One Day

“Sometimes she speaks of ‘the past’ as people speak who have been in prison. But you never know whether they refer to the crime or the imprisonment or the whole experience.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night

She shouldn’t want this, she knew that. But if this was just a matter of want then she wouldn’t be here. No, she needed this. She had fantasized about being bound and completely at a man’s mercy more times than she could possibly count. But if she was honest with herself, it went much deeper than that. She didn’t just want to be played with, she wanted to be owned. Completely.

She thought about it constantly. At work, with friends, it didn’t matter where she was, that untamed need constantly clawed at her from the shadows of her mind, consuming her slowly for years. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. She had asked guys to tie her up and fuck her, do things to her body, but the fact that she had to ask took most of the fun out of it. It was as if she had an addiction to a drug she’d never tried. She was chasing a high that she had never truly tasted. This wasn’t a need that could be filled by just any man.

But he was not just any man. He commanded respect without ever speaking a word. He terrified her to the point of trembling without ever making a threat. The fact that she had let him bind and blindfold her only heightened that terror. There was nothing she could do to defend herself now, he could do whatever he wanted. But by the way her wetness began to drip down her thighs, she knew this was exactly what she wanted.

“Who do you belong to?” His commanding voice brought her out of her thoughts. She hesitated for just a moment before he yanked sharply on her chain.

“You, Sir!”

He grabbed her face roughly by the cheeks. “Next time I ask you a question,” he growled in her ear, “you will not hesitate when you answer me.” He squeezed her cheeks hard before asking “Is that understood, Pet.”

“Yes, Sir!” She cried out, nodding her head in agreement. She was trembling so much the chain around her neck was rattling.

“Good girl.” He said, before playfully slapping her on the cheek for good measure. The pleasure of hearing him say those words, mixed with the sting of his slap made her moan. He gave a satisfied chuckle at her reaction. “Now open up that pretty mouth and show your Master what a good girl you can really be.”

😂😂😂😂

Truth

A woman’s tale should be told in her voice. Her valour, her fury, her wisdom, her survival, her intellect, her strength is no less than any man’s. Her failures, regrets and her flaws too, must be heard through non judgemental ears. But for this to happen, you must be able to truly hear her story. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. Even if it changes how you see her. We can be everything. Maiden, myth and monster.

Hera Retells The Story Of Olympus (An Excerpt from Maidens, Myths and Monsters)