Tales of the Thousand and One Shades of Alanis, the Goddess (part 12)
12.
Being baptized by a Goddess
They had warned me, the old men of the village. Do not go to the gorge, there the fairies live. They are as beautiful as angels, but evil as devil himself. They charm the hikers and lure them into their cave. Never again will these men be seen. It is said that the evil fairies live on human souls. Male souls.
I laughed at them. I went to the gorge.
I got caught. I got bitten by her.
Alanis. Goddess Alanis.
Now I am hers. Her dog. Her slave.
Hers.
A cold breath of wind scrapes my skin.
Steps.
She is coming.
Returning from the hunt. She walks barefoot, silent, the soles of her feet barely seem to touch the ground. She is coming closer. I feel her. I crouch on my knees, hairless from head to toe, arms respectfully crossed behind the curved back. The forehead touches the cold tiles, painted with confusing blue and green bird ornaments. I’ve been crouching like this for hours, maybe days. Months? I have lost my sense of time. My back is as lifeless as a stone. No muscle is moving. And yet, I am shivering from head to toe, my soul trembles. I am just a dirty stain in this high and cold hall full of blue and green jungle birds, mocking me silently. What is left of me: A trembling stone, shaped out of fear.
Nothing that I once thought I knew is valid in this place. Here I am nothing more than what SHE makes of me. Gone my life, my hopes, my existence as a free and cultured man. I learned that ALANIS is a true GODDESS. I know it. It is the only thing I know for sure. Or am I just dreming? Stuck in a hellish nightmare? The blue and green birds, frozen on the white tiles, they eat my soul. Do they move? Do they live?
She is here.
I feel her stare on my body.
I burn in her stare.
Alanis.
She smiles. I feel it, see I can’t nothing. Her shadow crawls all over my body like flowing lava. Covers me completely.
For how long does she look down at me like that? Seconds? Hours? I don’t know. I can’t look up, I can’t speak, I can’t even breath if she doesn’t allow me to. I belong to her. I am hers.
Something touches my bald head. The sole of her foot. In this same second, a strange kind of life flows back into my body. Energy streams from her lowest body part into my head and brain, blood begins to liquify, blood flows, maybe backwards. As if an electric circuit was closed, I can move my limbs now. But I won’t dare. I stay in my slavish kowtow. Her foot rests on my glistening skull, which she herself has cleansed from hair by hand. She sheared me like a lamb, my head clamped between her legs, my face in her crotch. Long time ago. How long?
Goddess Alanis starts to play. The sole of her foot strokes the head, on which nothing will grow again that she doesn’t like. She pushes my skull into the ground as if to demonstrate her savageness. She kicks playfully against my temples and cheeks. She pinches my nose between her toes. She laughs happily like a child. Finally she shoves her foot under my face. She speaks the first word.
Devotion.
It is a command. The way you train dogs to obey certain sounds or simple words, Goddess Alanis conditioned me with simple words and gestures. “Devotion” means: I stretch my neck until my face hovers close to her foot, I study and honour and smell every inch of her delicate and dreadly toes, her instep, her ankles. I inhale the sour scent that rises from her sweaty skin. Only when I have honoured her foot so humbly – with eyes studying texture and nose smelling her odor – only then I am allowed to touch the holy foot lightly with my lips. But not kissing! Beware! The lips have to be closed and have to rest respectfully on Alanis’ foot for minutes, or forever, or whenever the command is spoken down to me:
Greet.
Now I kiss her foot. My lips wander over toes, instep, ankles, skin, they explore this enchanted landscape. I honour every toenail with a tender kiss, slowly moving forward. Words constantly leave my kissing lips like waterdrops. Words of devotion and prayer my Goddess taught me, every single syllable under the shrieks of her whip: Thankyou, Goddess Alanis, thankyou for liberating me, thankyou, Goddess Alanis, thankyou for choosing me, thankyou, Goddess Alanis, thankyou for giving meaning to my life, thankyou, Goddess Alanis, thankyou for owning me!
Clean.
The next command. I obey instantly. I open my lips and stick out my tongue. As before with my lips, I now explore the landscape of her foot with my tongue. It’s not just humble praise anymore, but hard work: the task of cleaning the dirt off her foot. I lick her black painted toenails. With the tip of my tongue I reach under her nails, collect some wet needles from the trees, some dirt from the ground, some toe jam, some blood from the hunt, and I swallow all of it. I lick the tender skin between the toes, I wash the instep with lavish strokes of my tongue. She casually lifts her foot some inches, and I press my cheeks to the floor and try to reach the the sole of her foot with my slavish tongue, to free her from the dirt of the world outside, to swallow her filth.
Position.
Immediately I raise my hurting upper body, tighten myself, kneel in front of her with legs spread, so that no intimate part is hidden from her view. I put my hands on the thighs with the palms up. I lift my head. I look into her eyes. I begin to tremble instantly. Staring into the black eyes of a Goddess is like staring into the sun. Her terribly beautiful luminous face, seemingly so innocent, her hungry multicolored eyes, her fiery red hair, her barbaric predator smile. My eyes start to water almost immediately.
She wears black today. A silky shiny indefinable textile that wraps her lithe body like a second skin. Her open hair is a wild torch of flames.
She speaks softly: My dog. Are you happy to see your owner?
I am careful not to speak. I have learned that I am forbidden to use human language unless I kiss or lick her feet. Only by direct order (Speak!) I am allowed to utter some words. So you will never forget your place, Goddess Alanis explained to me while whipping me senseless with a bamboo stick. But now that I am kneeling upright and she calls me “dog”, I just open my mouth and stick out my tongue and I pant like a happy obedient dog.
Alanis smiles. She gently strokes my bald head. I keep panting and crying, her gentle touch warms me so much. She runs her finger over my face, wipes the tears with her fingertip, she licks her finger. Then she moves on through my face, her garden, over my forehead, down my nose, all hers, my lips, she sticks her finger in my open mouth, taps against my teeth, pinches my tongue – she inspects her posessions. She opens her hand and holds her open palm in front of my lips and thankfully I kiss the hand that rules me. I bury my face in her hand.
I was out hunting, she says. I’ve made a loot. Fresh meat, fearful brains, beautiful souls. Slaves like you who will serve me day and night. Prey like you whose torment will be refreshments for me. Do you hear their voices?
I can’t hear anything. I never heard anything. I don’t see anyone. I never see anyone. Alanis laughs like a happy girl. She leans forward, bends my head slightly to the side – and spits in my ear.
Can you hear now, dog?
The hall shakes with male screaming and whining and crying and roaring and screeching and hissing – and female laughing… The green and blue birds on the tiles seem to flee to the edges of their world…
A slap in the face ends the cruel concert of agony. Again I don’t hear anything anymore. But I remember my own shrieks and howls… Alanis’ face hovers near to my eyes. Her breath flows around me, her mouth is so close to my bloodless lips that I could kiss it. I smell her scent of moss and damp wood and fresh grass und jungle flowers and blood and haunted prey and skewered souls.
She whispers: I am just preparing them for their new life in my servitude. Like I did with you. My sister helps me. She is my servant. You still remember my sister? Dog?
Alanis puts her finger under my chin and lifts my face so that i look directly into her dark eyes. Her terrible eyes which can change colors within seconds. Ice green, grass blue, deep red, blood black.
Yes, dog? You remember my beautiful sister and servant Diana? On your first day here with me?
Her finger play with the silver nose ring that I have been wearing since day one of my new life. Didn’t I mention the nose ring? The ring that transformed me into a piece of chattel on the first day? Alanis smiles, playing with the ring, pulling it, laughing in my distorted face.
Yes. You remember. One never forgets the taste of the first kiss. First love remains for eternity. I know men. I know humans beings. Alanis giggles cheerfully.
You remember how I hounded you through my gorge. How lovely I played with you, you still feel it, don’t you? You still can sense in your nerves how I have freed you from your low and senseless existence and transformed you into a valuable being. Your helpless hopeless screams, they are still present here in this hall. Do you see them. Do you see the birds in those tiles?
Yes. I see the birds, green and blue, the panic birds. I recognize them now. They are my agony
Your fear. Your desperation. Do you see it? DO YOU REMEMBER, DOG?
Yes. I remember.
Welcome to slavery!
A female warrior, half naked. Painted from head to toe. Her skin a hell of shapes and figures in bright colors that keep changing, mixing, moving. Look at her, Alanis whispers, my sister carries the slain male souls on her body, isn’t she beautiful? She is beautiful. Her brown hair braided into a long ponytail. Her eyes a bottomless mountain lake. Her smile is a verdict. She is cruel. She grabs my hair even while I kiss her feet and pulls me like I were a hunted dead rabbit over the floor to a big mysterious hole in the ground. Terrible hundred-voiced cries and moans emerge from the dark abyss, tortured souls in the black hole of the evil fairies. Dianas white voice: Down with him, to the others, Mistress Alanis? Her clenched fist in my hair, my face on her bare leg, a crucified joker grins in my eye. Alanis’ green voice: Not yet, Diana. I will keep him with me. I will train him, and if he becomes a good animal, I will baptize him. Alanis put her foot on my neck to confirm her decision. My eyes sink into the black abyss. Good, says Diana, and Goddess Alanis say: Let’s play with it.
Welcome to slavery!
I hang upside down over the abyss. Naked. My feet tied to a chain that hangs on a hook somewhere in the infinity of this space that I cannot grasp. Lashes of the whip plow through my skin and flesh. Slowly they make the body swing like a pendulum.
Blow follows blow. A constant rhythm. The endlessly long and thin whip curls like a snake around my chest, my hips, my legs, my cock. It seems to rest for a few milliseconds, then it is pulled back brutally, and it always takes blood, skin and flesh with it. Blow follows blow. First strikes Goddess Alanis, then strikes her servant and sister Diana. My screams mingle with the roar that emerges from the black abyss. My screams become croaks, finally they are just voiceless whining and howling. Blow follows blow, without mercy. My body swings quietly high and higher in the air. The blows stop suddenly. Silence. My flesh swings and shines in beauty. I die, that’s for sure. Nobody survives torture like that. The sisters look at the show with pleasure. Diana says: Look, Mistress, how beautiful. Alanis answers: Yes, poetic. Diana says: It is so marvellous that he thinks it’s over. Alanis laughs. Diana laughs: He hopes that death will set him free. Alanis laughs. And says: Nothing does he know of eternity. Next she hit hard. Blow follows blow.
Welcome to slavery!
A different room, soft and cool, small and cozy. My body – nothing but a single wound – is woven into a pliable fabric, like webs of cooling silk. I can’t move, like the fly in the spider’s web. But she is with me, SHE, the Goddess, she holds me in her arms, she caresses me… Alanis caresses my hole body, runs her fingers gently over the battered flesh … and suddenly I feel that my skin is unharmed as if I was born five minutes ago. She smiles down at me: You are mine.
Welcome to slavery!
I lie on my back like a sacrificial lamb. I can’t move my arms or legs. Goddess Alanis sits on my chest, wearing a soft bright red tunic, like a bloodthirsty roman vestal priestess. The fabric flows over my neck, my chin, she looks down at me posessively. You are mine, she says, and I will change you into me. She holds up a sharp thin reflecting blade. It is over, I think, now I’m being slaughtered. Alanis pulls my head towards her belly, crosses her calfs under my skull. She sits in lotus position on top of my chest with my head in her lap, my nose close to her belly button, my lips close to her sex… She shears me like a sheep. My hair falls to the floor in clumps. When there is nothing left to shear, the Goddess rubs a burning liquid on my skull and face. Nothing will ever grow there again, she says before rising. She turns around and sits down again, directly on my face. I hardly can breathe, her butt seals my nose and mouth. But I don’t scream anymore, I know the punishment. I breathe in her ass. She shaves my south and sings like a bird.
Welcome to slavery!
I kneel on nails. My owner heats a needle in an open blue flame. Mirrors reflect the blue fire. The joyfully glowing face of my Goddess Alanis. My pathetic battered shape. My angst. Alanis turns to me. She snaps her finger. I crawl to her on my hands and knees, look up at her. The glowing needle in her hand. She examines my nose, then she pierces it. The hot needle drills a hole under the nasal septum and slides through the cartilage like butter. I scream. Alanis smiles. My agony is her food. She takes a silver ring from a tray and pulls it through the freshly pierced hole. The nose ring is closed with a hard sounding click, the sound of eternal slavery. Alanis rises and looks at her work. Alanis pulls on the ring and I immediately follow her ruling hand down to her feet. She says: Until I decide a better use for you, I’ll call you dog. Do you agree, dog? I lick her feet, approvingly.
Welcome to slavery!
Back in the present.
But what the hell is the present? What is reality?
What is hell?
Bye bye panic birds, green and blue.
The Goddess leads me to another secret room, black as her toenails. A black armchair in the centre of the room. She lets go of the nosering, sits comfortably on the black upholstery and points at her feet. As I kiss them adoringly I realize: the four bases on which the armchair rests are neither stone nor wood nor plastic. But skulls. Human skulls. Skulls of slain men. But what makes me whimper like a frightened dog is the fact that the skulls seem to breathe.
The day has come.
The Goddess announces as I lick my own tears from her feet.
Your day, dog. The day I will baptize you.
She let the words sink in.
Although I like you as my dog, licking the dirt from my feet, I have decided to name you properly. As my dog you are just one animal among others. In my stables and sheds there are hundreds males who I have transformed into dogs, swine, horses, worms. Whenever I appear among them once in a while, they beat and bite each other to be the first at my feet. When I leave them, again they are alone in the dark and in the dirt for ages. They are nameless. Do you wish to join them?
I whine silently and lick with passion.
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