Fantasy Drawing #1 2017

So...

I completed my first fantasy drawing since 2012.  I'm rusty and out of practice (not that I was ever particularly good at drawing before the hiatus), so I skimped a bit on detail and shading in favor of getting it done as I had envisioned it.

This easily could be a scene from fs01... and wanted to sort of roll with that vibe a bit.  It has a lot of the normal stuff I draw in it as well as a return of the framed mantras.  I thought about going with some dialogue but decided to let the picture tell the story.

I hope you enjoy it.

Fiction: fs01 - Cassandra's Blog Bonus Chapter: Locks

Author’s Note: This bonus chapter is a mock Question and Answer session done by Cassandra on her blog. It could take place at any time after Arc 1.

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Cassandra’s Blog Bonus Chapter - Q & A: Locks

Dear Ms. C.

Would you be willing to shed light on something for me? Do you have a fascination with locks and restraints? Your sub is obedient yet you lock him into his uniform. You chain his hands before putting him in a cage. I guess I just don’t understand why you do these things as they seem a bit excessive, unnecessary, and needlessly complicated.

-Casual Domina

I do have a fascination with locks and restraints, CD, and I do not mind sharing the reasons with you. I like them mostly because of how they affect my sub on a psychological level. When he finds something unpleasant, any hint of freedom or power leaves the door open for mental resistance. These situations make certain parts of his obedience “optional,” as compliance becomes his choice. Locks help to erase any resistance and push him to a state of total surrender. That is the way that I like him best.

Early on I would occasionally get frustrated with rigging up complicated restraints, but practice makes perfect. When you weigh in the amount of effort it takes me to lock him up versus the effects it has on his submission, I always consider it worthwhile. Twenty seconds on my part to ensure that he struggles in discomfort for hours? Sign me up.

To be completely honest, I would still lock him up even if he achieved total surrender on his own. The look on his face when I put the locks on his uniform and let him know that one of my employees will be delivering something to the house while he is home is absolutely delicious.

END

At least some things are amusing

Well, the events of today have definitely made this one of the worst weeks I've had in many years.  My stress level is off the charts and will remain that way until some uncertainty with my work situation clears up.

At least I stumbled upon something amusing today.

Because yes, doesn't everyone just want a parka that zips completely over your face and has an attached fur pom pom?  Makes perfect sense. 

Random Perversions: New (to me) Bondage Gear

I haven't purchased any new gear but after hunting for a link to the "How may I help you?" gag I ended up finding the primary site of the company that makes them, Scott Paul Designs.

I had remembered that the gag wasn't of the locking variety so it wasn't as interesting as it could have been but on the parent site there is a locking option for $5 more.

If you aren't familiar with the gag, it's actually called the Humiliator gag and it features a front attachment point that allows for a variety of different devices to be attached to the gag.  The list includes: serving tray, toilet paper dispenser, toilet brush, feather duster, butt plug, nail brush, ash tray, document clip, eye ring, boot brush, vac-u-lock plug, dildo, dish brush, suction cup, snap hook, floor scrub brush, coat hook, and T-connector with optional wrist restraints.  There is also a wall/floor plate that can be mounted so that you can restrain your sub by their face to wherever it is bolted.

They also offer it in a chest harness version:

Interesting and creative bondage devices tend to pique my interest quite a bit, especially things that get near the dark realm of my dream bondage devices and the like.  While spending more time on the site I found a handful of things that were rather interesting, one of which was a wire mesh penis covering called the Cruel Condom intended to cause discomfort/pain to the wearer if friction is applied.

While browsing everything I found an item that is probably my favorite thing they offered.  They call it the One-Way Magic Blindfold.  Assuming it works as advertised, it is a pair of clear goggles that people on the outside can see the sub's eyes clearly to see what they are looking at or their expressions/reactions but the wearer has their vision severely blurred to where they can likely make out basic shapes and colors but see nothing clearly or in detail.  This one makes my head spin as it is rather devious and clever.  I can imagine being kept in these for an extended period would cause a lot of brain confusion.  If you are blindfolded your other senses take over and you generally resign yourself mentally to not being able to see.  I would have to wonder if the wearer would eventually just shut their eyes or if there would be a temptation to try to see and continuously struggling in their mind.

Interesting stuff.

30 Days of Kink: Day 13

Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you? 

There are a handful of things that appeal to me, some of which are "good" reasons while others are "bad."  

One reason is that my lack of success with dating led to me struggling with my confidence level when it came to interacting with women in a romantic way.  I was uncertain on how to read them and preferred to defer initiating contact.  While I had been told dozens of times over that it is unattractive to ask permission to kiss someone, it seemed better to be unattractive and ask than force my way in when it wasn't welcome.  I am now much better versed at reading signs but old habits die hard.  Once in a relationship I have no trouble instigating contact.  

My psychological damage and abuse from childhood make obedience, expectations, and the like fairly second nature.  It actually feels more peaceful to have restrictions and expectations than to act purely upon my own free will.  In addition to the romantic side, D/s flows easily in this way for me as well.

Bondage, collars, locks, and the like appeal to me on a deeper level.  They make me feel safe and valued.  Protected.  Kept.  If you have a nice bicycle you put a sturdy lock on it.  When she locks me in I feel like she thinks I'm something of value.

This last bit I didn't really come to understand until recently, but I have come to know that a handful of things had become built up in a strange way within me due to shaming.  Like, a woman in a fur coat I saw as being irresistibly attractive but also taboo and almost sacred.  When that reality is forced upon me I can't rationally cope with it and I just melt.

Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?

D/s makes logical sense to me.  Do well and you are rewarded with attention and affection.  Do badly and you will be punished and shunned.  I'm pretty damn good at doing well. 

Bondage I'm 99% certain comes from M and I've written about this enough times where I probably don't have to repeat it.

Fur is a stranger one.  In a lot of ways I'm just Lenny who wants to pet the puppies (ideally without a neck-breaking wake of destruction).  I believe this comes from early childhood where our house was very dry in the winter and my parents would put various items in my crib to keep me from rubbing my skin raw.  A fur pelt, a silk blanket, etc.    

The weirdness comes in I believe with the taboo of the shaming.  For years I developed a "look but don't touch, and then feel ashamed for looking," way of it.  Fur was always on women and those women became special.  Untouchable Goddesses.  Seeing as some of my earliest exposure to Femdom happened while looking for photos of women in fur on the NTCweb site, the two became intertwined in a weird way.

30 Days of Kink: Day 7

What’s your favourite toy or item of equipment?

As much as I had wished there was a collar of significance and meaning that I could put here, having a thick neck limits practical options.  

The next up would have to be the Rabbit lined cuff set from Midnight Blues.

They are incredibly soft and feel amazing.  In addition to that they are high quality and offer a number of good features, such as some velcro that helps hold them in place so that you can easily put them on yourself and of course, locking buckles.  They are sized to fit adults of either gender.  

Fiction: fs01 - Part 75

Author’s Note: I added a section to part 74 about 5 minutes after publishing it. The post had 2 views when I updated it. If you happen to have read it within 5 minutes of it going live, please make sure that Day 23 was in it.

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LXXV

Day 24.

I wake up with my head pounding and my stomach twisting from hunger. Last night’s sleep wasn’t restful. Mistress returns today. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and hang up her robe before heading to the kitchen for breakfast. I return to a plain diet today: a piece of dry toast and a hard-boiled egg. How quickly I shift back to old routines and habits, almost like the past three weeks never happened.

I wash the dishes after eating and move on to the living room. I haven’t practiced Mistress’s song since I left. I pick up the guitar to give it a run-through. The fur on the cuffs of my uniform interfere with my hands and prevent me from being able to play. I’m a bit disappointed at my lack of forethought as I return the guitar to its stand.

The reality of Mistress’s arrival fills me with anticipation. I’m actually nervous. As the time crawls closer I begin to feel ill as negativity crowds out my other thoughts. I’m terrible. I’m unworthy. I’m unforgivable. I’m weak… why am I so weak? Why did I do those things? Did I hurt her?

I know this line of thinking isn’t productive… logic doesn’t save me from it. After a while I hear the sound of tires on the driveway. I hurry my way to the door and kneel before it. The click of her boots on the walkway causes my body to stiffen. I reach out, unlock the door, and open it.

The sunlight frames her in a bright glow. My eyes squint as her silhouetted figure towers before me. She stands with her hands on her hips, the outline of her figure is clearly defined as the long leather coat, trimmed with fur moves as she shifts her feet. I move out of the way as my Mistress enters the door. It’s been so long. My feelings almost jump out of my chest as my heart races at a rapid pace. She stops in her tracks. I bow my head low and kiss her feet, first the right foot, then the left.

She walks past me without speaking and makes her way to the coat closet. I imagine that she is tired. I shut the door behind her and hurry past her, ready to accept her coat. She turns her back to me without a word as I carefully guide it off of her. Her perfume fills my nose and I feel my sex strain against the belt. She tosses her hat at me and begins working on removing her gloves from her hands. The soft leather impacts my chest before falling onto my outstretched arms supporting her coat.

I carry them into the closet, carefully putting them away before returning with her robe, hat, and slippers. We perform our normal ritual. As I work my way around her I steal a glimpse of her face. Mistress is expressionless and this adds to my sense of uneasiness. I kneel and remove her boots, guiding her feet into her slippers. I press my lips firmly and deliver an elongated kiss. My heart sinks as she pulls her foot away.

“Fetch the rest of my bags from the driveway. Meet me in the dungeon when you are done.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I answer in a small voice while keeping my eyes to the ground. As she departs the room I hustle outside and begin the arduous process of carrying in her luggage. Any thoughts that Mistress has a lot of luggage when we are gone for a week is completely overshadowed by the mother-load that sits stacked before me. I move the trunks one by one, first moving each piece into the entryway, getting them out of the cold. It takes me a dozen trips to get them in and another dozen to haul them upstairs and position them to be unpacked. At least when I move them back to storage they will be empty. By the time I finish I am perspiring and out of breath. I must be quite out of shape.

I descend the basement steps slowly. My heart starts to ache as it pounds away inside my chest. The fear builds and I want to run away. I continue on, driven not so much by courage as a sense of responsibility. In the dungeon I kneel in the corner facing the wall and wait for Mistress.

She makes me wait. Time drags on so slowly. My knees ache. Being alone to stew in my thoughts increases the discomfort. I have to believe that Mistress is well aware of this. After what feels like an eternity I hear the click of heels on the basement stairs. My ears perk and my posture instantly corrects itself.

I can smell as she enters the room. She must have taken a bath as the scent of her bath oils flows through the room. I hear the whir of the motor as Mistress prepares the chains. This confirms my initial fears… I doubt this will be a pleasant reunion.

“Come here, slave.”

I respond instantly to her monotone voice. I hop to my feet and approach her slowly, keeping my head down. I present my wrists. She locks the chain ends to the O-rings and pulls it over the hook above my head before getting to work on my ankle chains. I assume without looking that the chain will run through the ring bolted to the floor. She stands before me and I sneak a look at her. The long fur coat hangs open revealing her siren outfit. Knee high leather boots and gloves complete the outfit. She pulls the blindfold over my eyes locking it in place and depriving me of the pleasure of viewing her.

Her footsteps pace away and soon the motor comes to life, stretching my arms above my head. The spikes in my cuffs dig into the skin on my wrists as the hook pulls me until I teeter on the tips of my toes. I let out a small groan.

Her scent draws near to me and soon her hands glide over my body. Her touch on my skin makes me shudder. I feel her tracing over the marks and bruises that remain on my backside from Dominique’s onslaught. I can hear her breathing intensify.

“So tell me about the infractions for which you should be punished, slave.”

My mind races a million miles per hour, overthinking if I should work from intensity, chronologically, in reverse, and so on. Her fingers pinch a bruise and I yelp. I hear the light rattle of chains as the clamp digs into my nipple. She tightens it until I scream before repeating the process. My head grows cloudy with pain as I blurt out an answer.

“I submitted to Miss Dominique, Mistress. Although she released me, she broke me physically and I gave in to save myself.”

Mistress responds with a deep breath that passes both in and out through her nose.

“Disloyalty isn’t very becoming of a slave. What made you do such a thing?”

I cringe as I answer.

“It hurt too much, Mistress She used a whip on me.”

I hear her tongue click against her teeth and imagine a look of disgust.

“You’ve been whipped before, slave. You didn’t break then. Why is that acceptable now?”

I fall silent, unable to justify myself. Shame tints my cheeks a dark shade of red.

“It only seems fair then that your penance should be with a whip then doesn’t it, slave? I will have to cleanse you of this betrayal. I think we’ll start with 200.”

I let out a gasp and whimper. Her fingers caress my jaw and then pinch my face firmly between her index finger and thumb.

“It won’t be 200 at once. To let your suffering end after one day doesn’t do the punishment justice. We’ll do 20 a day for ten days. I assume the slave approves.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What else?”

“I looked at porn on the internet, Mistress.”

“Porn?” She laughs. “Did you find a way out of your chastity belt?”

“No, Mistress.”

“What would porn do for a chaste slave?”

“My heart was hurting… I wanted to find something that would cause feelings.”

“What kind of feelings?”

“I wanted to feel submission, Mistress.”

I hear her pace around me in a circle. The intensity of her perfume trails around my body as my nipples and wrists ache and my legs and back begin to tire.

“How did my slave get so pathetic? I used to brag about his quality to my friends.”

Her words carve deep into my heart. I agree with them. I release a small sniffle as tears well up in my eyes behind the blindfold.

“Well, a slave is just a pathetic male after all. For this we’ll go 50 with the paddle, five per day for ten days. Next?”

“I found your blog, Mistress.”

With this she stops in her tracks. I feel her grip the chain between the nipple clamps and pull. My brain floods with pain as they stretch farther and dig deeper into my tender flesh. I let out a low squeal as she holds it in place.

“I don’t ever remember giving a slave permission to do that. How much did you read?”

“Two posts, Mistress. One about my uniform and your last post before you left.”

I sigh in relief as she releases the chain.

“The funny thing about trust, slave, is that it is so easily broken but so difficult to earn back.”

I begin to sob. Her disappointment in me is evident.

“I will add 100 with the strap. Ten per day over ten days. What else?”

My tears are flowing freely as I choke on my sobs.

“I wore some of your hats, gloves, and scarves because it was cold, Mistress I went to a bookstore and bought some things… the salesgirl teased me. I went back three more times… I couldn’t stay away. She took my phone and emailed you.”

“So you even tried to submit to a complete stranger?”

I weep and try to continue.

“No Mistress. I wasn’t submitting… I don’t know why I couldn’t stay away.”

“Stop making excuses, slave. You have embarrassed me as you’ve embarrassed yourself. I suppose you just want to leave things as is?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Then you expect me to clean up your mess and compensate her for the troubles you caused?”

I’m so ashamed that I can’t speak.

“This will be 100 with the cane. Is there anything else?”

“I let some food spoil, Mistress. It went bad before I could eat it.”

“That was irresponsible of you, slave. Serves me right for expecting a slave to be able to manage his own food. Add 50 with the paddle. Is there anything else?”

I shake my head and bawl.

“I’m so sorry, Mistress.”

“Do you think sorry is enough, slave?”

I shake my head.

“Apologies are only meaningful when the feelings matter of the person making them. Does a slave’s feelings matter?”

I shake my head.

“I’m a bit furious with you, slave. I’m going to add 100 with the flogger as well. That brings us to 20 with the whip, ten with the paddle, ten with the cane, ten with the strap, and ten with the flogger each day for the next ten days. During this time you will be on high protocol. You will be gagged and you will not speak at all for its duration. You will not look at me. If you make eye contact with me or any of my guests we will add a day. Your chastity tube will be switched to a spiked version and you will be plugged each day. You will not sleep in my room. Any new punishments will be tripled.”

I hear her boots click away across the floor. I hear her take an object off the wall. She swings it and I hear it swish through the air.

“Your beating regimen will begin tomorrow.”

I feel her hook the back of my dress to the belt, leaving my bare ass exposed. I continue to cry as I swallow and attempt to prepare myself for what is coming next.

Whir, crack. The whip bites into my flesh. I let out a howl as my body writhes against my bonds. Whir, crack. I scream and flail as the leather leaves a searing burn across my tender flesh. Mistress isn’t holding back.

Whir crack. I shriek. The pain reverberates through my body, finally throbbing in my wrists where the spikes dig deeply into my skin. Whir, crack. I feel the hot trickle of blood as my legs quiver, barely able to support my body. Whir, crack. I scream and shake with pain as I feel the light flow of more blood on my skin. Today feels different. I don’t hope for her to stop. I know I deserve this.

Eventually the whip comes to a rest. I slump against the chains, exhausted. My legs have no strength left in them as I hang from the hook above. The motor whirs, lowering me a few inches… just enough for me to put the front halves of my feet flat on the floor. I continue sobbing… it occupies what is left of my energy.

I feel the fur of her coat brush up against the skin on my thigh. She leans in and places her lips over mine, plunging her tongue deep within my mouth. My nose is filled with the scent of her perfume and her sex. She withdraws and drives the gag firmly into my mouth. I hear it lock into place. Her steps click away and she leaves me alone to stew. My body throbs. My heart hurts. I’m sorry, Mistress. I love you.

END ACT

Fiction: fs01 - Part 72

Author’s Note:

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LXXII

Day 12, continued.

The door opens to the back seat of the vehicle and I climb in.

“Thank you, Miss Dominique.”

“I look forward to breaking you, little one.”

The remainder of the ride is silent. I don’t know how to respond to that. We arrive at Dominique’s a little bit before 10pm. Inside the house Sammy and Dominique escort me to my room. I receive instructions at the door.

“Take off your clothes, little one. I’ll see that they are washed.”

I nod and remove my wallet and phone from my pocket. I place them on a try that Sammy holds in his hands and start to undress. I fold up the clothes and set them in the center of the tray. Sammy opens the door. Based upon his efforts it must weigh quite a bit. It’s dark inside. I enter slowly and run my hand along the wall looking for a switch. The bit of light disappears as the door shuts heavily behind me. I hear the click of the bolt turn. A bare bulb lights up in the center of the ceiling.

The room is tiny. After a short entryway, the room itself is maybe 4’ x 6’ with no windows. It is empty except for a metal bucket sitting in the corner. I turn back and test the door. It is securely locked with no form of handle or anything on the inside. All I can find is thin seam about halfway up. It feels like the type of door in solitary confinement of a prison and this is the slat that a tray can be passed through.

The walls are barren. They are painted an almost white color and the texture makes me believe they are bare cinder blocks. There is no light switch. On the ceiling I find a vent and a dome, most likely housing a security camera. The floor is smooth and cold. I hear a clunk and the vent hums. My suspicions confirmed, I can feel cold air cycling through the previously still air of the room. What is up with dominant women and making me freeze?

I return to the door and pound my palm on it.

“Miss Dominique? Sammy? Gordon? Hello.”

I receive no response. I place my back against the wall and slide to the floor. If this is a psychological mind game of some sort… it’s working. My mind begins to race around in every direction imaginable. Regret. Oh God, what have I done? I know what Dominique is capable of, why did I choose this? Denial. Can I still get out of this? If I beg and plead or try to run, can I get away? Self-pity. I can’t believe I’m so pathetic that I would choose this over being alone. I can’t believe Mistress expected that I would need this. Fear. I wonder what she’s going to do to me. I wonder if I can handle it. Acceptance. This is the path I chose and I just have to deal with it. I was out of control and out of options.

I lose all track of time. I have no reference. The hum of the electric air continues to chill me from above. I curl up into a ball on the floor and rub my skin for warmth. I’m cold. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’m lonely. For fuck’s sake, was I always this selfish?

I twist and turn, unable to get comfortable. I pace around… I am a caged animal. I pound against the wall and cry out. I’m so tired. I finally collapse in a heap on the ground, finally content to accept that I have no control. I feel my eyes close slowly as the rays of light from the bulb above start to sting. I feel my consciousness drift and my head becomes heavy.

Day 13.

No sooner does my head reach the floor that a heavy bang at the door startles me. I push myself into the corner. The bolt turns and the heavy door creaks upon its hinges. I look up in fear as the shadowy figure steps out of the shadows and into the light. The smell of the perfume reaches me just as she reveals her form. The long leather coat trimmed in fur. The Russian military styled fur hat. The heavy boots. The mask, oh God, the guard’s mask from the prison. My body reacts on its own as I whimper and press myself deeper into the corner. Her voice laughs.

“We really did a number on you back then, didn’t we, little one? Your terror is truly delicious. Up against the wall. Spread your legs.”

I rise, still trembling and place my hands against the wall and do as she says. She roughly takes my wrists within her grip and pulls my arms behind my back, handcuffing them tightly together. I feel the cold touch of metal as a ring is closed around my neck and locked. My breathing heaves and I focus on calming myself to no avail.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for years, little one. I finally have permission to break you.”

She jabs me in the back with something firm and turns me by the shoulder.

“Let’s get moving.”

I begin walking slowly. She nudges me when she wants me to pick up the pace, all the while calling out directions when she wants me to turn. I had forgotten how large her house is. A couple of minutes later we descend the stairs to the dungeon.

“Lay on the ground.”

I drop to my knees and flop onto the ground.

“Be a good boy and raise your feet.”

I lift my feet and strain as she locks them within a pair of shackles dangling from the ceiling.

“Before we get started, little one, I have a few things I wanted to tell you. You drive me crazy.”

She paces back and forth in front of me, her long coat swaying too and fro. The mask hides her expressions from me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this much fear.

“I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but do you realize that when I’m around you I find myself drawn to acts of kindness… or possibly even pity. That infuriates me. I don’t know if you have any idea just how much I have agonized over finding the reason for this. It took me months to figure it out and finally it dawned on me. The first time I had you here I absolutely brutalized you on a level that you had never experienced before. Not once did you beg me for mercy. Not once did you plead for me to stop.”

She paces over to the wall and retrieves a device from a hook. Her body blocks my view. Dominique continues talking.

“I have toyed with a lot of men in my lifetime. A LOT of men. They are so quick to throw themselves at me, promising this, promising that, blah blah blah. Once I show them my true self they crumble and whimper and whine and beg like little bitches.”

Her voice switches to a mocking tone.

“’Please stop hitting me, I’ll do anything you say, anything.’ It’s absolutely disgusting. They want no part of this. It’s all a game to them until I hit them once or twice. They have no spirit worth breaking. But you, little one… you drove me so mad. I expected you to fold up and start making empty promises and shouting out hollow words as I systematically broke your body.”

While I am flattered that she is sharing with me, I have never seen this side of Dominique and I find it even more terrifying than her usual self.

“I obsessed about this for weeks after but could never figure it out. It’s only recently that my thoughts have come together about you. I finally understand why I hate you as much as I do. Why I go out of my way to comfort you in your times of need. Why I am drawn to you. Within all of the pain and agony, you never once betrayed your Mistress. You had absolute faith that you were simply following her wishes and that kept you from even considering trying to talk your way out of it all. You knew that it would end… and you persevered. What upsets me so much is that I respect you. God, I can’t believe I am telling you this. I actually respect you. Me, respecting a lowly slave. It’s so silly… but it’s true.”

She leans down and looks at me, my terror-stricken face reflecting back at me in the mirrored goggles.

“I hate you so badly that I wish to destroy you.”

She lets out a laugh. While I writhe in my bonds. I’m trembling and I cannot get away.

“I realized a long time ago that Cass loves you so much that she would never let you go. It was then that I realized that I could never possess you and that as long as she is alive, your heart will be hers. A lesser woman might still desire you and resort to underhanded means to pry you away from your Mistress. I would never dream of stooping to such a level. You should know, though, that envy doesn’t suit me.”

She moves quickly. Whir, smack. My body convulses and I let out a blood-curdling scream as the cane strikes the bottom of my foot. Whir, smack. The other foot. I scream again as tears stream down my face and I begin to weep. I can feel my heart beating in the throbbing pain. I sob meekly.

“I don’t know if it’s because I never graduated high school, but I’m just not clever like Cassandra. This is the best solution I could come up with.”

Whir, smack. Whir, smack. I choke on my saliva as I wail in agony. I feel my feet twitching and I can’t do anything to soften the blows.

“Cass is my friend and I love her dearly. She’s a woman that I consider my equal, if not even my superior. It makes me feel awful thinking that I covet what is hers. It took months for this opportunity to arise but I finally have my solution: to make you something that I do not want.”

Whir, smack. Whir, smack. I shriek and struggle, flopping around against the cold stone floor.

“By the time I’m done, little one, you will be broken. I will no longer respect you, and I can return to who I am without being haunted by you.”

The next few moments blur as she bombards the bottoms of my feet with the cane. I lose count as my brain spins out of control, overwhelmed with pain. It doesn’t take long for her to finish. I feel her unlock the shackles from around my ankles. My feet fall to the floor. It’s freezing in the dungeon but my body drips with sweat. My feet throb badly, they pulse and swell shooting pain up my legs.

I watch from the floor a she tilts her head from side to side stretching her neck. She removes the mask and tosses it to the floor.

“I suppose by now you’re so terrified that I don’t need any gimmicks, little one. Up up.”

I roll onto my stomach and attempt to get my legs under me. I touch my foot against the ground and collapse. She paces her way across the dungeon. I shuffle on my knees after her as best I can. She stops next to the pillory. Oh the memories. This awful device. Dominique kneels down and unlocks the handcuffs from my wrists, tossing them on the ground. I lower my head and force myself up, grabbing onto the beams for support. As I put weight on my foot pain shoots through my brain and I begin to stumble. I’m surprised when she catches me and helps hold me upright.

I take tiny, ginger steps, the cold stone of the floor pressing painfully against my flesh as I go. She secures my ankles in the leg stocks before guiding my hands and neck into the upper, closing and locking it after me.

“I was debating how I would do this, little one. I found a method on one of my favorite blogs that I think will work perfectly. It involves four devices: a paddle, a cane, a strap, and a flogger. I plan to hit you with each of them, rotating through them until you submit. If you make it through two cycles I will add the bull whip. You can make me stop at any time with the words, ‘I submit to you, Mistress.’ Consider these words carefully, little one. I’m sure you know the weight that they carry.”

I sniffle and sob inside my restraints. I understand her plan. She intends to make me betray Mistress. That is the most painful thing I can think of.

Dominique begins with the paddle. She hits hard. The blow of the wood against my buttocks nearly knocks the wind out of me with every swing. I grunt and cry out with each hit. The pain is intensified by the ache of my throbbing feet.

She continues talking to me throughout the process. It surprises me a bit. She pauses between hits just enough to allow my brain to process her words before continuing.

“I don’t know if Cass ever told you about me, little one. She’s the only one in the circle that knows about my past so I doubt that she shared it with you. I grew up In Europe in a small town. We were poor. My mother ran out on us when I was three. My father was an alcoholic. Cass has told me about you, so I figure you know what a raging asshole with a bit of booze in him can do.”

My tears stream down my face and my body continues to drip with sweat in the cold of the room. The pain is severe. Dominique is sharing with me some of her private self. I am actually a bit honored. A funny thought to have between pain convulsions and shrieks. She switches over to the cane and continues her work on my rear and thighs.

“When I was twelve I finally had enough and ran away. I hitchhiked to the city where I lived homeless. I begged, borrowed, and stole to survive. When I was fifteen the owner of a small bar took pity on me and gave me a job and allowed me to rent a room in his house for a very modest amount. This was my first experience with self-respect. He was a kind man. One of the few men I ever grew to trust. He never pried, never pressed me or expected anything out of me but an honest day’s work to earn my pay.”

She works me over with the cane while continuing with her story. Each time it bites into me I cry out. I can tell that she’s pacing herself. She knows that breaking me will not be easy and if she’s not careful, it may actually kill me.

“When I was seventeen a man approached me in the bar. I had grown up by then and he ‘liked my look.’ He offered me the chance to make some real money… some serious money… money that someone like me would never have been able to make. I thought the bar owner would stop me and try to talk me out of it but he didn’t. I think he knew that for someone who never completed school that opportunities would be few and far between. The position was as a pro dominatrix.”

She pauses and my ass throbs and burns. I can’t stop crying. The pain is almost unbearable. My legs tremble and shake, barely able to support my weight. I’ve been on this ride before, soon the pillory will be the only thing holding me up. The strap is next.

“I was brought to a seedy club during the day and introduced to some ‘colorful’ characters. The veteran women trained me in the art of domination and corporal punishment. I learned how to act, how to walk, how to stand, and most importantly, how to hurt someone.”

The strap gives a different kind of pain. It compounds the pain of the thin lines left by the cane and the swelling from the paddling. I endure as I always do. This will continue until I fold. If she had started with the whip and not given me any pauses I probably would already be done. I realize now that she is trusting me with a part of her. It is a strange feeling, but not altogether bad.

“I had no idea what to expect but it turns out I was born for it. Most of the others treated it like a job. It was an act… a switch they would turn on and off as a show for the client. I used it to shape the new me. I had always been dependent upon others… now I was my own woman. I was beautiful, powerful, and a bit out of control. Within six months I had my own place and was charging $300 an hour, half of that went to the club. By the end of the year I was making $500 an hour.”

By now my voice is hoarse and my legs are teetering, ready to give at any moment. The tears have dried up due to dehydration. She forces a water bottle into my mouth and squeezes. It feels amazing as the fluid quenches my parched throat.

“Every week I sent the man that took me in the equivalent of about $200. He would write me back about once a month telling me how much he appreciated it and asking how I was doing. This continued until he died. At the funeral his best friend had a long talk with me and told me all about the man that I had really barely known. He had lost the rest of his family in an auto accident and barely scraped by after that. The medical bills had piled up for his wife and daughter and neither of them survived. When he took me in he was up to his eyes in debt and contemplating suicide. He paid me a living wage and fed me even though the bar didn’t make nearly enough money to cover that.”

The impact of the flogger makes me scream my first word. “No.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere, aren’t we, little one?”

The second strike has me reeling as she continues her story.

“It turns out that the money I was sending him was the only thing keeping him afloat. He was never comfortable telling me how truly grateful he was. This was all news to me. I cried when I heard that. I hadn’t cried in years… this man that I owed so much to but never truly knew. I realized then what respect was. He took responsibility for his choices and saw them through without complaint. That was the last time I cried. I also vowed to live in a way that made me feel alive. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of living a sad life after that. It seemed so… unfair in a way.”

On the sixth strike I shriek again. “No more!” My body collapses. My legs buckle. I feel blood trickling down my legs. She continues. Somehow I remain conscious enough to listen. Actually, I think the listening is why I am still conscious.

“By the time I was nineteen I was famous within the scene. People traveled from other countries for sessions. While I was always going by the name Dominique, I had earned the nickname, ‘Dee-mon-eek,’ probably because I was never able to tell if they were calling my name or calling me demonic. I like to think it was a little of both.”

She lets out a small laugh as I convulse under another blow. My throat hurts so much I simply moan from deep within. I feel the hot blood flowing freely along my cold skin. The sweat stings my wounds. On the upside, I barely notice the pain in my feet anymore.

“It was during that year that I had the experiences that changed my life. A few of my clients were rather wealthy… one was a fashion mogul, another was descended from nobility, and the third was what could be called a ‘titan of industry.’ All three of them wanted exclusive access to me and were willing to pay for it. Rather than choose any one of them I leveraged each other against one another and raised the bidding to a point where they were willing to share rather than continue to inflate the price. We finally agreed upon each of them having exclusive access to me for four months a year and I received $250,000 a month in exchange for removing myself from the scene.”

I can feel my neck and wrists bruising under the strain of the wood. I gasp for breath. I feel myself fading. She gives me more water before resuming the blows.

“I guess I’ll have to speed this up, little one. Most of them would plan their extended business trips and take me with them. By day I was their companion. By night we lived a life with myself as Mistress and them as slaves. We kept up that arrangement until one of them died. It turned out he left me quite a sum of money and I retired. Not long after I moved to the states and that pretty much brings us to where we are today. I met your Mistress at her shop and it really didn’t take long for us to become friends.”

The last few blows of the flogger land. I feel like my entire backside is torn to shreds. Everything hurts, stings, throbs, and bleeds. I can barely keep my eyes open. I blurt out some words without thinking.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Dominique laughs with her demonic cackle.

“Oh, little one, you never cease to amuse me. To be honest, it’s because you are the only person I have ever met that ever called me kind. I figure you deserve to know that before I beat you to a pulp. I like being the villain. You are the only one that takes me out of being myself.”

I hear the flogger clatter on the floor.

“I know that I promised two cycles before going to the whip but I’m pretty certain you won’t survive that so we’ll just move on to it now.”

I hear her boots click across the room slowly and then back. I whimper and squirm. The anxiety and fear build as her steps get closer. I have seen what she can do. This may be the end of me.

The whip cracks and the heavy impact cuts into my back. I let out a garbled screech as my breath leaves my body. The world fades to black. This is all a dream, right? I’m not really here, right?

My head jolts as the smelling salts pop under my nose. The pain quickly returns with the harsh burn of the whip and the heat of the blood trickling down my back hits me plainly as day. I sob, completely at her mercy.

“You can end this, little one. Just say the words.”

She unleashes three strikes in a row. The pain is so intense that my body’s tensing to the initial strike doesn’t have time to relax before being hit again. My brain loses thought, all I know is the searing pain. Crack, crack, crack. Another three in quick succession. My neck and wrists buck against the stocks, the pain of the bruises is dwarfed by the pain left by the whip. Crack, crack. My words barely sound human between the cries and sobs.

“Please stop...”

Crack, crack. Crack, crack. Crack, crack. I mumble out a slurred phrase between the tears and the drool.

“I submit to you, Mistress.”

I hear the whip hit the floor. A moment later she removes the locks from the stocks. I collapse to the floor in a sobbing bloody mess.

“You disgust me. Kiss my feet.”

I press my trembling lips against the toes of her boot and kiss. First the right foot, then the left. She kicks my face away, turns and leaves, her boots clicking against the stone floor. I lay my head down and weep.

END ACT

Fiction: fs01 - Part 68

Author’s Note: This takes place several days after Chapter 67.

--------------------------

LXVIII

Brittany hasn’t been around since that night at the bar. She isn’t avoiding Mistress, she has just been busy meeting with subs and looking for a house. Mistress has spent more time at work lately and things have returned to our version of “normal.” Today is another one of Mistress’s classes. I made sure to prepare myself in advance, again hoping to pass her inspection without a penalty.

“Watching you shiver out in the cold the other night got me thinking I should really get you a going out coat. I wouldn’t want you catching a chill and getting sick on me.”

I stifle any sort of reaction both internally and externally. I know better than to get my hopes up for anything normal and if she doesn’t wish to use my shoveling coat then I can only guess that it will be just as awful if not worse. The only hope I cling to is that it is long enough to cover myself. Even the long version of the maid’s dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination and without the privilege of underwear that is the first spot that gets cold.

I retrieve the garment bag to the closet and watch my singular hope crumble before my eyes. It’s pink, puffy, and cropped at the waist. I try it on for her and discover its shortened sleeves and open collar area. This was obviously designed with the maid’s dress in mind; the bondage rings and fur trim sit fully exposed even with the coat on. In any case, I’m glad that it’s not a onesie.

“Thank you for taking my comfort into consideration, Mistress.”

Mistress smiles at me.

“If you’re a good boy, maybe I can have Sasha design some special panties for you as well.”

I feel my chest tighten and I’m uncertain if I should be happy or sad.

“You adapt too quickly, pet. I had sort of hoped to see a glimmer of hope on your face. It’s so amusing to watch it fade into horror.”

Soon after I find my wrists locked behind my back with a short chain and a similar length between my boots. The ride to the club passes much more quickly today. We are the first to arrive and Mistress has me kneel beside her at the table.

Before long a few bodies filter in. Brittany, Katelyn, and Sarah take their usual spots at the table. Mistress starts the meeting soon after.

“I’m sorry to say that this will be the last meeting of the group. I was informed yesterday by the leader of the BDSM group that the majority wish to drop out and so they are canceling it indefinitely until they can find my replacement.”

“What? No way. Did they say why?”

“Apparently they started receiving complaints during the first week and received even more complaints after the second week, with most citing they would not attend future meetings. Most were expecting some lessons in bondage and spanking and other play activities and didn’t care for my methods or how I planned to guide you through the process.”

“That’s really a shame. I’m learning a lot.”

“Well, seeing as I’m already married, these early meetings don’t pertain much to me but I understand the foundation you are going for and a lot of it I could integrate into how to build things at home.”

“Thank you. If you would like we could still meet on our own, it just wouldn’t be sanctioned by the group and it couldn’t happen here at the club. Send me a message if you are interested. We could even keep the same day and time.”

Mistress seems a bit disappointed. She was teaching them D/s. They wanted to learn knot tying. Mistress continues.

“I figure with this meeting we can keep it open-ended. With such a small group I figure we could just talk about what’s on our minds or bring up questions.”

“I have a question, but it might seem a bit personal.”

“Sure, Katelyn. The worst I can say is no.”

“So do you know Brittany? It seems like you guys already had a connection.”

“Brittany and I are friends and we have been acquainted since before the group started. It was an internet friendship but the longer connection is between her and my slave.”

Brittany raises her fist in the air.

“I used to bully the shit out of him back in high school.”

Sarah speaks voluntarily for the first time.

“I have a question actually. My husband has me reading all of these articles and blogs and such and they keep talking about the lifestyle that you brought up the first week, Cassandra. I guess I don’t understand what is going through their minds or how this works out for both sides. Are you able to shed some light on it?”

“Are you talking about a submissive performing the cooking, cleaning, and daily chores while the Domme relaxes?”

“Yes, that, and the sex stuff. Like, having amazing orgasms every day but rarely allowing the sub any sexual pleasure.”

“It might be best if we ask my slave directly.”

Mistress turns to me.

“Why do you clean?”

“Because it is my duty and if I don’t I get punished, Mistress.”

“And?”

“Because my Mistress is my Goddess and I couldn’t bear the thought of her having to do something so unpleasant and mundane.”

“And?”

“And… because it actually turns me on to feel subservient to my Mistress in that way.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m not sure, Mistress.”

“It turns him on? How does that work?”

“That’s his subspace, Sarah. It’s sort of his psychological cycle of arousal and submission. The more submissive I make him feel, the more he gets turned on, and the more he gets turned on, the more submissive he feels.”

“So does he do those things because he wants to do them? Or because he has to do them?”

“It’s a little of each. He wants to do them, but he doesn’t necessarily like doing them. No one ‘loves’ to scrub floors. Knowing that he ‘has’ to scrub floors ‘or else’ makes it a D/s activity and pushes him into subspace. So even if he actually hates scrubbing floors, the act of doing it gives him other feelings that he does actually crave.”

Sarah sits back in her chair, processing. I lean my head against Mistress’s arm. She describes it admirably.

“So if I unfairly deny him an orgasm, while he misses out on the physical pleasure, he still gets some form of psychological pleasure from that?”

“Exactly. It’s especially fun to make a cruel mind game out of it. If you get his hopes up and then crush them, the negative feeling actually gives him a different feeling that he wants and turns him on. That is his subspace.”

“Are all men wired like that?”

“No. Each man will be different in their own way. Some will respond more strongly to specific activities… ones they associate with their submission. Others, like my slave, respond more to ideas and themes.”

“What kinds of ideas?”

“Sort of like… my slave loves it when my pleasure is all that matters and his pleasure gets completely ignored.”

Mistress pats the fur pom pom on the top of my hat as she speaks. I blush, feeling a bit more exposed than I’m comfortable with.

“Interesting. I think my husband is that way. He keeps wanting to call me his Queen and have me treat him like a lowly servant.”

Mistress lets out a small laugh.

“You’re very lucky, Sarah. It sounds like he has the potential to make you a very happy woman if you are able to keep him in line and on the right track. There are a lot of subs that just want to be spanked or kept in chastity without truly wanting to serve.”

“Amen!” Brittany’s voice booms as she smacks the table with her hand. I take it her luck over the past few days with potential subs has remained the same.

It isn’t long before Katelyn speaks up again.

“When I was very young and my parents thought I was asleep I decided to sneak around the house one night. My parent’s room had two doors to enter and when I peeked in, my mother was getting all dressed up in one of her fanciest dresses while my father stood in the corner wearing a bra and panties. She kissed him on the lips when she left and I followed her through the house. A big fancy car was parked in the driveway and she got in the car and left. When I checked on my father he was on his knees still in the bra and panties and was shining her shoes and boots. Was this that cuck, cuck-holding thing or something?”

“I believe so, Katelyn, and it’s pronounced, cuckold, named after the cuckoo bird that would sneak its eggs into a different bird’s nest to be fed and raised. It sounds like your mother was a hotwife and your father was a cuckold. Were you very young when this happened? I hope it didn’t have any negative effects on you.”

“Actually, it was weird. The next morning my dad said that my mom was out running errands. He took me to an amusement park and we rode some rides and later we got ice cream. He was looking super happy and in a great mood. When we got home my mom was also in a super good mood and they were very affectionate. I actually learned to get excited when I heard a car arrive and leave late at night. The next day was always super fun and I got a lot of presents. I didn’t really put a lot of thought into it until I started doing some research on all of this.”

“Does the idea of cuckolding appeal to you?”

“Not really… but I love the idea of a man loving me so much that he would let me do anything I wanted in order to be happy.”

“That’s one of the reasons that I love my slave.” Mistress pets my head. I smile.

“I don’t want to be too forward about this, Cassandra. But do you think it would ever be okay for me to just sort of… like… see how you guys live? I could basically be like a fly on the wall and watch. I know I’m probably asking too much and I really didn’t give this a lot of thought...”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You already have seen us. We have made our lifestyle open to you. I like you and that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Just don’t let her hit on you. Cass can be like a dirty old man at times. Whoo. Sick burn.”

Brittany pumps her fist.

I look up at Mistress and watch as she can’t contain her smile. Her face turns bright red and she covers one side of it with her palm.

“I did it. I finally made her blush. High-five.” Brittany holds up her hand to Sarah, who leaves her hanging. Undeterred she points directly at me.

“I’m dedicating this moment to you, Francis!”

I blush. I hate that name.

Mistress regains her composure.

“Don’t worry, Katelyn. I won’t try to hit on you. I reserve that for lil Miss Peaches over there.”

Brittany’s face flushes red as she clenches her hands into fists and makes an angry smile.

“Could I visit as well, Cassandra? Would you ever be open to meeting my husband? We’re both so new and sort of lost in all of this.”

“That would be fine, Sarah. As long as he is aware of the level of discretion that we require.”

“I will make sure.”

My mind spins a bit as I wonder what it would be like to have another man present while I serve Mistress. I’m used to Sammy and Gordon by now and the one time I met Lisa’s husband he was basically a wallflower. My thoughts are interrupted by the owner’s 5-minute warning.

Mistress rises and hugs them each individually, thanking them again for sticking with the group. My thoughts now turn to the immediate future and whether or not Brittany will be joining us for the evening.

In the pet carrier in the back, I’m not surprised when she enters the vehicle with Mistress. They small-talk on the way home. Inside the house Brittany stands in front of you.

“That’s a cute new jacket, fur sissy. I was going to say that it makes you look like a sissy slut that takes it up the ass, but I guess I could just say that it’s very ‘you.’”

I lower my eyes and blush. Brittany seems like her old self as usual.

“I was wondering, Cass. Does he actually spend more time with his hands behind his back than in front?”

Mistress laughs.

“I’d say it’s probably about 50/50 if you count when he sleeps. For some reason I’ve had this recent fascination about making him feel completely helpless, ya know?”

“I do love that all of his outfits have a ring on the belt that let you secure the chain to. When I was flogging James last night he kept trying to cover his ass with his hands.”

“You know that if you just beat his hands for long enough that eventually he’ll try to get them out of the way.”

“Fuh. Why didn’t I think of that? Is there a good gym around here, Cass? I don’t know how you do it but ‘these guns’ get tired after a while.”

Brittany rubs her arms as she makes the guns reference.

“There is. I can give you a card for them. If you focus on your technique, you can hit harder and for longer with less effort.”

“Okay, coach, put me in, I’m ready.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Hells-yeah. Peaches has bark AND bite.”

“That reminds me, did you hear from Randi?”

“Yeah, we hung out the other day. That chick has the most amazing collection of 90’s Riot Grrrl music and is super fun to chill with. She nearly lost her shit when I showed her my Reverb. It’s kind of weird, I always thought that lesbians were like… going to be like super different from other people.”

“Earth to sheltered suburban white girl. Gay people are people too.”

“You are the grand master… or grand Mistress of making me feel dumb sometimes, ya know?”

“But you love me for it.”

The grunts and half-words leave Brittany’s mouth as she fails at an appropriate comeback.

“Hey, fur sissy. How about my coat?”

I pull my hands against the chains, making them audibly rattle and I wince as the spikes dig into my skin.

“No one likes excuses, sissy. I give you a ‘Z’ for effort.”

Mistress lets out a small laugh.

“Cass, can your psyche degrees tell me why low-hanging fruit always tastes the best?”

Mistress laughs again as she unlocks the chains from my wrists and ankles. I tend to their coats and boots and help them into robes and slippers before meeting them in the living room. I’m a bit surprised when Mistress cuts right to the chase.

“Have you given any more thought about being my roommate?”

“I have obsessed about it since then, you have no idea. I have gone over it a thousand times in my mind. It wasn’t until I talked to Randi about it that I figured out what was going on. The truth is, I want to say yes but I have to say no. I wanted to make sure my thoughts were sorted out on it before giving you an answer.”

“It’s not because I tease you so much or that I flirt with you, is it?”

“It’s definitely not that. To be honest, Cass, being around you is the most fun I’ve had since I was in high school. You accept me for who I am. I’m a foul-mouthed spazz that has no brain to mouth filter and a sadistic streak. No one our age usually likes me but you seem to encourage it and play off of it. With you it feels like… home. And if I did go lesbian, I could totally see myself falling for someone like you. It’s just something else. Is it okay if I have some wine?”

I look to Mistress and she directs me with a small motion of her head. I hurry my way to the kitchen and retrieve a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses on the silver tray. I’m back and ready to pour in under a minute. Brittany takes a large gulp.

“I’m going to be honest, Cass. Every time I’m here I have the time of my life but when I get home it hurts. I ache and want to cry… and sometimes I do. After a while I realized the reason. I’m envious of you. I’m envious of what you have. I think that’s why I keep ripping through subs like cheap toilet paper. You were right. I want my Francis 2.0.”

Brittany pauses for another large gulp of wine.

“When you offered to have him serve the both of us if I lived here my heart jumped for a minute. I thought that would be perfect but something didn’t feel right. Randi pointed it out when I talked to her about it. What you are to fs… I can never be. And if I was… then you wouldn’t be that to him anymore. Does that make any sense?”

“It does. Even if he serves you, you would never feel like he loved you like he loves me. And if he did love you that way, then it would mean he no longer loved me like that.”

“Exactly. How could I ever feel good about that? I mean, I enjoy fucking with him and teasing him… like I REALLY enjoy it, but… he’s not mine. I need one of my own if I’m going to be as happy as you are.”

Brittany starts to sniffle a little bit.

“I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not terrible. You are being honest… being true to yourself and true to your heart. It was insensitive of me not to realize what this means to you.”

“I don’t know if I’m being selfish or not. I know that I would have a lot of fun living here, but I think I would probably just be content without being fulfilled. I think that I need to feel like I’m pursuing what I want… and what I want is my own version of what you have. God, why do I feel like we’re a couple of fat kids bawling our eyes out on an after school special right now? Am I really this melodramatic?”

“I think it just shows how important this is to you. It wouldn’t be difficult if it wasn’t and it wouldn’t seem so huge unless you really cared about the outcome.”

“It is okay if we keep hanging out right? I wanted to make it clear that it’s not like I don’t want that.”

“Of course. Besides, I’m sure my pet would be sad if you weren’t here to help torture him.”

Brittany laughs. I zone out a little bit as they talk about the subs Brittany has lined up to evaluate. She also mentions a house hitting the market a couple of streets away. I have a feeling that we will end up as neighbors.

“So, now that we have that out of the way, is there anything you’d like to do?”

“What ever happened with Lynn?”

Mistress grins.

“We have been chatting a bit. Nothing serious, just feeling each other out a little bit. She wants me to bring my pet in to her shop for the total package. Branding, bar-coding, chastity piercing, and nipple piercings.”

I shudder and immediately feel every nerve in my body fire. This is news to me.

“Jesus, Cass. That sounds terrifying. Can I watch?”

“IF I go through with it, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Sweet. As for doing stuff… I know that normally we would go and ravage fur sissy in the basement but I wasn’t joking when I said that my arms were tired. Any chance we could just veg out with some pizza and watch some movies?”

“What do you think, pet? Would you be feeling neglected if we just relaxed this evening?”

I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

“Relaxing would be great, Mistress.”

“Do you like your pizza crust, Brit?”

“No, why? I usually throw them away.”

“My pet needs to eat, too. I think we are all out of saltines.”

“That’s so mean. I love it.”

Mistress picks up her phone and begins to scroll through it. I close my eyes, feeling so very lucky to be surrounded by these women.

END ACT / END ARC