A Selection of Monologues and Short Stories

Trophies

"You have to understand why I must do these things, my love." I wander to the kitchen and open the cupboard beneath the sink, reaching for the neatly organised basket.

Polish, cloths, bleach, anti-bacterial spray, glass cleaner etc...

"Its just something that needs to be done. I know you will understand."

Strolling back into the living room, I plant a kiss on the top of Mel's head.

"Its part of who I am. Why can't you just accept that?"

I place the basket on the coffee table. I turn on my heel and stare at her, licking my lips. Her eyes are a dark chocolate brown. Her short dark red hair matching the colour of her lips.

"I know you love me. I know you love me despite my flaws." I fall back onto the sofa, and wrap my arm over her shoulder. I lean my head against hers. 

"Honestly, even if you don't protest and agree that I am right, I will do it anyway." I tighten my grip on her shoulder, my fingers digging into her flesh.

"So, I suggest that you behave and let me do what needs to be done." I twist myself so I can stare deep into her face, looking for a reason to start an argument.

"Well?"

Silence.

"As much as I respect that you aren't disagreeing with me. You aren't agreeing either."

Silence.

"You know how much the silent treatment annoys the hell out of me."

Silence.

I get up from the sofa, shaking my head slowly and chuckling to myself. 

"Oh Mel. You just don't get it, do you? You're opinion doesn't MATTER." I can't control myself any longer. I lose it. She just pushes and pushes. I can't take it anymore. 

 I undo the zipper of my jeans, and let them fall, pooling around my ankles. I shove her skirt up her torso, and hook my finger over the rim of her underwear, pulling them off in one swift motion. I stare down at her exposed lower half, my eyes darkening with lust and anger. 

I feel my growing member pressing against the fabric of my boxers. I pull them off, letting them fall down to my jeans. I step out of the puddle of fabric towards her, stroking myself in the process.

"You made me do this. You must remind yourself of this. I do this because you need to be taught who is in control here."

Silence.

I push into her harshly, feeling her walls surround me. I grunt with pleasure. I begin a rough rhythm instantly. I dig my fingernails into her upper thighs, holding her steady. Sweat starts to build up along my hairline. 

"Anything to say?" My voice is raspy. Low.  Still nothing. Not a peep from her. She should've learnt better than to keep her mouth shut. After all I've done for her? After all the pleasure I'm giving her? Anger clouds my vision. I see red. 

My hands lurch from her thighs to her throat, tightening with every stroke into her. My hormones rocket at the sensation of feeling her hyoid snap beneath my grasp, sending twitches up and down my hard shaft. I squeeze her neck so hard, my knuckles turning white, and my vision blurring with lust and hatred. My pace has increased now, my body begging me for the release I so desperately crave.  I move one hand from her neck, and grasp her hip. 

I ejaculate into her, releasing her neck as I release my orgasm. My teeth gritted, I stay inside her, waiting for my high to fade. Her body is limp beneath mine. Once I regain my breath, I pull out of her, a small stream of cum leaking out of her slit onto the sofa between her legs. 

I pick up my boxers and jeans from the floor, and dress myself again, then turn to the side table next to the arm of the sofa, and switch on the radio standing on it. The Beatles fill the room. 

I grab underneath her arms and drag her onto the blood soaked tarpaulin that lines the floor. She lands with a thud. 

Grabbing a knife from the basket, I cut off her finger, along with the ring I gave her. I hold it admiring the navy blue nail polish. I place it on the coffee table smiling.

One by one, I undo the buttons along the front of her bloodstained blouse, opening it up to reveal my handiwork from a couple of hours ago. A perfect heart made out of multiple stab wounds stares proudly at me. 

"Its such a shame. I gave you my heart, I really did. Look, here." I push my finger into the deep cuts, and follow the carve all the way round until I reach where I began.

 "But you didn't accept. Such a shame." I pull my bloody finger out from her chest. 

"I'm taking my ring back." I move my finger up to her lips.

"Don't cry. You look ugly when you do." I stroke my finger down her chin, all the way down to her gaping vagina, leaving a bloody trail behind. I shove my fingers in, feeling her for the last time.

I wrap the tarpaulin delicately over her, taking as much care as I would wrapping a Christmas present for my son. I tie up the tarpaulin parcel with rope, then drag the Mel into the kitchen. On my way back, I grab a bottle of whiskey from the drinks cabinet. I pour myself a glass as I pick up the finger. I walk over to the new glass box sitting on the shelf above the fireplace, rolling it between my bloodied fingers. 

Taking a swig, I carefully stand up the finger, making sure its at the perfect angle, matching the others in their own boxes to the left of Mel's. I stand back, admiring my trophy collection. I sigh, and take another sip.

"Why couldn't you have just bought the juice with no bits?"