happy new year

i can’t believe it’s almost halfway through the first month of the year. i’m happy that the days are slowly getting longer (i’m in michigan) and the sun has been making a surprise appearance. the writing hasn’t been flowing as much as i’d like. i gave myself permission to take some time off during the holidays. i run the erotic shop over on etsy along with another etsy shop plus other work so the writing slipped away during December. but i’m back and ready to write again.

i haven’t gotten back to writing book four – it’s being stubborn – but i have gotten back to what i call “play writing.” it’s when i allow myself to write whatever wants to come through. this is how the island series was born and how i started writing short stories for literotica.

my goal for 2021 is to play write at least five times a week. ideally, this will give birth to new novel ideas as well as produce new short stories. if you haven’t yet, check out my short stories over at literotica. i plan to add one short story per month over there.

here’s the start of a story i wrote during one of my play sessions recently. i’d love to hear your opinion and whether or not you’re interested in reading more.

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she was nothing to him. just a body to warm his bed. a girl to fetch his slippers and slip his half limp dick into. she stayed because she had no where else to go. she was optionless. this was better than being out on the street begging for loose change, freezing her ass off in the cold january snow, wishing for something better. she had been there, done that. she was ready for something different. when he showed up on her street corner that day, offering her warmth and food in exchange for her body, she could hardly say no.

he wasn’t much older than her but he seemed older. he worked at some high power job that she never asked him about and he never told her much about except that he’d be late or out of town. no one visited his highrise apartment filled with black leather furniture and gleaming black surfaces. everything felt harsh and untouchable. she was mindful of where she sat and where she went in his house, feeling like a visitor after four months.

he wasn’t mean but he wasn’t friendly either. he only wanted her when it suited him which, to her delight, wasn’t all that often. he’d come to her in the spare bedroom he had set up for her, slide his modestly hard dick into her a few times, squirt deep inside her and leave. no kissing. no cuddling. that wasn’t his style. he barely talked with her except to let her know if he wanted something from her.

a housekeeper came to clean the house once a week and a man delivered food almost daily—something she only had to reheat when he told her when he’d be home for dinner. she was expected to reheat but never had to cook which was a good thing since she didn’t know how. she had grown up in various foster homes, tossed from one house to the next, never learning basic domestic skills, always feeling in the way. when she turned eighteen, she was tossed out of the system and left to fend for herself. with no skills outside of an inner city high school diploma and no place to go, she found herself homeless and begging for whatever she could get.

when he brought a friend home, she was stunned. the man he brought was gorgeous in a dark suit with dark eyes and dark hair. they studied her like she was a sculpture he had brought the man to view. they walked circles around her, saying nothing to her, noting her slim physique and modest clothes.

“strip,” he said to her.

she stared at him, uncertain.

“strip now,” he said, his command stern.

she slipped her t-shirt over her head, letting it drop to the floor, before pushing down and stepping out of her worn jeans. she never wore a bra—she didn’t own one—so was left bare to the men in nothing but white cotton panties that he had brought home for her when she first came to stay.

“all of it,” he said as if he didn’t need to be telling her this.

she slipped off the panties and took off her socks. she lowered her eyes automatically as she stood before them, shame rising in her cheeks.

“i told you,” he said. “worth every penny.”

“and how do i know she’s yours to sell?” the man asked.

“ask her,” he said. “she’ll tell you the truth.”

the man walked up to her until he stood directly in front of her.

“girl,” the man said, “look at me.”

she met his dark eyes. a shiver ran through her. she didn’t know what was going on but she knew she wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

“are you his?” the man asked.

she gave a small nod. she supposed she was. she wasn’t anyone else’s.

“words,” the man said. “i need to hear your words. always.”

“yes,” she said. “i’m his.”

“are you here of your free will?” the man asked. “if you’re not, i will ensure that you’re returned where you’re meant to be. you have no reason to fear me.”

she nodded again. “yes. i have no where else to go.”

“ok,” the man said. “good.”

the man studied her some more, circling her until he came to stand in front of her again. she didn’t know where to look so she studied the floor, trying to stand as still as she could, uncertain what this man wanted and what this was all about. he didn’t say anything so she didn’t feel like it was her place to question anything. she’d rather this than be back out on the streets.

“i’ll give you a hundred grand,” the man said, turning from her to look at him.

“she’s worth more than that,” he said without hesitation. “she’s a beautiful creature. she can’t be more than 30 years old.”

she was 32 but she wasn’t going to tell them that. maybe she’d be worth more if she were younger.

“two hundred,” the man said. “that’s my final offer.”

“sold,” he said. “i appreciate your business.”

“i’ll transfer the money to your account now and take her with me.”

the man fiddled on his phone a few minutes. when he finished, he turned to her.

“you’re coming with me,” the man said. “you’re mine now.”