You’re starring in a 19th century Grand Guignol performance, meant to test the limits of hypnosis. You’ve been told it's just comedic acting, that Mesmerism doesn’t really work. How much could this ‘Doktor’ truly compel you to do anyway…..
This is it. You’re last gasp at becoming a working actress. Strutting the stage and everything. The floodlights blind you to the audience. The Doktor awaits you in his customary red leather chair.
“Sit down my dear. And let us test the limits of the human conscience.”
The new line for tonight. Usually it’s some mystical mumbo jumbo. You’ve seen his Mesmerism show before. They let you watch for free after you’re done taking tickets. May this be the last time you stoop so low.
The Doktor turns his head, raises a hand to the invisible audience. “Welcome to the Grand Guignol Theater. Naturally, we'll feast you with gallons of gore later in our proceedings. But first, tonight we shall explore the soul. What is it that prevents us from behaving like apes? Is it a Divine spark granted by God in Heaven?”
A pause for the crowd’s cynical laughter.
“Or merely some mysterious function of the meat inside our skulls? As I said, you shall learn with me tonight.”
He turns back, fixing you with his eyes. “Have you ever made love?”
You blush scarlet, every inch of you.
Laughter. “I’ll take that as a no. Have you ever even been kissed?”
“Of course not!” You’re a good girl. Mother and Father never so much as let you alone with a gentleman caller.
“A virtuous maiden like yourself would never stoop so low with the bounds of matrimony.” Well, you think, you might. Kissing is hardly a sin.
“It has been said that Mesmerism cannot compel you to act against your conscience. Perhaps not. When in the hands of a lesser practitioner.”
It has absolutely been said, by the Doktor himself. “Just a short series of humorous little vignettes” he’d promised her. “Enough of the sort of embarrassing things you’d never do on your own.” And he'd given a rough idea of tonight’s skits. The key, you’re told, is to act natural.
Comedy. You can do comedy. Everyone back home said so. Just naughty, and eerie, enough for an introduction to tonight’s grisly tableaus. You're no shrinking violet after all.
“Enough trivialities. Let us begin!”
The Doktor produces his infamous pocket watch. Gold, etched with a basilisk. “Now, my dear. Fix your eyes upon its eyes. Nothing but its eyes. Till your whole world has never existed outside them.”
Your head obliges, moving in gentle circles, tracking the golden beast.
“Now. Stand up.” Easy enough. “Give us a twirl.”
A simple spin. A curtsy, and a flourish. Preparing to drop into a comedic pratfall.
“Stop.”
Your prepared collapse turns into standing at attention.
“Flip up your dress. Show us your underwear.”
Easy enough. The pratfall had been meant to do that anyway. A flick of your wrists and…
“Stay. Just like that.”
Your hands freeze against your will. Leaving your creme-colored underthings on stark display.
“Remove them.”
To reveal the scantier, but still opaque, panties beneath.
Except your hands lower those too. You almost panic, but your skirt drops to cover you so fast, there’s no way anyone truly spied your private bits.
Fearful, yet exhilarating. You stifle a sound; half gasp, half giggle.
“Cast your undergarments to the crowd my dear. You won't need them anymore.”
Oh no! How will you afford to replace them? But there's no choice, the show must go on. There goes your salary for the night. The Doktor must be planning to replace them.
Loud hooting and yelling erupts, somewhere in the crowd. Better to avoid imagining what they might do with them.
“In grammar school, were you a good student?”
Careful now. You must sound mesmerized. “Of course Doktor. Top of my class” you say with a carefully monotone, yet girlish, breathlessness.
“And if the Schoolmaster asked for help, perhaps with a demonstration, would you oblige?”
“Of course. With cheerful alacrity.” Using a fancy word to reinforce your claim of scholastic ability.
“Most excellent. Tonight’s lecture will demonstrate the attributes of the female form.”
What does he mean? Did you misunderstand his instructions before the show?
“Please bare your feminine secrets to the audience. Naturally, you’ll wish to demonstrate your enthusiasm.”
How could you do otherwise? Anything for your new schoolmaster’s approval. Without a single tremor, you drop your skirt to the floor. A broad smile on your face. An obedient girl is a happy girl.
“Sit back down. And open your legs, wide as you can now.” Anything to impress your Schoolmaster. The hot lights raise a sheen of sweat on your thighs.
“Using your fingers, open yourself wide. Make sure the other students can clearly see.”Eager to please, you comply. Stretching your lips so wide it hurts a little. Anything to aid your fellow students.
The Doktor produces a metal pointer. And, with light touches, demonstrates the most intimate details of your vagina. Something that no one has ever done for you. You're especially shocked to learn that your urine flows from a separate hole. You hope you’ll remember everything for the test.
“That takes care of the front. And from the looks of it, you're indeed a virgin. But we also need the rear. Please stand, bend over, and part your bottom." A flash of panic. Surely the class understands how that…..part of you operates. Your hands, now damp as your sweaty thighs, still reach backward to reveal your dirty little secret place.
“Impeccable. Clearly you're a stickler for hygiene.” Standing, the Doktor moves to inspect you. “Just as I thought. A nice, pink, little rosebud. Not even a hint of odor.”
Laughter from beyond the lights. A cold brush of dread troubles your mental waters. Forget impressing your new Schoolmaster.
But your fingers refuse to release. Worse, they squeeze your bottom even tighter.
“Nonetheless, you'll all agree that only a strumpet would let you see her arsehole.”
Don't. Don't scream. Don't say anything. You're an actress now. You refuse to go home in disgrace. Your hand’s rejection of your mind is merely the result of panic. You can’t let the audience see your fear, or you’ll be bullied after class.
“Strumpet! Hired Whore! She's a fake! This is all fake!” The crowd grows louder and louder.
“You think so, do you” the Doktor calls out.
“Some streetwalker! Have her shove a cucumber up her cunt! She's no virgin!”
“She’s got to be wet before such a monumental intrusion. Don't you lads out there know how to pleasure a woman?”
More laughter, now distinctly feminine, drowns out the men. Inside, you’re shaking. What…how….you never agreed to this! What kind of schoolroom is this?
“Finger yourself, quick as you can. We can't be wasting this time audience’s time.”
Finger…..yourself?” How would you know what that means? It must be sinful.
“As you can plainly see, our fair maiden doesn't even know how to pleasure herself. Hired whore indeed!” He turns to you. “Don’t worry yourself. This is just a simple medical examination. After all, I am a doctor.”
Of course he is, how could you doubt your own Doktor?
“Let’s perform a simple test of your female functions. Close your bottom.”
Why were you still…..
You must have forgotten that the class is over. Embarrassed, you almost squeeze your bottom closed. No one wants to see your arsehole. No matter how clean it is.
“Place your right foot on the arm of your chair. That’s a good girl. Make sure I can see everything.” Your Doktor pulls out a magnifying glass. You hear a chorus of giggling. Perhaps some other patients, awaiting the good Doktor’s care in another room.
“Now. Insert one finger inside yourself. Good….. that’s it. Oh, I see. You're far too tight for a second digit.”
Then how will you fit a cucumber inside? You only want to obey your Doktor’s instructions. Your health depends on it.
“Work your finger in and out. That’s it, like a piston. Now a little faster…no…too fast. There. Just right.”
A strange warmth spreads from between your thighs
“Is everything all right Doktor?”
“Of course my dear. Now to the next step. With your other hand, take hold of that nubbin of flesh right at the top of your womanhood. Careful now, not too tight….that’s better”
Your clitoris. Why is he calling it a ‘nubbin’? You learned all the proper names in school. But before you can object, your Doktor continues.
“Caress your nubbin as if you’re testing a fresh, juicy grape.” Heat explodes inside your belly. “Good, just like that. Now continue working your finger in and out.”
Nothing has ever, ever felt so good.
“Keep going. A little more speed, more thrust. Squat down a little.” Naturally, your Doktor wants you to spread out more so he can perform his examination.
“Oh, Doktor, I…..”
“Don’t worry my dear. You're almost there.”
What could he mean? Your question is soon answered. By even greater, throbbing sensations inside you. Flaring out from your vagina towards your breasts. Tightening your nipples.
“Is…this….good….Doktor?”
“Very good. Now climax. We haven’t got all day.”
Your brain explodes in a sea of fireworks. Bouncing you up and down on your toes so hard you almost fall over.
“Hmmm. That was adequate. But not quite enough. Again, if you please.”
Yes. Yes, he’s right, more…one more! You don’t even have to continue fingering. The next explosion leaves you gasping for air. Dimly registering the slick wetness down your thighs.
“Excellent finish. With a very strong, healthy smell.”
Somewhere, deep down, you’re embarrassed. But what of it? He’s just your Doktor. He probably sees women do this every day.
“Now that you’re well lubricated, perhaps the cucum….” He cocks his head at some unseen signal. “Oh well. Another day it seems.” The crowd mutters, you hear faint boos. This is bad. You can’t fail your first performance. What might that do to your health?
“Will an anal exam do for now?”
The other patients loudly cheer. What could be happening out there?
“We’ll use the small speculum to get a good look. Now be an obedient patient and touch your toes. There….just like that.”
Something hard, metallic slides between your arsecheeks. The end heavy and bulbous. “You might be tempted to push against this my dear. But you mustn’t, for it will only make this hurt more.”
Deep, deep breaths. One after the other, study like a pendulum. You can do this….
The sudden stretching, and pain, up your arse make you doubt, gasp, and whimper. “Come now my dear. Let’s be brave, shall we?” So you bite your lip, bite it till it bleeds. As every inch of intrusion feels like a pillar driving into you. “Stop pushing out!” You whimper in shame. Can’t he see you’re trying your best?
And then, somehow, everything gets worse. “Now I’ll use the speculum to open her up.” Who is he speaking to? Did a nurse enter when you weren’t paying attention?
Bands of white-hot agony flair along your inner passage. As your Doktor opens the device as wide as it will go. Given your tightness of course. You try to loosen yourself. The Doktor clearly needs to examine you. “Is something wrong with my arsehole, Doktor?”
“My dear! Such language!” But….but that’s what your Schoolmaster called it! You tear up, humiliation multiplying the pain.
“Nothing to fret over my dear. Everything looks, and smells, in order.” He jerks out the speculum with a loud pop. Hurting you almost worse than going in.
“As you can plainly see, a master Mesmerist can easily compel someone to violate the dearly held bounds of their conscience. Let’s give our lovely assistant a round of applause!”
Applause. And laughter. And vulgar calls for you to do even more. What is happening, what’s going on?
“On the count of three, you will awaken from your trance my dear. Pick up your skirt, though don’t put it on, and elegantly exit stage left. Where I’m sure our stage manager has your next instructions, as our company’s newest actress.”
How could this….happen? Somehow, you’re still in a near trance. As you kneel, modestly as possible, to pick up your skirt. Fold it neatly. And exit the stage.
What kind of play is this? Where there’s no script, and you simply obey such hideous, humiliating commands? At least you performed well enough to keep your job.
The stage manager grabs you by the shoulder, hustling you towards a door. “There’s an honest-to-god Earl out there, waiting in his carriage. Says he might be of a mind to finance our next few shows. If he can spend some time with our finest new star that is.”
Your stomach drops. Everything about this sounds bad. Dangerous even. Yet you square your shoulders. You’re the new star of the Grand Guignol. And you’ll do whatever it takes to keep your spotlight……
Be here tomorrow for Day 5!
a/n: thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs greatly appreciated
Researching a future Slasher-based dark romance novel's been very interesting.
I get why Michael Myer's, OG or Zombie remake, is hot. I definitely get why Jason Voorhees is hot. And I can even follow why readers, looking for something weirder and darker; find OG Leatherface's combination of dad-bod and mental instability arousing.
But......Ghostface? And I'm speaking here as a big fan of the Scream franchise.
The broad concept does have an advantage. Anyone might be under that mask. You're own SO, a toxic ex, members of One Direction, etc. But what the hell makes canonical past Ghostfaces sexy?
I love the inherent wormy lameness of past mask-wearers. Creeps, incel vibe-havers, attention whores, etc. It's rare that Slasher franchises bother making their stars truly hateable. They even made Freddy Krueger cute and funny after the third movie.
But Billy Loomis? Dude's a garden variety abusive gaslighter. Stu Macher's his pet dog, and a total scrub. Queen Sydney P. destroys him with a phone call. And it feels like things only goes downhill in terms of sexyman quality from there.
I'm absolutely not here to shit on anyone's choice in blorbos. But I'm also quite curious as to how this motley collection of creeps is turning anybody's crank.
Five Batman Villains Who Would Make Great Dark Romance Heroes
Let's get down to brass tacks. The Joker only looks ‘sexy’ from being with Harley Quinn. And he’s about as interesting as a randomly selected school shooter edgelord. Which, to be clear, is the fucking point. But Bats has other powerful foes. Each with epic backstories capable of supporting whole trilogies of lust and romance.
Killer Croc
My man Croc usually gets used as a scarier flavor of mook. Occasionally he gets to be a compelling, tragic figure. But sometimes, he even gets to be a legit good guy.
Where he protects homeless encampments in the sewers; like a grizzled Urban Fantasy character.
Naturally, reform never sticks in the Bat-verse for those not named Harley or Ivy. But a badass monster boyfriend driven to help others, with a Jeckyll/Hyde dark side, is a romance hero to the nines. Especially when this version’s so similar to the live action 80’s Beauty & the Beast series. Note. Watch this series! Ron Perlman plays the Beast.
Anarky
Luigi Mangioni with an army. Anarky is a ruthless left wing revolutionary; who gets beat up by Batman for trying to kill CEOs, or stealing their money and giving it to poor people. Things that sounded real evil back in the 90s, when he was created. Like Magneto*, he’s objectively right. But superhero writers think it's ‘deep’ and ‘philosophical’ to portray characters fighting against societal corruption as violent loonies.
I’m genuinely surprised DC didn’t retcon this character years ago. His existence encourages the idea that Batman is an out-of-touch, mediocre white man with mental issues.
Bane
Bane is an absolute beast, forged from birth in a nightmare prison. Like Batman, he elevated himself to the pinnacle of human perfection. Replacing Batman’s tech with the super-steroid Venom. Because of his background; Bane sees the world as a violent jungle. Where the only purpose for existence is being its king. And he sees the chaotic, yet resource rich, environment of Gotham as the perfect place for his throne.
This Dark Romance novel practically writes itself.
Black Mask
Roman Sionis got a solid, if limited portrayal in the Birds of Prey movie. But there wasn’t much time to get into his backstory. And by ‘backstory’, I mean Gothic Melodrama Clusterfuck.
Roman’s childhood involves his family covering up a head injury at birth, and his being bit by a rabid racoon. When his narcissistic parents tried to prevent his marriage to a working class woman; he burned down the family mansion with them in it. This is followed by his cosmetics company accidentally disfiguring hundreds of women, and his rise to true villainy being inaugurated when he’s struck by lightning while trying to break into the family crypt.
Everything about Black Mask screams ‘Dark Romance anti-hero’. And also ‘should be played by Vincent Price, or Christopher Lee.’
The Scarecrow
And not just because he was played by Cilian Murphy. Jonathan Crane is the epitome of ‘might stop being evil for the right partner.’ Because he’s repeatedly demonstrated an interest in helping people, in his own twisted way. It’s actually when he’s at his creepiest.
And because all his villainous schemes never truly gain him anything. Even Batman gives him a Come to Jesus moment in the ‘Fear State’ event. Telling him to either reform, or level up his villainy; so Batman won’t find him boring anymore.
Not that we’re trying to ‘reform’ Professor Crane, far from it. There’s a lot of shitty people in the world. People whose shallow world views, and petty neuroses, could stand a dissection via fear-scalpel.
He needs a lover who can inspire him to new avenues of psychological experimentation. And gets off on being fucked on Fear Gas.
* For modern X-Men, I'll take Cyclops over Xavier or Magneto any day of the week. Marvel tried to turn him into a 'dangerous extremist'. All that did was make him a better leader than Baldy, or Helmet-Head. Why should humanity listen to the X-men? "Because you need them to be my X-Men, and not my Brotherhood."
First off, absolutely watch this movie. Gothic horror at its finest.
Haven't heard of Hammer Studios? If you're a monster fucker, you NEED to check out the classic 60s Hammer Films. This is where Gothic cinema got bloody, where the Universal Monsters got modernized, and where sexy vampires took some of their biggest steps. Christopher Lee's 'Dracula as stern evil Daddy', makes even their lesser Transylvanian efforts work.
As to why this movie didn't revive the staked studio; it's indeed an excellent film. But it's just not a Hammer film. WiB is a film of dark shadows, muted pallets, and grief.
For me, the appeal of the Wicker Man is only partly to do with the allegedly accurate portrayals of European paganism. And much more to do with how it attacks all forms of institutionalized religion. On the one hand, Lord SummerIsle is clearly a con artist, like his father before him. Using his wealth and influence to lord it over a village which he has carefully and seductively inducted into a cult. The accuracy of his pagan research serving only to provide valuable cover for his real aspirations.
In this he imitates Jim Jones, who spent years posing as a highly liberal civil rights activist and humanitarian, before his ego and cruelty revealed themselves.
But Sergeant Howie is almost more loathsome. A cruel, self-righteous, Inquisitor for the modern age. Repeatedly threatening to bring the isle under proper religious orthodoxy through the full force of British law.
Howie's execution, whether magically effective or not, was absolutely a righteous act. And in my ideal head cannon, the next year Lord SummerIsle takes his place.
