This is gifted to oceansinmychest, my first reviewer. Your kind words gave me the courage to continue and I thank you with all of my heart.
'God help us - for art is long and life so short.'
Faust (Part One) Goethe
Chapter One: Whatever It Takes:Use Of Force
'Certain souls seem hard because they are capable of strong feelings, and they sometimes go to rather extreme lengths; their apparent unconcern and cruelty are but ways known only to themselves, of feeling more strongly than others.’
The 120 Days Of Sodom Marquis de Sade
The final, fatal minuolet gifts victory once more. Her foil victorious, she removes her fencing mask with a flourish to reveal another, the one to show she is good enough. Mefistofele gives a nod to the Almighty Ivan as Margherita’s melismatic lament leaves her languishing in her cell awaiting execution as the aria of sweet sorrow ends. Long, elegant strides remove her from the piste. Her black heart, blood pumping: blue blood, pulsing through her entire six foot of want. Every sense is heightened, her dark eyes black lit and onyx sparkle. Chest heaving, gasping for air. Her appetite sated but not quenched, her desire demands so much more than this arena can offer.
The Devil’s in the house.
To the victor, the spoils. It’s time for the little deputy to begin to fulfil her potential, what she might become, not yet actual.Let Gold Command make you realised, make her good enough.Talk of trust over an absence of mint leaves and stank by collusion.
“I trust you Vera.”
So here’s to trust.Her corn goddess blues read back the black reflected terms, sealed with a touch, the gentlest touch, of flesh.Consented, pledged a trust with betrayal of trust and an open rejection meant to impress, a verbal undress, a brief flash of flesh spoken, whispers of obeyance sound music. A validation confirmation of with whom now she stands. Where loyalties always lie.Vera, verus.
“Always with you.”
Words are but noise.The spoken word does not define, only actions do that. Should such action, within an act, become cementing? A lesson in trust. A life lesson to know how to live?
Time for Vera to learn the exactitude and it’s synonym, correctness, of from Russia with love. To become the victor worthy enough to wear Joan’s crown and it will always be Joan’s. An act of ascension.An act played out in ravenous Romanov desire. An act of undoing, beyond the words now, of ruination and annihilation. This is our Russian’s dynasty to bequeath and Wentworth her own Winter Palace. The Tzar is about to announce the Queen.
To become whole, Little Vjera must be broken by her mentor’s violence first. The violence of her hand and all that it demands is all that she commands.Made new by use of force.A force most necessary, an application of necessity and with no more force than necessary.And only Number One knows what is necessary and she will beat you black and blue, cut your heart out and run you through. And when you're broken, no longer sure, she will show you just what you're for.
This is not a punishment, this is a correction.To be made anew in her Governor’s image. This is an act of love. One heart to bend another to it’s own. The way is pain and the path is torture. Exquisite agony.
This is love so take the pain.
The beauty of the lesson lies in it’s application. Vera will experience a masterclass in the use of force by hands that make such, artistry.Techniques they both are professionally trained to administer, a set of techniques validated by the State and delivered only to those in service. A punishment and discipline control capable of colossal damage, so potentially lethal in it’s form only the title of each application is made public. The description of each application only for the eyes of those legally trained by the State in the use of force and it is an offence to divulge them, bound by The Official Secrets Act 1989.
Use Of Force.
It’s a State secret keeping no mind of it’s meaning.
To commence such an unparalleled unravelling, the only watcher viewing soul pay per view, our leader chooses midnight, the magical intersection in time.The Alpha and Omega point. The cardinal hour, a leader’s hour about to call time on the ordinal. The end and start of each day. A suspended moment, beyond time, no clock does it justice.Tick tock time’s up.Neither that which was nor that which will be.Forever and always, everywhere and nowhere.In the dark corridors, along the darker landings, it’s always midnight here.
From the death quiet, the solitary stink of a confinement cell. The cell gloomy. If these walls could talk they’d wail.Set furthest away, in a corner tucked behind an ethical glare, a humanity stare.Don’t look there. Where those who offend against good order and discipline are sent, always escorted, sometimes under physical and mechanical restraint, sometimes dragged,sometimes forced. It’s a prison within a prison. Here is real horror, here souls scream in broken black and are brutal beaten. No place for a bleeding heart, the perfect place to drain the last drop. A Governor scene obscene set in this classroom of unlearning.
Radio static crackle introduces the liquid obsidian velvet tone as it glides over airwaves. As it orders.
“Victor one to Juliet two, report immediately to solitary.”
In the darkness, the four walled darkness, solitary confinement darkness that can swallow you whole, The Real Governor stands ready.More Rasputin than Romanov.
The Devil is in the house.
Her pupil’s blown,beam back a black abyss.She breathes deeply with flared nostril.Every passion inflamed with love and lust.Hand in glove.A thick, black leather utility belt is decorated with appropriate instruments to control and restrain,a kubaton for striking,ratchet handcuffs to restrict arms and legs and a body belt to immobilise.This is her perfection and she exists to correct.This will be Vera’s deliverance.