The New Womans Broken Heart: Short Stories by Andrea Dworkin

Author:Andrea Dworkin [Dworkin, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary Criticism, General, feminism, Fiction, Short Stories (Single Author), Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
ISBN: 9780960362806
Google: kv9lAAAAMAAJ
Amazon: B001IPBCHG
Publisher: Frog in Well
Published: 1980-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

6

the wild cherries of lust

(for Orisis)

bertha schneider had once been a woman and was now an androgyne. as a woman she had lain for 8 years on her back with her legs open as the multitudes passed by leaving gifts of sperm and spit, now as an androgyne her legs were still open but at the same time they ran, jumped, swam, stood up, skipped, and squatted, her mouth was also open and what nestled there with restless fervor also found its way to her armpits, under and between her breasts, to the creases in her neck, to the small of her back as well as the bend of her elbow, not to mention where the bend of her elbow often found itself.

bertha had passed 2 years of celibacy before becoming an androgyne. she had fucked during that time in much the way vegetarians eat hamburgers—sometimes and not proudly, yes, she had been fucked and gutted and ransacked occasionally by sweet young boys who lived on street comers, yes, she had sucked the cunts of brilliant, strong, and worthy women with abandon and no small measure of delight, but all the while she had dreamed herself celibate and had even imagined that she was a virgin again as she once had been—only this time in spirit as well as in body, on purpose instead of by accident.

bertha had changed much in her one short life, as a woman she had often been whipped and had lusted for that agonizing, exquisite humiliation, those who had whipped her were not yr vulgar wife beaters but velvet coated actors and curly haired painters as well as revolutionaries and workers, the whips had been real leather and when her back and ass were shredded and blood began to form puddles on the floor, the whip handle had often as not been stuffed up her cunt or ass. now as an androgyne she had renounced all that, she was proud of the fact that in her soul whips did not speak to her. oh yes, there were occasional fleeting seconds—moments even—of desire that verged on need, yes, sometimes the muscles in the pit of her stomach did tighten and she did lust for the lash of the whip, not to mention the whip handle, but she was secure in her conviction that she who was now an androgyne would not regress to being a mere woman, it would take, she knew, more than one man could offer to make her into a woman again, it would take, she knew, a concert hall filled with thousands of people, her bare-assed naked on stage shackled in wicked chains, being whipped by, dare she say it, Jean-Louis Trintignant, before she would even be tempted in a serious way.

bertha had changed physically as well, as a woman she seemed to be all breasts and ass. indeed, if other parts of her body existed, they went unremarked by the world at large, now as an androgyne her breasts had diminished

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