Spin the Bottle – November Smut

Recently for Annex Theatre‘s Spin the Bottle we did our yearly edition of “60 Seconds Max.” Over 50 performers gather onstage and perform an act that is no longer than one minute! A lot of the performers this year did a great job of keeping their bits to 45 seconds or so, which became a fun exchange between them and the booth operators. There were a couple of pieces that had a through line, songs, short skits, and raps. It was a raucous good time.

My favorite was Annex alum Becky Poole, because she had the audience create a chord of notes, then she sang a beautiful song over it. It was a departure from her usual characters, and brought everyone together in harmony of the moment. Truly lovely.

This year, I had the distinct pleasure of reading smut. This piece bogged me down for a long, long time, making it hard to decide on what to even write about. I bounced around a million ideas, but kept coming back to one: the Persephone myth. Ever since I was confronted with the idea that maybe our interpretation was not all that it was about (bigger mysteries, and all that) I’ve been trying to re-think it. It started with a dialogue exchange between Demeter and Persephone I started writing last year in a tarot writing workshop. For this month, I wrote two versions, one heavy with dialogue and monologue, but decided to perform the second version which had no other dialogue and relied solely on the voice of Persephone. Much easier for performing aloud. And I’d like to share it here! Please read at your own leisure/pleasure. 

Persephone 

I recently lost my virginity. To Hades. God of the underworld? I went underground, then he ordered his hand maidens to bathe me then oh! I see the looks on your faces. You think he forced me. No, don’t deny it, I can sense your judgement from here. My husband, Hades, dark lord of the underworld, did not rape me. I chose to go.

Understand, when a maiden such as myself is told that she must make a sacrifice and a journey to be initiated as a goddess, she goes, because that is how it is done. My fate has always been clear—I am to be the goddess who links the two realms of life and what lies beyond. I have power over spirits, and those who communicate with them. Not a bad gig, actually. Morbid, but fun.

I instantly knew when my sacrifice began. It was in the days of when I was becoming familiar with that area. You know, my vulva, my pussy. I was familiar because I touched myself when I was alone in the meadows. I would touch myself in the day, under Apollo’s carnal and energetic gaze. I would go to the forest at night, in the moonlight, guarded by Artemis and her hunting dogs. I also went to Neptune’s ocean, letting the waves crash against me, my body shuddering from so many shocks.

One day, as I was playing among the waves, and I felt a warmth between my legs. Then the inner wetness seeped out. The liquid coming from inside me slowly moved into the ocean and onto my white gown. I was surrounded by a magnificent cloud of red. I bled my blood and the earth rumbled. Then I walked to shore, walked for days. I reached a cave, the entrance to the underworld. I was unwashed and my white dress was stained with dirt and blood. My hair was matted and tangled. From the darkness a pale hand, with long and bony fingers, stained red at the tips with blood, reached out for me. The moment the hand touched me, I fell asleep. In my sleep I had strange dreams, but those are lessons for another time. It was Hades, who told me later that in order to cross through the veil, I had to be anointed with his blood, and made immobile, as if I were dead.

After sleeping for some time, completely unaware of the world around me, I woke up. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t open my eyes, wiggle my ears or my fingers or my toes, and I felt my hand maidens probing and primping and brushing me relentlessly. Oh! There is your judgement face again. I liked it. Imagine being completely taken care of, from head to toe, rubbed and scrubbed so that you’re freshly clean. Your skin is buffed smooth, your nipples are erect—oh, it’s the sweetest pleasure.

And Hades is sexier that I could have ever imagined. (I was never allowed to see him when I was young, lest I be tempted too early.) I was struck dumb when I saw him for the first time, even though I could move my tongue again. He is tall and pallid, yet there is a rosiness in his cheeks when he sees me. Some mortals above ground believe he is a skeleton because he cannot be comprehended except in shadow. And he is strong, as Death should be. When we’re together, we endlessly melt into each other. I have never had so much power over a man—let alone a god—but when we kiss, I feel his entire body cave into mine. We merge in more ways than one.

The first time we were together, he bade me wake from my transitory state. I sat up, dressed again in white, but in an ethereal dress made from some mysterious fabric. I could feel every part of my body showing and not showing. Could he see my chest flush red? I was aroused, and I was positive he could see it. He held out his hand, hollow in the candlelight, yet substantial. His long fingers drew me closer to him.

We exchanged words about oracles, and fate, mysteries, and lust, how I came to be with him, and my sacrifice. Then we kissed. His lips were cold, but soon warm as my life surged into him. I could simultaneously sense my desires and his feelings for me. I wanted him right then and there, to lift up my dress and ravage me on the table. My wetness surged from deep within me, moistening my uppermost soft, inner thighs.

We ended up in his bedchamber, I don’t know how. His cloak was on the chair and I was able to fully take him in, to see him. I understood why so many would be afraid. He is so tall and strong, dark and frightening. But I wasn’t scared. I wanted him. I pulled my dress up to my hips, over my breasts, and up over my head, letting my long hair cascade back down over my naked body. Then I lay back on the bed, beckoning my dark Lord by rubbing my neck, my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, my pussy, slipping a finger into my wetness, then slowly rubbing around my clit, then back inside my pussy.

Hades came to me on the bed, placing his hand on mine as it was inside me. Suddenly I was entering myself with a new amount of force ten—no, a hundred—times more powerful than my own. We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like days. I continued to thrust as his strong hands pushed hard against my bones. I felt a chill followed by fiery heat every time we thrust together, then the shuddering came. I knew this shuddering, from my times in the meadows and the night forest and the ocean, but with my lover’s hand it was unreal. I was in a different place, a million different places, then it didn’t matter, I was in Hades’ arms.

We exchanged more words, then he entered me in ways I’d hoped for and in new ways I never imagined. We tasted each other’s skin, each other’s darkness and light, our legs tangled as I was soaring on top then he was thrusting from behind. I screamed, I laughed, I cried, learning a new pattern of ecstasy that would last for an eternity.

Then he gave me the fruit. It was large and round and broken into chunks, filled with hundreds of red seeds. Each one was supple and soft and the deepest blood red. I began to take them my mouth, gently at first. But they were so good, I continued to eat, bursting the seeds, their red juices spilling out onto my naked body and the sheets. A new sacrifice. Then Hades cradled me once more, letting the juice from the seeds stain his skin as well.

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