Living Dead Girl

It started with my kidneys. One day I woke up and they just weren’t there anymore. I don’t know how I knew. I mean, it wasn’t like that urban legend where the girl wakes up in a tub of ice to find a massive gash in her lower back that’s been stitched up after someone removed her kidneys. I woke up in my own bed, not in ice, but actually with my body temperature high because of my lime-green-and-fuschia-striped comforter. I panicked, and called Riley, my boyfriend at the time, at work.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he had asked when I told him about my missing kidneys. “Are you high?”

When I said no, and tried to explain the situation, he blew up at me and told me he was busy at work, and that I needed to quit making stupid shit up. I realize now what an asshole he was, because he didn’t seem the least bit concerned that my body parts were beginning to disappear, even when he came over that night after work and saw how freaked I was. He stuck around for a few more months, but when I wouldn’t let it go, and then my pancreas disappeared, he told me he’d had enough of my shit. By that point, I wasn’t really sad to see him go.

I know, you’re wondering how my body can still function without kidneys and a pancreas. I don’t have an explanation, except to say that I’m not actually alive anymore. My shrink says I’m hallucinating; that if I take a minute and really ponder it, I might realize how silly it sounds that I’m still walking around and going about my life if I’m actually dead. My response to her was, “Why don’t you  think about how silly it sounds that a living person is functioning without the necessary body parts?”

Yeah, she didn’t like that. So she wrote me another prescription that I didn’t fill.

My sister was with me when my lungs disappeared. By then, I was pretty much resigned to the fact that I’d never be an organ donor, what with all my parts vanishing, but I let her know anyway, in case we happened to run a marathon and I came up short of breath. She knew about my other body parts, so she was sufficiently sympathetic. She offered to drive me to the clinic, and seemed relieved when they presented us with X-rays that clearly sported a healthy-looking set of lungs. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that they’d done that before- gotten my X-rays mixed up with another patient’s. I want her faith in our medical community to remain intact.

After that, I kept that fact that I dematerializing to myself. It’s bad enough that I’m dealing with the fact that I ceased to exist. I don’t need my friends and family aggravating the situation by telling me I’m more unhinged than Kanye West at an awards show. I may be missing internal organs, but my feelings are still there. I’m just hoping my heart dissolves before it gets broken, because at least that won’t hurt. I’ve always heard a broken heart is a tough thing to deal with. The real question is- can my heart still break if I’m already dead?

Mr. Fix- It

Before.

Greg observed his own face in his bathroom mirror, and squinted his eyes in a furious glare at the reflection. He gripped either side of the pedestal sink to keep from putting his fist through the glass, and watched his own jaw clench and unclench. He was a fucking coward, and the fact made him completely livid. He pushed himself away from the sink in disgust and flipped the light switch too forcefully on his way out of the room.

Casey had just left, and Greg’s pulse was still pounding with the left-over desire she’d dumped on him. Just the remembrance of her on her knees in front of him in his own kitchen brought another surge of lust through his body, and he flopped down angrily on his worn-out couch. His longing was interrupted by a wince of pain when he felt the springs dig into his back, and he cursed inwardly.

He tried to collect his thoughts, but the feelings left over from Casey’s visit made his brain a chaotic jumble. He took a deep breath and adjusted his crotch, forbidding his dick to erect itself at every thought of her.

Since he’d fucked her in her apartment, he and Casey had made love on several other occasions. Greg snorted at the thought. “Made love” was not what it had been at all; more like, animalistic, savage, licentious fucking. It didn’t matter that Casey looked like a completely innocent, albeit sexy-as-hell school teacher- the feelings she evoked from Greg were baser than anything he’d ever felt. When he wasn’t fucking her, he wanted to be, and when he was, it was like he’d scored a handful of X at a rave; every time was like the height of his existence, but the after effects made him feel like complete shit.

He ran his hands down the sides of his face and let out a exasperated breath. She didn’t want anything else from him. The idea was like a shot to the chest with an electric jolt. He knew it was completely ridiculous that she would want anything serious from him, given the huge gap in their ages, but he just wanted to get to know her. He knew exactly what her excited cunt felt like to his fingers, and he knew how glorious it felt to have her near-perfect lips wrapped around his cock, but he knew next to nothing about her, and it bugged the shit out of him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to find out, but she kept her distance, and even after she’d come quivering to orgasm, she maintained her independent attitude.

Greg’s anger was at himself, for not forcing her to open up, or at least for not being able to control his incredible lust enough to turn her down. Casey was clearly emotionally damaged; he’d never met a woman who was able to separated sex from feelings, but she did exactly that. He knew that continuing their liaisons  as they was not the way to heal that damage- he felt proud of himself that, as a man, even he knew that. He was also aware of the fact that Casey perhaps was not looking for someone to take care of her hurts, but Greg couldn’t help it. He wanted to. Her beautiful face and her buoyant persona made him want to fix it. The problem was, with her luscious tits and gorgeous ass, he kept forgetting that.

Charlie

Previously…

An almost inaudible sound came from his throat when I did it, and I knew I had him. I felt his cock straining against the fly of his pants, but when my fingers pulled his zipper down, he moved out of my reach. His fingers slipped out of me once again, and his other hand left my breast. My body felt absolutely bereft from the loss of his touch, and I couldn’t help the whimper that happened to come. I should have known better.

Charlie demands complete control- during fucking and everything leading up to it. Not that he’s into S&M, though he isn’t above a playful bite or spanking every now and then. I mean that every move, every act no matter how small, must be his decision. He will allow me to undress him, but I am only permitted to once he decides it is time. To so blatantly disregard this rule sets the mood for everything that follows. I’ll tell you a secret: I didn’t forget on accident.

I watched his face in the mirror; I saw him struggling with the thought of breaking his own rule, and I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t. I felt a moment of relieved anticipation when I saw his jaw firmly set, but I was not expecting what happened next.

His hands were on the neckline of my dress, and the next second, a bold ripping sound filled the silence as he forcefully tore my dress from neckline to hem. My Urban Decay’d lips formed a surprised “o” as I and Charlie looked at my now mostly-nude body in the mirror. I felt gooseflesh run up and down my skin in the split second before Charlie’s hand pushed my upper body down against the table in front of me.

He entered me roughly, but I was ready. So ready. His very first thrust left him so deep inside that I cried out, from pain or pleasure, or maybe a little bit of both. He withdrew, then again thrust himself into me. His hands gripped my hips, not gently, and I felt the familiar pleasure already beginning to rise in me. My right hand pressed against the mirror, causing it to fog there, and I pushed my rump ever so slightly into Charlie. I was immediately reprimanded with a welcome slap on my rear, warning me to stay still. His cock buried so deeply inside me, and the thrill of his spanking heightened my excitement; I wriggled against him, inviting another smack. The second one stung, and Charlie drove himself into me again and again, not waiting for me to further taunt his itching hand.

With every thrust, he reached the end of me, and my pleasure blossomed. I tried to move in such a way to prolong it, but my lover held me firmly in place, and was unrelenting. He knew what he did as he repeatedly pulled himself out of me and then pressed himself in again, hard and at an unwavering pace. It was clear he meant to punish me for my slip with his zipper, and I relished every moment until he pushed himself into me once again and pressed my hips harshly to him. He was as deep as he could go, and he filled me so completely that my growing pleasure exploded, and I let out a heartfelt moan. Charlie shuddered, and spent himself inside me. From my bent-over position, I could feel every throb of his cock. I used my inner muscles to squeeze him, and he moaned loudly before pulling back.

“Damn you, woman.” He said it because rough sex hadn’t been what he was in the mood for, but I couldn’t help giggling when he said it, because of the irony of his words. I made eye contact with him in the mirror, and when I saw the amused sparkle there, I knew he wasn’t really pissed.

I stood up as Charlie put himself back together and assessed my torn dress. There was no saving it. Damn. I hadn’t even gotten to wear it out in public yet.

Charlie eyed me, reading my thoughts. “I’ll call Nina and get you another dress, ” he assured me, and I smiled, because it amused me that not only did this man know who the designer of my dress was- he also knew her well enough to call her up out of the blue. Yet another reason to adore Charlie.

The Goose and the Gander

After a lovely day of bitching in the park and eating not-so-scrumptious wings at B-dubs with the lovely Cat Woman, I have decided to manufacture a silly little tale based off of our observations of geese and men today. So grab a bottle of Jack and have a seat.

Once upon a time, there was a gander (Sidenote: I have just discovered that a gander is a male goose. I do not know why a female goose is still called just a goose. Sexism at it’s finest.)

This gander was very handsome, and had a long elegant neck. (As geese tend to have.) He spent his day strutting through the park, honking lasciviously at the females of his species, and hissing arrogantly at any humans who deemed themselves fit to try and feed him stale bread and sunflower seeds. The only people he let get close were the ones who offered dill pickle-flavored sunflower seeds, which, unbeknownst to him, caused the gander to have wretched breath.

The gander was wildly narcissistic, and would spend long hours gazing into the man-made pond in the middle of town at the reflection of  his beautiful neck, sticking it out this way and that, and posing for the womanly geese that wandered past. There were a group of the females who fawned over the gander (as much as geese can fawn), but the gander would simply fertilize their eggs and then never honk at them again. (Sidenote: geese generally mate for life; another nature fact I have just learned.) The female geese were so busy caring for their fertilized eggs that they didn’t have time to warn other innocent geese of the gander’s shameful behavior.

One day, as the gander was doing a yoga-like pose as he peed, he caught sight of a goose he hadn’t yet pillaged. He stretched his long neck out while he finished his business, hoping the goose would notice how impressive and long it was (hee hee). He was so busy trying to impress the goose, that he failed to notice the naughty little boy who was running towards him. Before he knew what was happening, the gander found a grubby little fist wrapped around his prized neck, and he felt a yucky snap. He found himself looking down at the ground, unable to hold his little head upright, before the boy’s mother yelled at him and he was flung to the ground. The little boy ran off, and the gander was left honking and hissing, never even noticing the feather that was stuff in his nose hole, making him even more absurd.

From then on, the vain gander wandered through the park with a broken neck, which made his head to wobble unsteadily on his once-beloved neck, causing him to look a little bit demented.

The moral of the story: Don’t rubberneck at dames, you may end up without your most valuable asset.

“Look At Me”

Earlier

 

Look at me,” he had said.

I looked, and was pleased.

Professor had introduced him to me only as Master, so that I might never make the mistake of addressing him otherwise. I did not know if it was his teaching he doubted, or my learning. After thinking on it later, I realized it was neither, but the stubborn streak in me he hadn’t had the heart to break that caused him to use such caution.

He had wanted me to look, and I did. For a moment, I did not think on rules and obedience; my eyes saw Master now simply as one would see a stranger. I saw from where I knelt first; his legs were clad in fine black suit pants, and my fingertips ached to reach out and feel the expensive fabric. Such forwardness would bring a merciless punishment indeed, but I tucked the thought away as I looked further. There was no hint of arousal from beneath the slacks, and I knew Master was indeed a man needful of being in control then. Above the Italian leather belt, there was no belly extended, but what I assumed was a well-taken-care-of stomach that was clothed in a rich blue button-down. Upon further inspection, I saw a hint of indigo within it, and mentally congratulated him on his fashion choices.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand twitch, just barely. I turned my attention to it. This hand would treat me kindly, if I pleased him, or deal unmentionable discipline were I to rebel. The fingers were long, but not thick and calloused as Professor’s had been. Instead, these were slender, but not too, and looked to be incredibly soft. I leaned my face into them before I thought about it.

It seemed there was an instant when Master was caught off-guard by my action- just a second, before my chin was gripped roughly by the delicate fingers. My inspection was over.

“I believe the Professor allowed you too many liberties.” The statement was issued, and rightly. I’d known Professor granted me more favors than he should have, and I’d grown accustomed to them. “We will rectify that predicament soon enough.” His silken voice dropped. “Now show me what that old fool has taught you.”

I tried to ignore the comment, but I had never before had ill words spoken of a master, and it took great self-control. I swallowed the words that threatened to pour from my mouth and concentrated on my training. Without a steady pressure on my leash, I found myself out of sorts, and found it impossible to center my thoughts. I improvised.

I straightened my back, and my naked breasts brushed against the front of Master’s legs. My face was now level with his manhood, which was still clothed and of no evidence of even existing. I pressed my face into the zippered Y of his pants, and blew out the breath I’d been holding through my mouth. The heat of it met my face, and I hoped a little of that heat had made it through the extravagant fabric. I raised my hand from behind my back and slid the end of the leather belt through the clasp until it was undone. Master’s fingers exerted pressure on my chin, and I remembered what he had said. I looked up into his eyes and saw mild amusement.

I feared Professor’s teaching was of little use to me as I slid the zipper down on Master’s pants and undid the button at the top. The state of my nerves was glaringly apparent as I fumbled with it, and I tried to keep the frustration from my face. I pushed the offending pants down, too eagerly, and then the silk boxers. I recall now that they were plaid.

Master stood half naked before me now, and I put my tongue out and touched it to the tip of him. I ran my tongue up his considerable length, and felt him begin to stir. This was the encouragement I needed. I took in the icy blue of his eyes at the moment I took him into my mouth, and I saw his beautiful jaw clench as I began my art. My hands of their own accord found his muscular hips, and slid further back to grip his ass when I took the entire length of him into my throat. The feeling of it caused me to inadvertently make a sound.

Master’s hand had slipped down to my neck, but just then he placed both hands on the back of my head and buried his fingers into my hair as he thrust himself deeper into my throat again and again; his eyes never left mine as he spent himself quickly and withdrew himself from me. He stepped back with a look of disappointment.

“The old man is getting lethargic in his teaching. Or perhaps he just had too many feelings for you, hmm?” Master pulled up his trousers and left the room without a backward glance, leaving me unsatisfied and uncomforted as my leash trailed loose and taunting behind me.

A Break From Monday

 

I began today with a to-do list of unending proportions. I have accomplished eight of the fourteen things on my list, (because I did, indeed, write an actual list for the day) and have decided that’s about enough work for now. So, as I logged into my blog account, I thought to myself, “Self! What better way to relax than to write some good old-fashioned smut?!”  What an excellent idea! I know I’ve said it before, but let me just give Mr. Grey and his Fifty Shades a run for his ill-earned money:

 

I remembered my training- how it felt when the cool links of the silver choke chain tightened around my neck, and how Professor’s massive hand spread across my exposed rear felt red-hot as he chastised me after I’d been too eager when I’d had him in my mouth. My refusal to stop fellatio had caused him to spend himself more quickly than he’d wanted, and I drank him in hungrily before he pushed me away. I saw the lust and indignation mingled in his eyes just before the leash connected to my collar was yanked forcefully forward, making my behind the perfect distance away for a good beating. The spanking wasn’t the reason I’d disobeyed him, though it was delicious in its agony, but what came after that I’d been insubordinate for. Professor always felt contrite after his punishments, and the severe hands that administered such harsh disciplines were as equally tender afterward.

That had been Professor’s flaw.

The chain around my neck was the same, a gift from Professor. He’d lowered it over my head that final day, and as the links fell cold around my collarbone, Professor had twisted the end loop around his meaty fingers slowly until it was cutting off my air. I’d hoped for one last time with him, a farewell, and my body responded as it had so many times before. Professor looked into my eyes, and I saw the almost imperceptible smile touch the corner of his well-formed lips. He knew his effect on me. He had taught me well.

He whispered in my ear, and his breath burned like fire on my skin, igniting an invisible trail of sensual gunpowder down the length of my body.

“Do not shame me.”

I would not. But the curiosity of what such brazenness would bring was always in the back of my mind. With my new master, I knew the chastening would be exquisite torture.

He stood before me now as I knelt, my leash lying loose in his hand. He saw me looking at it, waiting for his fist to close and the length of it to tighten, but instead, he dropped it.

No, this one would not feel contrition.

I think I made a small whimper when I realized it, which made him smile wickedly. Professor had said he was a venerable master, and I had not doubted it. I knew the satisfaction would be superb, but I could tell already that the waiting would be excruciating.

“Come here.” His voice was liquid-smooth, a deep sound that washed over me. I crawled forward, feeling a void at the end of my leash where a hand should have been. I kept my eyes downcast.

“Look at me.” His hand, the one that had dropped the end of my leash, cupped my chin and pulled it up until I saw his eyes gazing into my own. They were blue. The blue of an icy winter sky.

“You will look at me while you please me.”

This was new. A master had never before required such a thing. I did as he said.

 

 

Picked

Previously.

Just then, an immense being of a man bumped into Shaandi, not unintentionally, Isari noted. She also espied the irritated look that passed over the whoremother’s face before she turned to acknowledge her antagonizer with only a façade of purest pleasure.

“Jespin Fleura, you beast!” The name was spoken affectionately with just the slightest hint of erotic promise. “Mind you don’t ruin my shoes now! I had to fuck Barlavian three times before he’d agree to gift me with a pair from his new collection!” Though Shaandi was extremely tall for a woman, and towered over Isari, she had to crank her neck at what looked like an uncomfortable angle in order to make eye contact with the large man. Isari saw a bright flash of white teeth as the man smiled his own alluring smile before speaking. As he spoke, Isari felt the rumble of his  deep voice in her own chest.

“My utmost apologies, dearest woman! I was momentarily distracted by the wide assortment of lovelies here this year. I believe it is the finest Hocking Day in many years!” He did nothing to disguise his lustful gaze as he spoke to Shaandi. Isari made a disgusted noise in her throat, and the man’s stare drifted in her direction. At first, Isari wanted to laugh at his lewd observance, until he identically mimicked Shaandi’s earlier inspection of her. This time though, when his eyes skimmed over her chest, one huge paw of a hand reached out and squeezed one of her breasts. She felt her face redden with fury, and clenched her jaw, ripe with indignation.

Shaandi gracefully batted the man’s hand away from Isari . “Jespin, don’t be a boar! Can’t you see the girl’s not accustomed to such behavior? Leave your pawing until after you’ve made you purchases!” Isari lowered her eyes then, refusing to feel anything other than enmity for the woman, even if she did keep other’s hands from molesting her.

Jespin Fleur was not in the least deterred. He shook his hand in a dismissive manner and stepped closer to Isari, and she closed her downward turned eyes, waiting for another unwanted touch to occur.

“I’m Nikoli, sir. Do you see anything in this direction that might be of interest to you?” Isari’s eyes flew open in the direction of her new-found friend, and couldn’t keep the slightest smile from her face when she saw him putting one delicate hand on a slim hip and strutting about lasciviously. He spun around like the finest runway model and struck a pose facing away from the three, with his well-toned rear sticking out ever so invitingly. Jespin’s laughter roared loudly in response.

“I do indeed! I’m always looking for a fine young male specimen to add to my collection. Nikoli, you say? Are you always in such elevated spirits? ‘Tis something my other boys need to learn!” Jespin moved away from Isari, distracted for the moment, and Isari breathed a thankful sigh of relief. She no longer cared what Shaandi thought, who was standing beside her still, because she clearly could not keep her feelings about this day off of her face.

Before Nikoli could move from his fashion pose, Jespin’s massive hand landed a loud slap on Nikoli’s protruding rear. Isari winced when Nikoli yelped, but the boy was not to be so quickly dismayed. He rubbed his ass with a soft hand and turned to prevent a repeat action. Jespin grinned wickedly, and Shaandi shook her head, bored of the big man’s behavior.

“I am here to earn a fine coin for my family, no? I would think this thing would be easier done with an agreeable attitude, that’s all.” Isari saw how he tried to keep a pained expression from his face as he nursed his abused hide, and liked him all the more.

Jespin nodded his head and was about to speak before Shaandi interrupted him, clearly trying to get the man away from their company.

“Are you not going to admire any of the other playthings here, Jespin? As you said, there are a great many to choose from.” Despite how Isari felt about Shaandi, she couldn’t help but admire the way Shaandi’s voice carried a certain sensuous tone that made people want to do her bidding. She saw how it affected the piggish Jespin, and his dark eyes sank once again into the wanton stupor.

“Alright, alright. I will leave you to your choices for now, but do not think once the bidding begins that I will so easily be redirected.” He made once last barbarous gesture in Isari’s direction before laughing and moving away toward the other commodities. Isari watched his obscene retreat until she could not longer see him amongst the hoard of buyers, but she continued to hear his rumbling voice long after. She didn’t realize Shaandi was observing her closely as she did so. Once she did, Isari immediately dropped her eyes again, willing the woman to disappear.

“Ah, my dear,  I would never allow a prize such as you to go to such a bumbling oaf.” She clapped her hands together musically and leaned forward so that her face was only inches of Isari’s. “Now, I must pretend that other merchandise here is of interest to me, but I do believe I’ve found what I came here for.” Before Isari could respond, Shaandi’s lips were on her own. The kiss was charged with all the carnality that was Shaandi Necorian, and after she was far withdrawn into the crowd, Isari was reeling with the pure pleasure of it.

Nikoli waved one woman-like hand in front of Isari’s face until she met his eyes with a dazed expression.

“Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was a gratifying experience for you. Maybe being a whoremother’s slave would have it’s perks after all?” He winked at her knowingly, and she shoved him roughly.

“Shut up, you.”

Hedonism’s Slave

Whatever expectations Isari had had of this day were obliterated by the clouds of dust that swirled around her and assaulted her senses. She scrunched up her face, mindful of the cosmetics that heavily layered her skin. She blinked, the grit of the sandstorm causing her eyes to water, and she quickly lifted a perfectly- manicured hand to her face, attempting to catch the bothersome tears that threatened to destroy all her mother’s hard work. She breathed in through her mouth and immediately regretted it when dirt found it’s way down her throat and she began coughing grotesquely. She bent over, aware of the fact that her bountiful cleavage was nearly falling out of  her ridiculous costume. She looked on either side of her, trying to see if anyone else was having the same issues as she, and she made eye contact with a pretty boy that looked close to her own age. He grinned broadly as he shrugged and shielded his eyes from the airbourne grime.

“If they fall out, you might catch a higher price!” His eyes sparkled a brilliant green color, and Isari laughed, which only made her choke harder. She continued to hack until one of the handlers approached, looking anxious.

“The buyers will be here soon!  You must maintain your disposition!” The handler laid an un-calloused hand on Isari’s back and began thumping her lightly. Her coughing fit ended quickly enough, and she stood up, let out a deep breath. The handler adjusted her crooked dress, and slid his hands on either side of her breasts, thrusting them upward before stepping back and nodding approvingly. He then moved away, continuing to fuss over the other human commodities. Isari glanced over at the green-eyed boy and rolled her eyes. He shook his head, a little bit sadly.

“We’re not people anymore, you know. Only bondservants for the next seven years.” He seemed distracted by his own thought momentarily, then brought his attention back to Isari. “I’m Nickoli.” He held out a pale, freckled hand, and Isari grasped it firmly.

“Isari. I’ve been trying to forget that fact for the last three years, thanks.” She smiled kindly at Nickoli, and realized by his handshake he would most likely be purchased by a man. She immediately liked this charming boy, and hoped that maybe their buyers would live near each other. She’d been feeling melancholy of late, thinking of her family, and her friends Rona and Mighera, and of the fact that she would never see them after this day. “A great opportunity” is what they all had said to her. Perhaps, she had replied, but at what price?

There was a loud, ear-piercing whistle then, and Isari shivered involuntarily.

And so it begins, she thought bitterly.

After the government had fallen to anarchy, a new way of life had taken over. The people who had once been celebrities in the old government became the highest class in a new caste system where self- indulgence and carnality reigned supreme. Those individuals gifted with such talents that stimulated the mind and body- actors, writers, artists, musicians, prostitutes- these were elevated above all others, as were  those children born to such. These were called the  Schon. The working class, those who were responsible solely for pleasuring the Schon were known as the Haaldus. The Haaldus consisted of beautiful people alone. Any child born to a member of the Haaldus who bore any imperfection were sent away to a lower caste- the Enw. The Enw were those who served the Schon, keeping them in their extravagance, and children deemed acceptably alluring were sold off at the age of seventeen to the Schon, where they remained for seven years, until they had earned the title of Haaldus. There existed another caste, though it was not acknowledged, one consisting of those who were disabled, or unseemly, or those considered devoid of any pleasure-imparting talent. The Forsaken, as these unfortunates were called, were displaced souls, forbidden to build homes, and so wandered the streets and roads, most of them meeting their deaths at the hands of the higher castes. Isari’s parents were Enw, and this was her Hocking Day.

She watched as gorgeous people decked out in shimmering fabrics entered the Emporium, intent on finding the most desirable of playthings. Several faces she recognized, an actor and actress couple who were known to purchase a considerable number of Enw every year, an artist who’s work had brought Isari to tears, and a well-known prostitute who owned a slew of pleasure houses across several provinces. The sea of beautiful faces in front of her began to blend together, and Isari realized her ridiculously-tight dress was making it hard for her to breathe. She felt a hand steady her, and gave Nickoli a grateful look. She closed her eyes and  took as deep a breath as her bindings would allow. When she opened her eyes, she found herself face to face with Shaandi Necorian, the owner of the pleasure houses.

Shaandi eyed Isari intimately, starting from her feet, which were encased in absurdly high heels, continuing achingly slow all the way up to her chest, where Isari heard her make a sound low in her throat. Isari stood there miserably, trying not to reach out and pummel the woman, until Shanndi’s eyes met her own. An almost imperceptible smirk appeared on the woman’s face, and the slightest raise of one perfectly-shaped eyebrow as she assessed the malice burning in Isari’s eyes.

“Don’t be so hostile, love. The clients won’t enjoy it.” Long fingers with lacquered nails were placed on Isari’s chin, lifting as Shaandi appraised her skin and jawline.

Isari remained mute, openly showing her contempt as Shaandi noticed Nickoli standing nearby.

“You, too, love. There’s too much sadness in your eyes. Buck up! You’re lucky to have made the cut.” Nickoli smiled, remaining his charming self despite the barbarity of his situation.

“Yes, ma’am.” Isari noticed a Southern lilt to his response that she hadn’t noticed before.

Shaandi laughed, a pleasant and alluring sound. “Ma’am? Oh, love, do I look as old as all that?” She flirted as she touched Nickoli’s hand. Isari didn’t fail to notice how every action and movement the woman made was licentious.

Nickoli’s porcelain skin flushed a bright red, and Isari realized the effect Shaandi was having on him. “No, ma’- er, miss. No, not at all.” Isari narrowed her eyes at him, feeling betrayed by his reaction to this member of the Schon.

Shaandi laughed her golden laugh again, and turned her attention once again to Isari. “You see? You’re little friend accepts his circumstances, pretty bird. Perhaps I can teach you to welcome them as well, hmm?” Shaandi placed her hand once again on Isari’s face, this time cupping her cheek in a surprisingly comforting way.

Isari felt her heart sink, despite the reassurance. It had been bad enough when she knew she was being sold to a complete stranger to be used as she would, but to be sold into servitude at a pleasure house was more than she thought she could bear.

 

 

Different

Before

Trinyx stayed just under the surface of the waves, watching the beautiful creature with the bouncing hair react to the lecherous older one. She worried when she saw the angry expression cross the young human’s face, wondering what had angered him so, as she watched him shove the other man out of the way. Trinyx felt as though her very self was being pulled toward the handsome boy as he stomped angrily away from the ship’s rail, until she noticed a splash in the waves next to her. She moved away in disgust when she realized what it was- one of the other less-attractive humans was leaning over the side of the ship, retching into the sea. She was filled with fury that he was polluting her ocean in such a way, and wanted to jump up and  grab the man, pull him into the water, and swim down to the deepest depths with him where she knew he would perish. Instead, she swam close to the body of the ship, and indignantly banged her tail against the wood several times.

As she swam away toward her home, she looked back, and saw several of the men looking confused and leaning over the ship’s rail, peering into the water, wondering what sort of fish had rammed their boat. Trinyx glimpsed the dark-haired man too, who seemed to be looking directly at her, though she knew it was too dark for him to see that far. She lifted her pale hand in a useless gesture, and thought she imagined the man raise his own hand in return. The waves moved    her, and she pushed her tail against them , diving into the night-black water.

Far below the moonlit surface of the ocean, Trinyx slowed her movements, realizing how close she had been to a human. She thought of how soft his hair had been between her fingers, and how it had sprung so lightly from them. She weaved her fingers between the ropey lengths of her own hair that was billowing out around her, and let it go, watching it lazily drift in the leftover currents of her swimming. A few small fishes glides through it, and she swatted them away, perturbed.

She felt melancholy now, now that she had felt the air on her thick skin. She had never felt the pressure of the water surrounding her, but she felt it now, and she wanted to be back against the ship, looking into the expressive eyes of the alluring young man again. She thought of him and wondered if his skin would feel like hers, and she ran her hands down her torso, over her breasts and down her belly, until she felt scales that led into a lengthy tail. She looked at her tail, the tail that was the envy of her sisters, with it’s rainbow of purple and green and silvery scales, and decided it was not at all beautiful. Her fingertips felt over the coarse scales, and she wanted to feel what it was like to stand on two legs like the humans on the ship had.

The man’s eyes had been one color, and though she had never seen her own, she knew from looking into her sisters’ faces that mermaid eyes were an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors, and she thought to herself how uninteresting that was- as she had watched the man, she could see within his eyes a flurry of emotions, whereas when she watched her sisters, the constant color shift in their eyes made it completely impossible to know what they were thinking.

She had let the man’s sounds wash over her; how different they had been from her own! From the things her grandmother had told her, human voices were terrible to listen to, and humans themselves were seemingly possessed when offered a mermaid song, but Trinyx had liked the sound of his words- they were not melodious as a mermaid’s, no, but still pleasing to the ear in their own way.

She fingered the silver chain that was tied in her hair, and pushed the little button that had released the tiny door. She cried out when she saw that the picture inside was beginning to disintegrate already, and she shut it again quickly, hoping to preserve the likeness of the woman who looked like her human. She gripped the locket tightly to her chest, and was amazed that she cared so for this man, this creature who was so unlike her. She swam in circles, wondering what she was to do now.  Bubbles and fish floated out of her way as she did so. She was forbidden to have contact with the upper world, but there was one thing she knew for certain- she had to see him again.

 

Roses and Threats

Alyssa pulled her purple Ranger into the driveway with enough speed and gusto to make her fiancée Ryan cringe. He gripped the “oh shit” bar and was about to comment on women drivers as she came to a notably abrupt stop, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to put Lyss in a pissy mood. He jumped quickly out of the truck, thanking heaven he was still intact after the ride.

“I’ll get the mail!” He offered cheerily, already making his way to the mailbox.

Alyssa grabbed her purse and climbed out of the driver’s side, grinning to herself. She loved getting to Ryan like that. She admitted that she wasn’t a cautious driver, but she knew he didn’t consider her a good driver anyway, so she did shit like that just to bug him. She hummed as she stuck her key in the door, but stopped when she noticed the overwhelming smell of roses as the door swung open.

There were white rose petals EVERYWHERE. Alyssa’s eyes widened as she looked around. The ancient door normally swung back into whoever was walking through it, but the carpet of flowers made it stick half way open. The floors and countertops were crowded with crystal vases of every size, stuffed with long-stemmed white roses. Every step she took sent up a floral aroma, because there was no way to step around the carpet of petals. She was still standing completely awed in the middle of the kitchen when Ryan walked in the door.

“What the-” Lyss grew more bewildered when she saw the look of confusion on Ryan’s face. He smiled when she looked at him. “You tryin’ to butter me up, Baby? I prefer beer to roses.” His joke fell flat when Alyssa responded.

“I didn’t do this. How’d you afford all this?” Alyssa was still too overwhelmed to say anything else. She looked around and noticed the envelope with Ryan’s name sitting on the table the same time he did. Ryan shuffled through the matting of roses, and Alyssa giggled at how ridiculous he looked. He picked up the envelope and tore it open as Alyssa leaned forward to sniff a vaseful of flowers. She breathed in deeply and her eyes slid shut as she luxuriated in the smell, so she didn’t see Ryan’s facial expression darken from confusion to rage.

“WHO THE FUCK IS JACK?” The question reverberated throughout the room, making the many roses shiver. Alyssa jumped at the unexpected outburst, and knocked over the vase of flowers she’s just been enjoying.

“What?” she whispered. Her heart pounded in her ears as she waded through the mess. Ryan flung the card at her ferociously, and backed away from her. The look of utter malice in his eyes as he did so made Alyssa’s stomach drop. She looked down at the card in her hands and mouthed the words as she read them.

Ryan,

You’ll never be able to give her this. You can’t even afford to pay the electric bill, can you? She’s too good for a loser like you, and you know it. Alyssa is mine, and I can give her everything you’ll never be able to. Take a hike, buddy.

Jack

Alyssa looked up from the note, and Ryan mistook her wide-eyed expression as guilt. He backed even further away, shaking his head in fury.

“I know I’m broke, but what the fuck?! You find some rich asshole to have an affair with and talk about what a loser I am? What kind of sick cunt do you have to be to do that?”

It felt like Ryan had just punched her in the face when he said the words. He had never once called her any offensive names, and as far as she knew, he’d never found her untrustworthy. She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, and she stuttered to correct him.

“No, no, no,” She put her hand out to grab his, and he swatted her away. “Jack is that creepy guy I told you about that stops by the store; the one who kept asking me out, even after I told him about you. I’ve never seen him outside of work.” She felt herself becoming hysterical the more she thought about it. “He had to have gotten in here somehow- he had to have followed me- oh my god, Ryan, he was in our house.” The moment she said it, she began shaking.

“Well that’s probably because you fucking let him in, Alyssa.” Ryan’s tone was cold and unforgiving. “How else would he fucking know I’m broke unless you told him during one of your sex romps?”

Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head furiously. She didn’t know if the tears were from shock or betrayal, but they would not be stopped. She could hardly breathe, but she refused to let Ryan think she’d cheated on him.

“No, I never told him that. I swear I never did sex with him! I was nice to him at the store, that’s all. I kept telling him I had a fiancée, but he kept asking me to have a drink with him. He said he just wanted to talk, because I was nice to talk to. I didn’t- I would never, EVER do that to you, Love. You have to believe me.” She opened her eyes, and squealed in surprise. Ryan was still looking at her like he wanted to strangle her, but her focus was behind him. Jack was standing directly behind Ryan, with a deadly-looking bowie knife gleaming in his hand.