Katherine
By Chameleon

Email address: ThinkTruth@Hotmail.com

Katherine was brought up in a family where the father was one of the pioneer divers in the Nordic sea after recent discoveries of oil. This was in the 70's, and the medical knowledge about what risk that was involved in diving several hundred yards under the water surface, was very limited. At least, that is what the authorities claim now. Some would suggest that they knew, but that the economical aspect regarding the black gold was totally overshadowing any concern for the divers. If that is true, I guess its just business as usual.

His health deteriorated over the years, and he developed all sorts of plagues that the doctors claimed were psychosomatic. But before the experience in the Nordic sea, his mental, as well as his physical health, had been in peek condition. Everyone who knew him could see the change, and his wife, who until then had relied on him to support her, had to find herself a job.

Katherine, who in many ways resembled what her father originally had been, a strong, self-confident and all-healthy human being, was almost traumatised by his change. She had been his sweet little princess, and had looked at him as her own private superhero. Now he was reduced to a depressed, sobering, and slightly pathetic man who clung to her mother whenever she had the time to give him her attention. Katherine had gotten her first lesson in what happens when a man is deprived of his ego.

But Katherine learned to adjust. She remembered how kind and gentle her father had been with her, and how easy she had wrapped him around her little finger. Girls learn quickly. They train with their fathers, brothers, and whatever man they encounter, on how to manipulate men. Even the dumbest woman usually has a minimum of smartness in this sense. Katherine was no exception, and used her understanding of her father to make him feel better. She gave him the smile that expressed her admiration for him, and could see it had its effect. Her father could lit up, place her on his lap, and tell her heroic stories from the time he ruined his health under water. Many of the stories had been told before, but Sandra pretended it was the first time she heard them. She loved to see that confident look in his eyes, -that shadow of his former self.

As Katherine hit the teens, she started to develop an interest in boys. There had been minor tendencies earlier, but she had kept her distance. She thought they were ridiculously childish and stupid, and developed an extra resentment against mean boys, who were quite so attractive to other girls. Sandra could never grasp that.

Her approach towards boys was awkward. She didn't quite know how to deal with them since they didn't respond to her compassionate and caring nature. They wanted to squeeze her breasts and brag about it afterwards. God, that annoyed her.

She spent parts of her time learning karate, and found out very quickly that more strength was required. Soon she was lifting weights, and focused especially on maximum force. At the age of seventeen, she kicked through a brick wall for the first time. But her main focus was on literature, and already at the age of fifteen, she had read many of the classics. She was particularly fond of Ibsen, and especially loved the play: "Enemy of the people." She said that if there had existed a 100.000 people like Dr. Stockman in this world, it would no longer be evil. It was she who awoke my interest for this writer.

When she became sixteen, still being a virgin, a new boy started in her class. He was underdeveloped for his age and had just hit puberty, but Katherine thought he was cute. By coincidence he was placed on a desk next to hers, far back in the classroom, and as they on several occasions the next days talked and flirted a little, they found out that they enjoyed each others company so much that the two desks was brought together.

His name was Roy, and he was completely overwhelmed with this girl's attention. She was almost half a head taller than he was, and even though he was not aware of her fighting skills, he was smart enough to realise that she was strong. To him she was a goddess, and not for one second did he believe that she had the slightest interest in him, but he still loved the gratifying way she responded to his efforts to please her.

Katherine wasn't clear on her position. She sensed his immaturity, but thought he was the most intelligent boy she had spoken with so far. Besides, she liked his insecurity. It sure beat the "I can have every girl I want" mentality among some of the most popular boys.

He lived on the countryside in a house connected to a small farm that was no longer in use. One day he invited her on visit and she gladly accepted. What motives he had remain uncertain, but he took her with him into to the barn where they sat down in the hay. She wasn't properly dressed for this, wearing a red, long skirt, but she didn't mind. He wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt, and soon they lied down and looked at the ceiling as they talk to each other.

Katherine liked lying next to this boy who was such a good talker. He always listened to what she said, and usually had some kind of an intelligent comment. He didn't know as much about literature as her, but could keep up with her on most other topics. In all, she grew more and more fond of him, and as she lye there, certain feelings started to arise in her.

She turned towards him.

-"Shall we wrestle?"

He couldn't believe his luck. Hugs were the closest they had got so far to a close contact, and there was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be allowed to touch her. This was a boy who had never kissed or fondled a girl.

Soon they were at it, and as the fight evolved it became clear to Sandra that if she wasn't going to win instantly, she had to pretend that she was weaker than she really was. She allowed him to end on top, before they again rolled around and felt their body's against each other. It was a new experience for them both, and Sandra became increasingly excited as Roy weakened under the struggle and hardly could keep up, no matter how weak she acted.

It finally ended with her pinning him down, and as she lied on top of him with her mouth inches from his, she felt a bulge in his pants pressing against her crouch. It was initially a shock for her, but she knew exactly what it meant, and as she looked at the exhausted boy under her with a reddish colour in his face, while trying to catch his breath, she felt enormous affection for him. In that moment she was no longer in doubt, and she pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss.

His reaction was not as expected. He tensed up, and his lips turned hard. She kissed him again, but got the same reaction, and now he was turning his head away. A new feeling arose in her, and she let one hand be in control of both his wrists before she grabbed his chin and forced his face back in position. Again she kissed him, and this time she held the kiss long.

He started to struggle, but the feeling of his weak body massaging hers in its futile attempt to get free, intensified her emotions, and she realised she was getting aroused. She was not inexperienced with sexuality, she was not more than 10 or 11 the first time she masturbated, but it was the very first time she felt aroused with someone else.

The feelings started to overpower her, and regardless of, or maybe even because of, his struggle, she began to fondle him under his T-shirt and kiss his neck. Now he panicked, and screamed: "Let go! Let go!", but she lied her hand gently over his mouth and sucked on his ear flip, as she once had seen in a movie. Even though he hardly had any force left in him, he continued to fight her in desperation, but with no use. His hardness rubbing against her body stirred up some kind of an aggressive hunger in her, and in a fast move, she got of him, took hold of his trousers and tore them down to his knees, together with his shorts, in one forceful pull. She looked with fascination at his gender that pointed directly at her. She was about to take off her panties from under her skirt when she heard a sound from him. He was crying.

For a moment she was confused. She looked at the boy as he lied there with hardly a muscle under his pale, hairless skin. His body had gone limp after wasting all its energy on fighting her, and left was a frightened boy with a stiff gender, just beginning to be surrounded by pubic hairs. She just realised that she had been about to rape a child. With an awful feeling inside of her, she lied down next to him, wrapped her arms around his body, and stroke his back while telling him that she would never do it again. She kept looking at his member as she held him, and saw that it slowly lost its hardness. A part of her was disappointed, but her primary concern was to make him stop crying.

After a few minutes he turned silent and wanted to get up. Reluctantly she loosened her grip, and without saying a word he took his clothes back on. She wanted to hold him again, but he backed off, and eventually she realised that she had nothing else to do than to leave.

He never looked her in the eyes again, and soon their desks were separated. She felt it as a great loss, but could never come to terms with that it was her fault. A part of her felt angry with him and wanted to force him to be with her again.

As she felt helpless regarding his rejection of her, nasty feelings occurred, and little by little, resentment built up inside of her. She started to make derogatory remarks whenever there was a chance to, such as when he told a classmate that he had handled a few years younger pupil that had attacked him for no reason. She leaned towards him and asked: "Are you sure he didn't make you cry?"

She wasn't satisfied with this, and went further every week. As they stood with the rest of the class waiting to be let into the classroom, she could position herself close to him and secretly pinch him on his side. He tried his best to keep himself at the greatest possible distance from her, but she learned his evasive strategy, and relentlessly found knew ways to taunt him. Slowly but surely she watched his mental defence wither under the pressure. A part of her felt guilty, but there was a little devil inside of her that told her to go on. She suspected afterwards that it all was founded on a wish to restore the friendship.

As she got caught up in her own evilness, it all ended one day when she went as far as to wait for him after school. There was a bridge nearby, and he was the only pupil that had to cross it to get home. The road was deserted at this hour, and she placed herself behind a tree, expecting him to show up any moment.

After a few minutes he came walking in his moping way, which came to signify him after months of bullying. His self-esteem was gone, and it effected his other friendships. In school he started to get lousy marks, and his parents did not have very pleasant ways to tell him what they thought about his deteriorating performance. He started to get the appearance of a bully-victim, with a facial expression that totally lacked any sign of confidence and positive energy.

She appeared from behind the tree and blocked his path. His terrified eyes turned blank, and she could see a twitch in his face as an expression of helplessness and desperation. He rushed towards her and hammered on her body with his fists as he was crying like an angry child. She hardly felt any pain, not even when one of his blows hit her breast, but she grabbed hold of his wrists and forced him down to the ground where she placed herself on top of his struggling body, with one knee on each of his arms.

Soon his anger turned into fear.

-"I'm sorry!.. I'm sorry", he said in a crying voice before his terror overcome his crying, and his look expressed a combination of apathy and fright.

She looked at him, and as his mental state finally awoke her compassion, she felt a sudden urge to cry too. Slowly she let go and stood up.

-"I'm sorry, I'm not going to pick on you again."

He got up and went for his schoolbag. She watched him in his misery, and felt a strong need to comfort him. But as she put her arms around him, he shoved her off. Again she felt the rising anger, but restrained herself and let him go.

Things got better for him after she left him alone, but as a grownup she knew that some scars always remain. Still, to this day, Sandra can't understand how she could treat him this way.

She told me one day that if every human being has guilt to carry, this was hers.

I met her at a party. A friend of mine, Sandra, and invited me with her since she knew I was lonely. She pitied my misery, but hadn't got the slightest interest for me romantically. She is one of those women who is overloaded with sympathy for others, and can give the lost and broken man the impression that she is an angel. I had fallen in love with her, and, to be quite frank, I think she liked it. I've been told afterwards that she loved to talk to her friends about my unhappy love for her, and how bad she felt about not being able to respond the way I wanted. Women can be cruel that way.

As I came, Katherine had already started to dominate the party by discussing literature with people who had just come to get drunk and have fun. She was persistent though, and was about to recommend books by Kafka as I sat down in a chair, opposite from hers. My interest in the discussion was immediately triggered since I recently had written an essay about "The process", and I remember distinctively that I said, as a remembered quote from my own writing:

-"The process, of Kafka is about a thinker's meeting with a world that he simply can't grasp. Where none of the rules that really defines the world is clearly defined, and therefore leaves any logical analysis of them as a futile attempt to understand their dualistic and contradictive nature. Like social norms, for instance. It is the most misinterpreted book in the world, and the fact that none of the people who pretend to understand literature sees the resemblance between this book and "The idiot" by Dostojevskij, is beyond my comprehension."

Could you, after reading this, guess that I hadn't even completed the book? Not even Katherine, who was an expert in calling a male bluff, saw through it, simply because I master the art of honest deceit. What the heck is that? It is the ability to give the wrong impression without telling one single lie, or even a bluff. You can back up every claim with a seemingly profound analysis, and even cause someone who's an expert on the field to raise his/hers eyebrows. It requires a sense of logic though. You see, the analysis can be correct too, but that can be a matter of coincidence.

Still green? You can prove nothing with logic if you don't have premises to base it on, and here lies the clue. No matter the premises you start with, logic can create the most impressive constructions of thoughts (theorems) and final conclusions. The only problem is that if the premises are rubbish, so will the conclusions be. But who will notice? As long as the logic is flawless, you can block every attempt to tear your beautifully constructed house of nonsense down.

Sometimes I'm not sure myself of what is deceit and what is not. What I do know, however, is that men, in that way, deceive more than women, and that I deceive better than most. But if you combine the abstract-logical thinking with a woman's intuition, it's no longer a sterile construction, it is the essence of a genius. This is the fundament for a Leonardo da Vinci, a Vivaldi, a Kant, or a Hieronymus Bosch; the symbiosis of male and female thinking. I didn't mention any woman? They're coming, the woman philosophers and writers who will shake the world and redefine our most basic concepts. It is just a matter of time.

My abstract-logical understanding is overdeveloped to compensate for the lack of practical, technical, and social intelligence, and can be a quite awesome tool to impress people. But little by little they sense that something is wrong, and sooner or later my inequities are discovered. Then its time to move on.

Oh, just so you don't misunderstand- After completing the book, I maintained my position on it, but that was not the point.

It did awake her interest, and after the party was over, she and I remained as the only ones that hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol. She invited me over to her place, and we ended between the sheets in her bed.

I could have described it a an passionate symbiosis of two soul mates, but that would more or less have been a blunt lie. She was reluctant to show her true self, being insecure about how I would react, and without her lead, it was left to me to make the earth shake. To tell you the truth, one of the reasons why I prefer strong women is that the weak ones expect me to show the way into heavenly pleasure. I want to be guided, as I often do in life when I encounter a task too complicated for my strictly logical mind to understand. Women sense things intuitively that I have just started to grasp after years of reflection, and the fact that the ingenious nature of some of them remains unrecognised by themselves, remains as an unsolved mystery. I guess it has something to do with male domination over language, writing, and thought.

Take the standardised build-up of a short story, for example. Slow rise of tension in the beginning, with an increasing growth of the curve as the story unfolds itself, reaching its climax just before the end, where it rapidly drops and flattens. What is this other than male sexuality? If women had written short stories they way they wanted, I bet there would have been many peaks, and not just one maximum.

It was a good time though, the first weeks we spent together. We were totally into each other, and as she held the truth about her sexual dissatisfaction skilfully concealed, I was proudly of the opinion that she saw me as her superhero. She had learned how to make a man feel that way.

Her first impression of me as a literary genius, gradually deteriorated as she discovered that I had hardly read anything compared to her. She didn't devaluate me, and expressed that she thought I had a "potential", but there were limits to how interested she was of my opinions about books I hadn't bothered to complete, to put it like that.

It didn't make her less romantically interested in me though, which is one of the other of life's great mysteries regarding some women. But it couldn't help that I became one more man in her life who turned out not to be the one he had presented him as. This arose a restlessness in her, and she became steadily more annoyed with her own self-sacrificing strategy to take a step back whenever that was needed to secure my male ego. To tell the truth, there was anger inside of her, a strong desire to break down my will and make more room for herself.

When her true self finally broke free, it wasn't planned. But still, it was a result of long built resentment over the current state of things. The touch of a feather could have triggered a strong reaction, and Katherine had decided that sooner or later she would make things change, no matter what I would think of it. She was going to use force and be a little ruthless if necessary. That stood clear to her.

She had a lot of complaints. I had never satisfied her orally, which was one of the reasons why she was unsatisfied sexually. She did it for me whenever she had her period, and I therefore didn't want to have intercourse with her, and she took clear notice of the selfishness in this expectation on my behalf. She did more households than me, which she sort of accepted, but couldn't get use to that I didn't even do properly the little that was left to me, such as cooking dinner and doing the dishes. Sometimes I just made soup with a ready-to-pour-into-hot-water-bag, and always left the dishes on the bench after I'd washed them. But what that irritated her most was that her male-ego building, that originally was done out of the goodness of her heart, turned out to be an obliged exercise she seemed to have to repeat every day for eternity. Sometimes, just sometimes, she wanted to treat me with the amount of respect I had earned.

One late evening we were at the beach. It was totally deserted, and we loved to take a walk in beautiful silence while hearing the reassuring sound of the ocean in the background. But this time, as our feet felt the moist sand underneath, she asked if I would take a swim with her. That sounded swell to me, and soon we had stripped naked and entered the water.

Katherine quickly took the initiative to fondle and kiss, and wrapped her arms forcibly around me. That had never happened before. Never had she possessed me like that, and I felt a little surprised as her tongue entered my mouth without asking for my permission first. But I guessed she was just passionate, and played along. Usually I didn't like making out so much, and struggled a little bit to get free, but as she refused to let me go and went on to kiss my neck, I discovered that I liked it a hole lot. My member immediately got hard, and I remember thinking that it was a whole new experience.

-"That was really good.", I said as she took a break to look at me.

She had a look of confidence in her eyes that I had never seen before, -but also something else that I couldn't interpret.

-"Turn around.", she ordered.

I did what she said and expected more intimate action. -But what I got was an arm around my neck that forced my head down, just above the water surface.

-"Now I'm gonna teach you to trust me."

-"What is it?", I asked confused.

-"I want you to say that you love me."

-"I love you."

-"And that I can do whatever I want with you."

-"Hmm?"

She repeated as a whisper in my ear:

-"Say that I can do whatever I want with you."

-"Ok, you can do whatever you want with me.", I said without taking it seriously.

-"Good. Take a deep breath."

-"Hmm?"

-"Take a deep breath. You will need all the oxygen you can get."

I got worried.

-"No- Katherine- let me go."

-"Take a deep breath.", she repeated impatiently.

I grabbed her arm to try to pull free, and as a result she ducked me under. I tried to pull harder, but with no use whatsoever. Soon, my struggle left me with very little oxygen left in my lungs, and it all started to get painful. As an instinctive reaction of apathy, my body went limp, and Katherine pulled me up again. I hadn't been under for more than a maximum of 15 seconds, put it felt like two minutes.

I breathed hard and in almost a state of panic. Katherine held me steadily in her grip without saying a word, waiting for my breath to catch up.

-"Let me go.", I said in a weak voice when I finally could talk again.

-"Take a breath.", she commanded.

-"No- please- let me go."

-"Take a breath, don't waste your chance this time.", she said in a cold voice.

It felt like she had turned into my nemesis, and in my terrified and helpless state of mind, I filled my lungs as hard as I could. And down I went under again.

This time I held completely still and waited for her to pull me up again, but as seconds passed, I had to focus all my energy on not to panic. I had understood that if I did, she would only prolong it. Finally she pulled me up again, and as my chest went up and down as a pumping machine, I felt a brief, soft kiss on my neck.

-"Please let me go. Please let me go.", I said as I was about to cry.

-"What did you do now? Did you object? Then I have to put you under again."

I couldn't hold it any longer and started to cry as a child.

-"Please let me go. Please."

Again I felt her lips on the side of my neck.

-"Was it so bad?"

I didn't answer, just breathed hard as the feeling of total helplessness came over me.

-"I think you're done.", she said and let me go.

I hurried on land and put my clothes on my moist skin. I wore shorts and a white T-shirt, while she put on her dark blue skirt and a dark green, thin pullover. I started to walk away from there fast, and as I noticed she followed me, I turned around and raised my pointy finger at her.

-"You didn't- You didn't have the right to do that!", I said in a state of anger and humiliation.

-"Don't make me do something to that finger.", she said calmly.

-"Fuck you!!", I screamed as all my emotions for a brief moment were transformed into rage.

Anxious of her reaction, I turned around and almost started to run. I heard her coming after me, and felt rising fear as I looked at her. The feeling of being chased was unbearable, and I stopped.

-"Get away form me!"

-"Don't be hysterical.", she said and positioned her self a few yards away from me.

-"I'm never going to be with you again!", I said and raised my pointy finger again.

-"Yes you are. You don't have a shred of what it takes to leave me. And if you don't remove that finger very soon, something is going to happen."

I couldn't take it. As a spontaneous reaction of defiance, I grabbed my hand full of sand and threw at her. She brushed it of her clothes.

-"If you want to, I can take you for a swim again.", she said, still calm.

My mental defence was about to collapse, and only will-based stubbornness kept up my resistance.

-"I want to leave you."

-"Sure, but not tonight. Tonight I want to teach you a new meaning of the word humiliation."

I don't know what happened, but suddenly my body relaxed as if to tell me that there was nothing more to be done.

-"Why do you treat me this way?", I asked in a calm voice.

Her look turned milder and she took a few steps towards me until she reached out her hands and put a gentle hold on my wrists.

-"Do you want me to hold you?"

-"Yes", I answered momentarily as if my sub-conscience took control and dictated what I should say.

She put her arms around me in a tight but gentle hold, and whispered into my ear.

-"It's over now."

A dam broke open and tears burst out of my eyes as I cried loudly and uncontrollably. My body shook and I clung to her with desperation. Slowly she put me down to the ground, and as I finally started to calm down, I felt her kissing my neck, my cheeks, my eyes and ears, and eventually my mouth, which she softly invaded with her tongue. She then pulled off my shorts and caressed my member with her hand, while she gave my body gentle love bites that caused it to twitch all over. Soon I was ready, and since she had never put on her panties, she enveloped me immediately while grabbing a hold on the neck of the T-shirt before she tore it apart.

As she approached her climax, she started to suck on my nipples, putting my whole body into new heights of sexual tension. We came simultaneously, and a feeling of being owned my her grabbed total control over my mind, causing me to wrap my arms around her and press her as hard as possible against me after I was emptied out.

-"No!", I burst out, almost in panic, when it felt like she wanted to free herself from my grip.

-"I'm just gonna change my position.", she said to reassure me.

I let go, and soon after I lied on the sand with her arms around me and my head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through my hair.

-"I can hold you for as long as you want. Just be a little baby, you need to relax now."

I looked up to her.

-"I love you."

She gave me a comforting smile.

-"I love you too."