Tag Archives: fiction

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 2.4

Okay, I swear I’m not going to fall into the habit of making the fourth part of each chapter the lewd part.

If you missed the previous installments, check here!


I tossed my keys on the counter and glanced back at Vivian. “Well, here it is. Don’t judge.”

She smiled as she hung her coat on the rack by the door and looked around the place. I blushed a bit and made myself busy in the kitchenette. I hadn’t really intended for dinner to lead to- actually, no, that would be a lie. I had very much intended dinner to lead to something else. I just hadn’t expected that we’d be coming here. The place was less immaculate than I would have liked: dishes in the sink, discarded outfits near my dresser, underwear on the top of the laundry bin, etc.

Vivian had followed me into the kitchenette and I gasped a little as her arms slid around my waist and her lips pressed against the back of my neck. “No judgement. Promise. I like seeing where you live, Zoe. I like knowing more about you.”

I could feel my cheeks burning scarlet as my pulse quickened just having her this close. “You do?” I said as I closed my eyes and leaned back against her. I smiled as I pulled her arms tight around me and indulged in her embrace.

“Of course,” she said as she let her mouth wander up until she was whispering into my ear. “It lets me know just how to get into that pretty little mind of yours.”

I laughed and turned my head, my lips meeting her cheek. And then our lips came together and for a moment I lost myself in the taste of her. After the kiss broke she smiled that dangerous little smile of hers, kissed me once on the cheek, and whispered something else into my ear, something I didn’t quite hear.

My body felt as though something inside was starting to unwind. A knot of heat twisted and radiated out through my chest. A moment ago, I had been gently leaning against Vivian, luxuriating in her attention. Now, I was clutching at her, clinging to her, desperate. Her arms tightened around me and she kissed the top of my head. “Shhhh…I’ve got you, kitten.”

And then she said that word again. My body arched, sweat beaded my brow, half formed sounds tumbled from my lips. And again. If not from her arms I would have tumbled to the floor. My legs were weak, my thighs clenched helplessly. Again, I half heard syllables falling from her lips. And I came with her kissing my ear. My whole body shook as I cried out in mindless, inarticulate bliss. And the whole time she held me close.

Finally, she gently let me go. Still unable to stand, she helped me slide awkwardly down the length of her until I was on my knees on the floor. With one hand she gently but firmly guided my chin to look up at her.

“Now, are you going to stop worrying about disappointing me?”

“Yes” I managed, barely a gasp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Mistress”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 2.3

Did someone say montage?

If you missed the previous installment, please click here!


I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and stared across the counter at a hyperactive barista who had just rattled through way too many options way too fast. “Uh…cappuccino? An extra shot of espresso. Mmm…make that two shots,” I managed. As I dumped just a little extra sugar into the rich brown bliss, the aroma of coffee triggered memories of Vivian’s lipstick and her soft, genially predatory smile.

“So in a population approximating a normal distribution, which is our go to assumption for all randomly selected sample populations, some individuals will have an acute response while others may have no apparent response. Now, you can’t assume that…” I flexed my fingers and tried to focus. I loved this stuff but the professor was making it hopelessly dry and dull. Why do some people have voices that just kind of fail at captivating the human brain? Now, Viv’s voice, well I could listen to that for hours.

I tensed and arched my hips up off of my bed. One hand sliding slickly between my legs, the other busily toying with my left breast. I didn’t even try to be quiet. Sweat shimmered across my skin and my bangs clung to my forehead. My breath came quick and ragged as I felt my body build to the climax I needed. With an inarticulate scream that might have been a curse of pleasure, my orgasm took me, wrenching and wonderful. I collapsed back exhausted and laughing. Shaking my head that what had pushed me over the edge were thoughts of her.

Jacques smiled as they held a clove cigarillo between lips painted a dark, vibrant green and triumphantly put their last domino down on the rickety table. “Boom. I win.” They preened and blew a smoke ring up towards the awning protecting us from drizzle. “I- uh…hey, Zoe? You look a little distracted. Wait…did you let me win?” Their eyes narrowed in melodramatic suspicion. I just smiled, shook my head, and asked: “Hey, do you know whether Vivian has plans for Saturday?”

I carefully clipped my nails, trimmed away dead cuticle, filed, and lotioned. The cold clammy feeling of a mask from some beauty company or other pervaded my face and I silently prayed to the fickle goddesses of beauty shop freebies that this thing was actually good for my complexion. A little later I painted my finger and toenails. And a little after that I went back and fixed all the mistakes I’d made the first time. I needed to look my best.

I listened to the sound of light rain and stared into the full-length mirror. This was the third outfit I had tried on and I still wasn’t completely happy with it. Traffic had been bad coming back from class, and the clock was ticking down. This wasn’t the time to be indecisive. But no matter how much I thought that I couldn’t help it. I wanted to wow her.

Look, what I’m saying is: I had a crush.

[Fiction] Trust/Fall, Chapter 1 (Complete)

So, it’s come to this. I not only managed to stick to releasing this thing, I actually managed getting an entire chapter finished! It’s collected here for ease of reading. I toyed with the idea of waiting and releasing this Thursday instead of the first part of Chapter 2, but there was rather insistent demand for new material.

A sincere thank you to everyone who has encouraged me and shared the story so far. I promise that there is a lot more to come.

Oh! And if you missed the prelude, click here!


“Fuck,” I whimpered at the dead piece of vinyl between my legs and my nose curled at the faint smell of smoke. This wasn’t working. A magic wand is a terrible thing to waste, and burning one out seemed a bit more like pointed commentary that I was comfortable with. Fifteen minutes and a cold shower later, it still wasn’t sitting well with me as I toweled off my shoulder length hair. I looked down at the dead vibrator sitting sadly on my bed and frowned. I flicked the switch back and forth and offered prayers to whatever god looks out for single kinky girls. Nope.

Flopping on the couch in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, I stared up at the stucco and thought about my options. School was a no, the less anyone there knew about my personal life or proclivities the better. Bars were…problematic, the kind of things I liked to do were best done sober and not with complete strangers. Personal ads? Nah, that just seemed like a good way to wind up in pieces in the river. “Fuck,” I reiterated with a heavy sigh into wet blonde bangs. Propping myself up on one shoulder I poked the laptop on my coffee table to life and with one finger poked out: ‘bdsm clubs’. Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

I mean, sure, first I had to scroll through a host of sites form the early days of the net, had to break out the brain bleach to deal with loud color schemes, autoplaying metal music, and so called ‘true dom’ bullshit, but in the end? I found a name: Sable, an address, and a calendar of events. With one of those events, a tea & coffee munch, being held in just two days. I paused as I looked at the event details. Maybe this had been too easy. I think my mind had wanted something more unattainable, something to think about and fantasize over, and eventually give up on. I hadn’t really expected it to be as easy as just, showing up and having a cup of tea. And now that it was, my stomach squirmed a bit as I tried to think of a good excuse. I bit my lip as I stared at the screen. My mouse hovered above a small RSVP button. And I clicked, and began typing an e-mail.

We’ve all got times in our life that we look back on and think: what would have happened had I done this differently? Where would I be if I had stayed home? Would things be the same had something different? And its infuriating, because you’ll likely miss the biggest decision of your life when you’re making it. You can only see that sort of in retrospect and then sometimes you’ll lay awake at night and gaze into the dark and entertain: what if? And those thoughts? They terrify me. Because I look at what came from that night, and can’t imagine my life any other way.

* * *

It turns out that the human perception of time is relative. Yeah, I know. Not exactly the biggest insight there. We’ve all had good times fly by while those things we would rather not linger: class, dentist visits, etc. take forever. Those two days? They took around two years, minimum. My anxiety used that time to run amok. What would these people be like? What should I wear? What if someone from school found out? Thoughts and fantasies about it occupied almost every moment not spent on class or sleep.

Of course, when the time came it was all rushing and cursing the traffic for making me get home late. Then it was popping in and out of a shower and racing through my wardrobe trying to find any of the outfits I had spent hours planning. Not to mention what I had to do to make my hair actually behave. Somehow though, it all came together. I made it out the door in a style that was both cute and warm: heeled boots, tights, and a cute black dress bundled beneath a scarf and a gray tweed trench coat.

The place really was just a short hop from my apartment. I’m not quite sure what expected from a depraved sex dungeon, but I actually drove right past it at first because it was so unassuming. Sable was tucked away down a little side street in a slice of downtown more devoted to shopping and nightlife than business. It was the only business on that street, but it shared a building with a bar and a darkened, “appointments only” junk shop. The windows were heavily tinted and the name was spray painted on a stretch of wall to the left of the door in a metal album cover style. The only thing that really indicated the place’s true nature was the gaggle of black leather clad smokers crowding the front walk and hovering around patio furniture.

I flushed as I walked to the door, eyes on the sidewalk. I could feel people looking at me, making comments to each other, and I knew I should say ‘hi’, but it was taking all my focus to just tamp down my nerves as I made it to the door. As it opened, a gust of warm air teased my red cheeks and brought the smell of coffee, tea, and spices. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim indoors and begins to take things in: tables, chairs, a long wooden bar; people in groups talking quietly or laughing boisterously; and a small stage space where a person patiently layered rope around an uncertain looking boy. Yeah, either this was it or I’d just walked into a really big coincidence.

“Hey, welcome!”

My reaction got a laugh. I’m told I looked like a deer in headlights. The bartender waved me over with a grin. “Menu’s up there, byob, limited food. House rules over there. Any questions?”

“Yeah, a few…”

* * *

“So…they say you have spooky mind powers.” I said with a nervous little laugh. It wasn’t the best pickup line, as these things go. But then, I was a bit out of my element here. I’d never actually been inside a BDSM club until a couple hours ago. Now I was trying to chat someone up at one. Besides, I’d never been good at this whole thing: being single, dating, etc.

The raven-haired woman looked up from her book. She took me in at a glance and then quirked a dark eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really?” She said, her voice honey laced with sarcasm. “And just who would ‘they’ be?”

I flushed a little. Then I hurriedly gestured at the person who had been up on stage tying a boy when I came in: all lanky and tattooed with a short-cropped blaze of neon red hair. “Them. Jacques. Y’know…cute, genderqueer, obsessed with rope?”

She looked over my shoulder to see Jacques, now draped over the lap of a woman done up in a corset and petticoats, and couldn’t resist a smile. “Oh. Well, they certainly say a lot of things. And I wouldn’t believe half of it if I were you.” She used her foot to push out a chair from the little wooden table she had claimed in a rather private corner of the club. “Sit.”

I could have said something about how it wasn’t a request. I could have acknowledged how that casual level of command simultaneously rubbed me in both the wrong and right ways. Instead I just set my teacup down on the table and sat myself down in the chair. “Are you saying you don’t have spooky mind powers? Cause I have to admit, that got my curiosity up.”

She took a sip of her coffee, leaving a crimson crescent on the cup. “I mean, I certainly didn’t say that.” She extended a hand. “Vivian.”

We shook, her skin was warm and a little rough. It was hard to say how old she was, though I’d guess there was almost a decade between us. “Zoe.”

“Oh, really? So tell me, is it just a coincidence that you’re named for a woman who couldn’t resist temptation?” Her eyes sparkled at her own cleverness. She wasn’t letting go of my hand, and I was in no hurry to take it back.

My stomach squirmed. “I mean, I had another name once…prefer not to talk about it though.” I said, looking down and away. Presumably she’d find out sooner or later.

“Ah.” It was a small noise. And then she squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to talk about anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

I smiled, I couldn’t help it. “Appreciated. So…mind powers?”

She gently let go of my hand and leaned back. Her teeth were perfectly predatory, and she ever so idly began to toy with her necklace: a pendant of some kind of dark, reflective stone. “Tell me…do you know much about hypnosis?”

* * *

I was falling.

Something came up to meet me. It was warm and cradled me as I tumbled down. It felt like sinking into a sea of warm sand. My body was heavy, but it floated. My thoughts drifted. I could feel her hand on my cheek. I could hear her words, even if I couldn’t quite understand them.

Later, I would be surprised at how little time had passed. But that was later.

And suddenly words I could understand came bubbling through my head, words in Vivian’s honey voice dripping their way across my placid surface, making ripples: “And how do you feel now?”

“Good.” The word echoed up slowly from the well of my reality.

“And would you like more?”

“Yes.” Quiet and eager. Almost desperate.

I continued to fall. And I was gone.

I gasped with pleasure, mind reeling as her finger lazily wandered its way along my clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” She murmured.

At some point I had gone from dressed and sitting across from her on her bed to laying back naked against her. Her arms wrapped around me, my head nestled beneath her chin. I pushed back into her as she continued to touch and tease, small short gasps the only sound I could make.

“You were already so sensitive and grinding against me, and I just couldn’t help myself.” She purred, clearly amused. “I made everything a little more sensitive.”

I wanted to curse. I wanted to scream. The sensation was so intense it was agony, but it was agony buried under waves of intense pleasure. I stopped breathing for a few seconds, my mouth worked uselessly.

She leaned down and kissed me then, distracting my lips from their futile attempts to make words. I arched up to meet her. And I whined pitifully when her lips eventually drew away.

“No, shush now, I don’t think you get to talk.” She drew her hand away and hugged me tight as my hips lewdly, uselessly worked against the air, “The only thing you get to do is come. Come for me. Now.”

And I did. Just from her words in my ear. Just from her voice in my head. I had the most intense orgasm I’d ever had as she held me and kissed the top of my head.

“Good girl.” She said again. Then she said something else, but I wasn’t there anymore.

I was beneath her. The warmth of her thighs around me, her weight on my chest. My head swam as her hand ran through my hair. My eyes fluttered as the scent of her filled me. Her free hand gently played with my left nipple as she smiled down at me.

“I figured we’d both want you to be awake for this part.”

I was powerless but to blush and agree.

And then she shifted her hips forward, and I learned that the honey between her legs was just as sweet as that which flowed from her lips.

* * *

Some women just wake up looking beautiful. I have never considered myself one of them. So, I hadn’t really intended to be waking up in a strange woman’s bed within eighteen hours of meeting her. Luckily, I woke up first. Which meant I had plenty of time to waffle between freaking out and marveling at how cute Vivian looked sleeping next to me. It was hard to imagine that this serene sleepy woman had been the smoldering domme of my fantasies last night. I felt a happy little squirm in my stomach just remembering it. On second thought, I was glad I’d stayed over. Otherwise I really might have thought that it was all just a (soaking wet) dream.

I sighed and felt around on the floor for my purse, grabbed it, and washed down my morning meds with a swig from the water bottle on the bedside table. Then I went digging for my compact and tried to figure out just how disheveled I looked. Vivian must have felt me moving around. She rolled over, blinked a few times, and brushed strands of dark hair out of her face.

“Awww, kitten,” she said with a bemused grin as she placed a reassuring hand on my thigh. “I promise you’re just as much of a hottie by the dawn’s early light.”

And my cheeks were burning again. “Hey, I…sorry to wake you,” I said, awkwardly fumbling for whatever it is you’re supposed to say in these situations.

She sat up in bed, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me back against her. Her body was warm and comfortable, and I desperately wanted to nuzzle back into her and fall back asleep. Apparently, Vivian had other plans. “Cute enough that I could be tempted into another round,” she said as she kissed my neck. “After I pee. Be back.”

She hopped up and padded to the bathroom, leaving me with my heart fluttering and a helpless grin. Both of which lasted until I heard noise from the rest of the house.

“Hey, Viv? I didn’t ask, do you live alone?” I called out. No response. Feeling suddenly self-conscious I began to dig around for my clothes. I couldn’t quite remember where they wound up last night. I was still looking when I a voice bellowed from the hall.

“All hail the conquering her-“

I grabbed at the covers, trying for modesty. Jacques burst in the door to the bedroom, same clothes as yesterday and a silly grin which quickly turned to awkward surprise. At the same moment, Vivian came out of the bathroom and stopped, naked and clearly annoyed.

“Jacques.” She said, rubbing her forehead. “Knock. That’s all I ask. It’s not that hard.”

Jacques nodded, chastised. Then couldn’t contain themself and broke out into a grin. “Wait…new girl! You’re the new girl from the club.” They winked at Vivian. “Way to go, mom!”

I fumbled for words, face crimson. And then I stopped, and stared at Vivian. “Wait. Mom?”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.5

And that’s Chapter 1, folks!

If you missed the previous installment, click here!


Some women just wake up looking beautiful. I have never considered myself one of them. So, I hadn’t really intended to be waking up in a strange woman’s bed within eighteen hours of meeting her. Luckily, I woke up first. Which meant I had plenty of time to waffle between freaking out and marveling at how cute Vivian looked sleeping next to me. It was hard to imagine that this serene sleepy woman had been the smoldering domme of my fantasies last night. I felt a happy little squirm in my stomach just remembering it. On second thought, I was glad I’d stayed over. Otherwise I really might have thought that it was all just a (soaking wet) dream.

I sighed and felt around on the floor for my purse, grabbed it, and washed down my morning meds with a swig from the water bottle on the bedside table. Then I went digging for my compact and tried to figure out just how disheveled I looked. Vivian must have felt me moving around. She rolled over, blinked a few times, and brushed strands of dark hair out of her face.

“Awww, kitten,” she said with a bemused grin as she placed a reassuring hand on my thigh. “I promise you’re just as much of a hottie by the dawn’s early light.”

And my cheeks were burning again. “Hey, I…sorry to wake you,” I said, awkwardly fumbling for whatever it is you’re supposed to say in these situations.

She sat up in bed, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me back against her. Her body was warm and comfortable, and I desperately wanted to nuzzle back into her and fall back asleep. Apparently, Vivian had other plans. “Cute enough that I could be tempted into another round,” she said as she kissed my neck. “After I pee. Be back.”

She hopped up and padded to the bathroom, leaving me with my heart fluttering and a helpless grin. Both of which lasted until I heard noise from the rest of the house.

“Hey, Viv? I didn’t ask, do you live alone?” I called out. No response. Feeling suddenly self-conscious I began to dig around for my clothes. I couldn’t quite remember where they wound up last night. I was still looking when I a voice bellowed from the hall.

“All hail the conquering her-“

I grabbed at the covers, trying for modesty. Jacques burst in the door to the bedroom, same clothes as yesterday and a silly grin which quickly turned to awkward surprise. At the same moment, Vivian came out of the bathroom and stopped, naked and clearly annoyed.

“Jaques.” She said, rubbing her forehead. “Knock. That’s all I ask. It’s not that hard.”

Jaques nodded, chastised. Then couldn’t contain themself and broke out into a grin. “Wait…new girl! You’re the new girl from the club.” They winked at Vivian. “Way to go, mom!”

I fumbled for words, face crimson. And then I stopped, and stared at Vivian. “Wait. Mom?

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.4

I mean, we all knew this was where she was going to end up, right?

If you missed the previous  installment, click here!


I was falling.

Something came up to meet me. It was warm and cradled me as I tumbled down. It felt like sinking into a sea of warm sand. My body was heavy, but it floated. My thoughts drifted. I could feel her hand on my cheek. I could hear her words, even if I couldn’t quite understand them.

Later, I would be surprised at how little time had passed. But that was later.

And suddenly words I could understand came bubbling through my head, words in Vivian’s honey voice dripping their way across my placid surface, making ripples: “And how do you feel now?”

“Good.” The word echoed up slowly from the well of my reality.

“And would you like more?”

“Yes.” Quiet and eager. Almost desperate.

I continued to fall. And I was gone.

I gasped with pleasure, mind reeling as her finger lazily wandered its way along my clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” She murmured.

At some point I had gone from dressed and sitting across from her on her bed to laying back naked against her. Her arms wrapped around me, my head nestled beneath her chin. I pushed back into her as she continued to touch and tease, small short gasps the only sound I could make.

“You were already so sensitive and grinding against me, and I just couldn’t help myself.” She purred, clearly amused. “I made everything a little more sensitive.”

I wanted to curse. I wanted to scream. The sensation was so intense it was agony, but it was agony buried under waves of intense pleasure. I stopped breathing for a few seconds, my mouth worked uselessly.

She leaned down and kissed me then, distracting my lips from their futile attempts to make words. I arched up to meet her. And I whined pitifully when her lips eventually drew away.

“No, shush now, I don’t think you get to talk.” She drew her hand away and hugged me tight as my hips lewdly, uselessly worked against the air, “The only thing you get to do is come. Come for me. Now.”

And I did. Just from her words in my ear. Just from her voice in my head. I had the most intense orgasm I’d ever had as she held me and kissed the top of my head.

“Good girl.” She said again. Then she said something else, but I wasn’t there anymore.

I was beneath her. The warmth of her thighs around me, her weight on my chest. My head swam as her hand ran through my hair. My eyes fluttered as the scent of her filled me. Her free hand gently played with my left nipple as she smiled down at me.

“I figured we’d both want you to be awake for this part.”

I was powerless but to blush and agree.

And then she shifted her hips forward, and I learned that the honey between her legs was just as sweet as that which flowed from her lips.

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.3

So this is the canon version of the piece of short fiction that started it all!

If you missed the previous installment please check here!


“So…they say you have spooky mind powers.” I said with a nervous little laugh. It wasn’t the best pickup line, as these things go. But then, I was a bit out of my element here. I’d never actually been inside a BDSM club until a couple hours ago. Now I was trying to chat someone up at one. Besides, I’d never been good at this whole thing: being single, dating, etc.

The raven-haired woman looked up from her book. She took me in at a glance and then quirked a dark eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really?” She said, her voice honey laced with sarcasm. “And just who would ‘they’ be?”

I flushed a little. Then I hurriedly gestured at the person who had been up on stage tying a boy when I came in: all lanky and tattooed with a short-cropped blaze of neon red hair. “Them. Jacques. Y’know…cute, genderqueer, obsessed with rope?”

She looked over my shoulder to see Jacques, now draped over the lap of a woman done up in a corset and petticoats, and couldn’t resist a smile. “Oh. Well, they certainly say a lot of things. And I wouldn’t believe half of it if I were you.” She used her foot to push out a chair from the little wooden table she had claimed in a rather private corner of the club. “Sit.”

I could have said something about how it wasn’t a request. I could have acknowledged how that casual level of command simultaneously rubbed me in both the wrong and right ways. Instead I just set my teacup down on the table and sat myself down in the chair. “Are you saying you don’t have spooky mind powers? Cause I have to admit, that got my curiosity up.”

She took a sip of her coffee, leaving a crimson crescent on the cup. “I mean, I certainly didn’t say that.” She extended a hand. “Vivian.”

We shook, her skin was warm and a little rough. It was hard to say how old she was, though I’d guess there was almost a decade between us. “Zoe.”

“Oh, really? So tell me, is it just a coincidence that you’re named for a woman who couldn’t resist temptation?” Her eyes sparkled at her own cleverness. She wasn’t letting go of my hand, and I was in no hurry to take it back.

My stomach squirmed. “I mean, I had another name once…prefer not to talk about it though.” I said, looking down and away. Presumably she’d find out sooner or later.

“Ah.” It was a small noise. And then she squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to talk about anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

I smiled, I couldn’t help it. “Appreciated. So…mind powers?”

She gently let go of my hand and leaned back. Her teeth were perfectly predatory, and she ever so idly began to toy with her necklace: a pendant of some kind of dark, reflective stone. “Tell me…do you know much about hypnosis?”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.2

If you missed the previous installment, please click here!


It turns out that the human perception of time is relative. Yeah, I know. Not exactly the biggest insight there. We’ve all had good times fly by while those things we would rather not linger: class, dentist visits, etc. take forever. Those two days? They took around two years, minimum. My anxiety used that time to run amok. What would these people be like? What should I wear? What if someone from school found out? Thoughts and fantasies about it occupied almost every moment not spent on class or sleep.

Of course, when the time came it was all rushing and cursing the traffic for making me get home late. Then it was popping in and out of a shower and racing through my wardrobe trying to find any of the outfits I had spent hours planning. Not to mention what I had to do to make my hair actually behave. Somehow though, it all came together. I made it out the door in a style that was both cute and warm: heeled boots, tights, and a cute black dress bundled beneath a scarf and a gray tweed trench coat.

The place really was just a short hop from my apartment. I’m not quite sure what expected from a depraved sex dungeon, but I actually drove right past it at first because it was so unassuming. Sable was tucked away down a little side street in a slice of downtown more devoted to shopping and nightlife than business. It was the only business on that street, but it shared a building with a bar and a darkened, “appointments only” junk shop. The windows were heavily tinted and the name was spray painted on a stretch of wall to the left of the door in a metal album cover style. The only thing that really indicated the place’s true nature was the gaggle of black leather clad smokers crowding the front walk and hovering around patio furniture.

I flushed as I walked to the door, eyes on the sidewalk. I could feel people looking at me, making comments to each other, and I knew I should say ‘hi’, but it was taking all my focus to just tamp down my nerves as I made it to the door. As it opened, a gust of warm air teased my red cheeks and brought the smell of coffee, tea, and spices. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim indoors and begins to take things in: tables, chairs, a long wooden bar; people in groups talking quietly or laughing boisterously; and a small stage space where a person patiently layered rope around an uncertain looking boy. Yeah, either this was it or I’d just walked into a really big coincidence.

“Hey, welcome!”

My reaction got a laugh. I’m told I looked like a deer in headlights. The bartender waved me over with a grin. “Menu’s up there, byob, limited food. House rules over there. Any questions?”

“Yeah, a few…”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.1

If you missed the prelude, please click here!


“Fuck,” I whimpered at the dead piece of vinyl between my legs and my nose curled at the faint smell of smoke. This wasn’t working. A magic wand is a terrible thing to waste, and burning one out seemed a bit more like pointed commentary that I was comfortable with. Fifteen minutes and a cold shower later, it still wasn’t sitting well with me as I toweled off my shoulder length hair. I looked down at the dead vibrator sitting sadly on my bed and frowned. I flicked the switch back and forth and offered prayers to whatever god looks out for single kinky girls. Nope.

Flopping on the couch in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, I stared up at the stucco and thought about my options. School was a no, the less anyone there knew about my personal life or proclivities the better. Bars were…problematic, the kind of things I liked to do were best done sober and not with complete strangers. Personal ads? Nah, that just seemed like a good way to wind up in pieces in the river. “Fuck,” I reiterated with a heavy sigh into wet blonde bangs. Propping myself up on one shoulder I poked the laptop on my coffee table to life and with one finger poked out: ‘bdsm clubs’. Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

I mean, sure, first I had to scroll through a host of sites form the early days of the net, had to break out the brain bleach to deal with loud color schemes, autoplaying metal music, and so called ‘true dom’ bullshit, but in the end? I found a name: The Sable, an address, and a calendar of events. With one of those events, a tea & coffee munch, being held in just two days. I paused as I looked at the event details. Maybe this had been too easy. I think my mind had wanted something more unattainable, something to think about and fantasize over, and eventually give up on. I hadn’t really expected it to be as easy as just, showing up and having a cup of tea. And now that it was, my stomach squirmed a bit as I tried to think of a good excuse. I bit my lip as I stared at the screen. My mouse hovered above a small RSVP button. And I clicked, and began typing an e-mail.

We’ve all got times in our life that we look back on and think: what would have happened had I done this differently? Where would I be had I stayed home? Would things be the same had something different? And its infuriating, because you’ll likely miss the biggest decision of your life when you’re making it. You can only see that sort of in retrospect and then sometimes you’ll lay awake at night and gaze into the dark and entertain: what if? And those thoughts? They terrify me. Because I look at what came from that night, and can’t imagine my life any other way.

[Fiction] Trust/Fall, Prelude

Okay, so I hinted at this on Tumblr a couple months back.

It had been a particularly bad day for people I cared about. There have been too many of those. And on that day, I decided that, in addition to all the dark and twisted erotica, I was going to write something with happy endings. Because people like me and the people I love deserve them. Hell, I was in fact going to go all out and write a romance. But it would be a romance on my terms: kinky and queer as fuck.

The result is a story idea that I’m calling Trust/Fall. Because I work best under limitations it’s going to be released serially (possibly even on a regular schedule if I can get my life together), and no one entry will exceed 500 words.

Enjoy!


My love life has always been…complicated. But, like a lot of girls, I always just kinda assumed I’d do my best in life, meet a guy, and somehow everything would work out from there. You know the narrative that gets drilled into society? You find a prince charming, a one true love, someone to spend your life with and it…works out. I realize just how naïve I was to believe that. But I was young, I was in a new city and I felt like I had a whole new life. I thought anything was possible. And it was. Just, it turns out it’s hard to be prepared for ‘anything’.

I’m Zoe Walker, my pronouns are she/her/hers. Back when all this started I was twenty-one and genuinely thought I had my self and the world figured out. Sure, there had been a few hiccups here and there, a minor medical issue or two, and there was a looming cloud of student loan debt. But, all in all, I figured that I was a pretty, confident, and talented young woman. Now, I read that more as ‘self-important little snot’, but you know how time changes all things.

I was on track to get a master’s of public health, and I’d just moved into my first apartment without a roommate. It was a tiny studio, but the fact that it was mine meant a lot to me. I remember laying down on the cushy carpet after I had signed the lease and looking up at the ceiling, breathing deep and drinking in the experience of having a place that I could call home. That lasted for about five minutes before I remembered that I didn’t really know how I was going to be able to pay for it. I had some savings and was able to defer my loans, but up to that point in my life I had relied on my parents a lot. Too much. That…wasn’t going to be an option anymore. I had a work-study lined up with the school, but I could do math. So job hunting was one thing that was going on the to-do list.

Another thing on the to-do list was me. I hadn’t really had the best time dating in high school. And while I’d had a fair amount of sex in college, my partners had always shied away from making that a long term thing. Just as well though, most of them hadn’t really…um…ticked my particular boxes. You see, I like being tied up (actually it turns out I like a whole hell of a lot more than that, but that’s what I knew at the time), and it had been far too long since anyone but myself had had a hand in that. That’s going to be relevant before we’re done.

I guess at this point I should just get on with it. So tempting to stall, to ask whether this is a story worth telling. Eh, fuck it.

Trust/Fall, Chapter One…

[Fiction] All In

So I wrote this a couple of weeks back. It was written for someone very special to me. I am stealing time to post it here tonight for your enjoyment, because it makes me happy to share these things. And because it makes me happy to think of her. And I could use some happy.

Content notes: mind control, body control, gambling, damnation


Once upon a time a Maiden stepped into a House of Sin. She was a preacher’s daughter, and the moment her foot crossed the threshold she stood out like a lily rampant on a field of vice. As her gaze saw what there was to see, glasses fell silent on the bar, the clack of dice and the clatter of the wheel slowly faded, and only the needful sounds of lust from inner rooms continued unabated. A blush graced her cheeks. But this girl was on a mission and the fire of purpose was in her belly. She would not be deterred.

The Madam looked down from where she lounged on high. Eyes not unlike to a cat’s narrowed. She observed the girl with caution mixed with desire. She knew her pedigree but not her reason. The Madam rose from her divan, letting long fingers trail the flesh of the collared young thing that had been allowed to share in her pleasure. With a thoughtless wave she dismissed the attendant who sprang into motion as she rose. Then she leaned, slender, spidery thing she was in layers of green and black, and loomed down at the floor below. Lips stretched into a captivating smile that held no warmth or soul. All eyes turned upwards to look upon her.

“What brings you to my parlor, young lady?” her voice was like silk and fire, “Your daddy would have your hide if he knew you so much as set eyes on this hall, much less foot in it.”

The Maiden looked up, face hard with determination, mouth a thin line, eyes clear and blue as heaven. “My daddy…” she began, but her voice caught ever so slightly, “My daddy has already damned me to hell. So the way I see it, there’s not much more to fear.”

The smile on the woman’s face grew wider, uncannier, and she gave a hollow laugh. It was a sound without humor affected, practiced, and tailored in it’s flawed mockery. “Girl, all may have sinned, but there is always further to fall. Go home.”

The Madam turned her attention towards a lithe young thing in silk and chains that offered a sparkling green cordial on a tray. The sounds of drink and sin began to swell again as the patrons returned to their diversions. The preacher’s daughter was ignored, for a moment forgotten, but she was not swayed. Her shoes clicked a staccato rhythm as she hurried across the well worn wood floor, and there was the clink of metal on metal as she threw her purse down upon the table. The Madam’s hand froze then, just as she was raising her drink to her mouth. The glass hovered less than an inch away, forgotten as her hand slightly trembled and her tongue tasted her lips. And then she turned back and looked down.

“All I own.” The girl whispered, unable to look up and meet the woman’s gaze. But the Madam heard it as clear as if the young girl’s lips were tenderly brushing her ear.

The mocking smile and hollow laughter were gone, and a lean look of hunger blossomed in its place. “And just what are you going to tell me that you seek to win?”

 “Freedom.” The maiden said, this time with nary a waver.

“I already told you. Only freedom for you is out that door.”

“It’s not for me.”

“Regardless, I think you’ll be disappointed.”

“Only one way to find out.”

The money was collected, counted, stored under lock and key. And the worth of the Maiden’s life was doled out in chips of bone. She rolled one between her fingers, marveling at how it felt both light and heavy at once.

And then the games began.

The girl wasn’t knowledgeable in the ways of risks and wagers. But she was, as it turned out, a natural. Either that or a bit of her family’s affection for the divine was paying dividends.

The clack of dice slipping from pale gentle hands…

The buzz of it didn’t come immediately. No, it was rather a slow rise that worked its way through her. Each victory and each defeat added to it. The taste of winning after a losing streak was particularly sweet. And the sting of losing filled her with new fire. After all, her purpose was righteous.

The whirr of a wheel and the clatter of a ball…

The pile of chips in front of her fluctuated with each wager. But over time it was becoming clear that her winnings were accumulating. Chip by chip and inch by inch she saw her goal in her mind. And seeing herself get closer to it made each chip feel heavier in her hand, made the value behind it mean all the more, and made the stakes drift ever higher.

The shuffle of cards falling onto a table…

How much time had passed she did not know. The room held no windows. It could have been an hour. It could have been eternity. She pulled her chips to her, tallying them as best she could. The numbers were coming more slowly now as a heat pulled at the edge of her attention. She counted it twice, and then let her hand brush the silver locket hanging at her chest.

“It’s not enough.” She said finally, quiver in her voice.

The Madam detached herself from where she’d been watching and came up behind the girl. One hand touched her shoulder, brushing against her hair and the girl tensed as the woman leaned over and whispered. “It never is. Not for someone like you…”

“That’s not what I…” The Maiden swallowed and softly whined as she shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to. All I have to do is play. Same as you.”

The Madam reached past the Maiden and a slender hand flicked and produced a chip out of thin air, and letting it fall on the table. Another and another and another followed, spilling out, clattering, piling in front of the Maiden’s widening eyes. “It’s a gambler’s dream.” She said with a smirk. A chip rolled idly across the Madams knuckles. “There’s so much here how could you ever know where to stop?” She let the Maiden go and slid into the chair opposite her at the table. Her sharp chin rested on the palm of her hand and she looked at the girl through hooded eyes. “If you want to win big though, or should I say…if you need to win big, you could always challenge me directly. No limits. High risk. High reward.”

The Maiden idly played with her silver locket as she tried to look away from the beautiful creature that smoldered at her across the table. But her wide eyes were fixed on that dark feline gaze. She swallowed hard and finally managed to look down at the table, at her winnings, and she took a long moment and to remind herself what this was for.

“I’m in.”

For the second time the crowd fell silent. Her only response was a smile sharp enough to draw blood and a snap of the Madam’s fingers.

Attendants approached through the crowd of onlookers, a deck removed for a box of black stained wood, the table cleared, and the cards passed to the players for inspection. As the Maiden touched the deck she shivered. The cards felt cold and slick. The images drawn on them severe, grotesque, and sensual. A flush came over her cheeks as she stared a bit too long at some of the court cards, fascination only broken by the polite throat clearing of the youth who had brought them.

The Maiden nodded and didn’t meet his eyes. She passed the deck and felt as though her hands were unclean.

The Madam purred as the attendant began to shuffle. “Stud poker. No limits. Know the game?

“Yes.” The Maiden said. “My daddy plays. He’s not half as holy as he puts on.”

“None of us are. You’ll learn that in time. Ante up.”

The cards went out. First one down, next four up. And with each round of betting the clatter of chips told a story of risk and desire. If fortune had had favored the Maiden before, or if angels above smiled down, nobody was smiling now. Piercing blue eyes looked across the table into a cold deep green. And ever so slowly, as hand after hand went by, the Maiden began to sweat.

And then, just like that, she thought she had a break. It wasn’t her fault. It’s happened to lots of folks before. It’s happened to lots of folks since. She was dealt an ace in the hole, and one more along with a five card and a pair of queens face up. The sight of that lovely single heart looking up at her from where she cradled it was enough to make her head spin with excitement and from the buy-in she was wagering with an eager, heavy hand. Meanwhile the Madam looked downright bored, calling each raise in kind, casually sitting on shown pair of sixes. Until finally, after the last card was dealt with so much of her opponent’s resources on the line, the Madam gently pushed a stack of chips towards the center and in a voice that was almost a purr she raised. Excessively.

The Maiden’s heart started pumping ice instead of blood. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes hard as she took in the scene. Her brain fumbled with the logic and then fumbled with the math. She had this. Didn’t she? And if she didn’t… She looked at just how much she stood to lose and felt sick. But there was no way. She surveyed her opponent’s cards, saw the possible combinations, dismissed the most unlikely. And with a slick feeling of surety within her, and trickled of sweat running down her face, she realized that she was being underestimated. Clearly her opponent was bluffing. She had to call. If she folded now, it would mean that fear won. And she would have to go back home, to be with him, and she could never…

“I want to call, but I’m short. That last raise…it’s more than everything I have.” She said at last, voice breathy from the mix of emotions.

The Madam affected a yawn. “It’s more than the money you’ve staked. But I’d hardly call it more than you have to offer.”

“What do you mean?”

The Madam chuckled, “Pretty, but not quite so clever are you?”

“A debt. You’re saying I could go into debt.”

“Yes.”

There was a pregnant pause, and she couldn’t meet the Madam’s eyes as she spat “Agreed.”

The Madam turned back to the table, eyes burning, alight with hunger.

The cards were flipped. The Maiden couldn’t help a little smile as she laid her aces next to her queens. And then she let out an audible whimper of when she saw the Madam flip over a third six.

She was frozen. She was screaming inside. She was ruined.

The madam smiled. A fox savoring a helpless chick.

“Poor thing. I do have a heart. Let’s go double or nothing.”

“No…I…what else do I possibly have to give?” the Maiden sobbed.

“Oh there’s one last little thing that’s yours, and I’m willing to let you walk away with your life and your winnings all for the chance to take it.” She tapped meaningfully at the skin between her breasts. And the Maiden’s hand gripped, quickly and protectively, at the locket that hung from her neck.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no way…I will not let you. N-“

With a snap of the Madam’s fingers the words were jerked from the Maiden’s mouth. “I’m afraid you’re mine now. Remember? And that word isn’t going to be in your vocabulary for long. This is the one chance I’m giving you to get it back. To get yourself back. And to walk away with a nice pile of my money. All you have to do is risk the one thing you never thought you would.”

Tears began to bubble and stream from those bright blue eyes as the Maiden watched herself, body moving almost automatically, like a marionette, as she removed the locket and gently tossed it on the table.

“Good girl. Now deal.”

And she did, with the same stilted pace, uselessly trembling with anger and fear and resistance that came to nothing.

The game was perfunctory: no antes no buy-in no raises, just five cards dealt out one by one from the Maiden’s trembling hands. She lost. She had a sinking feeling the game was rigged in favor of the House. And as she sat and stared emptily at her cards, the Madam leaned forward and pulled the locket from the table. She popped it open and gazed at it with a look of lazy satisfaction. She looked across at the defeated Maiden. If asked, the poor girl likely wouldn’t be able to remember the girl in the locket. She likely didn’t even remember who she was.

The Madam let the locket dangle from her fingers and then tossed it to one of the attendants with a smirk. The youth caught it, glanced at it, gave a slight nod, and then slipped off. More attendants came and began to clear the table.

“Drinks on me!” The Madam shouted as she stood, and the silence that had persisted through the last two tense matches was broken by cheers. “Enjoy yourselves while I teach my new employee the rules of our hospitality.” And with a little bow and a handful of chips scattered to the crowd, she none to gently pulled the Maiden up from her seat by her dress and led the dazed girl by the hand. Her course never wavered as she passed through the curtain to those deeper parts of the House reserved for carnal delights.

And in those days and after there were two new girls began to be seen around the House. One fair and innocent, the other more lean and lithe. Both with an ace of hearts branded on the smooth flesh of their upper thighs. They’d lost themselves and found that the Madam always collects what she’s owed. And sometimes it was said that, when they were led obediently on their chains, or when they hung off the arms of the high rollers, or when they knelt and set their bodies to obedient service, that their eyes met. And when their eyes met there was something there that was more than the dazed and empty look of the other girls in the house, something almost like love.