her! Do it! Make her suffer. Make her purge her vile intentions. She deserves to live forever after in the cold embrace of this darkroom, to scream within the walls of this House of Pain. SEVERIN: Steady on Chimera, this is gonna hurt me as much as it hurts you! CHIMERA: (pupils dilate) Gimme gimme gimme! WRAITH: A chink in the armour – pathway to your coat of many cunts (she slips the electric jaws onto Chimera’s forehead). SEVERIN: Cheating basta..... Chimera downloads his cum-stained shit into the black box – multicoloured veins engorge themselves and strain to bursting – megawads of seedy revelation plunge into the casket at unbelievable speed. The box explodes, leaving a black slake of spent excess all over Chimera’s face. An evil white grin breaks the crude oil. CHIMERA: (whispered through the teeth) I am an atheist, it is true – all your would be threats of Gates of Hell mean nothing to me. I am an individual stripped of the group ethos of suck mine suck yours, honey. I am a deviant mind, the abused child grown full of hate and loathing. I am a twisted freak that you would not want to get to know. I am not one for commercialisation in any way shape or form. Art is for the giving, not the selling. Yeah, sure, I am a jerk, too. Why not sit on my lap and I will show you what this rupture hole in my forehead conceals... WRAITH: (slaps Chimera across the face with the butt end of the whip, causing the eye to pop out – straddles the punch drunk loon) I shall do what I wish with the likes of you.
There is a quick metal sound as the scalpel blade shoots out of Chimera’s forehead. With a quick flick of his head, he throat-cuts Wraith. Severin bucks and leaps in her chair, her thighs spread wide, thrusting with the agony of revelation – lime green marble foam gurgles out of her mouth. What happens next was not in anyone’s script: Wraith’s torn throat spews forth a putrid green-red fluid. It falls to the floor, moving with purple arachnids; they skitter across the room, crawling up the legs of her captives. She staggers back and sits down hard in a chair. A guttural scream of anger rushes through her torn vocal cords. Taking a moment to compose herself, steeling her will against the pain, Wraith stands and staggers to a desk in the corner and opens the drawer. Chimera and Severin look on, look at each other and pass the thought: What IS she doing now? Wraith takes out a surgical stapler and starts closing the gash in her throat.
WRAITH: (Muttering to herself) I should leave it open, gives a whole new meaning to "deep throating". Maybe later. Focus, Wraith, focus!…….Damn it, Chimera! You are just pissing me off - no end, you bloody little … You’ll never try THAT little trick again. (Wraith coughs up a greenish blood load of mucus and spits it on the floor, looks down at it) Don’t you just love that wonderful shade of toxic green? Who knew O Negative is actually green. Or maybe it's just a life of corruption in my viens, but I digress.
Wraith walks over to Chimera and grabs his head with one taloned hand, staples the hole in his forehead closed with the other. She looks him in the eyes and he sees the edge of the blade she used to balance on and just how far over that edge she has fallen. Severin feels it; it sends a delicious shiver down her spine. Wraith bends down and picks up a squirming piece of the black box from the floor. She gazes lovingly at the broken shard of her mindfuck box. It’s covered in a black rancid fluid. The evil that dwells in the two minds of Chimera and Severin combined at last in one potent load.
WRAITH: Hmm, maybe I should find out what secrets hide inside it. (She snakes her tongue out, licking the length of the broken piece. Wraith savors the taste.) Tastes like corruption, decay, perversion, decadence! My favorite flavours! And the tales they tell! I taste Severin’s For The Love Of Blood. There’s Chimera’s novel Szmonhfu! Older tales, what wonderful tales! I taste the new as well, tell me of them all!
Wraith slides back into her chair, fingers sliding down between her thighs, turning pages, dripping cum-marbled nightmares, a glazed look of KamaSutric multiverses in her eyes as Chimera & Severin speak with one tongue, their flesh extending from their bones and seeking the flesh of the other, merging, re-knitting. They are finally one interview unit, The ChimSev.
THE CHIMSEV: (both voices speak as one) Slice open the top of your skull, reader, and feast on the ambrosia inside with a silver spoon and take it up the arse from a raging bull. Leave your inhibitions at the door as you cross the thresh-hold of the Suff Club - you might still be able to breathe if you cover up that slashed throat-hole our hero just fucked. Take up the fascinating study of Proctology and find the rancid arsehole of the self-centred King of Dogs, feel the smash of your own bones and hear the rattle of your own exquisite death only to find it's never enough, press your frozen cheek against the cracked window pane, wait for what seems like forever to feel the pain again, know what it is to be a splice girl, feel the kiss of liquid latex on your skin, inside you, revel in the texture of the phallus - what is that texture? Ask ash, he knows. The colour for this season is black - black is back, black is the new black and sometimes it's hard being a Goth Star when you know all your fans want to do is rip your still-beating heart out and stick it up their cunts. These are the tips of a black, ship-sinking iceberg made of solidified cum and cunt juice, topped off with a ruptured hymen for a cherry. You cannot touch us. We are invincible. We are The ChimSev and we are not subject to your limitations and your wing-clipping exercises, your mass-market suck-and-fuck for print. WRAITH: (catatonic with sadistic nostalgia) Bloody fisted goth slave. Beaten flame girl shape. Bold foreskin good slide. Boiled frigid goose shite. Believe, forgive, gestate, spit out! BOYFISTGIRLSUCK
BoyFistGirlSuck
www.boyfistgirlsuck.co.uk
Last updated on 3-10-2005 |
