Merrick (shadowsremain) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-09-23 17:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | merrick |
Who: Merrick and Dr. George McClintock (NPC)
What: More questions, interesting manipulative conversation
Where: Merrick's Cell, The Institute
When: 15 September 1888 [backdated]
Ratings/warnings: PG for sexual talk
There was hope. And that was a dangerous thing to anyone. But more so for anyone in an abusive situation like enslavement. Merrick was beginning to feel hopeful towards their extrication from the Institute. Adrien had a plan. And all the djinn had to do was wait another two weeks.
Merrick sat in their wingback chair in their cell, waiting like royalty with their hair puffed up in a pompadour with strands of blue, red, and purple. It had been a while since the last experiment. Smirking, they waited as they rapped their short, perfectly manicured fingernails on the upholstered arms of the chair.
Dr. George McClintock entered the suite, and sat in the chair just outside the glass.
He noted the asset’s current style with a raise of his eyebrow and a few jotted notes -- the djinn tended to be mercurial, and could vacillate between being extraordinarily sullen and churlish, to self-pitying and melancholic, to arrogant and self-righteous, and it’s clothing often dictated its current mood.
It tended to be far more cocky after a day out and about, McClintock had noticed in the few months he’d been working with the creature -- and while that often came along with a significant dose of attitude, it was still an interesting datapoint.
“Tell me, Merrick,” McClintock said, crisply, “what all did you do this past Wednesday, on your day off?”
Merrick’s skin crawled at the sight, sound, and smell of Dr. McClintock entering. He had his own pompous air about him. And it was abhorrent.
The djinn had forgone jewelry for the day - not needing impress that much. Besides, they were foreseeing an experiment, a routine examination. Yes, they wore their mood from time to time.
Smirking, Merrick looked McClintock in the eyes. “My ‘day off’? Such jovial and even-grounded words you use,” the djinn chuckled dryly. They grew silent for a good ten seconds and then spoke again. “I caught up on the day’s news. Whitechapel, such nasty events.”
“What words would you use, then?” McClintock replied, a little tartly. Merrick was a creature whose entire reason for existence was to serve, after all -- it was markedly more compliant when given privileges that could then be taken away, however, and it could be quite devious -- something McClintock never forgot.
But it was interesting to get its responses to things, even if it couldn’t ever be taken at face value.
If Merrick could hear McClintock’s thoughts, they would strangle him first chance they would get. But the djinn was limited in their actions. “Hmm, what words...since I am an asset, a piece of property much like a your writing implement or your engineers’ crescent wrench, or a servant or slave much like many of the poor out there,” Merrick gestured. “I would use the words - allowance of limited freedom.”
The djinn took a casual glance down at their fingernails and then slowly looked back up at McClintock.
“Hm,” McClintock snorted, amused, and wrote some notes. “I see. Tell me what else you did. Walk me through your day.”
Watching McClintock, Merrick was annoyed by the man’s words. “You don’t and never will. I walked from sunrise to sunset.” They smirked and then looked up at the ceiling of their cell, looking quite bored.
McClintock sighed, leaning back in his chair, annoyed. “Where did you walk? What did you see when you did go walking?” He leaned forward a hair. “You are skirting a line, Merrick. Don’t make me order you to be honest.”
Merrick lowered their gaze and stared at McClintock. Then that threat. “Do you know that tiny book shoppe over on Gower? I went there.” Then they smiled, closing their eyes as if to recall something quite amusing. “It is ever so amusing to watch people as they pass by, as they filter through the shoppe looking for a tome. Did you know there is a...what do you call it these days...gentleman’s club, brothel...not too far away?”
McClintock’s eyebrow raised. “I am aware,” he said. “Did you go there as well?” His gaze was frank, and more than a little curious -- the sexual desires of such a creature hadn’t been an area of inquiry as of yet, and while some of his peers scoffed a little for his favoring the writings of Sigmund Freud, he still found the topic worth exploring -- perhaps by learning more about the demon’s proclivities, he could gain greater insight into its subconscious.
Merrick was so amused by that eyebrow raise, but they didn’t let on externally. “I did,” they grinned and gently ran a hand over their right knee. “Have you been there? It is quite the place. So much cleaner than ones I’ve visited in the past.” Jovial would be a word for the djinn’s attitude. But all in all, it was a game.
“Hm, so you visit brothels,” McClintock replied, not wanting to give Merrick details of his personal life. “Tell me -- do you experience sexual drives and desires? What attracts you to others?” He pointed at Merrick’s physical form. “Does your body experience sexual pleasure?”
The djinn looked through the glass at McClintock, dark brown eyes even darker at the questions. “As you say I am an ‘it’, ‘thing’, or ‘demon’ - I am much different than you. I do not experience things the same way. Attraction is such a primal term... “ Then they paused at the pointing. “It approximates what I know of what sexual pleasure should feel like.” Thin answers - like they would tell him anything that deeply personal. They would lie.
“You say you do not experience things in the same way,” McClintock replied, trying to not appear too overly eager. “Tell me how it differs? If you are not attracted per se, what are you drawn to? Or do you experience attraction at all? Do you, for example, seek pleasure from women who have a specific appearance, and, if so, what kind?” He leaned forward in his chair. “And what of the actual act of sexual congress -- you say you find it pleasurable. Is the physical method of receiving pleasure similar to what a human would experience?”
“Let’s say my pleasure centers are not as sensitive as humans would be which requires more than just the delicate touch or simple act. I’m drawn to vitality. I do not care for specific as long as they are clean of disease.” Merrick paused, noticing McClintock’s leaning forward. “It is similar - but it is difficult to describe. In this physical form…,” Merrick spoke and grinning as their hand slowly moved up their thigh. “It is similar, but it requires more…”
“Really.” McClintock replied, his mouth suddenly dry, bending his head back to his paper and taking notes. He muttered to himself, quietly, as he scribbled disconnect between physical form and mental and apparent need for greater stimulation. He looked up at Merrick. “I take it you have no particular emotional connection to those you have congress with?”
“Yes,” Merrick sighed, letting their head fall back and tilt a little to one side. They watched McClintock, liking how they were teasing him. Blinking slowly, the djinn watched the man’s face. “No, why would I? They’re not my Master,” Merrick spoke and mildly slapped their thigh.
McClintock’s eyes couldn't help but dart over to the djinn’s hand, and he cleared his throat.
“Have you had congress with any of your masters before, and if so, was it different?”
They chuckled on the inside at McClintock’s eyes darting to their hand. Perfect.
“Of course,” Merrick smiled bright as if to recall the happiest, the sweetest of memories. “Imagine the perfect connection...mutual agreement, and mmm, the push and pull of power.” The djinn closed their eyes, their free hand moving up to unbutton their shirt down to the hollow between their collarbones.
“You went willingly?” McClintock replied, a little strangled sounding, “without orders?” He looked up and noticed Merrick’s hand at his neck. “What… cease that, Merrick,” he said, a little sharply, two spots of color high on his cheeks. “Now is… now is not the time, nor the place.”
The djinn’s hand stilled with their fingers slightly curled around the edge of their shirt and they opened their eyes at McClintock’s sharp words, seeing those two spots of color on his cheeks. Perfect. A look of hurt began to form in their eyes. “Yes, I went willingly. You have to understand...with how I am bound to my vessel and by extension my Master, there lies the emotional connection.”
“...Ah,” McClintock replied, scratching his pen furiously across the surface of his notepad before crossing out possible additional privileges?. “So you are drawn, are… connected regardless of the qualities of your Master? The gender, say?”
The furious nature of McClintock’s scribbling caught Merrick’s attention. Was he writing a book or a guide? The djinn sniffed softly at the questions, knowing a bit of the second question could get any male in trouble when it came to same gender relations. “That is the nature of my enslavement. Why do you ask, McClintock?” Merrick asked, their voice softer with a touch of worry.
“Because it's interesting,” McClintock replied. “On many levels. The nature of one's sexual preferences alone, how… how it can differ for something like yourself, who is not human, had no parents to speak of… and it suggests a connection between master and servant that we were not aware of previously, perhaps similar to demonic energies…”
He realized he was talking too much, revealing too much, and he frowned. “it's interesting,” he repeated.
“‘Interesting’...” Merrick breathed and looked off for a moment. “Do you what it’s like to engage in congress and not feel pleasure both physically and emotionally? That connection…” The djinn looked down at their hand on their knee. “The majority of my Masters have been men.”
“Hm…” McClintock frowned, and wrote ‘sex = power?’ before continuing. “What percentage of your masters before you came here willingly sought congress with you? Those who were men?”
They lifted their head and breathed. It was ever so curious for the man on the other side of the glass to be so very interested in sex. Such prudes were really deviant. “I would say of all of them - forty-eight percent. Of that, maybe eighty percent were men.” In truth, Merrick felt the same during congress with anyone - master or not. But there was no unsaid or automatic attraction or obedience for such acts from the djinn.
“Fascinating,” McClintock muttered. He scribbled a side note to Wilhelm, to consider the master-servant bond in his electrical studies. “And your attraction -- your connection to others -- do you have a recollection of what said connection was like before you were tied to your vessel?”
A little detail left out was that Merrick took the form a master desired - man or woman. The djinn continued to watch, shifting to slouch a little in their chair. “I do. in a word - disjointed.” They smiled warmly and reached up gently stroke their neck with the palm of their hand.
“I see,” McClintock replied. “This has been… most illuminating.” He cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll see you next week, then, Merrick.”
The djinn began to frown as McClintock spoke and stood. “I will be here waiting, George.” Merrick spoke, looking sad as the man was leaving.