Venom
11-23-2008, 11:42 AM
I chose this one:
(Orange is original text to be commented; Red is comment)
The O’Connell Chronicles: The Dinner Party by H Dean
Chapter 1
Francis directed his guests into his study, introducing them to his artwork. All were properly impressed and filled with questions as to how this magnificence was achieved.
"Are they all real?" a voice asked.
"Of course. I've a friend who…he is the...um...director of a facility that creates these masterpieces,” he told them (actually he told it - the voice, since he is directly answering to its question. But no one would say that.). “I have another piece in the works, as a matter of fact."
His guests milled around first one piece and then another, touching the objects and mumbling to their comrades.("mumbling to each other". The original formulation /technically/ says that there are two groups in the room, the guests B and B their comrads.) A tall woman of an older generation stood over what appeared to be a marble statue depicting a nymph pleasuring two satyrs. Smiling she bent down and peered into the nymphs closed eyes and whispered something. The eyes opened, startling the woman.
"So hideous," she whispered. "Francis, I'm curious, how do you...well, how does she eat or..." (critical punctuation; "Francis, I'm curious; how do you...well, how does she eat or...?")
Francis smiled as he strode towards the older woman. "As you can see, one satyr has his cock in her mouth and the other in her ass. I won't go into all the plumbing, but there is a small machine that pumps food into her stomach and another that cleans her out."
"I must have one!" she exclaimed.
"Perhaps that can be arranged, Beatrice," Francis said, a broad grin of satisfaction on his face.
"How did you manage this one?" asked a tall, dark haired man.
"Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis said, striding over to the man. "I had to have this adjusted somewhat. The spider webbing originally fed into her fingers, but that proved to be a bit problematic. They feed into through the back of her hand now. I'm rather partial to the change: It (it) allows her fingers to move now."
“It’s quite exquisite,” the man replied. (unnecessary; it is obvious who is replying)
“Thank you. I wanted her to appear much like a painting,” Francis said. (the phrase "Francis said" is used too often; "Francis replied" or, especially for the earlier line: " "Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis declared")
“My initial thought was of Fay Ray in the clutches of King Kong. Then I settled on an image from an old pulp fiction fantasy novel I read as a young man. I can’t recall the name of the book, but the image of a nearly naked girl trapped in a huge spider web was rather…well, it stayed with me.”
As if on command the girl's fingers wiggled, garnering a smile from her captor. Reaching out, the man stroked the girl's leg, prompting her from her state of slumber. Her steel gray eyes blinked open, taking in the rare sight of strangers.
"Please, help me," whispered the girl (girl is repeated three times in a row; better use "captive", "female", ...), suddenly hopeful for freedom.
A chuckle of sadistic satisfaction rose from the gallery of people.
"Marvelous!" Beatrice issued. "Such hideous beauty. Such sadistic pleasures you must find in this beauty."
"More than I can express," Francis related. "Many is the night that I have taken my seat across from her, enjoying her exquisite suffering while my dutiful Desk brought me to full satisfaction."
"Desk? Who or what is Desk?" asked the woman.
Francis turned his gaze to the small desk at the far end of the room. It was made of dark oak and appeared well crafted and sturdy. From the center top of the desk, just beneath the desk's top piece ("desk" and "top" two times in one sentence) could be seen the lower portions of a woman. Her bottom jutted out slightly and her feet spread wide and disappeared into the desk's thick legs.
"She has relative freedom until lock into her place," Francis told the small crowd. "When not in use for my sexual pleasures or cleaning, she is there. When unattended she has a pump attached to her bottom to clean out her wastes."
"I assume that her upper half is useful when she is ensconced by the desk?" chuckled one of the guests.
"Please, feel free to look," Francis told the man.
One by one Francis' guests made their path to the other side of the desk to admire its most impressive attributes.
"It appears you have modified the girl quite severely," the older woman said.
"Ah, yes. She is, in fact, a Christ-like figure," Francis retorted, smiling. "Her hands and feet have rather large holes through them, titanium tubing filling the holes so they remain open and useful. Her breasts have been greatly enlarged and are, in fact, still growing thanks to an implant her creator calls ‘silly string’. Her lips have been shaped and enlarged, and her teeth have been replaced with a synthetic material."
"You said she has duties other than being a desk," Beatrice said. "Which means she can be removed from it. It also means that you trust her to be free in the house. That's a bit risky, if you ask me."
"Her mind is not what it once was. In fact (third time of use; change it into "actually", "the truth is, that", ...), she has little recollection of the girl she was before she became what she is now," Francis told her. "Her only want in life is to be a pleasure toy. She has actually stated that she envies the other pieces I have here - wishes she were one of them."
"Interesting", the woman said.
"Well, I think it's time for the party to get started," Francis exclaimed. "So, if you don't mind, I will free Desk from her bondage and have her get to serving. Please, follow me to the dining room."
Over dinner, Francis' guests spoke in grand words about his living furnishings. All were in awe and most were in a quest to discover how they might acquire their own pieces.("All were in awe and most of them in a quest to...")
Amidst the excitement and revelry, none noticed the one man who sat quietly observing the actions of all in attendance. It was only after dinner had completed that he was introduced.
"It seems that you are all in agreement," Francis announced. "You all want what I have. Well, I have news for you. The man responsible for these creations is here.”
Their attention was immediate, as was the sudden silence filling the room. Anticipatory, each guest awaited the words that were to follow.
“He has been made fully aware of the status of each individual here,” Francis continued. “He knows your base interests and the truth about your, or our, illegal activities. However, as careful a man as he is, he wished to observe each of you before allowing me to compromise his identity.”
Francis paused for a moment, enjoying the sudden tension. He cast his eyes from one guest to another, enjoying their wide-eyed attention. Finally, Beatrice rose from her seat, her eyes burning into Francis.
“Damn it, man! You’re going to give us all heart attacks, you sadistic bastard!” she exclaimed, a smile playing across her lips.
Francis returned the smile, raising his arm in an open handed gesture. “Friends, I want you to meet Jerry O’Connell.”
All eyes turned towards the man at the far end of the table and watched the man (repitition) ease himself from his seat. He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed before smiling at the guests.
“It’s been awhile since I have been away from my playground for a night like this,” he began. “I admit to having a very enjoyable time. Your company and adoration of my works has been quite enjoyable (repitition). Were I a more easily influenced man my head would be swelled beyond the ridiculous. Francis?”
“Thank you, Jerry,” Francis responded as Jerry returned to his seat. “Now, let’s retire to my study. I am sure you have many questions, hopes and fantasies you wish to discuss with my esteemed friend.”
That are my two cents; as you can see, most of my "Reds" are stylistic comments.
(Orange is original text to be commented; Red is comment)
The O’Connell Chronicles: The Dinner Party by H Dean
Chapter 1
Francis directed his guests into his study, introducing them to his artwork. All were properly impressed and filled with questions as to how this magnificence was achieved.
"Are they all real?" a voice asked.
"Of course. I've a friend who…he is the...um...director of a facility that creates these masterpieces,” he told them (actually he told it - the voice, since he is directly answering to its question. But no one would say that.). “I have another piece in the works, as a matter of fact."
His guests milled around first one piece and then another, touching the objects and mumbling to their comrades.("mumbling to each other". The original formulation /technically/ says that there are two groups in the room, the guests B and B their comrads.) A tall woman of an older generation stood over what appeared to be a marble statue depicting a nymph pleasuring two satyrs. Smiling she bent down and peered into the nymphs closed eyes and whispered something. The eyes opened, startling the woman.
"So hideous," she whispered. "Francis, I'm curious, how do you...well, how does she eat or..." (critical punctuation; "Francis, I'm curious; how do you...well, how does she eat or...?")
Francis smiled as he strode towards the older woman. "As you can see, one satyr has his cock in her mouth and the other in her ass. I won't go into all the plumbing, but there is a small machine that pumps food into her stomach and another that cleans her out."
"I must have one!" she exclaimed.
"Perhaps that can be arranged, Beatrice," Francis said, a broad grin of satisfaction on his face.
"How did you manage this one?" asked a tall, dark haired man.
"Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis said, striding over to the man. "I had to have this adjusted somewhat. The spider webbing originally fed into her fingers, but that proved to be a bit problematic. They feed into through the back of her hand now. I'm rather partial to the change: It (it) allows her fingers to move now."
“It’s quite exquisite,” the man replied. (unnecessary; it is obvious who is replying)
“Thank you. I wanted her to appear much like a painting,” Francis said. (the phrase "Francis said" is used too often; "Francis replied" or, especially for the earlier line: " "Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis declared")
“My initial thought was of Fay Ray in the clutches of King Kong. Then I settled on an image from an old pulp fiction fantasy novel I read as a young man. I can’t recall the name of the book, but the image of a nearly naked girl trapped in a huge spider web was rather…well, it stayed with me.”
As if on command the girl's fingers wiggled, garnering a smile from her captor. Reaching out, the man stroked the girl's leg, prompting her from her state of slumber. Her steel gray eyes blinked open, taking in the rare sight of strangers.
"Please, help me," whispered the girl (girl is repeated three times in a row; better use "captive", "female", ...), suddenly hopeful for freedom.
A chuckle of sadistic satisfaction rose from the gallery of people.
"Marvelous!" Beatrice issued. "Such hideous beauty. Such sadistic pleasures you must find in this beauty."
"More than I can express," Francis related. "Many is the night that I have taken my seat across from her, enjoying her exquisite suffering while my dutiful Desk brought me to full satisfaction."
"Desk? Who or what is Desk?" asked the woman.
Francis turned his gaze to the small desk at the far end of the room. It was made of dark oak and appeared well crafted and sturdy. From the center top of the desk, just beneath the desk's top piece ("desk" and "top" two times in one sentence) could be seen the lower portions of a woman. Her bottom jutted out slightly and her feet spread wide and disappeared into the desk's thick legs.
"She has relative freedom until lock into her place," Francis told the small crowd. "When not in use for my sexual pleasures or cleaning, she is there. When unattended she has a pump attached to her bottom to clean out her wastes."
"I assume that her upper half is useful when she is ensconced by the desk?" chuckled one of the guests.
"Please, feel free to look," Francis told the man.
One by one Francis' guests made their path to the other side of the desk to admire its most impressive attributes.
"It appears you have modified the girl quite severely," the older woman said.
"Ah, yes. She is, in fact, a Christ-like figure," Francis retorted, smiling. "Her hands and feet have rather large holes through them, titanium tubing filling the holes so they remain open and useful. Her breasts have been greatly enlarged and are, in fact, still growing thanks to an implant her creator calls ‘silly string’. Her lips have been shaped and enlarged, and her teeth have been replaced with a synthetic material."
"You said she has duties other than being a desk," Beatrice said. "Which means she can be removed from it. It also means that you trust her to be free in the house. That's a bit risky, if you ask me."
"Her mind is not what it once was. In fact (third time of use; change it into "actually", "the truth is, that", ...), she has little recollection of the girl she was before she became what she is now," Francis told her. "Her only want in life is to be a pleasure toy. She has actually stated that she envies the other pieces I have here - wishes she were one of them."
"Interesting", the woman said.
"Well, I think it's time for the party to get started," Francis exclaimed. "So, if you don't mind, I will free Desk from her bondage and have her get to serving. Please, follow me to the dining room."
Over dinner, Francis' guests spoke in grand words about his living furnishings. All were in awe and most were in a quest to discover how they might acquire their own pieces.("All were in awe and most of them in a quest to...")
Amidst the excitement and revelry, none noticed the one man who sat quietly observing the actions of all in attendance. It was only after dinner had completed that he was introduced.
"It seems that you are all in agreement," Francis announced. "You all want what I have. Well, I have news for you. The man responsible for these creations is here.”
Their attention was immediate, as was the sudden silence filling the room. Anticipatory, each guest awaited the words that were to follow.
“He has been made fully aware of the status of each individual here,” Francis continued. “He knows your base interests and the truth about your, or our, illegal activities. However, as careful a man as he is, he wished to observe each of you before allowing me to compromise his identity.”
Francis paused for a moment, enjoying the sudden tension. He cast his eyes from one guest to another, enjoying their wide-eyed attention. Finally, Beatrice rose from her seat, her eyes burning into Francis.
“Damn it, man! You’re going to give us all heart attacks, you sadistic bastard!” she exclaimed, a smile playing across her lips.
Francis returned the smile, raising his arm in an open handed gesture. “Friends, I want you to meet Jerry O’Connell.”
All eyes turned towards the man at the far end of the table and watched the man (repitition) ease himself from his seat. He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed before smiling at the guests.
“It’s been awhile since I have been away from my playground for a night like this,” he began. “I admit to having a very enjoyable time. Your company and adoration of my works has been quite enjoyable (repitition). Were I a more easily influenced man my head would be swelled beyond the ridiculous. Francis?”
“Thank you, Jerry,” Francis responded as Jerry returned to his seat. “Now, let’s retire to my study. I am sure you have many questions, hopes and fantasies you wish to discuss with my esteemed friend.”
That are my two cents; as you can see, most of my "Reds" are stylistic comments.