Drunk and Lepton.

Two little stories. She Intoxicates. He Gasps. Femdom Erotica. Episode X36.

I’m experimenting with different form factors for my weekly writings. I have a lot of shorter pieces, sketches and poetry and fragments. So, this week I’m putting out two different micro stories. My hope is that though they’re shorter, they’re no less intense. My other hope is that they please you. Enjoy!

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DRUNK

Never play when you’re drunk.

But what if you are 24/7?

Does that mean never get drunk?

You say, 24/7 is about a permanent control relationship, not a constant state of play.

I say, so your control is legitimate when you are drunk, just not when you are playing and drunk?

24/7 means that the power dynamic you have in play exists all the time, even when the two of you are just waiting in line at the DMV. It need not be outwardly expressed, but it is inwardly recognized and constant. So, I ask again, does that mean no getting drunk?

Does your control live in a bubble of sanitized experiences? Are the highs and lows of your life supposed to be cut off from the highs and lows of your relationship?

He doesn’t think about it. She thinks not. So they are day-drunk together at a street festival in Korea Town.

And she pulls him into an alley.

She opens his pants. She slaps his balls.

He’s laughing so much, he can’t even protest. It hurts though.

She ups the ante, punching his testicles hard with her fist. He pitches backward, crashing against a wall, sputtering in pain and shock. He knows that there’s an edge to the pain in his balls that the alcohol is numbing. He knows that if he were sober, he’d be wheezing from her torments.

He’s about to rise when she puts her red leather cowboy boot on the inside of his upper thigh. She presses her weight down, levering his legs apart. His fly, already open, dick and balls already exposed, parts like an envelope, eliminating any potential that a stray observer would not notice his growing erection, should their eyes glance over the scene.

And though she was tipsy a moment ago, indeed, she still is, something about standing on him has steadied her. She seems nourished by her hunger, centered by it. She licks her lips and her eyes narrow.

His breathing grows heavy, looking up at her, seeing the exposed flesh of her thighs before it retreats under the shadows of her denim skirt. He looks into her eyes, past the curve of her breasts. His vision spins.

He glances towards the opening of the alley, and she snaps her fingers.

“Hey, look at me.”

Then she reaches into her purse and takes out a studded leather dog collar. He’s the only dog she owns.

She says, “I’m gonna make you wear this, bitch. I’m gonna pull your pants down and march you out there in this, so all these nice people can see what a fucking whore you are.”

And then she just lingers there, dangling the collar, looming over him. She sways with intoxication but never threatens to lose her balance. Like she has placed a stirrup beside his sex and could ride out a hurricane if she needed to.

For just a moment, he’s not sure she’s joking, and he feels a pit in his stomach, because he knows if she ordered it so, he would obey.

Then she steps off and orders him to get up and cackles hysterically.

He gets to his feet, zipping up his pants, and she pounces on him. She kisses him like a Navy wife kissing her husband on the dock. Heedless and passionate.

He’s loopy when they separate.

She takes his hand and leads him to the street. They stumble into a cab. In the back seat they are a pile of sweaty hands and steamy breath.

But are they wrong?

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LEPTON

Her hand is covering his nose and mouth.

And he wants it.

He tries to inhale so he can feel the skin seal against his face.

He looks up in her eyes.

He feels no fear.

He wants to breathe.

“No, not yet, pet. Not just yet.”

Now he feels panic.

Now he needs to breathe.

His diaphragm pulls against her palm.

She lifts her hand away.

He sucks in air. He swoons.

And when he breathes out, he says, “Mistress, I love you so much.”

“Shhhh, shhhhh, next time we will go longer.”

And he wants it.