Sometimes, life smacks you so hard, you don’t realize what happened until after all the sting goes away.
With everything that has been happening, I haven’t been able to keep up with my Nanowrimo writing. That, and my four alpha readers haven’t really given me much more than “I like it! Keep writing.”
Unfortunately, I need more than that.
I moaned into my owner’s sensual kiss. I pulled away and blushed a deep crimson. “You do enjoy being able to slip me into a trance at a word, don’t you?”
He chuckled, and kissed me again, letting me wrap my arms around him. “Owner’s privilege,” he purred, as the radio went off in my ear. “Ignore it,” he ordered, so I did as he took my hand in his and sat next to me.
I took another bite of my gyros as I waited for whatever it was my master wanted. He dug around in one of his pockets and pulled something out. “I meant to give this to you yesterday, mine.”
From his hand, a pink ribbon unfurled, and a key dangled from the end. My eyes darted from the key to his eyes, and his crotch, back to his sparkling eyes. I gulped down my mouthful of food and held my hand in front of my mouth as I spoke in shock, asking, “the key to your cage?”
He chuckled and slipped it around my neck. “Yes, mine. I want you to know that unless we both agree, my probe will not engage. You may end up with other probes, peens, and things inside of you this weekend, but my probe is the one you won’t have to fear.”
“I don’t understand.” I really didn’t. I loved knowing cocks were chained up and contained. The thought titillated me and made me giggle. This, however, was master’s key that was around my neck.
This is just a small fragment of what I have written. I have about 15,000 words I could publish right now, but not quite sure how to end it.
Disentangling myself from my two protectors, I sat up, looked at my hands for a moment, then at the assailant. “To you, this was a moment of stupidity, and embarrassment that you got caught. For me, I will have to live with the memory of what you did to me for the rest of my life. You have a minor inconvenience. Take your leave now, if you know what is good for you.”
At least that’s what I wanted to say to him. Instead, I said, “I concur.”
Yes, I have a villain in this story. A bad guy, with a big buckle of DOM on his belt, and his entourage.
I’m not quite sure who I am writing for, or even if what I am writing is publishable.
I’ve had to pause my writing. Not only has my real life come flying into my face – repeatedly – but Spitfire’s father is getting weaker and watching him slowly wilt away has depleted what little mental energy she had left over for me.
She did the one thing she never wanted to do to me. She released me from her side and all restrictions as her submissive. We’re still partnered in Second Life, she’s still my mentor, but she can’t be the dom I want or need at the moment. Her real life is filled with too much grief, too much worry about her father’s last days on this Earth and making sure that he is as comfortable as he can be.
I didn’t take the news well, especially when she was being emotional at the time of release. She said a few words I know she would take them back if she could.
Of course, the doms fishing for submissives have come out of the woodwork. I’ve been given offers of being collared by multiple people. Some are “collars of protection.” Others are actual collars. I have the family to protect me, and, if I wanted to, two friends willing to give me shelter and advice as well.
Spitfire has reassured me that she’s still my mentor and my friend, and that she loves me. She said she did not want to release me as her submissive, but with everything going on in her life, she didn’t have time or mental energy to deal with me deeply and as thoroughly as either of us would have liked. I’m still “hers,” but I’m not “Hers.” The slight difference is a gaping hole as wide and as deep as the Marianas Trench.
I can’t be there at her side to help her. I can’t relieve her grief or even take her away from it for an evening, and my own frustrations and self-doubt added on to her own stresses were too much for her. I can’t reach out to help her, or distract her, or make her smile. The gulf to cross is too wide.
She says that this isn’t forever. It’s only temporary. That once her life is back on track, she’ll take me back if I’ll have her.
The Galleria is Closed
Along with everything else in my life, I was tasked to run the Galleria’s last event on Saturday. I paid for one extra week, and organized quickly, to get 3 djs, and gift cards for contests. I think I did pretty damn good for how little time I had to prepare. Spitfire did her signature set, followed by Tempest Kitty, and I rounded out the event.
Unfortunately, mum wasn’t able to attend. Her real life reared up and struck. I might do a longer post someday about the Galleria and the fun we had there.
The elfmaid spins around, making sure all the paperwork is done, the last bits of debris from the party swept up, and that the garbage was taken out. Checking one last time, she sighs, flicking off the lights as she went through the building for one last check. Flick. Flick. Click. Dial. Flick. Flick. Finally, just before the last one, she opens the door to the outside, and, wiping away tears, the elfmaid puts her hand on the last light switch. “Thank you, Galleria, for the laughter, the lessons, the friends, and more. I’ll never forget you.” With a sigh, her hand slowly glides down the switchplate until the click is heard, as the Galleria’s last light goes out. Pulling the door shut behind her, the Galleria descends into darkness. She hefts a cat carrier to her shoulder over the backpack she carried. Pulling her duster closed, and opening an umbrella, the elfmaid descends the stairs with an address in hand.”Let’s go, Maneki. We have a new home to get to.”