LILING’S CURE by Delilah De Silva

Liling dried her soft hands and face and applied some compact powder on her skin. Still unblemished and youthful. Next, she proceeded to roll her glossy lipstick delicately over her small, round mouth. With a heavy sigh, she wheeled herself out of the bathroom and greeted him silently with her dimpled smile.

He gazed at her and she lowered her head coyly to the floor. It was his eyes; the peaceful color of the ocean-blue. Deep and shining. On his part, he admired hers, with their thin, feline slant and brown-sugarish tone. His stare made her feel like a delicacy. The sound of ancient sitar melody lulled in the dim-orange hue of the bedroom. Wisps of smoke curled warmly in the air as they rose from the burning incense of ylang-ylang. Liling inhaled the thick and sweet scent, filling her lungs with its seductive intoxication. Her limbs loosened and she peered through the translucent darkness, watching his lean, white body rest against the wall. He got up, pulled the wheelchair closer to the bed and whispered roughly into her tiny ears, “You look beautiful, darling. Absolutely stunning.”

A tingle raced up her spine. Dazed, Liling’s lips lingered against his high cheekbones as she waited for his strong, muscled arms to lift her cautiously from her seat and plant her gently on the waterproof sheet which laid over the purple, satin cover. Two, fluffy, wine-red pillows helped prop her head comfortably without any strain. Quickly and deftly, he peeled off her silky, pink blouse, the long, floral skirt, the lacy, black lingerie which he brought with him for every visit and finally the diaper which he respectfully placed on the bedside table. He did not mind her wetting herself. Liling stroked his milky back as his fingers traced through her sleek, black hair. “I love you,” he kept murmuring, fixing his bold, blue eyes on her exotic loveliness. “I love you.” Of course she believed him. Since the car crash two years ago, never once did he flinch when he touched her. Instead, it was almost a year ago when he was responsible for her very first orgasm. There was no turning back. She was greedy for more and he willingly supplied her with his mega-doses of painkillers.

“Ouch!” she yelped. He had seized her by her hair, yanking her head back and biting her slender neck hungrily. She clawed at his sweating pink skin as he travelled down to her small breasts and sucked at her right nipple while tweaking and pinching the other in a deliberately painful manner. However, she did not protest. This sort of pain was healing. This sort of pain reminded her of her aliveness. This sort of pain freed her. For so long after the operation which sliced her lower legs off, she had remained numb and corpse-like. It was he who resurrected her, with violence.

Closing her eyes, Liling smiled as his long, moist tongue flicked with feathery sweeps over the tips of her goosepimply nipples. Descending to her navel, he smothered her golden-yellowish belly with drooling kisses and cheekily resorted to parting her stumps. Unable to bear the excruciating pleasure, she moaned, arched and pressed her chopped legs close against his blonde head. With vengeance, he prised her thighs open, digging his nails into her butterish skin. She screamed as he tugged sharply at her triangular tuft of black hair. “Bitch!” he growled and she groaned approvingly. Seconds later, just as she was struggling to gulp some air, he stuffed three of his fingers into her tiny, creamy slash and churned the flow of her sticky fluids. “You Asian chicks are so tight and cute. Makes me horny, baby.” The same lines. Each month. Each visit. Somehow, those words seemed to draw out the savage in him and transformed him further into an insatiable carnivore.

In one single move, he picked her up and flung her on her front, her backside, inviting to be slapped. Slap. Slap. Slap. Liling squeaked and pleaded. Tear-stricken, she begged it to end. Her buttocks parted, she trembled insanely as his tongue massaged her crack. Then, he paused, oiled his erection and spiked his way into her filthy exit. In In In. As expected, he finished halfway only and vented his frustration by cupping her rear and scraping its tender, lemony skin with his teeth. Once appeased, he slid back into kneeling position and overturned her dainty, quivering frame. Her supple arms flailed wildly in the perfumed emptiness and hit him against his broad, hairy chest. They wrestled. He laughed and slithered between her butchered limbs.

Her engorged lips throbbed as he expertly tickled her feminine hood. Up Down Up Down Up Down. Her bones rattled and she jerked, pounding her drenched self into his open, panting mouth. He drank her as she burst freely into him. Her agony, her bitterness, gushed out of her and he received and received, lapping every ounce of her pain and deep anger. His wide mouth was her temporary respite. No doctor, no drugs, relieved her as he did. She came and she came. Sparks of bluish white dots flashed in the semi-darkness as his licking quickened in its pace, circling her entire dripping inner and outer lips while simultaneously drilling two of his fingers into her rear hole. In Out In Out In Out.

It was at this point when Liling floated and drifted across the room, perfect and beautiful as she was before the tragedy. Her slim, tanned legs danced and flew above the humping, writhing bodies on the bed. She wiggled and jiggled and threw her head back, laughing at herself and her messiah, without whom she would not last the month.

Suddenly, she jolted and spirited back into the energetic motions of her flesh. Impaled by his massive, reddish-white erection, she gripped his waist as if holding on for her dear life. He rode into her, his hot spurts channelling tidal waves inside her dark, warm womb. Her phantom legs locked him around his powerful buttocks. She could feel them. They were real. They were there. No one could take her legs away from her. They were with her now. With him.

Liling twisted and wept, her face contorted into a mesh of emotions. His white largeness swallowed and wrapped itself around her golden-brown smallness and she desired to be crushed. Again and again and again.

He sponged her clean and towelled her dry. Feeling slightly limp, she allowed him to secure her diaper around her hips, dress her up and comb her hair. The waterproof sheet, the sexy lingerie and the satin cover were bagged and hidden in his car. The window was opened to let in the winter air and soon the fragrance of ylang-ylang faded into nothingness.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Evening, Rob.”

“Where’s Liling? What did the doctor say?” Robert helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator.

“The usual. She’s in good spirits. He prescribed more medication. I’ve left them on the dining-table.”

“Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate you for taking her to her monthly appointments.”

“That’s what fathers are for. Liling’s sleeping now. See you soon. I’ll get your mum to drive over with dinner. Cheerio.”

Arthur slipped on his coat and closed the door behind him.

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