Recursion C.???

RECURSION 

C.???

Olive and Jo are themselves again, two married thirty-something lesbians with a boring romantic life, one elegant and femme and the other athletic and a little butch, standing naked in a hotel corridor ending in two doors. Olive fixes her long red hair and Jo coughs, not entirely sure what to say as they both experience a parade of strange memories: of pet play and lost limbs, a future of mechanical servitude and paralysis, werewolves and nymphomaniac curses, holy rituals and confinement, stylish reduction and animalistic loyalty. Olive strokes her slender arms and experiences losing them over and over, the feeling of being helpless, a plaything, a sextoy. She blushes and worries her lip. Jo meanwhile ponders her foray into life as a dog, of being someone's living belonging, a sexual service animal. "Shit," Jo says.

"Well, you said you wanted to get us out of our routine," Olive replies wryly.

"Yeah…" Jo allows. She ponders what it could all mean, these threads of vicarious experience. She wants to be a dog? She wants a cock? Jo opens and closes her hands. She'd always appreciated being told what to do, in sports, in life, and especially in the bedroom, or at least valued knowing her role. Hadn't she always done everything she could to please her wife? To intuit her desires and deliver them like a good girl? To dominate her just the way she wanted? She’d always been Olive's protector and helper, the steadying companion to her complicated wife. Was being her pet really all that different? It had felt so right! So natural to be her loyal pet, her obedient lover. But a dog? Really? Is that what she'd always wanted deep down inside? "That was a lot though..."

Olive blushes and nods, looks down at her hands. Her hands that she had given away, again and again, to become what? Permanently in bondage? A living art object? A sextoy? She balled her hands into fists: how could she sacrifice her independence? Her dexterity? Her mobility? It was insulting, pathetic, embarrassing... and fuck, it was sexy too! She'd always been scared of losing control, humiliated for needing help, and secretly so turned on from feeling powerless. Except not really helpless, she was always in control wasn’t she? Always dictating terms, the consummate boss, even when bound. Maybe especially. Olive knew she'd always felt this way, but had only expressed it in safe little roleplays, the gentlest moments of BDSM. This was so much more dangerous and serious and risky. Is that what made it so much hotter? The consequences? Did she have a fetish? Is this what was missing for her? Why her married sex life had become so dull, so routine? She pulled her arms behind her back and took a deep breath. "I think," Olive whispers, "I think it was illuminating..."

"Really?" Jo asks, cocking her head like a dog, a gesture that made both women's hearts beat a little quicker.

"That was the best sex we've had in..."

"Forever?"

Olive blushes and purrs, "You were such... a very... good dog..."

Jo's eyes go wide, "What?"

"Shhh..." Olive scolds. "Speak!"

"Arf! Arf! Arf!"

"Good girl!"

They both laugh and smile at each other, mutual owners of a shared secret, a newly revealed desire. Jo's tailbone twitches for a tail she wishes she had, "But what do we do now?"

Olive keeps her arms linked behind her back and studies the two doors out of the corridor. One is marked EXIT and one is labelled A. Olive and Joe both become certain, somehow, that walking through the EXIT will be more than just stepping outside, it will be accepting their new knowledge and committing to it. A descision to carry their strange new desires back into their lives. Door A represents a mercy, an escape, a chance to restart, to see if some other safer truth can be discovered. There is a decision to be made here.

Olive frowns and thinks, nods, smiles, and steps up onto the balls of her feet like a dancer. "Jo, Come."

Jo barks and scrambles ahead to open the door for her wife.

Go through the EXIT  -OR-  Go through Door A