Story 1: Submissive

Prelude:

Wait!

Don't leave... Please!

It's me, subGrrl.

I know that I don't deserve your attention. I have been so rude, arrogant, and condescending to many of you in the past through my negative reviews of stories that you have written or loved. I'm very sorry. But, now, I'm so alone. Naked. Collared. Locked away. All that I have is a tablet computer to tap out my words through the bars of this small cage. I can only hope that you will read this story. That you will hear my voice. That you don't hate me so much.

I know about hate. It can be assuaged. I promise!

Lisianski has bade me to write this story and I have promised to do so. I have promised to depict the events as accurately as possible though the details make my skin burn with humiliation and the truth of the things described herein fill me with an icy fear which make my fingers shake and err as I tap, tap, tap. These are things that would kill me were my mother alive to read, things I would never tell my best friend, things I would only tell a lover in the most vulnerable of moments. I can only tell them now, enshrouded in anonymity as I am and even so... My tale is complicated, weird, and stained with sadness, but please...

I am subGrrl. I've been a sad, lonely woman for a long time, cursing whatever foul gods or goddesses created me and subjected me to this hell that is Life on Earth. I am a misfit. I'm broken. I'm a fraud - a traitor to my identifying movement - feminism. I'm filled with dark, unhealthy, desires, unacceptable to the general population. Unwomanly visions. A certain kind of vile evil.

I've held this evil too close to my heart for far too long until it had corrupted my soul and filled me with hate. I hate the leaders of the land foremost, particularly those who espouse some form of religion which condemn me as weak or even possessed. I hate secular leaders as well who wage wars and slaughter millions of innocents all based around lies. Indeed, though, I have hated the general populace as well. I have hated men. I thought of them as vile creatures, barely more than common animals, arrogant, only interested in their prick-measuring practices. Perhaps surprisingly, I have hated women, too. I am afraid of them. Afraid of an unnatural desire that I feel for them. How they would skin me with their words and lies if they ever knew of my weakness for the beauty I see in their ways.

This hate. These fears. They leave me isolated. Now I have only you, dear readers. You and, of course... the voice in my head.

Chapter 1:

"You don't need to get your medication."

That's what the voice said.

It was a Friday evening and I was on the bus on my way home from work when I heard the voice weakly whisper to me. I was tired and a cold winter rain splattered from the windshields of passing cars reflecting the red and green lights which feebly direct humanity through their miserable mayhem. My medicine bottle was empty. I had a refill waiting for me at the pharmacy, but to get it would mean I'd get cold and wet. I'd have to wait for another bus to complete my journey. It would be another hour or more before I'd be warm inside my small apartment. I decided that I could skip my medication one night and get the refill the next day.

I continued home and made a bag of ramen noodles, I watched some lame show on TV and went to sleep early. I awoke with a start. I thought that I had heard a bump somewhere in my apartment. I reached under my pillow and pulled out a heavy clawed hammer that I keep there. My toes were chilled by the cold linoleum as I crept down the stairs and through the kitchen straining my eyes to see by the dim light sent forth by the digital clock on the microwave.

I raised my hammer high prepared to dessicate any living organism and flipped on the light switch. No sign of movement, my eyes slowly adjusted to the fluorescents. It was a full two minutes before I saw it, and when I did I dropped the hammer and almost peed myself. There was a large boxlike object sitting on my dinner table. It looked like a kennel for a medium sized dog, but made of heavy metal. The sides and top were solid and the door, which hung open on a hinge was barred with fairly thick interwoven steel.

I crept towards it nervously and looked within. The bottom seemed padded with black vinyl or leather. At the far end of the cage was a small oval window with a single vertical bar down the middle. I touched the door briefly to confirm whether the cage was real or not. The steel was cold and quite solid.

"Get in the cage," a woman's voice said.

"Who's there?" I asked, looking around.

"Come now, subGrrl. You know my voice. It is me. Lisianski. Your lover, your guardian, your mistress, your friend."

"Ok." I stooped down slowly, picked up the hammer, and walked to the front door to make sure that it was still locked. "Lisianski, what do you want? Where have you been?"

"Mine, is a busy existence, and you, my love, have been neglected for far too long. But, I've come back to take care of you. Put down the hammer. Get in the cage. It's warm and safe."

I looked at the cage sitting, waiting for me. Inviting me to submerge myself within it. "It's far too small for me, Lisianski. Too small."

"I don't make mistakes," the voice said. "It's perfect. Get in. You know how to."

I set the hammer on the seat of a chair and climbed up on the table. I positioned myself before the cage door on my hands and knees and eased myself backwards, feet first into the tight dark enclosure.

Once I was fully inside, Lisianski said, "Close the door."

I pulled the hatch towards me until a latch caught and held the cage shut.

The space inside the cage was so small, I could barely move from my balled up position. I would never be able to, for instance, turn around and look out the back opening. I leaned to one side and pulled my knees up tight against my chest. I slowly slid down onto my side. Lisianski was right. It felt so warm and safe inside. I closed my eyes and smiled.

"Welcome home, my love," she whispered and I drifted off to a deep satisfying sleep.