With my twentieth story out on WordPress, I reckon it to be time for a little self-advertisement commented list to help navigating through my humble body of work. I found it reasonable to start each entry with a passage from the respective story, followed by some deep thoughts of mine. I also added a small guide, characterising the story in question with up to five points in the categories fetish, violence and humour:
● a wee bit
Of course these are my personal ratings, and they are based more on quantity than on quality. Therefore the rating is sometimes accompanied by a trigger warning in the genre description (“caution!”), if the story contains problematic topics such as portrayal of racism, sexual violence or controversial use of religious images.
The sorting is alphabetical and recognises articles, which leads us straight to… Continue reading
Looking pretty in case her husband brought home his new business partners.
Mercédès’ schedule for today could be summarised by this. Being a beacon of beauty whilst striding otherwise pointlessly through the contemporary residence, or, like now, biding in the technocraticly styled conservatory. After all, her husband was known to be a connoisseur of decorative objects, a collector of everything pleasant to behold.
And wasn’t it her sacred duty as a wife to fulfil his standards? Continue reading
Visiting the McIntoshs
He was with her. She knew it. Riona knew the cheating bastard was doing that blonde slut this very second. Like he did for the last couple of weeks.
Working late. That Glasgow project again, you know. Don’t stay up for me.
Standing at the kitchen island, one hand clenched around the stem of her wine glass, she stared into empty space, her jaw set, muscles working. Tightening. Straining. The clock at the far wall of the vast room headed for midnight, finding itself in agreement with the display of the double wall oven. Continue reading
Screams of my Mistress
with special thanks to Polly Plummer
A glass of lemonade! Nina’s eyes flew open, fixing the cool patterns of moonlight reflected from hidden smooth surfaces onto the ceiling of her bedroom. The urge had come suddenly, and it had come strong! Half a glass, no more. That would be sufficient. Orange flavour.
She looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table:
Surely Mistress Selene would not be around the ground floor anymore. Continue reading