Nonconsensual erotica is the most satisfying of genres. And this is one of my favourite stories.
It is the uncertainty that terrifies Juliet.
Her only child – a daughter – is incarcerated in the nightmarish prison ‘community’, known only as The Towers. A place with no rules, no order, where the strong prey on the weak and provide ‘entertainment’ for the watching officials.
Juliet seeks out a very senior Party official, a doctor. She is craving information, any information… perhaps even a release date. She is anguished as only a mother can be, she is prepared to beg, prepared to bribe.
Prepared to do anything she can.
And the doctor knows it.
Definitely for fans of
She looked at him and saw the pale, watery blue eyes through the thin gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘It’s about my daughter. Her name is Gemima. Gemima Day.’
She watched his face when she said the name, looking for some kind of recognition. But there was nothing. Not a flicker. ‘She is in the Towers.’
At once his face registered annoyance. ‘I can’t talk about the Towers. This clinic is for my private patients.’ His voice was clipped; to the very point.
‘I know, I do know’, she said. ‘But she is my daughter. I can’t find out anything. I just thought…’
‘What did you think?’ He seemed to snap. His patience limited, his time expensive.
‘I just need to know what is happening to her; the Towers don’t allow any visits or news. It’s driving me mad.’
She was unable to stop the tears. ‘It’s the thought of Gemima in that place. And all the rumours….’
He held her desperate gaze and slowly shook his head. ‘Did you think that if you came here pretending to be a patient I would break with official and professional policy and just tell you? Do you think I even know her? What kind of doctor do you think I am? I tend to the staff over there, not the…the inmates.’ His face had hardened. ‘Now, is there anything I can actually help you with?’
It was now or never; she knew that; all or nothing. But even nothing was better than where she was now. In uncertainty. In agony. ‘Will you just listen to me? Please? Even if you don’t reply, just hear me out.’ She looked at him to find he was staring out of the window across the green fields, seemingly disinterested.
She felt dismissed. Of no account. Invisible.
‘Please’, she persisted. Inside she felt it would do no good. She had money in her bag; she wondered if she should try the last resort. It was all she had left. Would money get her what she wanted when all else had failed? It had seemed a good plan a few weeks ago. Now, facing him, she wasn’t so sure. But then even if the money failed, at least she could feel that she had done everything in her power. She couldn’t rest while there was even the slightest chance of success. However slim it may be.
As she looked at him again, she found him looking at her. Appraising. At length, he said, ‘So how old is your daughter?’
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I’m just a woman with an exceptionally ‘grimy’ mind, who loves turning my Immoral thoughts, lewd fantasies and deeply-felt desires into words and stories. Life is just too short to keep them all to myself.
Born and live in Oxford. Divorced. Hobby…..exercising my luring imagination! 🙂