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Playgirl	By : Obsolescence Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 2350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Marilyn Manson. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Characters: Manson, Tim, & Sascha
Warnings/Spoilers: This story contains extreme abuse, rape, torture, sex, cursing, and Swedish.
Author Notes: Every review you give will go to the 'change the way Manson fan fiction is written' fund. Thank you for your support and donation.

Everything in this story was researched and is entirely possible. However, it is extremely dangerous, and terribly evil. So please don't debate with me if you think that this isn't possible. Do some research into this and you'll find that it is.

Also, there is more than a few chapters to this, if you want the others just say so in your review. As my profile says I write for me and I have a hard time knowing if a reader wants more.

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There are certain things a person must do to survive such as: Pulling on my clothes and fixing my make-up and limping inside. He was in good spirits when I rejoined at his side, although by the way he was skipping around from conversation to conversation we would not be here long.

He came here for a purpose, he usually thought ahead, and had a larger plan involved. Luckily we could smoke and I took the opportunity, each cigarette though brought back memories though of the flash of pain, but they quickly subsided when I told myself that he could have done it with just about anything.

I sucked on it worshipingly. Ignoring his menial conversation with the people in the room, trying to figure out what he was thinking. At anytime I was talked to I responded in Swedish, making me avoided, I didn’t understand English.

Then as the clock in the room struck eleven he grabbed my arm and we bid adieu to everyone in the room. Brian took me outside.

“You look beautiful. So pretty.” I stared at him as we again got into the limo, the limo driver stepping on it toward his house in LA.

“Pretty?”

“Yes, pretty.” I wonder what it’s like to be pretty. I thought, I knew I was far from it, my mohawk falling down slightly, my make up streaked down my face from where I cried on it. My eye make up was reapplied but sloppily done. His finger again crooked at me and beckoned me to his lap. I slowly moved to him he grabbed my hips and pushed me into his lap. I whimpered out in pain.

“Perfection.” I sneered at him. I quickly regretted it as his ringed fingers collied with my cheek. I bit my lip and kept my eyes on my lap.

At least the memories had stopped. I silently thanked my mind for shutting the fuck up. Manson’s hands were rubbing at my back, and indicator that we would be having sex later.

“When we get home, we will shower and then we’ll go to bed.”

Go to bed? Not likely he had a plan I could tell by his knowing smirk. I wish this would stop I hated all these little games he played. I rocked slightly on his hips knowing his like it. I ignored my discomfort. He purred and reached into my pocket pulling out my cigarette and my lighter. I flinched.

“No. This is for my lips and lungs not to beautifully mark-up your dirty skin.” I shivered at his words. I think I had a vague idea of what was to come. But then again Manson is like the wind and weather tricky to predict.

He sat and smoked and I took one to smoked in time with him. Flinching every time he went to drop the ashes in the ash tray. And almost ran to the other side of the limo whenever it got near me. Then clutching onto my own arm as he put it out. We were home as soon as the butt dropped into the ash tray.

Walking into the eerily silent house was it’s own torture. Pogo was off in Japan, and Ginger, well, Ginger was MIA I walked with a purpose toward his room and adjoining bathroom, for a shower like he requested.

He followed in time but I got up there and started it. Removing my clothes for the fourth time that day for him. He, then, came into the room cold fingers running down my spine making me hiss as they touched the burns. I wiggled away from his arms and slipped into the shower he watched for a moment then disappeared.

I let the spray fall over my skin, cleaning off the make-up, and washing my hair. Taking deep breaths trying to regain composure for the night with him. A week with him I shuddered. I didn’t know how long I clutched the tile wall letting the water run over my body. But it must have been sometime, because Manson had joined me.

His fingers ran down my sides. He was touching me so softly, but this wasn’t right. His lips touching the back of my neck. His arms wrapped around my waist holding me close. I wasn’t going to get fucked in the shower. He was flaccid and clutching me.

“Tim.” I nodded. “Do you mind if we do something before we go to bed?”

Do I have a choice?

“No.” His lips curved up against my neck. I shivered. His tongue came out and ran along my neck and the outer shell of my ear.

His fingers slid down to my nether regions again. I flinched and moved closer to the wall. But he quickly moved them.

The rest of the shower was quick both of us washed and clean. He took a towel from the rack and wrapped it around my waist and slowly dried me off. I stumbled backwards against the wall. But he persisted and finished drying me off. His fingers laced with mine and he led me to the room. I noticed that he had lit a fire.

I purred slightly, it was nice, although I didn’t think that anything good would come out of all his kindness. He tugged on my arm and lead me to a bench. I sat down my legs straddling the sides of it. He moved my arms up to the air and secured them with handcuffs and put the metal chain on a hook. I fidgeted a bit on the bench whimpering softly.

He smacked my ass making me jump up then finding my feet couldn’t touch the ground. I expected pain but instead he had placed a block under my ass. I felt the towel get spread out around it. I tried to look back at him but the cuffs made it impossible to move my neck all that much. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sounds I hear a wet sound like water on plastic being rubbed around.

“Get on your toes.” I slipped to the tip of my big toe. I flinched as the bone pressed into the floor. It took some time but I could feel the block being removed and the towel was tickling my inner thigh.

“Move down but do it slowly.” I followed his instruction his hands guiding me back a little. I felt something hard I tried to pull away from the skin by the burn getting stretched.

“Be a good boy Tim, you need to get down to the bench or you’ll toes will break.” I nodded and slipped down. And cried out. I knew what it was. It was bigger then anyone he had every used on me. Or maybe it just felt that way because of the burn. The cone of formed plastic slipped inside me stretching me open. The burn tearing and singing.

At least he used lube on it.

I shivered as I got to the end of the cone the smaller piece just under the cone of the plug popped in and I whimpered out. My ass on the bench but my toes still grazing the floor below the bench. I convulsed slightly as he situated my hips and legs.

Cuffs coming around my ankles attaching them to the legs of the bench behind me. The position was uncomfortable and awkward and limited my movement, Which I am sure that is what he wanted. It didn’t help every time my hips moved the plug pulled at the tender skin of my burn. The wonderful feeling of predicament bondage.

His hands ran down my back. I tried to shift away from it but I only caused myself to hiss between my teeth from the stretching skin of the burn.

“Don’t worry Tim. It’ll be alright.” I nodded glad he couldn’t see the fear that lived on my face.

“Now, Tim I’ve learned my lesson. No matter how deep one cuts the scars eventfully do fade, not entirely but. They do fade. Now for you. I have a special treat. Permanence is the issue here and permeant knowledge is necessary for you.” I nodded.

“Remember we have at least two weeks to let you know, permanently, who you serve.” If I hadn’t been so scared I would have snarled or growled or maybe even enjoyed this bondage like situation. But I had no safe word, no security net. This was the long haul, and I had to survive it.

I knew he was looking for something. I could hear him going through boxes and boxes of toy’s and devices that he would use on me at some point in my relationship with him.

A creepy squeaking echoed around the room followed by a slight pop, then his footfalls toward me. I jumped up and regretted it as soon as I felt a slight touch of a point.

“It’s just a marker Tim.” I shuddered and cursed my own stupidity. I felt his distinct strokes whether he was drawing or writing I couldn’t tell. I tried to ignore the semi-tickling sensations it aroused in me.

He knew he stepped back to admire his work. And then in botched Swedish he recited the words.

“Fitta. Hora. Subba. Bög. Mina Smeka. And my favorite, slyna.” I blinked my mind instantly going wild. What did he plan to do with those words?

The marker was capped and dropped on the floor. He walked over to the fire, then I knew. I knew what he was going to do. But knowing does little, I couldn’t brace myself for it and I knew it. The sound of metal clanking together then echoed around the room.

“Burns tend to never go away. Now which word should I do first?” I tried to pull my hands off the cuffs, my feet off the legs of the bench.

“Please, Brian no. No. Don’t.” He dropped the metal thing back into the fire and walked over to me.

“Brian?” I looked up at him tears again filling my eyes.

“Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Suffer and be used?” I stared at him in disbelief, trying to implore him to change his mind.

“Brian. . Manson, I’ll do anything just-”

“Good, then shut up and except this, this is like you acceptance to the band, it’s long overdue.”

“Brian please!”

“I don’t want to have to gag you.” My head collapse on my chest. I tried my best to brace myself for it. But nothing can compare to the blinding pain of the poker, which I assume was red hot on my skin dragging along it following his markered outlines. I had screamed my body pulling away from the poker, jamming the plug deeper into me. Making me scream louder.

The smell of my flesh burning permeated my senses. The pain almost made me black out but I knew if I did I would hang like this until I awoke for him to do another one.

“Subba.” He recited the poker found the floor. Again the metal clanked together. I bit my lip sobbing loudly, my fingers tangled up in the chain of the handcuffs.

In between the burns when my endorphins kicked in and I could feel very little I wondered why he chose Swedish not English. He read my mind as he waited for the endorphins to subside.

“Tim, every time you look in the mirror you’ll know. You’ll know. No one else has to, but you will understand what and where you are in the food chain.” I whimpered as I could feel the nice-ness of my body subside. The pain was coming back.

“Good, now we continue.” He was a monster, a sick monster bent on owning everything. He pulled another from the fire. And again the tip touched my skin making me shriek and then I heard it;

He was laughing.

I sobbed loudly as he continued to follow his lines, my endorphins kicking in faster. Knowing they would be exhausted soon, and soon there would be no protection against the white-hot metal ravishing my skin, that made the room smell like I always assumed hell would.

“Hora.” The wait was shorter this time between his pokers. I was convoluting trying to get my body under control. I found I couldn’t, By the next poker I couldn’t will myself to scream, or cry. I just hung there slack.

Manson noticed and tutted. “Well It looks like we’ll resume this later.” He picked up the two abandoned pokers and put them back in the fire along with the one he just tried to use. Walking over to me he put a gloved hand under my chin.

Then turned and left the room. I was shaking against the bindings. I couldn’t think of anything, but stupid words:

“Vår fader, “ I whispered, labored, but I did.

“Du som är i himlen.” The words came to me slowly between tears I muttered the words

“Låt ditt namn bli helgat. Låt ditt rike komma.” I felt ashamed for muttering it but maybe he would absolve me from this and give me something better.

“Låt din vilja ske, på jorden så som i himlen.” I rolled my hips back, making the tears stream out of my eyes faster.

“Och förlåt oss våra skulder,”I forgot a line but that was alright if he was so merciful he’d forgive me for it.

“Liksom vi har förlåtit dem som står i skuld till oss.” It must have taken some time between the whispered words because he was coming back. His steps were close.

“Och utsätt oss inte för prövning, utan rädda oss från det onda.” The door had opened as I finished the words. He was walking toward me.

“Ditt är riket. Din är makten och äran i evighet.” I finished the prayer, and he smacked me. I looked up at him.

“What did I tell you about communicating?” It took me sometime to find the English words.

“I-I am sorry.” I whispered up at him.

“Well if your this awake shall we resume?” I shook my head.

“Please. I know. I know that I am yours.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you do, if you did you’d obey my rules.” He walked over and grabbed another poker.

“No!” He pushed it against my skin and I broke down and let myself black out.

I was awoke by a sharp snap against my back. I howled. He laughed again. “You’ve been out for an hour.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have. You’re ruining my good time.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t say that Tim you are still at my mercy.”

“Jag hata du! Du är rövhål!” He growled warningly at me. By my spine, I felt the burning white pain of the metal tracing lines again. I forced myself not to scream or sob, it gave him too much pleasure.

“Slut.” He spat on the fresh burn. His fingers came across my spine and the rough fabric from the gloves pressed against the burn

“Gå och dö!” He grabbed another and poker and pushed it against my back. Harder than he had before. It felt like it passed through my skin. I couldn’t hold in my shriek.

“Are you going to behave Tim?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” My monster had all the time he needed. “Sadly, we only have word left.”

I never knew such release then when he said he had one word left. I shivered as I heard the final poker be pulled out of the fire.

He took his time tracing the lines. I pulled away from it crying harder. Then, blissfully, he pulled the poker away.

“Fitta.” I shuddered against the handcuffs. The pokers were returned to wherever they came from, the smell no longer bothering me. He then came over to me unlatching me feet.

“On your toes.” I struggled but moved onto the tips. He pulled the plug form me making me cry out again.

He moved it and pushed a finger inside, pushing it against my prostate. Tears falling in shame, as I leaned down toward his hand . His other hand unlatching the handcuffs forcing the finger deeper inside. His nail tearing at my inner walls. I couldn’t bring myself to brace my fall.

He let me lay there for a moment.

The pulled me from the bench and drug me to the bed.

“Sweet. . .eams my se. . .rag. . .oll.”

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Oh yes and if your interested a MM fan-fic live journal community - http://community.livejournal.com/sui_generis_fic/profile
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