Wednesday, August 17, 2005

188. The omniscient narrator

Cum began to shoot from Bruce Wayne's swollen shaft. He wept, embarassed and exhausted, as it flowed out of him.

Gustavus was not pleased. "At least pull your fucking pants up and catch it in there like I fucking told you," he snapped.

Bruce obeyed, relieved to feel the sweats absorb the fluid from his flesh. When the last of it was gone, he sprawled out face down on the floor, absolutely drained.

"Get up," Gustavus said. "You disobeyed me. I don't give a shit about this Tanhoger. He doesn't own you. Not anymore. I do. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Bruce took his time rising. He could not look Gustavus in the eye. "Y--yes, sir."

"Your name isn't 'Object X' anymore, is it?"

Bruce's voice was quiet and low. "No sir."


"N-no sir."

"I think you're lying. I think you want that name more than anything. I think you want to be that miserable, despicable thing, forever. At least that's what you think you want. Isn't it?"

Bruce was silent.

"Speak to me, boy. Tell me what your name is. Tell me what it is you want to be."

Wayne was sobbing again. "I... I don't know. I can't think right now..."

"The outside world knows you as a rich and powerful man. They know you as Bruce Wayne. Some men probably even fear you. But that's not who you are, is it?"

Instinctively, Bruce's hands went up to his face, as if he could disappear behind them. "I don't... I don't kn..."

"Oh, you KNOW all right, don't you? You've known it all your life. You know what drives you. You know what you want to be. You know what you are. Say it. Say it out loud. Say it to me. Now."

For the first time in the sessions, Bruce refused to do as he was told. He said nothing.

"Do you want to spend another week like the last one, boy? How about two weeks? A month?"

"Stop," Bruce pleaded. "Just ... stop. I can't do this."

If Gustavus was upset, he did not show it. Instead he was quiet and firm. "All right. If that's the way you want it, that's the way we'll play it. I've got all the time in the world. You're the one who's paying for all this. Paying for the privilege of being torn apart from the inside. This session is over. We will have no contact again until I say so. You'll sleep in the kitchen tonight. On the floor, of course. And you will leave those sweats on until I say so. Let them be a reminder of your disobedience. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Bruce answered. "Thank you, sir."