Netflix and Kill

In the still of a lonely Tuesday afternoon nap, Samantha felt a strange pressure under the covers next to her. A small sudden movement.

It wasn’t her cat. Bartleby was sitting on the windowsill near the radiator, his glossy black coat looking perfect after his hours of grooming.

In the liminal space between sleeping and waking she felt it again, ghost fingers on her bare hip. read more

When He Spanks Her

When he spanks her she pushes her face into his lap to hide her blushing cheeks. She covers her mouth to muffle her whimpers and moans. But when he parts her legs there is nothing she can do to hide her wetness. As much as she tries, her body can’t keep secrets from him.

And even though she knows it is all part of their game, his quiet chuckle is mortifying.

Which only makes it worse.


He hit her again, a sharp spank on the ass. His hand felt like a paddle until he laid his fingers gently on her skin, examining the heat he created and the raised welts that were forming.

His light touch tickled and soothed a little, but she was tense for the next hit.

His fingers moved to her thighs, to just the edge of the crotch of her panties. His pinky just brushing the fabric, then another slap on her ass, another barrage of slaps, the vibrations of each pushing right between her legs, right where his fingers almost touched. read more

Westworld – Sub Routine

Elwood Philips exited the elevator and straightened his thin black tie.

The huge Westworld logo on the wall in front of him was dimly lit by an unseen spotlight. It was between shifts, and he was off his usual assignment to help reprogram a host that worked in Sweetwater. Usually he was designing much more innovative models out in Pariah or other more complicated locations.

As he walked past empty labs he checked his reflection in the long rows of windows. He was tallish, long limbed, skin a slightly malt color, a face full of freckles, showing mixed heritage and a love of the sun. His suit was slim cut, charcoal herringbone, three piece but sans jacket, which he left in his office. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. read more


She’d do, in a pinch. Her hair was the wrong shade of brown and her eyes were too wide, but he could make it work. Her tits were right. Her ass was actually even a little better than the original. She had the right combination of softness and muscle. Her thighs were almost thick enough.

He sent her pictures. Told her what to wear. She’d never get the voice right so he just had her shut up and take off her clothes.

She liked being useful, even if she couldn’t be herself. Bent over his desk who could tell the difference? Sinking into her wetness, his fingers grabbing her hips, it was almost perfect, almost her, almost real. read more

Two Girls Under Covers

Chloe Gibson yawned and stretched in her warm bed. It was Sunday, sometime in the afternoon, she had been lounging under her thick blankets all morning and now she was getting restless. It was days like this that she felt like a cat, laying around purring softly as she baths in the sunlight streaming through her window. Only getting up lazily and getting some milk. But now she felt the world pulling on her, she felt another pulling as well, as if the cat she felt like was going into heat.

Absently, Chloe let her hands move under the thick comforter. The sun was shining in through the window even though it was nearly 30 degrees outside, and combined with the mass of pillows and blankets on her she was overheated and slightly sweaty. The heat hissed through the vents in her room adding even more heat. She thought about pushing off the dense coverings and opening a window, but the feeling of being aroused and so hot was making her feel dizzy and languid.

Warmth was growing between her legs and she bit her lower lip. She pulled her sheet hard letting it slide between here legs and rub against her panty cover sex. The slight friction made moan. She was really starting to get wet. read more

Little Bird

Sometimes after a really good first date, you walk around in a daze. A stupid grin plastered on your face, a drunken wobble in your gate, and a fog over your eyes.

That’s where Jason was as he made his way through the east Village and up to the apartment of his best friend Ray.

Ray opened the door and immediately rolled his eyes at his friend’s swooning smile. read more


Sometimes she can’t do it. She can push past her nervousness and shyness. Luckily we have figured out a language of looks and lips and whispered prompts.

Sometimes she asks me to take it. She likes it that way. Sometimes there are rules. “Take it, but ask before you fuck me,” she whispers. It’s confusing, but she is worth it.

Then the game we play in bed is tied up and combined with the game in my head. Teasing her as I tease myself.

Storm Warning

As buildings went, this was certainly the best place Caitlin had ever lived. Just out of college and new to New York, she was still amazed every time she walked out of the subway and saw the brownstone that was now her home.

It was three stories of beautiful red brick, with large bay windows, and ornate wrought iron fences out front. She lived on the second floor, above a lovely older lesbian couple, with their two dogs and their fancy dinner parties. Upstairs there was a nice, if a bit mysterious, business man in his thirties named Gerard.

The one thing she did know about the man upstairs is that he certainly had a lot of lady friends. There was nothing wrong with that, Caitlin supposed, but she didn’t really understand it. He was fairly good looking, but nothing special. Plus, what kind of woman would go out with someone so promiscuous? It seemed like he had a new one every week. read more

Star Trek Discovery – Self Discovery

Between waking and dreams there is a middle state. The Vulcans had many words and uses for this state and Michael Burnham always found the “waking dream state” one of her few solaces in life.

That inbetween time was often when Vulcans organize their thoughts and remind themselves of their responsibilities. It was also when further repression of emotions took place.

Like so many of her teachings, Burnham took much of the wisdom Vulcan provided, but did away with that which was no longer valuable. read more