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