EXCERPTS
from
SCENARIO FOR A LEATHER FANTASY
A SHORT STORY IN THE STYLE OF A MOVIE SCRIPT
by
Jim Stewart

Topics explored in this section of this story include:

Various aspects of Visualisation, Theatre of the Mind's Eye and Physical Theatre.


(excerpt 1,125 words from a 10,250 word story )
A PROLOGUE:

Not sure how to start this story. It's a personal jerk-off scenario. Getting it down on paper is something of a self-indulgence. A chance to develop a bit further a collection of visual images and a dramatic situation which involve all my favourite turn-ons.
I can see the two main characters very clearly in my mind's eye as I mentally get them to act out an experience that I would really like to take part in. Not that either character is me - but they're both part of me ... no, I mean there's a little bit of me in each of them.

As I write I'm still trying to work out a way to put onto paper a mental process I follow naturally two or three times a week; that is, imagining situations that excite me sexually. I build up the action and imagery step by step, picturing every smallest detail of their clothes and actions, listening in on their private thoughts while they're thinking the opposite of what they're saying; watching them manoeuvre when dealing with somebody they hope to win control over ... or is it to be controlled by? I like to watch and listen and still be a part of it all.
Maybe it's more like watching a movie which I've written. But if you've ever read through a movie script you'll know how confusing that can b.
But, for the purposes of developing this favourite fantasy of the Mind's Eye, I guess that's how it's going to be. That's the basic format.

Scene One: 'REVERIE'

The LEATHERMAN, dressed in well used and lived-in leathers, relaxes on a leather covered bed smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

His leather shirt and bikers pants with padded knees, the heavy-soled bike boots with metal clasps up to his knees, the Langlitz jacket and the Harley cap may be stereotypic, but they are more than a costume. They are his leisure-wear and sometimes night attire.

Smoke curls from his cigarette as the camera of our Mind's Eye allows us to see the details of his compact form and the way leather strains at the seams and where the weight of his body bites into the leather bedcover.

As the camera of our mind's eye travels lovingly across the mounds and crevasses of his body (and an attendant microphone picks up every creak and stir of leather against leather) an intimate narration "reads" his mind.

We hear a stylised reverie or private train of thought. Perhaps there is a hint of a 'B' movie detective story.

VOICE OF THE LEATHERMAN:
On the floor beside my bed there's a bundle of human meat sweating and straining inside a prison of black leather. As it tries to relieve the pressure on immobilised limbs I listen to the air being dragged in and forced out through the very few breathing holes in a tight-laced hood.

Sounds of breathing grow louder as the camera pans slowly down the LEATHERMAN'S legs and heavy boots to show the trussed-up figure on the floor.
The intimate voice continues as the camera explores in close-up, details of the total leather encasement and immobilisation of the 'victim'.

LM: From the soles of his cleated boots to the top of that eyeless, mouthless featureless helmet, it's leather all the way. Tough hide straps creak and groan - as he would groan if he could through a gag and three thicknesses of solid leather. The sound and smell and sight of his suffering body keeps me awake ... savouring a dream that might disappear if I close my eyes.

Camera holds the picture as the 'Victim' strains to find some relief inside the heavy leather strait-jacket that wraps and straps his arms across his chest. He then subsides to rest and drag in more air. From another angle we see the two figures.

LM: Does he know I'm here? - watching - or is he lost in his own suffocating surreal existence - helpless, totally dependent on me - his every sense distorted; no sight, hearing, tactile contact with the outside world. He can smell ... leather, taste the wedge of leather deep in his mouth. What else is left for him?

Sudden close shot of the featureless tight leather hood.

LM: At least his imagination is free to run riot - or has it already switched off, not able to deal with the situation? How much does he know about the effects of Sensory Deprivation? Has he read about experiments in Mind Bending; techniques for reducing even the toughest human being to a disorganised mess of mental and physical ... insecurity?

Camera begins a new journey across the body of the 'victim', catching a desperate flexing of an aching arm, the useless movement of fingers imprisoned inside the closed ends of the straitjacket sleeves.

Suddenly, the body rolls to reveal for the first time a network of solid straps and heavy buckles. These begin to flex and strain, tugging in different directions. The cleated soled boots jerk powerfully against straps which hold them pulled bent towards his tightly leather-covered ass. After a violent struggle the body subsides.

LM: The anger will soon die. What then? - despair - fear - or just deadening physical tension. His dependence on me is total. His very existence depends on me ... on me being what I pretended to be when we first met three short hours ago.

Camera again includes the LEATHERMAN in the picture. He still smokes what is probably pot. We continue to hear his voice, although he is not speaking - the style becomes slightly more consciously poetic.

LM: I am all he has in the world at this moment. If I reach out my hand and touch him - he will be grateful to know I'm still here. If I smack him - he will bear it - because he will have no choice. I am the cause of his suffering, the controller of his destiny - his only means of salvation. (He smiles down at the 'Victim') His only dread - his only hope. Without me - he would cease to exist.

The 'victim' who has been making yet another vigorous but totally ineffective attempt to gain extra ease or comfort, suddenly seems to stop fighting.

LM: I wonder how clearly he remembers me? Does he have any idea how long it is since I gradually and patiently manoeuvred him into his present situation?
Camera begins to close in on the LEATHERMAN's strong, masculine face.
Can he still formulate a rational image in his Mind's Eye? Who and what am I to him? Am I - any sort of reality?

MAIN EXCERPT ENDS
Links in sequence to two further extracts:
STRAIT-JACKET

A printer-friendly version of the complete text is available at
SCENARIO FOR A LEATHER FANTASY


 

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