Peter Pišťanek - The Wooden Village

“It is,” says Freddy.

Sida places the tip of the whip under his chin.

“It’s genuine hippo leather!” Freddy stresses. “It must have cost a fortune,” says Sida. “Where did you get the money?”

“I’ve sold my trailer,” says Piggybank.

“Thanks, Freddy,” says Sida and her voice softens. “You’ve no idea how happy you’ve made me. But I can’t accept it. Strangers don’t give each other such expensive gifts.”

“We don’t have to be strangers,” says Freddy and blushes.

“What do you mean by that, Freddy?” Sida asks and blushes, too.

Freddy can no longer hold back.

“I love you, Sida!” he blurts out and throws himself onto his knees. “I know that I’m not good enough, but just say the word! Give me hope! I know that you don’t like men, but if you don’t want me to, I’ll never even touch you all my life. Just be mine, Sida!”

Sida looks at him. “You don’t say,” she says. She grabs his hair and pulls him towards herself. “And will you go on being my slave?” she asks him.

“I will,” Piggybank blurts out without thinking.

“And will you obey me in all things?” Sida asks, drawing on her cigarette.

“I will,” Freddy promises.

“And you’ll put up with all the torments, injustices and humiliations that I devise for you?” Sida enquires. “As our contract states?”

“All, all, every one of them!” stutters Freddy.

“And you’ll let me treat you like the vilest dog?” asks his mistress.

“Yes,” says Freddy as he quivers from pure sincerity, obedience and fidelity. His eyes shine like a dog’s by a groaning Sunday dinner table.

Sida pulls him by his hair even closer and purses her unmade-up lips for a kiss. Freddy tries to respond passionately. He quickly shouts with pain and astonishment. He pulls back sharply and touches his lips. Blood is pouring from his lower lips which she has bitten.

“Very well then, you’ll be my dog,” Sida decides and begins to kiss Freddy’s mouth.

Freddy feels her slippery hot tongue in his mouth.

“I’ll drink your blood like this every day,” says Sida, her mouth full of blood, when she detaches herself from him. “You might quickly lose your strength and die from that,” she adds. “What do you say?”

Freddy is trembling at the sudden onset of happiness and excitement. He doesn’t care. He breathes in, preparing to say more or less that life without Sida doesn’t interest him anyway. But his mistress’s stern gaze silences him. Rather than speak, he obeys her silent command and throws himself down at her feet. He takes off her boots, first one and then the other. With one small foot, free, but clad in a sock, Sida imperiously and capriciously pushes Freddy away. Freddy loses his balance and rolls on the floor. He is silent. He feels his lower lip still bleeding slightly. He touches it.

Sida gets up and stands over him, her long legs spread over him. Her crotch, in tight ragged jeans, is thrust forward. Slowly, like a music video, she takes off her thick, well-worn leather jacket and throws it at Freddy, who is stunned, without taking her solemn gaze off him. Then, equally slowly, she takes off her white cotton socks and throws them at her slave, like a stripper making her audience happy by throwing her stockings at them.

Freddy’s heart rises to his throat. His mouth is dry, but he swallows and flaps his heavy tongue. His burning blood races faster and faster.

“SIDA!” Freddy’s mother calls from downstairs. “WILL YOU HAVE SOME COFFEE AND CAKE?”

“Later,” says Sida barely audibly, continuing to fix her trembling slave with her pitiless snake-like gaze.

The thread of Freddy’s slowly growing excitement is abruptly cut. Piggybank is outraged. He gets up and opens the door of his small bachelor room.

“NO, SHE WILL NOT!” he roars downstairs, ignoring the pain in his bitten lip. “I HAVE TO SOLVE AN IMPORTANT WORK PROBLEM! DO NOT DISTURB ME!!!”

“Can’t you lock the room?” asks Tešadíková, wrestling with her trouser zipper.

Freddy blushes. He turns the key in the lock. Twice.

When he turns away from the door, Sida is wearing only knickers and a tee-shirt. She puts her cigarette for a moment into the flower pot and pulls the tee-shirt over her head. Piggybank can see that his boss has no bra under her everyday clothes. He can’t stop looking at her smooth, almost boyish, breasts. Sida strokes them very slowly for a while with visible pleasure. As if she were trying to gain time before the final and crucial unveiling. At last, without taking her eyes off Freddy’s face, she takes off her knickers and kicks them into the corner.

Freddy stands opposite her. He has never in his life seen her completely naked, free of textile, leather, rubber, and metal accessories, without wigs, artificial nails and eyelashes, long gloves, fake tattoos and a wildly made-up face. Her small, slender body with little tits and her sparse, groomed pubic hair impress him, without all those awe-inspiring accessories, as defenceless, almost touchingly childish.

“Well, what is it, wanker?” Sida asks, and her voice rings with the intimately familiar impatience and strictness of a dominatrix. The momentary tenderness has vanished. “What are you staring at? Let’s get on with it!” she orders him roughly. “Off with your clothes!”

Freddy obeys. He is undressed in a seconds. Naked in the presence of his naked slave owner, he feels strange, but agreeably so.

Sida comes up to Piggybank; her cruel eyes seek out a place on his bare chest, she takes her cigarette out of her mouth and stubs it out there.

The searing, delicious pain makes Freddy close his eyes, but he doesn’t step back even an inch. His nose registers the stench of burned hair and flesh. He knows that this time it’s for real. He realises that this act is Sida’s way of showing clearly that she, in turn, has feelings for Freddy Piggybank.

Sida pulls out a pair of coarse leather brickyard gauntlets from her jacket and puts them on. Freddy almost faints with excitement. “Let’s go, you fat wanker,” says Sida and grabs him by his tumescent organ. “Now I want you to service me properly, get it?” Sida leads Piggybank, stupefied by excitement, to the bed and pushes him onto it. She uses her hand to straddle his erect member. Freddy begins to breathe heavily. The burning pain on his lip and chest turns into pulsating delight.

Sida briefly, but painfully, presses his scrotum.

“Now you do it to me, but heaven help you if you come before I say you can,” she hisses threateningly and bites his fleshy ear. “I’ll decide when you come. You’ll never get rid of me, porky.”

When Sida notices Freddy’s eyes filling with tears from the sudden pain, she mercilessly twists his nose with her gloved hand.

“Never, you understand?” she repeats.

Freddy lies as obediently as a dog under his mistress and holds her waist with both hands, as he always dreamed of doing while she drove him on her motorbike to the New Bridge. His mistress moves on top of him with a savage lack of concern. Freddy is forced to focus all his thoughts on something else so as not to come prematurely and make himself liable to severe punishment. But even so, it is hard to say what he’d like most: to come, or to be punished.

* * *

Freddy Mešťánek’s and Sida Tešadíková’s wedding turns into a popular event in the city’s erotic underworld. Silvia takes on the organization and half the financing of the wedding; it is the first and perhaps the last, at least for some time, wedding of two staff members at the Perverts’ Centre.

The wedding ceremony itself takes place in the church and then everybody moves to Justine . Freddy looks rather good in a white suit, but the real star is, naturally, Sida: pale, wearing black, with a train, her arms in long black gloves and with a crown of blood-red orchids on her head covered by a black veil. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Sida is in feminine attire, and she looks wickedly beautiful in it — like the evil black queen from Disney’s Snow White .