The battle of wills

I see you lying there before me, among the many others of your ilk.
Mysterious and magical, your face promises hidden and sultry delights I wouldn’t be able to find in any other.
And so, I decide that you it shall be. I pick you, choose you from all the rest and ask you to be mine.
I approach, my hands hungry to touch you, my eyes wanting to devour your every secret.
I pick you up. You weigh nothing, and I find it almost impossible to believe that under your feather-light weightlessness lies so wondrous a treasure.
I put you down on the cold, flat surface of the table in front of me.
As I run my hands all over your body, taking immense pleasure in the velvety smoothness of your skin, I wonder for a moment whether it is appropriate to do in public what I’m so blatantly doing to you now.
After all, I’ve been told that what we are now doing is the sort of thing that is only usually done in privacy, in solitude and in the closed confines of silent places.
And I tell myself, fuck it. And I continue.
But then, something happens. You turn off. You close yourself to me. I try to coax you to open, to reveal your innermost secrets to me but you don’t listen.
I try holding you in place. I try to keep you steady as I have my way with you. Yet, nothing works. You keep shutting me out. You keep brushing me away. You answer neither the gentle probings of my fingers nor the insistent strength of my sinews.
And I know I am losing you.
Then I realize there’s only one thing I can do. If I am to have you, I must first break you. Only when you lie helpless and unprotected will you obey my commands. Only when you are physically incapable of resisting me, will I be able to do with you as I will.
I know that you will never be the same if I do embark on this gruesome course. You will never be as beautiful again, inside and out. You will eventually come apart at the seams and fall to bits. You will be a shadow of the magnificent thing you are now.
But I don’t care. I must have you now and if having you means breaking you, break you I will.
And, break you I do. Without hesitancy, without doubt, without remorse, I break you.
I pick you and without batting an eyelid, snap your spine.
I hear the crunching and see the unnatural backward bend of your body and I know the deed is done.
I put you down again and note with satisfaction that you now lie open to me and indifferent to your fate.
And so I settle myself down to eat my roti canai and drink my Nescafe while I thumb through your pages.
Ahhh.....a meal and a good book. One of life's simple pleasures..