Author: beebeehappy

Alicia was barely 19 when she first entered my office. I took notice of her mainly due to the smattering of freckles on her face, which you could tell was normally pale but today was a becoming peachy pink. Those freckles really popped. I wondered if I could count them. She had a riot of dark brown curls tumbling down her back and her chest was heaving as though she’d been too engulfed in a bodice ripper and had to run for the bus. Late for her first day, I thought disapprovingly. Not a good sign.

‘Yes, May I help you?’ I asked, clearing my throat slightly and shifting in my seat. A faint waft of sweat mixed with summer roses had reached my nose. I looked down my glasses at her.

‘Mrs Jones told me to report to you, sir. I’m new. The new cadet. Alicia Southerland.’ She looked like she was about to offer me her hand, but at the last minute thought better of it. She wiped her jeans-clad leg instead. I was aware that I was feeling inclined to be charmed by her air of gawkiness. This would not do. Read more »

I met a man who was in SE Asia. He told me he was a Dom, sometimes gentle, sometimes sadistic. It depended on his sub – what she wanted.

He looked gentle, as such Doms often do. He had curly dark hair that he’d chopped short in a pointless exercise at control, and kind light eyes.
He wore a white t-shirt as though he were still at home in a Canadian summer and not, in fact, in the humid cesspool of the tropics. Behind him the people he was trying to save swirled, an endless crowd of humanity and, obviously, inhumanity. Otherwise I guess he’d have stayed home.

I liked him immediately, despite my initial attempt to use him for my own ulterior purposes. He was meant to write for me, but here I am doing the reverse. I think he’ll like it – Doms need spoiling sometimes too, even by brats.

I imagine myself as he’d desire: obedient, acquiescent, reclining in leather straps for his pleasure, my legs open and tethered. His tongue will lap between my butterflied wings as his fingers squeeze tighter and tighter on my pierced nipples until I’m spiralling so high on pleasure and pain I can’t tell the difference and I’m plunging off the cliff, flying into rapture and screaming his name. Read more »