~ OTAGE ~
la putain du cargo
the whore of the cargo
I hardly remember the voyage by truck on the bad tracks of Iraq. I believe that the terrible heat which reigned in the case, the stinking smell of my body and its dejections, the infernal suffering caused by the objects which smashed my anus, my vagina and my mouth with each bump, thirst also, had plunged me in an almost total unconsciousness.
I gathered memories when light draught, slipping through the boards,
the murmurs of a harbor, gulls, siren of boat, a vague gleam and a perfume
of salt finally woke up me.
The case moved, turned on itself, oscillated. Noises of a machine.
A shock which made me groan. A large deaf slapping as a trap door is
closed again. Then darkness. Sea, a boat... I supposed it
Suddenly, in the state of coma where I was, to my surprise, the muzzle was removed.
My jaws went shakingand a stream of water sprinkled my face.
I drunk, I strangled myself, I closed my eyes.
I aspired with frenzy, I sucked this nozzle, the food which dropped there... still and still.
The rubber sex invaded my mouth again.
I groaned with despair. I struggled, doing nothing but wounding me even more.
The case moved. The piles tore me, the ropes sheared me. I passed out.