R. C. SmithShort Stories and Vignettes

Do not read my works if you are offended by descriptions of sexuality and violence.
(Do not read them just for those descriptions, either.)


Audio read by RC (1:22)

The razor-sharp edge on which she has been seated has begun to draw blood from between her legs. Her ankles are chained to the ground, her wrists cuffed behind her back. Whip marks criss-cross her upper body with its heavy breasts.

Her eyes are half-shut. Her mouth is wide open, but except for her labored breathing, no sound escapes her.

“The look on her face is of rapture, isn’t it?” you say.

We speak in barely audible whispers. We stand in a dark corner, my arm around your waist. We watch her ordeal, watch her expression turn from rapture to agony, and back ...

“Will she die?” you ask.

“Yes, of course,” I say. “Not yet, though ...”

“I wonder what she feels,” you say.

“Not long from now, you will know, won’t you?” You lean against me, and I kiss your hair, lightly.

“No, I won’t,” you say. “Everyone feels her own pain.”

“I wish I could feel yours,” I say.

“I’ll feel it for you,” you say, and I kiss your hair again ...


Back to Index