Table of Contents
- Home
- Introduction
- Where Goths Come From - Neef
- The Watcher - Hobbes
- The Resurrection Shuffle - Barbarella
- Cassandra - Cosey Mo
- Drunken Old Bastard - Sandro
- Alcohol - Trayce
- Shadows - Entrippy
- Entropy - Kage-Ryu
- Is There A Point - Trajik
- Whispers - Kitsune
- Confessional - Sandro
- Garden - Entrippy
- Radio - Cam
- Cold Spell - Nikolai
- Slices - Neef
- A Bottle of Something Strong - Jraff
- The Light Fades - Tim
- Rain - Tim
- Self Help - Gothic Gallae
- Cato - Trajik
- Addiction/Fragment - Trayce
- Heal Thyself - Nikolai
- Shattered - Hobbes
- Travelling Song - Solitaire
- Distance - Stranger
- Legacy - Stranger
CASSANDRA
Have you ever had a girl-on-girl experience? If he's a smart boy he sure as hell won't let you have one without him, or he'll steer you towards one with a reputation for making love sensibly, like a man. Without emotion and without meaning, she'll be even more blustering and heavy-handed. And afterwards she'll be filled with such bravado that it carries her all the way down to the pub to for a good boast over a beer. Believe me there's nothing better for your reputation around here other than being that girl herself! She's living her own fantasy, you see. She'll never be anything like those pathetic weak wet pussies that she fucks and fists. She'll never be anything like you. Better for you that you become more like her.
Otherwise you might just find that a woman can give you what you've been looking for all along? exactly what you have been giving of yourself all these years.
Then you'd really be out of control!
You'd have to be shunned as a deranged man-hating lesbian. No matter how 'reasonable' you try to be. If you don't get down on your hands and knees and suck cock and swallow like a good girl, you're not a real woman and you're of no use to us here.
But enough of that, Cassandra. Here comes your man, coming up from behind. Soft eyes, unsure swagger and a half-drunken smile. His arm thumps heavily down around your shoulders but instead of receiving an adoring kiss he is winded by a jab to the ribs from one of your dance moves.
You laugh and the glimmer of anger in his eyes betray what trouble you are in now. Did you see that? No matter. You'll know. Smothering the urge to laugh you're making concerned sounds and gestures. It won't be long before you two will be in the privacy of a bedroom where the drama of your secret selves can be played out.
Bad prop.
He is trying to smile and appear good-humored but you argue anyway.
Insolent actress!
And they're gone. To one or the other's home I suppose. What happened then?
Did he hit you? No. He knows better than that, even when blind drunk. He's not that stupid.
His blatant anger would have been put aside.
Why did you go back there? Did you desire a connection? Were you hoping for sympathy? Were you trying to put things right? Did you really think that he was listening? Nobody will believe how naïve you are.
Did you let him tie you up? Were you drunk enough to think you were up to it? Did you feel so guilty that you felt like you owed it to him? How often did you say no? Did you keep saying it after the door was closed? After the light was out? After you'd got into bed? After your clothes were off? Did he take them off you? Or did you?
Why is there no bruising, no STD, no unwanted pregnancy?
I see you baby, sitting the corner. In a long skirt and t-shirt.
Your black hair cut short.
Wanting to disappear.
You remember how it felt to have the lips of your labia peeled open and a finger thrust in, poking about inside of you in a mechanistic show of foreplay in order to get some lubrication happening. Biting your lip as he slapped your dry clitoris with lube. Strangely enough he wasn't all that hard and he needed all the help he could get to get on with the task.
Holding your breath and waiting for it to end. Eyes tightly shut. Why did you not stop it?