”Baa baa black sheep…
Have you any wool?”
We pan in to see the walls of a nursery set up for a boy. They are a soft, almost heavenly blue with fluffy white clouds spread out across the room. The soft light from a small carousel dances across the walls, casting calming shadows of horses slowly galloping around the room to mirror the ones on the poles. Soothing music comes from this carousel, which corresponds with the soft, motherly voice singing the words. Her voice is soft at first, barely above a hum.
”Yes sir, yes sir…
Three bags full”
The voice gets slightly louder, but still a mild, polite voice, soothing the little one into a yawning frenzy. The soft sound of the yawn causes a break in the singing from a soft chuckle. The cooing sound of wondrous joy fills her ears, making her sit silently for a moment as the chimes of the music continue on. The squeaking of a basinets is heard as the mother gently rocks it. She continues on once again.
”One for the master,
And one for the dame”
We come around to see the lovely redheaded Roxanne standing above the basinet with a proud smile upon her face. She is wearing her usual attire of a black leather corset with red lace trim, a black leather mini skirt and thigh high latex boots with stiletto heels, as well as her ripped up fishnet stockings and top. She reaches up with her free hand to adjust her pyramid studded choker as her cherry red lips curl upward even more. Her emerald eyes gaze down as she continues to sing.
”And one for the little boy…
Who lives on Dreary Lane…”
Her cherry red lips practically purr the last line as she pauses once again. The creaking noise gets a bit louder as the suction of the young one’s cheeks is faintly heard once again from a yawn. Roxanne runs her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, and then proceeds to run it clear around in a circle. She nibbles on her lower lip for the shortest of moments, as if contemplating her next choice of words. She takes in a deep breath and flutters her thick, long lashes, allowing the deep emerald specks in her eyes to shine through.
Baa baa black sheep…
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir..
Three bags full
”Ohhh yeah, mommy…”
The deep masculine voice seems to completely break Roxanne’s concentration as the gentle gaze in her eyes turns into tiny venomous vipers, ready to attack the culprit in just a matter of seconds. Her immediate response comes from left field as she reaches behind her, retrieving her handy dandy whip. Within a second of being called mommy, she lashes her whip, but much to our surprise, it is forward at the infant! She grits her teeth in an attempt to hide her quivering lower lip, getting her own sick charge from this all. She lashes the whip out twice more at the child, only to elicit an unexpected response. The same masculine voice that had goaded her into this, moans after wincing from the thin line of pain and pleasure.
”Oh yeah, one more time, mommy? That’s really getting me going…”
Roxanne: PLLLLLLEASE explain to me where you got the idea that you could speak out to your mother?! It is well past your bedtime, and you are still awake, and it’s beginning to piss mommy off!
She barks in the direction of the basinet. We pan out a bit to see a balding, overweight man in an adult diaper and a babies’ bonnet tied to his head loosely. He is chained to an oversized basinet/torture rack, and he looks pleased with himself as his breaths quicken. His chest heaves in excitement as his blue eyes run all over her body in excitement. Roxanne tightens the cuffs around his wrists so much that they cut into his skin. He nods his head in approval, which only seems to upset Roxanne further. She reaches under his rack and pulls out a ball gag, quickly placing it over his mouth. He mumbles under his breath as he looks at her with those wanton eyes.
Roxanne: Mommy is not in the mood to stay up all night with a fussy little bitch boy, so I suggest you do as you are told before you really make mommy mad and I put you in time out…
The man reacts happily in response to the suggestion, causing Roxanne to lash her whip out once more. Getting the opposite reaction of what she had hoped for, hitting the same red mark on his stomach, she shakes her head. Dropping her whip down on the ground in front of her, she reaches under the rack once more, pulling out a leather paddle, lined with shiny pyramid studs. She surveys the reaction as she walks to the other side of the basinet, lifting up the blue covering to reveal a spinning lever. She quickly turns it, causing the man to turn upside down. She rips at the cloth, tearing it off cleanly to see his half naked body dangling from his cuffs. She pulls down the back of his diaper and raises the paddle up high in the air. The man groans from under the ball gag in an eagerly dreadful response. Her fist shakes in the air as she prepares to bring the paddle down on him with extreme force, but she stops herself, cackling at his saddened reaction.
Roxanne: You think mommy is an idiot, don’t you? You think I haven’t dealt with your kind before? Allow me to let you in on a little secret… Most of the twisted fuckers who call me up don’t do it just because they want me to talk. You aren’t some magically special case I have never seen before who *air quotes* just happens to enjoy getting spanked and getting a rise out of people…
Roxanne walks over toward the man’s head and crouches down, stroking his dishwater blonde hair gently as she winks at him. He pleads with her under the gag, trying to convince her otherwise. She places her finger to her own lips, gently shushing him, getting a thrill out of his suffering.
Roxanne: I know you are some sadistic corporate dickhead who gets off almost as much on firing poor people to pad your own pocket as you do having some stupid wannabe dominatrix who feels more empowered by wearing latex than stripping at the titty bar down the street to pay her way through nursing school. You get stiff at her half-assed whipping technique and the bored look in her eyes. Pardon me for breaking character for a moment, but I don’t think you completely understand the dynamics here… I am not here to please you. I am not here because I need more money to put my crack baby in name brand clothes so that the other kids won’t know their mommy does naughty things for money… I’m here because I want to be pleased. I need to satisfy my hunger for dominance through humiliation and pain, BUT not before quenching my insatiable thirst for respect. I just figured you needed a reminder of exactly how this works pork chop…
The man protests under the gag, so Roxanne pulls the ball out of his mouth, listening to his complaints for all of four seconds…
Man: Listen here, bitch… I’m paying you to…
… before she lets go of the ball, smacking it hard against his lips, causing an excruciating reaction from the man. She rolls her eyes as a small amount of blood begins trickling down onto the carpet. She giggles softly as she parts her lips to exhale in pleasure from the sound of his cries.
Roxanne: No… YOU listen here, “bitch”… You are paying to serve me because, even though you enjoy being an asshole in real life, you want someone to stand up to you and put you in your place like the little pussy you are. That person is going to be me. So if you want to go to bed later and wank, thinking about the beating I am going to give you, then you are going to have to earn it. Do you understand me, boy?
He slowly nods his head, shuddering at the thought of her merciless lashings. She gives one firm nod before standing up. She loosens the gag from his mouth and drops it to the floor, kicking it under the rack while reaching into her pocket to pull out a cigarette. She lights it up, taking a deep drag.
Man: Ma’am, er, mommy? Smoking is, um, bad for the baby, and I don’t think the wife would be okay with it.
Roxanne: Well, with the twisted crap your wife pays someone to do because she is more concerned with spending your money than pleasing you, I think smoking is at the bottom of the list… Basically, mommy doesn’t give a shit. Why don’t you cry about it?
Man: But…
Roxanne: CRY LIKE A BABY!
Almost instantly, the man begins a poor attempt at crying, causing Roxanne to growl out in fury, pulling a bag from underneath him. She begins packing the whip and paddle into her bag, causing him to let out a more nasally, whiny cry that seems to be to her specifications. Her face tightens up in a stern disciplinarian manner. She takes a long drag from the cigarette and blows it right in his face, causing him to choke. He stops crying until Roxanne picks up the bag and flings it over her shoulder, turning on her heels to face the door. He lets out an almost ear shattering cry that begins to feed her ego once more. She turns back toward him, taking another long drag from the cigarette before turning the lever once again to return the man to his proper position. She flips the ash onto his stomach, rubbing it in with her fingers. He continues to cry while watching in an odd sense of satisfaction. His bottom lip quivers as she flips the ash onto his chest next.
Roxanne: Open your mouth, baby boy. Mommy needs an ash tray.
He obediently opens his mouth and Roxanne runs it across his tongue, eventually pressing it down to give him the full effect of the nastiness. She places the slobbery butt into his open belly button. She grabs onto his face, looking deep into his eyes for a moment, studying how she could take this any further while remaining somewhat in character. A sparkle enters her eyes as she digs her nails into his chin.
Roxanne: Somebody has been a very… very… bad boy. I think he needs his sissy ass beaten, don’t you?
Man: Ohhh yeahhhhh… Mommy, he needs it beaten baaaad…
Roxanne: Do you think I am being too hard on him? Maybe I should send him to bed without supper?
His eyes beg so loudly for her to pull that whip out of her bag and leave lash marks all over his body. He even groans in disappointment as he jerks his body around from the sheer anticipation and aggravation of having to wait.
Man: No, no, no! You aren’t being too hard on him. He really needs to learn a lesson, mommy. He might just keep doing it and doing it again if you don’t come down on him, and hard!
Roxanne: Then maybe he should beg me for it. Convince me that I’m not being too hard on him.
Man: Please… oh PLEASE beat his sissy ass mercilessly. He needs to know that he upset mommy… Ohhhhhh….
Roxanne sighs and shakes her head in disappointment. She rolls her eyes as she readies her bag for another exit, causing a long stream of “No”s to escape the man’s lips. He groans anxiously and even allows his voice to break as he tries to plead with her.
Man: NOOOO! Please, mommy! Please beat me until I’m black and blue! I have been a very bad boy, and I NEED to be punished. I… I fired some guy last week because I didn’t like his stupid fucking ducky tie. His wife was seven months pregnant and they just bought a house!
Roxanne turns around, disgusted with herself for conceding to this despicable man’s desires, but she smacks him across the mouth, sending bloody spit flying. He gasps in shock from the surprise, but soon his body quivers in anticipation. Roxanne quickly loosens his restraints, yanking him up by the throat and tossing him against the furthest wall. She breezes over to him, pinning his hands to the wall. She reaches to her back pocket and grabs a set of handcuffs, slamming it around one of his wrists, and then slides the free end through a large metal loop on the wall. She grabs his other hand and snaps the other cuff around the wrist. She checks him into the wall, dropping her bag to the ground, fishing through it for her whip. She stands up and rears her hand back.
Roxanne: You FILTHY! DISGUSTING! SWINE!!!
She begins relentlessly lashing out at him, tearing at the flesh just enough to cause trickles of blood to slowly fall down his back. She roars as she relentlessly lashes his back all while he moans out, wincing a bit from the natural reaction, sending shivers down his entire body. She finally gets a grip on her emotions, reeling them back in as she looks at him disgustedly. She puts the whip back into her bag and flings it over her shoulders. She walks over to the dresser, picking up a wad of bills and sliding them through her fingers.
Man: Wait… Don’t stop! I’m not finished!
Roxanne counts the bills with a smile spread across her face as she slowly looks over in his direction, pleased with herself.
Roxanne: Well, I am. I have to get over to some old guys house to pour soda over his naked body in a bathtub… It’s been swell, Chuck.
Man: But… aren’t you going to at least unlock these cuffs?
Roxanne taps her chin lightly, thinking it over. She sighs as she walks over to the man, rolling her eyes. She pulls the key from her pocket, fidgeting with it for a moment.
Roxanne: No…
She drops the key down to the floor kicking it under the dresser by the door. She chuckles sadistically to herself as she sways her hips on the way toward the door. The man begins muttering in a panic about his wife seeing him this way, causing Roxanne to lick her lips with intrigue. She takes one last look deep into the camera before departing.
Roxanne: Amy? Just like this pathetic piece of shit… come Sunday, I’m going to make you my BITCH!
With that, Roxanne walks through the door, leaving the man shouting out in an indistinguishable plea for her to free him. He groans and cries as he wishes for her mercy, only to realize he isn’t receiving it by the slamming of the front door as we fade out…
***************************************************
The sun is but a mere orange glow in the beautiful orange and blue sky above the white sand beaches of St. Thomas. The clearest of waters seems to do the sky little justice, as even the most perfect painting of the most wondrous of skies would be an injustice of massive proportions. The moon has just begun to become visible in the sky as most of the beach goers have packed it up and are heading in for the evening. Going against the grain is the Amazonian Bombshell, Roxanne. She is wearing a big black floppy summer hat along with a two piece black bikini with a large silver ring in the center of the top, as well as on each hip. She is wearing a black see through robe along with her usual black thigh high boots. If we didn’t know any better, we would assume that she were about to pose for a Tim Burton Beach spread. With a cigarette pressed between her cherry red lips, she walks past everyone, gathering look of contempt from mothers, and skeevy catcalls from the fathers. She finds the perfect beach chair sitting in the middle of the sand, getting a clear view of the sky with absolutely no distractions. She sets her black bag down on the ground next to the chair, fumbling through it for a moment. She pulls out a black “umbrella” that is more like jagged rods with a few small pieces of fabric that waft in the light breeze. She positions it until she feels it is just right. She lifts up her large shades as she scans the path, looking for her faithful followers who are more concerned with bickering amongst themselves than keeping up with her. She rolls her emerald green eyes as she slowly drags from her cigarette. Electra notices her impatient look from fifty feet away and she runs as fast as she can toward Roxanne. Boy attempts to catch up, but Electra still reaches her first. She hugs onto one of Roxanne’s arms and sticks her tongue out at Boy. He grunts from under his gimp mask, but wastes no time grabbing onto Roxanne’s other arm, helping her to sit down on the chair as if she were royalty. She clears her throat, and this time it is Boy who darts off before Electra.
Electra: DAMN KISS ASS!!!
She flips him off before looking at Roxanne who simply stares at her, obviously holding something back. Electra shrugs her shoulders innocently as she gives her famous puppy dog eyes. Roxanne pokes her tongue at the side of her mouth as her signal that she is annoyed. Electra begins rubbing Roxanne’s shoulders as she kneels down behind the umbrella. Roxanne tilts her sunglasses back down and leans her head against the back of the chair as if sun bathing. She moans as Electra works out the kinks in her shoulders. Boy comes running back to Roxanne with a glass in his hand. The martini glass has a black licorice wheel on the rim, and contains an orange liquid with a black cloud over the top. Roxanne takes a drink and moans in delight once more.
Roxanne: Thank you both. You are the best kittens anyone could ever ask for…
Roxanne rolls her head around in a circle slowly, getting the full effect of the shoulder rub from Electra. She soaks in the stars and the impending moon, enjoying the light music coming from the cabana several feet away. She takes in one last drag from her cigarette, allowing the smoke to linger in her lungs for a moment longer than usual, feeling completely and utterly relaxed.
Electra: Should I rub harder, Madame?
Boy: Kiss ass…
Electra: QUIET YOU!!!
Roxanne growls at the lack of relaxation she is feeling right now. Electra straightens her posture and focuses solely on rubbing Roxanne’s shoulders. Boy curls up at end of her seat close to her feet. Electra mumbles something, but Boy chooses to ignore her and enjoy the time with his Mistress. Roxanne still doesn’t straighten her posture, lifting the glasses from her face as she turns around.
Roxanne: Do you have a problem, kitten? Was I not clear when I said that I wanted to come out here for a quiet, relaxing evening without the slimy bastard children running around and screaming for absolutely no reason while their lazy parents let the sharks and lifeguards babysit them? I’m pretty sure I said this at least once before, so this makes it one too many times… I suggest you shut the fuck up, or find some other way to amuse yourself and allow me to relax.
Electra furls her brows and points over to Boy, but Roxanne simply purses her lips, causing Electra to stop dead in her tracks. Roxanne gently slides her robe open to expose her porcelain skin to the glow of the moon. Electra goes to rub her shoulders once again, but Roxanne holds a finger up toward her. Electra bows her head and walks off, muttering curses under her breath as Boy conceals his amusement under his mask. Roxanne shakes her head and rolls her eyes before turning to face the crystal waters of Morningstar Beach. No sooner than she considers sitting back in her chair does she hear a very distinct voice.
Tessa: Bloody hell! Yer Roxanne, aren’t ye?
Roxanne opens her mouth, not sure how to react to someone being completely and utterly pleased to see her. She keeps her intensely neutral expression on her face as she gently folds her glasses, hooking one piece on the ring in the center of her chest. She looks up to see the blonde standing there in a black tank top with the Pixies emblem emblazoned upon the front and ripped jean shorts with the pockets hanging out of the bottoms, and more beads than any one person should wear unless it were an attractive twenty something girl at Mardi Gras. Her bleached hair is tied and to the left side as her light freckles are tickled by the orange from the fading sun. Tessa’s Irish-Cockney accent seems to intrigue her a bit, so she doesn’t immediately snap at her.
Roxanne: Oh… hello Fiona…
Tess crinkles her nose up as she giggles in confusion. Roxanne winks at her, knowing the reference has gone completely over her head. She relaxes a bit in her chair as Tess grabs the nearest chair, bringing it up to Roxanne. Even though the moment for questioning Roxanne’s name confusion, Tess can’t help but ask the obvious question.
Tessa: What? No, my name is Tess, Tessa, Contessa… Not Fiona.
Roxanne: You don’t say…
Tess doesn’t exactly know how to respond as she kicks back in her chair. She giggles as she looks down at Boy who is curled up at Roxanne’s feet, but she decides not to question it.
Roxanne: Obviously, you don’t watch Burn Notice, so we don’t have that in common… What common thread do we have that makes you think I want to spend my relaxing evening sitting next to you?
Tessa: Ummm…. Well, I admire yer work in the ring. Yer just as cheeky as ye are tough.
Roxanne: You should join my fan club. All members get a free t-shirt, and an opportunity to sit next to me without me bitchslapping them all over the beach.
Tessa: With an attitude like that, I get the feeling I would be the one and only member of that club. Maybe I could buy ye a real drink and ye could forgive me for being so rude.
Roxanne chuckles under her breath as she slowly turns her head to face Tessa, giving her some hint of respect. She looks over to her colorful drink and then back over to Tess. She slowly nods her head as Tess throws her hand up into the air to grab someone’s attention.
Tessa: Us natural reds need to stick together I guess. That way when one of us gets extra c*nty, the other can back her up, yeah?
Roxanne: Is one of the terms of this free drink listening to you talk about bonding over Channing Tatum movies and secret dildo stories, because if it is, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass…
Tessa: No, I just… Ye know what? If ye don’t want me around, I can just leave.
Roxanne doesn’t oppose her, simply offering a disgustingly fake “sweet” smile. Tessa grumbles as she gets up from the chair. She starts to walk off before mumbling just loud enough for Roxanne to hear her.
Tessa: … and it would be an absolute fucker if that slag Amy Marshall gets away with trashing your name around the entire resort… Ye probably did purposely duck out of that fight.
Roxanne: Excuse me? If you want to get, as you put it… “extra c*nty” with me, at least have the goddamn courtesy to say it loud enough for me to hear the whole thing! No doubt that pathetic scag is saying all sorts of things about me, but I don’t need you acting like it’s some big fucking miraculous revelation to me. Her mouth is only good for two things, and spewing shit has been known to be one of them. The other you two apparently have in common.
Roxanne opens her mouth and jolts her fist toward her mouth, poking the opposite side with her tongue. Tessa growls loudly, turning around to face Roxanne so that she could see her fiery Irish eyes staring daggers through her. Roxanne lifts herself off of the seat, causing Boy to perk up like a cat, watching in a strange sort of anticipation. Roxanne walks over to Tessa, puffing her chest out like a man in a confrontation. Tessa suddenly starts laughing, causing Roxanne to cock her head to the side curiously.
Tessa: I like ye, Roxie…
Roxanne: Trust me when I say that the feeling is very much NOT mutual…
Tessa: It doesn’t change the fact that I put many a quid on ye against Amy.
Roxanne: Then you are even dumber than you look. Do you think I am actually meant to win this match? They all but declared a winning when they announced this match. Not that I couldn’t take Amy with my hands tied behind my back, but with Necra as the referee? She knows that without that Roulette title, people will realize she is irrelevant, possibly even more than Amy herself. So she is busy kissing Amy’s moronic ass, while Amy pretends she doesn’t care. But it is the one bit of attention she actually gets rather than botching title matches every time she turns around.
Tessa: Ye can find a way to win this. And if ye don’t, ye will regret it. I don’t just throw a hundred quid at anybody. Call it a gut feeling…
Roxanne rolls her eyes at Tessa, almost groaning at her pathetic attempt to pep her up. Tessa folds her arms across her chest, not giving an inch to Roxanne’s attempt at intimidating her. Plus, she realizes that she has struck a chord with Roxanne.
Roxanne: With Necra trying to ride on Amy’s scraggily coattails, which is a complete role reversal these days, there is no way that Necra will allow me to win. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t bitch smack her all around the ring, and make her wish that she never stepped foot on my bad side. Hell, I might even pull out a chair and knock both of their asses out, getting disqualified. But I will be damned if Amy gets to pin me. She will be lucky to even touch me in this match. She might as well pretend it is another title match, because she is going to walk away empty handed and with a welt on her forehead. See, instead of pointing out that she has more crabs in her panties than all of the seven seas combined, like the “sheep” she claims I am… I will point out facts.
Tessa nods her head, allowing Roxanne to go off into her own little tangent. She smiles, getting the rise she had hoped for, even if it took a lot less work than she had planned for. Roxanne begins pacing as if Tessa is merely the camera during a shoot interview.
Roxanne: She is dumber than a special school drop out. That alone is my greatest advantage. She talks out of her ass, claiming that all I do is choke. I have not been defeated in a decade. I led her to one of her very few victories here in SCW. The only other explanation besides being fuck-tarded is that she is displacing her own self esteem issues and her guilt unto me. She is SCW’s resident choke artist. She is the female Casey Williams! All I have done here is win matches, and awards for putting on the best match of SCW’s first year. I have Mark Ward who is pissy because I’m the one Bombshell who won’t get down on all fours for him, and he tries his best to sabotage me at every turn. Yet I… still… win!
Roxanne pauses and looks directly at Tessa, fueling her good mood even further. Roxanne gets within a few inches of her face as if trying to get her to listen even further. Roxanne tightens her fists together as she growls before continuing.
Roxanne: I left my mark in SCW without ever having to win a worthless championship belt to prove my worth. I did something that no one will ever be able to take away from me, along with Misty. We made history. Amy is jealous of that fact, and she tries to throw it in my face that she was some piddly Bombshell Tag Team Champion with Necra, as if that is some sort of major accomplishment. Had they beaten The Fallen, then I might concede to her with that fact, but she didn’t. The two of them couldn’t take on either Odette or Misty alone and stand any kind of a chance. Long story short, she is worthless, and I will prove that in the ring come Sunday. And if Necra knows what is best for her, then she will stay the fuck out of my way and call things down the middle. If not, I WILL be on a war path…
With that, Roxanne bumps into Tessa’s shoulder and storms off in a huff. Tessa seems surprised at how abruptly things had ended. Boy quickly lowers the umbrella from Roxanne and tucks it into the bag next to the beach chair. He zips the bag closed and flings it over his shoulders as he runs to catch up to Roxanne. Tessa watches the scene, completely amused. She stands there for a moment before breaking down into a fit of laughter. She literally pats herself on the back as she strolls off in the opposite direction, pleased with herself.
