Tuesday, December 6, 2011

I don't write Femdom often...


but this was a favorite from my early days with Xcite. It's one of the stories chosen for the freshly minted "The Best of Sommer Marsden". I'll be bringing more snippets from multiple works soonish.

Happy rainy Tuesday.

XOXO
S
p.s. I've linked to the just released ebook. Also available on paperback in the UK (coming to the US soon :D )

From The Best of Sommer Marsden

My Good Boy
by Sommer Marsden

The first time I saw Joshua he was stumbling down the
Avenue at twelve in the afternoon. Snookered, drunk, high as
a kite. He was wearing a three-piece suit that any fool could
tell cost a pretty penny. I’m not one for suits but even I
wanted to run my hand over that dark grey fabric. I just knew
it would feel like liquid silk. His shaved head radiated a
lobster-like glow from the alcohol and he was smoking a
cigarette in that way. The way an extremely plastered person
smokes. Not just smoking it, but drawing on the filter so hard
I half expected him to suck the entire smouldering cylinder
into his mouth.

I was drawn to him. I admit it. He positively radiated
submissive. This was a man who felt out of control and he
needed some help. Some tender loving care. Or a good
whipping. It was a toss-up.

My feet carried me to him before I could reconsider. I was
hoping I had struck gold. A man who carried the weight of the
world on his shoulders but craved a woman who would push
him. And push him around. I get off on power. I get off on
men who can be broken. For whatever reason, I wanted to get
off with this man.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ I said down to him. He was
sitting on a concrete planter that held a sickly-looking palm
tree. ‘Why are you fucked up at noon?’

I figured it best to let him see exactly who I was right off
the bat. If he was going to be mine, then he had to see the real
me from the get-go.

He squinted up at me and took another severe drag on his
cigarette. ‘I am not drunk,’ he said very carefully. The caution
and slow speech obviously earmarked him as a completely
bombed individual.

‘You most certainly are,’ I sighed and planted one of my
black stiletto heels on the planter. His eyes were level with
my crotch and my short skirt rode up with the movement. No
doubt he had a perfectly wonderful view of my crotch. That
was good.

‘OK, so I am,’ he said directly to my pussy.

‘Good. At least you’re being honest. Now tell me why,’ I
barked. Oh, if only I had a whip. Hell, I’d settle for a ruler.

‘I am…’ he slurred, ‘…having a bad day. I have too much
stress. I feel like I might…’ he trailed off and took a final drag
of his cigarette, practically licking the fucking thing. I
snatched it out of his fingers and flicked it into the street.

‘Explode? Cry? Jump off a large building?’

‘Yesh,’ he sighed. ‘All of the above.’

‘Come on,’ I said and grabbed his hand. I hauled him to
his feet and stood there waiting for him to fall over or fall on
me. He did neither.

‘Where’re we going?’

‘You’re coming home with me and we are going to get
you straightened out.’ I marched him toward my waiting Jeep.

‘You don’t even know me!’

I stopped turned and said, ‘Diane. And you are?’

‘Joshua Davies.’

‘Good. Now I know you. Get in the fucking car,’ I said
and pointed to the door. He nearly broke his neck getting in
but he managed.

I could not wait to get him home.

He slept the twenty-minute drive to my house. He was
snoring to the point of annoyance and I knew the first thing
I’d make him do was brush his teeth. Stale beer breath is not a
turn-on.

I pulled into the driveway and unbuckled. Went around
and opened the passenger side door. ‘Joshua!’ I barked.

He came awake in a series of grunt and snorts. He blinked
at me and wiped his mouth. ‘We here?’

‘Yes. Get out. Let’s go.’ I helped him out, though. The last
thing I needed was for him to take a header in the driveway
and knock himself unconscious.

Inside, I set about making a pot of coffee in case he‘d need
it. ‘There are towels in the linen closet. The bathroom is the
last room down the hall. Get a towel, take a shower and brush
your teeth. Use my toothbrush, I’ll get a new one.’

Now I waited. Was he what I thought he was? Most men
would tell me to fuck off. Or complain or try to hump me in
the kitchen. He dropped his head and nodded. ‘OK.’

I smiled. I could smell them a mile away. ‘Well? Why are
you just standing there? Get moving.’

By the time he came out of the shower, his skin pink like a
baby, I was in my corset and boots. My big red boots. They
make me feel like a superhero. I love boots. In a sexy pair of
boots I feel like I can beat the devil.

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