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Chapter 4 - Man on Edge

Chapter 4 – Man on Edge

Chapter Song – Unknown - The Maccabees

“Escape from the black widow spider is a miracle as great as art. What a web she can weave slowly, drawing you to her. She'll embrace you. Then when she's satisfied she'll kill you still in her embrace, and suck the blood from you.” – Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell.

“Ow! Ohm … Mommy!!” a scream filled with pain stretched and died in the child’s throat as his consciousness neared the verge of collapse. Fear overtook his frailty like the spiders he often dreamed about at night, “Daddy … Mommy … Help~!” His voice flaked as it travelled the distance. Shrill upon shrill escaped him as he cried over the vastness of Mayor Carl Langford Park.

The mother captured the distinct snippet of sound that only her young boy could make. She flinched as the tremulous voice resonated within her core. Her instincts sharpened as she turned, “Matt?” She veered attention from picking sunflowers to her son who was squirming over the dense grass bed. With haste, she catapulted herself to a sprint across the wide stretch of grassy field.

The strong breeze flattened against her face and billowed against her chest as she ran in impossibly long arcs. Blood drained from her face as terror consumed her humanity. She squealed in horror as reality warped into a nightmare she fretted, “Matt?? No!! Jesus, please. Matt!!!” She wailed in shallow breaths as her legs propelled her forward like a raging bullet.

Within milliseconds, Charles noticed the absence of life around him, “Burgundy?” he murmured in a low voice as he let go of the monkey wrench. His adrenaline spiked at the scene of his wife running towards their child. He quickly bolted to a jog to scurry the expanse, “Burgundy? Oh God, No!! Matt!!!” Their names were a piercing bellow as death loomed over his dreams. Mournful thoughts of losing his son shrouded his mind as he hurled himself across the field.

Burgundy signaled for her husband to hurry. This she did without losing her Olympic stride, “Charles! Quickly … Oh no … Please God. No~!” Her high-pitched scream was a hellish invective as she scampered towards her son. She plunged with knees foraging the healthy patch of greenery. Grim shrills grated her throat as she swooped to collect the poor boy in her arms.

Her vision felt heavy as the tears gathered heavily around her eyes. A wink was all it took for the sadness to stain her cheekbones, “Matt? Mommy’s here. Wake up baby. Wake up,” She shook the petrified little man whose eyes were tightly shut. The only sign that he was conscious were those quivering lips of his that were puffing rickety breaths. He did not look good. He was pale.

With shaky fingers, she carefully lifted an eyelid. The boy’s eyes appeared to have dilated backwards, “No … Matt … Matty, can you hear me? Stay with me goddammit! Stay with me!!”

Hearing his mother’s voice fueled the boy’s fight. It helped him push through the pain that broke every bone in his body, “Mom … mom … something bit me and it hurts. My whole body hurts, mommy,” he whined at the feeling of his muscles tearing and convulsing with tumultuous heat.

Charles slid to a touchdown. He quickly examined Matt and the source of his pain. Something clicked in his head as he frantically scanned the foliage, “Burgundy. It’s a black widow,” he verified the bite mark.

“How are you sure?”

“There. Right over there,” Charles pointed to the venomous widow not far from where they were, “f**k. Shit.”

Matt started shaking in her arms. Her breathing fluctuated as she played all the possible ways this could go. What could she do? Her boy was too young. She couldn’t lose him. As she mulled over these thoughts, her mind met a piercing moment of clarity, “Charles, hospital, where??”

Her husband was in deep thought as he wallowed in silence.

“Charles!”

“Don’t scream, please. I’m thinking where the closest one is.”

Desperation was a cold hand around her neck as she rocked her son back and forth, “Charles!!”

“Give me a second!” His mind painted a map of Florida. He tried his best to remember where the nearest hospital was. They weren’t from around here so it was difficult to know where one was.

And as clarity snapped into a thin sharp line, he quickly took Matt from her arms, “Orlando Regional Medical Center, we have to … we have to go East South Street, then … then we uh, f**k … we go South Summerlin Avenue near Delaney Park,” he heaved every word as if they were being yanked from his conscious spirit. He stood then swiveled to expose his jeans pocket, “Take the keys, and keep it together. Do you hear me Burgundy?”

She nodded calmly, yet her face looked several shades mortified.

They scuttled off to get in the car. Burgundy sat her son on her lap as Charles activated the GPS. With a few button presses, he locked in the coordinates for ORMC.

“I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to him,” She choked on anxiety and desperation.

With key in the ignition and foot to the metal, Charles made to speak, “Don’t think that. He’ll make it,” he reassured for Burgundy not to falter as he backed up the car. Fear was a vice-grip around his heart as he bit back the tears. He didn’t want to show Burgundy how terrified he was. He knew only a small percentage died from a black widow spider bite, about five percent. Yet it wasn’t enough to put him at ease. He didn’t want to lose his son. Matt was young, barely four.

He drove at breakneck speed, bypassing several blocks and freeways without giving mind to traffic rules, “Charles, take the Holland East-West Expressway,” Burgundy directed her husband.

Her heart fractured at the sight of her boy who was rapidly changing color, “He’s … he’s turning blue, Charles. I can feel his heart. I-it’s w-weakening,” she wept as she examined Matt’s vitals.

“M-mom…” Matt was in tremendous pain. Every sinew on his face wrinkled into a tight ache.

She couldn’t help but mirror her son’s face as she choked on her tears, “Breathe, Matt. Breathe, baby. We … we’ll get there you hear me? Don’t let go of mommy,” And so she sobbed with a surge of unfathomable emotion that only a mother could feel.

“Black…”

“Hun?? Talk to mommy. Come on babe. You talk to mommy.”

“Red…”

“Matt!!”

“Dammit Poncetto. Throw me the f*****g fishies will ya!? I ain’t got all f*****g day man~!!”

“Yeah, yeah, suck my big fat cod madafucka!” was how Poncetto regarded me while he grabbed his balls. He was the fish dealer I worked for from five to six in the morning, every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. And my God he reeked of fish! But despite that, he ain’t no dude who did monkey business. Oh no sir he don’t, nuh-uh. What he did for a living might smell fishy, but he ain’t no monkey. God, it’d made me think of Dora and her stupid monkey. I still couldn’t believe that they made an actual live-action film based on the cartoon. What had this world come to? Next thing we know there’d be a Teletubbies reunion. Yeesh.

Mkay. So far you’ve met Ponce, the cab driver whose wife had a low uterus. Poncho, the bouncing puto who gave little Dakota Fanning his pinky finger. And now, Poncetto, the fish dealer who dealt fishies with major fish markets and seafood restaurants here in My-Amy. That’s Miami for those who are dyslexic. No offense people. High five!

If Poncetto didn’t let me go, I was bound to miss out on my construction work and shiz, “I still have construction work and shiz! And I haven’t been able to have my early morning runs for a while. Come on!” I bellowed like a bellowing bellower, or a zany zanadoo who’s zanier than zany, or a madcap that lost his f*****g cap. Poncetto threw me Moby d**k, “What the f**k man!?” I buckled under the weight of Moby’s d**k in my arms.

“Here’s another Matty Boi. Catch this!” he threw me Free Willy.

I shrunk to the size of a fudging hobbit, “Jesus Christ, Poncetto! What the fudge man!” I complained like a complaining complainant. Heh, it’s catching on huh? Um … You know. My jokes, and my play on words … They’re catching on, yeah? Yes? No? f**k me.

“Yo Matty Boi! Catch!” He threw me f*****g Nemo. I threw the Omen back to the ocean. Let ‘em find his own f*****g father. Maybe Ellen DeGeneres can help. I mean Dory.

“Time!” Kanye interrupted me. Oops, my bad. I mean, Poncetto interrupted me.

“Wot??”

“Time! You’re up for your next job Matty. You can go now big lad,” He gave me swollen thumbs up. It made me wonder if he fingered his arsehole with it. EL-OH-EL!!

You just gotta love Poncetto. I knew that he wanted me here for longer, just to net and hurl Little Mermaids back to Ursula, yet he went out of his way to let me go like a Sperm Whale that ran out of sperm. You just gotta love the man … even if he reeked of salmon. I gave him the finger freestyle hand jazz move and shiz, with chest bumping and fist pumping action before I left.

I rode my Harley (Yeah I got one, was given by Collin) to work … construction work that is. I had a lot of side jobs … jobs on the side; side jobs … jobs (wink) yeah. Anyway, if given the chance, I’d rather get blow jobs. I think I’d earn more from that, considering that mah shwizzle shtick was the size of Mississippi. One, two, three, hut! EL-OH-EL!

I arrived at a swanky location near Miami Beach. Now, whoever was gonna live within Miss Hilary Swank’s cave over here was bound to get a good wank. I mean, if girls didn’t pile up like Lego in this joint then there was some serious ugly up in this house.

The sun shone at an angle, signaling my third hour of doing construction work. My shadow spattered into uneven lines over the floorboards as I stood erect like a sweaty giant. I balked at the feeling of strained muscles in my back. My hands groped the discomfort as I encased myself in a hug. It almost looked like gay porn if you were to look at me from behind.

Phew. I exhaled a heavy sigh. This is the third time in a week that I pulled a muscle down there. But just like a cub scout, I shrugged it off and gave it no mind. Mind over matter they said. Just like when Oprah traipsed over a field of hot coal in one her gazillion Oprah episodes. Yeah I used to watch Oprah. And no, that doesn’t make me gay. Ask Anderson Cooper.

I sat cross-legged over a floorboard on the roof, contemplating my life so far. My gaze traveled the expanse of Miami, thinking how my future was gonna be like five, maybe ten, eleven, thirteen, fifteen and a half years from now. A part of me desired my own children.

(Readers in a collective gasp) You pedo!

No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean … I desire my own children … Um. No. I mean, I desire to have my own children. You know? When a man’s sperm combined with a woman’s egg, then it turned to an omelet? That kinda’ deal.

As I was saying, children, yeah … well, there was also the thought of adopting poor kids from far-flung countries, just like Angelina Jolie. I was no UN Ambassador, but I’d adopt one for sure. I’d need money though. So yeah, scratch that shiz. Just let ‘em kids bake in the sun for a while.

I felt on edge as more pervasive thoughts found their way to my consciousness. There was something about sitting alone and looking at the horizon that triggered emotions I never knew were there. I guess this was why Buddha sat on his ass all day. It really made you think and shiz.

I shrugged my worldviews, and instead basked in the comfort of simple-mindedness. I stood up from the floorboards and kicked a stray piece of wood. It fell over a plate of pancakes down below. Oh well, maybe the man would think it as cinnamon, a big ass cinnamon branch that is.

‘Ring, ring…’

“Yo wot up?”

“Hey hoe, hello? Hey, Matt it’s me, Collin.”

“I know man. That’s what caller IDs are for. Seriously, what planet are you from?”

“Um … Earth? Wait, was that a trick question?

“Really Collin? Seriously? You for reals right now? It’s called sarcasm, man. It’s when you wanna … shiz. Don’t make me think man! Uh!”

“Sorry man. It’s just that I’ma— stoned and shiz.”

I heard coughing and wheezing, “Dude, you sick?”

“Yeah, can you tell? Um … Can you fill up for me? They gonna pay you good shiz. I promise.”

“I dunno about that man…” And certainly I didn’t. I wasn’t a professional manhoe like he was.

He exhaled, “Two grand.”

“I’m off the roof. Bye~!”

I vibrated on my Harley, and then came to a stop in front of the Miami Edged headquarters.

It was a clandestine building, well, except for the marquee that shouted its name and a picture of my … Wait! Hold up. Back up. That was my. That’s mah Brontosaurus! Jesus fudging Christ! ‘How did it even get there?’ was what I asked myself, but then I realized that I was fond of handing down Polaroids of my red-headed monster. And so it didn’t matter much at that point.

I went past the foyer, waving my formalities to strangers who wore close to nothing. I subdued a nervous cough at the sight of members, not members of the company but their live and alive ‘members’. Theirs were hanging like dangling participles in a run-on sentence. Yeesh. Ugh.

There were muffled noises from studios. A particularly loud one inside the room I’ve been in during that day when I fudged the Black Hole. You remember him right? The golden Twinkie? Well, if ya don’t, you bettah read on chapter two yows.

“Right this way please,” ushered the guy wearing a staff uniform, their company name embossed professionally below the right lapel of his shirt. He stopped in front of a red door, “Sit here and wait for me,” he offered, pulling a chair for me to sit on.

“Um, am I waiting on someone?”

He lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “No. Not someone. Something. Just stay put. I’ll be right back in two,” he relinquished and disappeared behind the corner.

I twiddled with my thumbs, rolling one over the other while I waited. A lot of erotic thoughts were on my mind as I fidgeted. I thought of Collin and how he managed to do this almost every single day. I had to give it to him. He might not have as big of a wiener as I did, but he sure got him some big balls of courage for doing what he did for a living.

The guy got back to me with clipboard in hand. He actually looked like someone you would find on a porn website. His features may have aged, but his looks could easily pass him as someone who was twenty-five, “Sign here please,” he asked for me to sign.

“Can I read first?” was how I wanted for this to go down. I wasn’t going to sign something without thoroughly going through every letter. They might have me feast on live chickens. I sure wasn’t going to agree on any of that.

Additional note: Please be advised that Safewords will not be tolerated while filming. Thank you.

The last provision didn’t sit well with me. I felt my stomach drop, “S-safewords?” I gulped.

“Yeah, you’ll be edged in one of our videos. It’s something that’s been getting a lot of buzz lately. More and more subscribers like the idea of men getting edged. Don’t worry, we’re professionals. We’ll send you to the hospital if you pass out,” he explained reassuringly. I’m uncertain if he succeeded at making me relax, because I wasn’t at all relaxed. I was terrified!

I signed then stood on my wobbly knees. The door swung open, “Go on in boy,” he herded.

I did, and I was floored. So floored that not even the word floored could describe how floored I felt. I cringed at the sight of gagging devices, harlotry masks, studded paddles, and kinky ropes. My jaw dropped at the perverted scene of a Saint Andrew’s Cross. I gulped like a gulping guppy.

“You look pale, Matty Boi. Don’t worry about it. We’re not gonna paddle you nor crucify you.”

I knew what the cross was and what it could do, because I saw it once in a porno. Oh Jesus Christ on a buttered loaf bread. What have I gotten myself into!?

My palms twitched as I readjusted my mood into one of voyeurism. I could do this. I could do this. The director asked, “You okay boy? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine. Just lightheaded, that’s all,” Damn shiz I wasn’t fine! I mean, it’s a frigging cross!

I knew I was lightheaded the minute I saw the cacophony of implements. My ‘situation’ would normally start with arousal, and then my heart would speed. But this time, my heart thumped even before my cockatoo did. ‘I can do this. I can do this’ was how I coached my sensibilities.

I walked towards the center of the red-bricked room. It had heavy curtains and the foreboding feel of a 1940’s clip. It was like a scene from when men were thrown into slavery. It made me think of all the ritual flagellations that happened way back in the early days. Oh boy. I felt like a sperm whale that was about to get fossilized. Two burly men entered the room. They eyed me from head to toe like I was a slab of meat, which I probably would be in a matter of minutes. “You packin’ man. You packin’… that’s cool,” the bigger one approved and grabbed my bulge.

I became hyperaware of the slightest touch as my nerves shot into overdrive. I knew I signed the contract, and I’d have to agree on whatever it was that these guys wanted me to do or comply to. The bigger one spoke, “I’m Maximus. So this is how it will go down. First, we do introductions to camera. You be giving a fake name, your interests, your fetishes, your s**t, and some other hot stuff like how you love wanking yourself to sleep, or what Cumba Sutro positions you like.”

“Kama Sutra, perhaps??” I corrected with a raised brow.

“Yeah, yeah, that. Anyway, I recommend that you speak about being dominated because that’s basically what our viewers wanna hear from ya. They get off from that shiz, you feel me??”

My response was a nod as I processed everything he said.

His lips pulled into a smile, “Good. I like this one Pietro. He doesn’t complain much, no??”

“He’s best friends with Collin,” Pietro divulged then turned to give me a pat on the shoulder, “You be alright man. We’re not gonna push you that hard,” he encouraged and then chuckled.

We played out the getting-to-know-you scene by the window. The camera angle only took a shot of me from the lips down. I was relieved at the discretion. They had me do the question and answer type of deal. I even got to grope my package for the camera to see, just to satisfy the customers as Pietro directed me. I felt so nasty. I knew I screwed myself the minute I said yes to Collin. But then again, I was pretty much screwed as it was. What else did I have to lose? I’ve been branded a hoe twice in two weeks. This video ain’t gon’ demoralize me more than I already had been.

The whole schtick of the video they aptly titled ‘Man on Edge’ started with a tease. They had me wear an office uniform, all black. I felt very expensive in it too. It smelled of dry cleaned goodness. Yeah, probably used by another dude before me, but hey, at least it was clean and pressed.

I couldn’t see anything for they had me blindfolded. I believe the scene started when I heard the camera guy shout ‘rolling!’ … And so we began. They dragged me towards the center of the room. It felt like the center of the room because I calculated the distance that my shoes groveled over.

They slammed my back against a slender mast. It must have been hardwood, because that’s how it felt – hard and unforgiving. Inwardly I was excited and pulsing with delight, but I didn’t let it show too much. I would look like I was enjoying it if I did, and that wasn’t part of the script.

They wound my arms around the wooden pillar behind my back, and then secured my limbs with ropes. I looked like a captive that was about to get terrorized by Osama and shiz. Tension built as they started ripping material off of my chest. I didn’t get to see how my body reacted to their ravenous assault, but I pretty much knew that I probably was turning red all over. They clawed at me with such force that it was almost primal in a way. It felt so erotic. I became hard instantly.

I grunted and groaned against the gagging device they secured around my mouth. My anatomy did not expect the arousal it felt. And as my senses were reduced to hearing, I realized how potent my other senses had become. I could smell better. I could feel more. I felt like an animal.

Slick hands roved my chest, thumbing each n****e, elongating them into tautness. My erection was hard and thick between my thighs. I didn’t know how it looked like on camera, but I sure was proud of my red-headed monster. I knew it was gonna like the spotlight as it twitched excitedly in my pants. I choked on spit as they pulled the bit gag from my mouth, “I’m—” I made to speak, but only to get gagged again. I think they just considered readjusting it. I was somewhat glad they did, because I looked like I couldn’t breathe properly through my nose.

Rough hands groped my chest. The touch circled over each n****e then went to feather precise strokes around the ridges of my abdomen. Fingers traced lines and made circles around each ab. The touching pushed spasms down my legs, all the way to my toes as they curled and flexed.

My heart raced at the sound of scissors cutting through material. Oh my, they were going all out with this. They practically destroyed what felt like the most expensive suit I ever wore in my life.

“Nice…” came the hoarse whisper of a man. He sounded like a pedophile.

I grunted like a beast as they unbuckled my pants. Tailored fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me exposed with a b***r. Almost immediately, shock rippled through my system at the touch of fists jabbing my abdominals. It wasn’t hurtful, but the reverberations sent pre-orgasmic shivers down my loins. I was at the precipice of every known erotic sensation as they dominated my torso with light punches, adulterated pinching, and mouths that lowered to suckle each engorged n****e.

My skin almost leapt off of me in surprise at the touch of ropes binding around my ankles. They tied one end around my right, and then I think it went around the wooden pillar to bone around my left. It made my heart speed like a freight train. I did not expect the ritual to be so arousing. My legs were straining, fighting against the sweetest torture I ever felt.

The same hands found my bishop. They squeezed it hard, and then palmed the tip going to the sides where it was most sensitive. I knew I was already leaking at that point. Oh Jesus Christ.

Suddenly, an implement that I wasn’t expecting found its way to meet my Johnson. It was vibrating profusely. It felt like a vibrating mouth. It completely covered my size from tip to sac. I arched and pulled at my restraints, whining like a dog at the sheer erotic pain. Titillation lashed at my groin. It sent me into a frenzy that not even my years of s****l experience could fathom.

I was on my tippy toes, writhing against the vibrating funnel of pleasure. I kept arching against the wooden pillar like my back was gon’ break. They pulled at my gag, “Oh God, what the f**k is that!? Ungh … Agh. Please, I need … Ungh. Gyaaaahhhh~!” I screamed as my body stacked levels upon levels of delirious tremors, “Aaaarrrgghhh … Whagfft—” they gagged me again.

They stuck the vibrating node between my legs, pushing hard against my straining member. It circled each nut, going all the way to the back of my coin slot. I was coughing incoherent words like I was having a seizure. And then all of a sudden, someone knelt before me. I choked a surprised gasp when a mouth enveloped my dong. The person sucked in the most aggressive manner. The torture I was getting was absolutely indescribable. I was leaking hard like a tap.

My arms strained against the ropes. So did my ankles against their boning. Every bit of my anatomy felt this overwhelming sensation that threatened to push me over the precipice of control. My bones were starting to turn to stew as I trembled at their merciless, torturous assault.

Then there was the calm before the storm. It suddenly became quiet, but not for long as tight ropes found their way around each junction of my thighs. They secured them tightly with boning. The ropes pulled up, raising me even higher on my tippy toes. Tight ropes were also secured around my chest. They strung them snugly under each wing of my Pecs to disable my movement.

Another set of ropes were draped around my neck, which then pulled from above. I probably looked like I was hanged from the ceiling. I couldn’t comprehend nor visualize anymore. All I felt was pleasure, in tremendous amounts.

Then came the shutter of a camera as it sounded click, click, click … click! They probably were taking photos for the website. I was just glad that they kept my blindfold on. I didn’t need that much exposure. I was afraid of what people would think of me. I guess I wasn’t that confident.

I didn’t know how long I was suspended for. All sense of self escaped me as another set of horny fingers thumbed my n*****s. My buds were so sore that I felt like milk was starting to drip from them, “Yow!” I yelped at the unexpected and cold bite of the n****e clamps, “Gaaahhdd~!!”

Within a millisecond, two hands were working on my package. One grabbed at my balls to effectively stop the blood flow, while the other palmed me with furious strokes. I bellowed from the deepest recesses of my humanity as they abused my manhood.

Something cold, hard, and thick protruded against my back. I shivered at the touch of cold metal. I believe it unwound from the depression of the wooden pillar. I deduced it to be as such as I heard the sound of a wheel turning from behind. It was a rusty creaking sound as it turned round and round and round. And with each turn, the metal flattened against my back, arching me, pushing me forward, and stretching me to my absolute limitations.

I jutted so hard that I strained at a very uncomfortable angle. I grunted and panted as everything happened at once: the wheel turned making my extremities stretch against the restraints, calloused hands tightly anchored around my sac, and a slick hand that pumped me like a vacuum.

A spurt gushed from me. It felt so forced that each time it did I felt this overwhelming surge that pulsed thickly, rounding every bit of sensation from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. Around and around and over and over I felt it. My whole body cried at the release of an orgasm that felt like it was in a perpetual loop. I was salivating like a rabid dog as I emptied myself.

My heartbeat catapulted to the heavens and back. I felt what it was like to be truly liberated.

‘Blip, blip, blip, blip…’

“His is not the kind of damage a person gets in the blood vessels. Rather, it’s a complication in the electrical system of the heart. The impact of the crash may have caused it, seeing that he flew against the windshield.”

“Thanks Doctor for deducing that. Your findings are indeed conclusive. There is a file I think you should see. It came from Orlando Regional Medical Center. It says here that when he was four, he was rushed to that hospital to treat a spider bite.”

“What kind of arachnid?”

“It’s a black widow spider.”

“I see. What did they give him?”

“Let me see. Hmm, he was given calcium gluconate and antivenin to neutralize the venom. The intra-cavernous injection flushed out the toxin, yes. However, the spider bite left a side-effect.”

“What do you mean side-effect?”

“It is too early to tell what they are. But it would be ideal if we go through all the derivatives.”

“Of course, please elaborate then.”

“A black widow produces protein venom that affects the victim's nervous system. Some people are only slightly affected by the toxin, but others may have a severe response. The severity of the reaction depends on the age and physical condition of the person bitten. It can range from itchiness, to rashes, or even a spike in blood pressure. Children and the elderly are more seriously affected than young adults. Heart rate may be elevated. People rarely die from a black widow's bite. Life-threatening reactions are generally seen only in small children and the elderly according to famous research.”

“I understand that Doctor. Is there any other outstanding side-effect I should know about?”

“He acquired Priapism a little over a year ago from the bite.”

“I see. Poor kid, he’s too young.”