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By Samuel Te Kani
Our lucky stars shoring up bright new futures, overhauling today in exquisite rec;tude so we might be
be=er versions of ourselves tomorrow.
It was something gushy she'd wri;en in her diary a month ago which she was going over now with
mixed feelings.
But she knew that there'd be nothing like today and even in it's painful shortcomings found herself
embracing every stunted inch from the noxious weeds between the floorboards to the roaches
gleefully home-making in the walls. She heard them at night in twi;ering conspiracy against these
massive colonising bipeds. They were lucky really because she and Damien were slovenly romanFcs
and leG enough food out for them that future generaFons would sing their praises once they
inevitably moved on, weaving myths of an abundant Fme when munificent and giant guardians safeguarded their prosperity with clement weather and abundant harvests. LeG over Chinese takeaways
mostly in greasy li;le cartons which stank corpsey on the third day, which was the only Fme either of
them thought to take out the trash.
Damien had dreams which orbited images and feelings more than they did actual goals or objects.
Money seemed a living thing that could be pe;ed into giving them a good Fme or leG to it's own
devices, in which case it normally turned on them with snarling scarcity.
"I wish we had enough money to go to the movies" she said to him one night, and he just looked at
her and moved across the filthy room, closing the distance between them with a knowing smirk,
unbu;oning his fly as he did so that his perennially semi-hard cock poked out. And she took it
instantly feeling it's warmth and heG in her hand, rubbing her thumb along the tender knot under his
crown, sighing with him, catching the first pearly drop from his flaring slit and feeding it to him like
she knew he loved. Nothing felt stable in here, the walls themselves billowing with Fme's cruel
march. Barely a moment to register the flat itself and all it's lived-in quirks and traces which spoke
soGly of previous tenants. The pipes less soGly, groaning with the effort of transporFng a hundred
year's worth of human waste from the city to the harbour, where it marbled the seas darkly.
"Cassandra" he would say as he spread her legs and held her by the ankles for leverage, nuzzling her
moistening folds with the Fp of his penis before spearing her to the hilt, "I love you so much that I
could die"
And she loved and hated him in these moments because she both believed and disbelieved him,
because he said it with such clarity and perfecFon like an actor reciFng lines. She existed in a state of
hot agony between loving him and also believing that real love, in the truest most blood-boiling
sense, was yet to cross the stage of her life with all the blissful vehemence she'd been convinced was
it's signature.
But he was nice.
She first noFced something wrong when she was alone one aGernoon and had made the painful
decision to clean. She stood in the centre of the living room and surveyed the devastaFon, trying to
push through it's mirror in her mind towards some more liveable version. But then this was where
the block was, where she just couldn't fathom disturbing all the refuse in it's natural state and forcing
it to live somewhere other than where it had naturally decided to se;le, in the organics and flux of
her's and Damien's nesFng. Wasn't it fundamentally arrogant for her to assume that there was any
other way for these objects to coexist with them, that they'd fallen this way like shells on a beach
because the currents of their lives had deemed it so? But also, where did that place the prospect of
free will and the nature of her thinking in this moment, entertaining alternaFves and wondering how
to go about it?
She got a rubbish sack and started rifling through the things on the floor, puUng her feelings out so
when she picked something up that didn't actually want to be there she'd know, by a sFrring in the
ethers, by a telepathic twinge which would momentarily twine her own fate with the object's; divine

She had actually cleared the floor and was about to sweep when she felt a coldness in her shoulder.
Of course she instantly touched it being extremely sensiFve, especially to the cold, but as she did so
felt her hand pass through a thickness, an icy stodginess in the air just hovering over her body where
there should've been nothing at all. She couldn't say she felt calm about it, but also rather than lean
into the terror of something new let herself consider it for a moment, taking her impressions into a
neat bundle and fondling them for truth, for certainty where maybe there wasn't anyway.
And suddenly an hour had passed and she was siUng in the dark, sFll holding that icy patch of air
over her shoulder like the hand of an old friend.
That's how Damien found her.
"Wow" he said seeing the cleared floor, but then stopping in his tracks because of the funny
expression on her face, the rigid posture, and if he thought about it the unse;ling quiet which
billowed around her like a chrysalis of charged ions.
She looked at him stunned, like she was surprised to see him there.
"How was your day?" she said weakly.
And like that the cold patch of air dispersed. She felt it rushing around her, evaporaFng into nothing.
"What are you doing?"
"I actually don't know"
He crouched beside her and held her waist and started grinding against her, so she could feel his
hardness, started sighing as he liGed her shirt and put his mouth on her leG nipple, suckling like he
was feeding, becoming more ferocious in his a;enFons, building from the coldness of the room to a
banishing heat. A primal direcFve.
"Fuck yes baby" she said leUng him hold her, half dragging half carrying her onto the couch where
he slowly undressed her, kissing every inch as he unveiled it, pulling her panFes aside and Fckling her
folds before dragging them down the peachy crests of her thighs. She was reaching for his cock and
as he climbed up her body completely naked and kissed her she found it, swallowed his sighs with a
kiss as she gave him a few inviFng tugs, edging him the way she knew he liked.
"God you're hard" she said huskily, and he grinned and filled her mouth with his tongue and shivered
as she slapped her hands to his muscled bu;ocks and pulled them apart daringly. He had to be inside
her then, so painfully excited he thought his cock would burst.
The following day he had to work and she knew he hated it but she'd be there when he got home,
keeping hearth fires lit and all that. A beacon for his speedy return when the deed was done.
And she was alone again. She decided she'd give the living room another go and then maybe even
move onto other rooms, like their bedroom which smelled scepFc, like the bathroom and toilet
which were alive with grimes leG to flourish in the dark.
The morning lurched from slimy dawn to day and the drab colours of the living room bloomed
around her, given breathing space from the tyranny of li;er. She opened the windows and lit a joss
sFck which lazily pissed out packaged scent, an olfactory mask that Fckled her nostrils and made her
sneeze but which camouflaged the damp and decay. She took a moment to look around her,
sweaFng from an hour of over-zealous hoovering, and swelled pridefully, a new feeling and maybe a
sensaFon which she had coveted unknowingly in others who were more capable of this kind of thing,
who could see a room and decided in which way it should be dressed and maintained.
Maybe she could be like that.
The apartment was modest but as she took a spray bo;le of janola to the walls she realised there
was something vital beneath the accumulated layers of grimes and that maybe just maybe, she could
be the one to tease out and resurrect this forgo;en relic, this neglected container which might
otherwise house a collecFon of bristling and prisFne energies. As opposed to the romanFc
dishevelment she and Damien had subconsciously culFvated.
There was a Martha inside her, digging through her literature degree like an unwanted child trying to
save it's own life.
When she was saFsfied with the living room, having aggressively vacuumed dander off the couch
cushions and scrubbed the skirFng, she eyed the kitchen with something like rage, a fever in which
every piece of ma;er which was out of place would be eliminated, a final soluFon to this psychic

drudgery which they'd let infiltrate their lives like a dark spore. Somehow the house could relieve
them of it, become a conduit of cleaner more efficient energies.
She'd been cleaning in an old baggy sweater and bike shorts and when she leant down under the
sink to get the cleaning supplies out from the cupboard (themselves having accumulated dust from
an amnesiac abyss) she felt it again; that icy hand, pouring down her hair this Fme like a parent
tenderly peUng it's child, slipping down between her shoulder blades beneath the rumpled grey of
her sweater, catching in the small of her back like cold water pooling.
"Oh my god" she said because suddenly she felt it snake past the elasFc waistband of her shorts and
collect between her bu;ocks, slightly parFng the cheeks so that a ghostly finger could drag itself
through her humid trough, fingering the folds of her cunt which were already responding to the
touch, making her close her eyes and sigh.
She stood up with fright quite breathless, on edge, her body ripping with adrenaline. She spun
around but obviously there was no one there.
"What do you want?" she said feebly, thinking maybe she should light some candles and make a
ouija board or something, create a line of communicaFon to find out what this spirit needed to be
placated and let her get on with making a home for herself and Damien in which they didn't have to
regularly cover themselves in permethrin cream.
Scabies were a bitch.
But the air said nothing. And yet where she'd been crouched she saw a wobbling of air, a flexing of
oxygen like crinkled cellophane. She didn't know how she knew this for it's lack of eyes but it was
definitely watching her, looking back with disembodied smugness.
Was it laughing?
She backed away but then more coldness sFrred round her in a powerful whirl, gasped as she felt
clammy hands liGing her sweater, struggling with her to get it off her body. She kind of froze and let it
happen, struck by a smell or impression of strength, something vaguely reminiscent and disarming in
it's impossible familiarity. There was wetness on her ear like somebody had tongue flicked her lobe,
then felt breath on it, a hammy seducFon that in her trembling she was powerless to halt. And to her
surprise as she dropped the bo;le of spray and dish cloth in her hands which cla;ered to the sFcky
linoleum floor, she didn't want it to stop.
The hands raked her abdomen as her bared skin prickled like in a biFng southerly breeze, and she
could literally feel the calloused pads of fingers that weren't there tracing delicate lines on her chest,
running over and around the tear-drops of her breasts, following their tapered lines to the pert and
hardening ends, rolling her nipples a;enFvely, bringing them to life.
"Oh my god" she said again. And then she was being gently liGed from the ground and carried in
non-existent arms across the kitchen back to the living room where the patchouli cloud had seeped
into the walls and carpet, where the space had been cleared and consecrated for new life. She felt a
muted pulse in the ethereal limbs beneath her, felt affecFonate emanaFons as she was placed on the
couch and those same hands raked down her legs and u-turned, catching her bike shorts and peeling
them down her thighs, liGing her by the ankles to slide them off and fling them across the room. And
she thought she could see the outlines of a man, a half-man, but as he stood over her perhaps
adoring her body with non-existent eyes she saw the beams of midday coming in through the
curtains spearing him, chopping holes in the vagary of his body. Banishing him. She squinted trying to
make out his face but realised it's impossibility at this daylight hour, gave up as that faceless man
came down beside her and parted her legs, shiGing her down the couch as it centred itself between
her thighs and Fckled her moistening apex.
It was something like fingers nuzzling her folds, catching moisture like the humid cacophony of frozen
air meeFng tropical humidity and blending monstrously; a twister.
"Oh my god!"
A pinwheel of tongues unfurling speedily along her cunt, parFng her delicately, dragging a flat
surface along the ripening bud of her clitoris which ju;ed firmly as each new sensaFon built
exponenFally on the last. She laid back grabbing her own Fts, relaxing into it, moaning with this
phantasm's apparent experFse.
Damien who?

As she dripped steadily her two thoughts were a searing wall of white hot pleasure and mild angst
that she'd have to clean the couch cushions all over again.
"Hi babe"
Damien entered dejected as ever and his eyes widened when he saw that every inch of their
apartment had been made spotless, a transformaFve life-affirming sweep that he'd thought actually
outside the realm of possible in their muggy two-person world. He almost took it personally.
"Why'd you do all this babe?"
"Because I wanted to" she said. She floated over to him and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek,
feeling his face frozen from walking in the sleety autumn rain from the bus stop around the corner.
Maybe one of them should get a license, she thought placidly as she took his jacket and folded it
over a chair back. He was watching her with alarm and couldn't say why. She'd showered, dressed
herself in a skirt and clean-looking sweater. He didn't know she evened owned skirts.
"You should shower babe. Also I cooked dinner"
He followed her disbelieving into the kitchen and sure enough there was a tray steaming with
fragrant pasta, anchovies and li;le tomatoes and basil leaves leUng their flavours run as it cooled.
He couldn't deny that he was starving but had thought they'd either order out or just get high and
skip eaFng altogether, a frequent occurrence between them which ulFmately made staying slender
and slightly malnourished very easy. A look he'd thought they were both commi;ed to.
"Wow" was all he said.
And then she was moving around behind him and the crisp foo_alls on the kitchen floor made him
look down and he realised she was wearing a pair of war-Fmey flats which again he hadn't known
she even owned, and he was reeling dissonantly as one picture he had of her clashed and fought
with this new one, which he might have had more of a capacity to deal with if he wasn't so bone
Fred from tricking all day, even now clenching himself against the indigniFes of several stranger's
loads dribbling out of his arsehole.
"Where'd you get the skirt and shoes?" he said incredulously. He tried disguising the disdain in his
voice and failed. But she seemed so high on performing this jolFng domesFcity she didn't noFce, or
pretended not to noFce as she brought over another dish with salad and placed it beside the pasta,
gave him another kiss on the cheek and said "gosh you sFnk. Shower or you get nothing"
All this with the arch of a grin.
He walked away from her stunned, numbly stepped out of the lounge into the li;le ensuite and was
only halfway through undressing when he noFced the unfamiliar gleam of a recently scrubbed
shower stall, the plasma white of polished porcelain as he pracFcally saw himself in the convexly
glossy toilet bowl.
He couldn't believe it. He deliberately leG his clothes on the bathroom floor as he showered leUng
the day funnel off him like a layer of mud, seeing a li;le red swirling down the bung with everything
He was relieved to find their bedroom sFll in gloomy disarray proudly bearing all the stains of their
living, leG to it's own bacterial devices between the romping heat of their bodies. It was like looking
out onto a green pasture aGer the sterility of the rest of the apartment. These were unbidden
thoughts that sprouted from the surrounding strangeness and he did his best to vanquish them
before he joined her in the li;le kitchen. To his dismay she'd lit candles on the table beside two
mismatched but very clean plates and sets of cutlery.
She was already seated and languorously smoking a cigare;e looking every penny a demure fiGies
housewife, something cut out from an ancient lifestyle magazine and implanted here where no such
organism was expected to flourish. And yet here she was.
"What's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?" she said smiling. Her face was flushed and dewy with some secreFve vitality.
He was completely on edge. When he sat down she reached across the table and took his wrist and
sniffed it.
"All clean. Lovely"

They ate in silence but the respecFve quality of their silences was largely divergent, his stony and
anxious, hers shuddering brightly like the twinkling of a new star (which in reality was a photograph
of an old dead star which would've gone supernovae aeons ago). Between every few mouthfuls she
would re-light her cigare;e and ash into a crystal tray which again he hadn't realised they'd owned,
and again with sickly affectaFon. There was a slow rage working in him which was new, somehow
exciFng. He looked up from his dinner and grinned at her.
"So what's this really all about?"
He wanted to smash her beauFful face.
Unbeknownst to him she wanted to dip him into hydrochloric acid unFl he came out as perfectly
bleached bone, rid of every impurity. They looked at each other mulling over wordless appraisals,
harbouring violence behind weak smiles before she said "what do you mean?"
"All this" he said gesturing behind him, "the apartment, the dinner; are we celebraFng?"
"If we were you'd be doing terribly at it" she said to him.
He made a fist and banged it on the table. She was cool as ice watching him build to a predictable
tantrum. Was it predictable? They were wading out into uncharted waters and it felt good. She
pushed through with her mind unFl she was saFsfied she was ready for any eventuality.
On the small of her back an ice hand tapped it's fingers impaFently.
"It's weird" was all he said aGer a pause, haFng himself for sounding so dumb, having wanted to say
something more devastaFng. It had never been his forte.
She rose silkily planning on saying something barbed and dangerous, unpicking his scabs which she
knew about from their hushed exchanges in the middle of the night, that magic hour in the warm
dark of bed with their walls down, trading hurts from life's wanton scythe unFl the air between them
vibrated wetly; a conjoined bundle of glistening wounds held up in the adoring twinkle of the other's
And just as quickly as it had descended she felt it liG and she looked down at herself in fright.
"What the fuck is this?"
She was plucking at her skirt like she'd never seen it before.
She looked down at her feet and said with as much alarm "and these! What the fuck are these!?!"
And he was laughing because suddenly it was all so comical and he felt a lead which had se;led on
his chest of which he'd been unaware magically liG, and his eyes pracFcally rolled back in on
themselves he was so elated, and he physically touched his chest to make sure it had completely
gone. And then she was looking at him with madness and she put her hands under the li;le table
and upended it, flipping their dinner onto the freshly mopped floor where salad brine and pasta
sauces bled into the boards sFll wet from the mop.
Before he'd even stood up she was unhitching her skirt and pulling aside her panFes giving him an
eyeful, kicking off the flats and walking barefoot through the mess of their dinner, tomatoes
squelching between her toes (which he noted had seen a pumice or something because they were
looking smooth and pink). She put her foot on his seat between his legs and waggled them, flicking
his crotch with the food between them, a come-hither with her elongated toes which they always
joked were more like fingers.
He was already excited and let her stain him as she ground into his growing erecFon, feeling out his
head through the seam of his pants, massaging it to life. He gripped his chair and groaned, grinning
from ear to ear, humping the balls of her feet as she started meeFng his jerky thrusts with toespecific a;enFon.
"Long day?" she cooed. He nodded and gri;ed his teeth as she dug her heel into his balls eliciFng a
wince. He cried out but didn't quit the game. There was a tell-tale patch of moisture she'd
inadvertently milked from him and she knew he wouldn’t. be able to last if she kept this up.
"Take them off" she said stepping back, enjoying how his eyes fixed to her feet like a hungry dog's.
He pushed his chair back and scrambled to strip himself, flicking his shirt across the strewn food and
casFng his pants behind him, standing in front of her with his tented briefs that smelled deliciously
musky. She stepped forward and stayed his hand and did it for him, dropping to her knees squelching
pasta, dragging her hands through the fur on his belly and catching the hem of his jocks very slowly,
easing them down the muscled planes of his thighs, feeling his moisture on her as his cock sprang up

and spa;ered her nose with a few pearly droplets. She licked up the underside of his shaG and
passed her tongue over that hypersensiFve knot making him shiver.
"You like that don't you" she said, and he nodded vigorously.
But she was more interested in the perfectly formed balls which hung delectably low between his
thighs. She took her two hands and pressed them flat between her palms, relished the sharp intake
of breath this elicited, gave them another vise-squeeze and listened for the song of his discomfort,
did it again and again in rapid pulses unFl he was pracFcally breathless and fighFng himself to tell her
to stop because that was one of the rules of this emerging game. A brand new one.
"You're so strong" she said to him looking up his body, seeing his flushed face looking down at her
with wonderment, past the silhoue;e of his bobbing drooling cock.
She reached up with one hand to plump his leG nipple and curled her other hand around his scrotum
pulling down, only very gently at first but maintaining eye contact while she pulled harder and
harder. Daring him to speak with her eyes.
He didn't, only clasped his hands with white knuckles at his sides.
And then he whispered "I wanna see your Fts"
DeGly she liGed her sweater up and angled her chest so he could see them, all without taking her
hand off his balls.
"You like?"
"Yes" he said through gri;ed teeth because she'd distended his scrotum so much that his balls were
trapped in a Fght li;le purse of skin, gradually discolouring.
She let go and his chest heaved with relief.
When he fucked her that night it was with a li;le leash around his balls that she'd pull when she
wanted him faster and deeper. As they came neither of them noFced the air rippling around them,
lavishing them with unearthly a;enFon.
"How was work?"
"It was okay"
They were alone in the dark. The room twi;ered with the aGerglow of their sweaFng heaving
bodies. Around them every surface which they'd bumped and slid across in their movements glowed
with trace, atoms vibraFng with scinFllaFng absorpFons.
Ghost slime.
"Who'd you have?"
"That lawyer" he said quietly, too quietly, hoping the quiet would swallow his memory of it whole,
not enFrely sure why she was asking him about it when she knew exactly what it took from him. And
yet it embodied everything they allegedly stood for, wading out from the shores of normaFve
togetherness and otherwise domesFcated being into the irradiated chaos of the nether-world, the
one where demons in suits prowled the streets and safety was a dream. Combined they'd seen too
many David Lynch movies.
"He's nice isn't he?"
"I guess. He's not as rough as some of the others. He likes to feminise me though which feels weird"
"How?" she said genuinely interested but also feeling like she wanted to diminish him.
He looked at her in the dark and said "he likes to shave me and Fnt my eyebrows and make me wear
a thong and bra and a really short skirt"
"And thigh high socks?"
"And thigh high socks"
She liked imagining him under the thumb of a more powerful man and fingered the wound.
"Make up?"
"SomeFmes. Mostly lipsFck"
Cassandra couldn't help clenching her legs together at this, pictured a made-up girl's face on his in
the dark, gilding the outline of his head with a cam-girl fantasy. Like his clients.
"What else does the lawyer make you do?"
"You know what" he said darkly. She felt him shrink from her in the dark, closing at her prodding like
a sea anemone. All those bu;ons calling out to her to be pushed.

"Describe it to me"
And he heard the wheeze in her voice and could smell her under the sheets and sighed, shoring up
what she wanted from the undulaFng wounds his job fucked through him.
"He likes to have me dance for him, aGer I'm all smooth and made-up"
"You dance?"
She could feel him crumpling and sighed, turned it into a cough as he started tearing up in the dark
"I dance for him" he carried on with a treble in his voice that he persevered through, "he likes it
when I dance on the table in whatever hotel room we're in. He plays this Japanese music, like
tradiFonal dulcimer stuff, and I smile and push my ass out and pretend like I'm nervous or shy.
Virginal he says, be virginal"
Slowly she took his hand and put it between her legs, splaying his fingers so that two Fps grazed her
dewy entrance.
"Is he nice? You know, when he does it"
"Yes and no"
"Yes and no?"
"Yes and no. He wants me loose, says he wants my arsehole feeling like a real pussy so while I dance
he's got a plug in me, nothing outrageous. Just a medium-size plug. But aGer an hour or so of
wearing it while I dance and go down on him, by the Fme he's jones-ing to gimme a push my rear's
loose like he likes, a li;le sloppy. He makes me stand in front of the mirror while he pulls it out so I
can see the expression on my face and then he's all 'wow baby you're hole's so pre;y'"
"Do you like it when he calls you pre;y?"
He couldn't see the fiery glaze of her eyes but he could certainly feel the leak she'd sprung. The
sheets were dampening a li;le more by the second and she had swallowed him to the knuckles,
gently rocked herself on his hand but not so much that she disturbed his tremulous storytelling.
"I guess" he shrugged in the dark.
"What's his cock like?"
"Fairly average length, maybe just under seven inches. But real thick, so thick the plug becomes a
pracFcality. If I didn't wear it first then he'd hurt me every Fme. Which he sFll does someFmes"
He quavered and she shiGed under the sheets and only accidentally discovered his leaking erecFon
grazing her wrist as she pulled the covers closer to her, because the room was glacial outside the
cozy pocket their bodies made and above the warmth her breath curled in vaporous plumes.
"When he pulls the plug out he makes me stand there pulling my cheeks apart so he can eat what he
calls my boy-pussy, fingers me unFl it's open enough he's convinced he can enter me without tearing
me apart. Meanwhile he's calling me daddy's li;le girl and giving my ass a few slaps, and he's got me
sighing and shit which I know he likes, acFng all whoreish"
"You're giving him his money's worth"
"I certainly am, maybe even performing in surplus to the agreed upon sums"
"You're commi;ed"
"I like to do things well"
They were both grinning now and she tugged his head while he wriggled his fingers inside her and
they both moved themselves with impercepFble thrusFng, cauFously as if the story was preciousfragile-tender and neither of them wanted to scare it off.
"What's his fucking style like?"
"He likes to alternate and keep me guessing. He always enters me slowly with me standing bent over
a chair or the bed, whispering things to me like 'you're such a good girl' and 'you like daddy's cock
don't you?'"
"Do you like daddy's cock?" she said while expertly rubbing her thumb over the flaring slit on his
crown. He moaned and said "someFmes"
She snaked her other hand between his legs and dragged herself through the valley between his
scrotum and his arsehole, deGly spread his cheeks with two fingers and Fckled his pucker with a
third. Normally off limits, a professional exclusivity, except for here and now in the cloaking dark,

between the pages of a bedFme story. Like the one about the princesses who'd escape the palace
each night to a fairy-land ball and return with ruined shoes from frocked and ketamine-fuelled
dancing, to the puzzlement of their nurse. Where did they go at night?
She rode his hand while she tugged and fingered him, aware of his twitching cunt as her personal
She knew he didn't want her to do it but the minute he'd leG for work she started cleaning the
bedroom. He would hate her for it when he got home but she'd fuck him into a pleasing stupor and
hope he wouldn't take it personally, hoped he'd see that folding their clothes and puUng them away
and vacuuming and laundering the bed-sheets wasn't a criFcism of the way their love moved ma;er,
if anything was a premeditaFon of other ways of shared being which a cleared space might foster.
Together they could culFvate and nurture new things, new ways, new creoles and gaits from the
storms outside; maybe even puncture a few breathing holes in their li;er-box and every now and
again let some fresh air in.
She opened a window and lit another joss sFck to move the thick sex smell, and the smell of a
laundry pile so massive it was about to sprout eyes and a mouth and call her mama.
She was wearing a loose bu;on shirt rolled at the sleeves and jeans. Her bare feet were freezing and
she stopped a few minutes in to put on two pairs of socks, a thin co;on pair and a woollen pair overtop. She stood in the centre of the bedroom looking over the stripped bed and wiped her forehead
where despite the cold a line of sweat had formed between her hairline and her eyebrows.
She could actually see the carpet because what she hadn't added to the laundry which the ancient
machine currently thundered with in the laundry-room she'd folded and put away in the rickety
drawer which she was even tempted to give a lick of paint, assuming Damien wouldn't have a fit if
she raided his pots. He hadn't painted in ages anyway. As she thought about it she stepped to his
leaning canvases and rifled through them seeing the blooms of ideas that had been aborted, exisFng
now in half-life-mutant stages of demented being. Like demons. She picked his pots up and put them
on the massive vanity which they'd trundled up from the alley downstairs, cohering them into a fullspectrum colour-wheel.
She remembered when they’d found that vanity and he’d protested when she’d suggested they bring
it up to the apartment, if only because he’d rightly assumed he’d do the bulk of the liGing. As he
worked she’d enjoyed watching his slender muscled body straining with it, hauling it up three stairs
at a Fme, his shirt becoming increasingly transparent. She thought guilFly of how his clients must see
him, understood their delectaFon of him before banishing these thoughts with something like
remorse. And yet she always coloured hotly thinking about him doing all of those things, and even
now while she stood in the doorway to appraise her powers to shuffle misplaced ma;er from
channels of disuse into designated spaces, she absently put her hand on her crotch and sighed.
Should she write something?
She was beginning to suspect that his aspiraFons to paint and hers to write were pretended
vocaFons, that an aestheFc lifestyle was the intended goal and these scribblings and doodles were
largely indifferent performances. Doomed. Maybe he was even aware of that and she was just
catching up, the fuFlity of the thing apart of it's charm?
She hated these thoughts and decided it'd been silly of her to vacuum first because in the flurry of
acFvity of clearing clothes from floor to bed to drawers there were threads and dander in the carpet
again, and those rogue fibres were staring up at her with virulent smugness. She frowned and
dragged the vacuum back from the kitchen and had only plugged it in when she felt that icy hand on
her lower back, a Fckling along her spine that made her gasp with it's unholy familiarity, it's toothy
"Not today" she said aloud, to no one, to the walls.
And yet she already knew it was exactly what she'd asked for, excavaFng their bedroom, the very last
in a sequence of resurrecFon so that what lay beneath could rise again. He was here, finally.
And she knew even before she turned around what she'd see, the body which had finally breached
and waxed itself into corporeal fullness. She felt his liquid breath on her neck and turned slowly,
slowly, and let her eyes rove the planes of his arms and chest, the ma;ed hair which sprouted on the

firm arches of his muscles and which tapered into a dark channel down the rippling board of his
stomach into his bush, from which she could feel the heat coming off his massive erecFon. And she
was fully facing him now and saw his trimmed beard and couldn't help but a;ach her hands to his
pectorals and feel her cunt throb as he flexed them for her. Then she was running her hands up the
rock hard thighs, because he was leUng her, grazing the full and low hanging balls, wrapping both
hands around the impossible width and hardness of his cock which had extended and unsheathed
and whose head already glistened excitedly.
"I've been waiFng for you" he said.
She whinnied and stepped away from him and began undressing while he watched her paFently,
laughed as she got caught up in her jeans and fell onto the bare ma;ress. The machine banged it's
protest through the wall.
"I've waited so long" he said coming closer, and she looked up at him as she shucked her jeans off
her ankles and unbu;oned her shirt, sighing as he poured himself over her and lapped hungrily at
her chest, bringing her nipples to life between his teeth.
"I know" she said closing her eyes and FlFng her head back. She held her Fts up to him while he
feasted and moaned when she felt his fingers enter her, scissoring her wider, his thumb pushing on
her bu;on and rubbing devastaFng li;le circles.
"Oh my god" she said. He was icy no more. She closed her arms around his thickly muscled back and
spread herself wider, relenFng to his a;enFons and feeling her spine go all jelly.
He was pure fire.
When Damien got home he was a mixed bag, frowning darkly but feeling strangely elated at the
faFgue in him, at the joys of his own degradaFon. Things he never said outright to Cassandra but
which he communicated in other ways in the safety of the dark, in their humid li;le nest.
Which is why he was so pained when on opening the door to their apartment he saw she'd been on
another cleaning spree. She was wearing that sweater and skirt again and though he liked the way it
all hugged her body he hated the gleam, the crisp, the cleanliness a personal affront.
"I'm home" he said dejectedly closing the door behind him. She smiled brightly at him and said
"dinner's ready"
He slipped his jacket off and again she took it from him and folded it neatly over a chair-back and he
hated her for it, felt himself pushed out of his own home and deeper into the ne;led arms of his
clients where he both did and did not want to be.
"Sure" he said and he hoped she could see the rain clouds forming over his head darkening his face,
like the winter of the moon.
She poured him a glass and handed it to him while she affectedly ushered him to the table which was
even more setup than it had been the other night, doilies and flowers and candles. There was a
chicken this Fme with a bowl of Fny potatoes drowning in bu;er and herb, a le;uce smeared with
cummy-looking globules of blue-vein.
"Delicious" he said carving himself a piece of chicken, resenFng both himself and Cassandra for
meaning it. It was scrumpFous.
"Try the gravy" she said pouring him some from a porcelain boat. Where had that come from? He
wondered what else she'd materialised in her transformaFon of the house, of herself. Was there a
mass grave in the alley for all the rats and roaches?
Such needless devastaFon.
He felt a chill on his neck and brushed it, an annoyance.
"It's also delicious" he said. And despite himself he was seeing the value of all this but maybe it was
only a weakness because he had only just finished work and he was Fred and grumpy and feeling
vulnerable and all he really wanted was to have her in a pile of rubbish, not this spic and span misen-scene which would be be;er suited to the suburban insects they'd made fun of as kids.
He felt another chill on his other shoulder and had the eerie impression of fingers. He brushed
himself again, more angrily. Was he having a stroke?

"Have another sip of wine" she said and she was refilling his glass even though he'd only had a
mouthful, filled it to the brim and urged him with irresisFble eyes, the vacant ones he'd fallen in love
with and which she knew how to flash. They were bo;omless. He couldn't deny the wine was good
though he preferred cheaper varietals and the stomach-scorch of whiskey. But then maybe that was
only because Damien had read so much Hemingway as a teenager and had romanFcised the kinds of
scarcity and self-immolaFon Hemingway’s novels depicted as classical forms of masculinity, ones
which he strained himself towards with what he was now realising were laughable amounts of effort.
He could feel himself shrinking even as both shoulders twitched with heavy iciness, shrugged up and
away to get the blood pumping which was ulFmately useless because as they pinched he figured
there was something less benign happening there than he'd iniFally thought.
"I don't feel good" he said, trying to place her in the blur because his vision had wobbled the lines of
the room into bleeding shapes and colours. Something was definitely wrong.
"Have some more wine" she said innocently, and it seemed like a good idea so he gulped what he
had unFl there was only a crystalline sediment in the bo;om of his glass which looked nothing like
the usual tannin-remainders of a drop.
"I need to lie down" he said, or half said because the sentence drooped and his jaw went slack and
the word 'down' dribbled out of the corners of his mouth like wet paint. The last thing he saw was
Cassandra's smiling face and a tall blue-ish shadow standing behind her, it's faceless head beaming
When he woke up he felt different and when he moved his legs he realised it was because he was
wearing his thigh-high socks, the ones the lawyer liked, striped pastel pink and white making his
muscled legs look like girlish candies, also had on the skirt and pink thong, the sports bra that
hugged his dimpled chest. He could feel that he'd been freshly shaved, cla;ered to his feet on his
heels enjoying the sensaFon of smoothness, perhaps never having been this thoroughly rid of body
hair. Only the pre;y shoulder-length hair on his head and his eye-brows remained. Disoriented as he
was he liked it.
He was in the bedroom and as he balanced himself he was even more disoriented by the gleaming
cleanliness of their sacred space, the stain having been removed from the shroud. Nothing remained
of their old selves and everything he held closest, the eddies and flows of the kind of life he'd
thought they were trying to make together, not a crevice or unmediated inch leGover for the spore of
something non-human to flourish. Or so he thought.
When he glimpsed himself in the mirror opposite the bed he gasped, so complete the
transformaFon, his makeup perfectly done, obviously tenderly done; ornament to a love, the arFstry
of some infinite tenderness. He almost said her name aloud.
She'd taken some deviant lead and he resolved to follow as best he could, felt the lanes of work and
home merging like a zip.
He could see that there was a light on in the living room and he moved towards it like a ravenous
bo;om feeder sniffing out a host. Her smell, he was following her smell so disFnct.
When he pushed through the door she was there on the couch, only she'd changed from her skirt
and sweater into jeans and a bu;on shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tapping her boots
expectantly. She smiled when she saw him and said "sit"
He was about to take the space beside her on the couch when he felt glacial force throw him to the
ground. There was a cla;er of heels and hip-bones against the cold boards, nowhere near as cold as
whatever thing-ness had commandeered him. He stayed himself despite shaking with fright,
trembling with the toothy unearthliness that'd brushed him closer than he would've liked, than
anyone would've liked. He squeezed his wrist where it'd whacked the cold ground and looked up at
her. She could see the clouds in his eyes and breathed easier, feeling out the pharmaceuFcallyinduced breadth of his compliance. It was generous.
"You're beauFful" she said honestly. He saw that she was smoking and tapping her ashes into an
empty glass. He blushed and despite himself thrilled at her words, feeling beauFful, feeling
coqueUsh, geUng up on his hands and knees and arching his back like he thought she might like to

He was right and she rewarded him, raising the foot of her leG leg crossed over her right, signalling
that he may approach. He did so, grinning and giddily coming forward on his hands and knees, and
when he stuck his tongue out and looked up for her approval she gave it, nodding wordlessly. He
licked her booted toe, tasFng leather and just a li;le dirt. His cock throbbed in the li;le panFes,
straining the string which ran between his cheeks making him hyper-aware of his li;le rose-bud
which already twitched with life. Everything felt rosy and warm and right. Except for this rippling of
the air around him, in the corner of his eye Iike a thickening of nothing or something pushing
through the nothing from an unseen side. It frightened him but he carried on cleaning her proffered
boot, rolling mud under his tongue and swallowing, feeling his cock pulse harder and longer unFl he
was full mast, his erecFon sFcking out from under the hem of his skirt and leaking a pearly tell-tale
"What a good girl you are" she cooed at him and he lighted up at her words, arching his back deeper
and lapping more feverishly.
There was that ice again unfurling around his waist and making him shiver, shivers which started
somewhere in his belly and bloomed outward, making his insides wriggle and sneeze. She saw the
deep trough in his lower back pimple coldly and the quivering of his raised ass as invisible fingers
liGed his skirt and paused appreciaFvely at the sight.
"Take my boots off baby" she said to him, and he did as he was told gingerly un-lacing her boots and
pulling them off her feet, immediately peeling down her socks and licking from her heel to her arch,
between the toes, licking up the big one and taking it into his mouth. Cassandra moaned feeling his
tongue swirling her piggies, moistened to see him bobbing on the biggest like a dick with it's
extended finger-like phalange. She was crooking it in his mouth and watching him resist the urge to
"The other one baby" she said jerking her sFll booted foot. Immediately he was on it trying to please
her, wanFng to please her, feeling his cheeks flushed and nipples hardened at the thought of
pleasing her. She was unbu;oning her shirt, leUng him glimpse her breasts which were braless
beneath the shirt and pouFng firmly, nipples like pinkish gummy-drops peering through the waferthin fabric while her cleavage glistened with the slightest perspiraFon. He was humping the air he
was so turned on when he felt it.
A hand, plucking his thong like a banjo string. A frozen hand. He jolted with fright and spun round,
pressing his hands against the frigid boards with white knuckles, his body's chemically dulled
responses cut through with increasing paranoia.
"What is it baby?" Cassandra asked innocently, grinning widely though as if the world's secrets were
about to piss out the corners of her over-full mouth. He looked up at her frightened and she reached
down and tucked a runaway strand of hair behind his ear, flashed him the soGest eyes which sFll
simmered repFlian somehow. She was a Yes and a No all at once.
"I don't know" he said "but don't let it get me"
"Don't be afraid. He just wants to play with us"
Damien felt those hands grab him suddenly by the waist and drag him back, even as Damien lunged
hungrily for Casandra's un-booted foot.
"Just go with it" she was saying while leUng her shirt open the more, running her free hand between
her Fts with a sigh. Damien was biFng his lip with terror trying not to scream out because she'd said
go with it and he wanted to please, wanted to please. His steely cock deflated a li;le as strong
phantom-hands smoothed down his abdomen with exploratory hungers feeling the flu;er of his
chest, flicking and painfully squeezing his nipples so that he cried out, raking over the skirt and in a
single moFon tearing it off him. He fell forward and inadvertently stuck his ass high and in a flash the
incorporeal player had given him a smack which pushed his face into the ground. Cassandra giggled,
playing with herself now, her jeans open and the room filling with her excited pungencies. Damien
watched her coyly wiggle her toes which were in his line of sight on the ground, but only for a second
as that player grabbed his arms and liGed him up and spun him around, tossing him onto his back. He
fell hard and cried out before feeling the full weight of another human body on him, as yet unable to
see his a;acker but feeling the considerable heG of a grown man, and as they sat like that the tell-

tale coldness warmed to something else even as the air flexed and congealed into the vaguest
human figure. Damien was panFng nervously, moaning as the thing shiGed it's weight on him and
squeezed the breath from his lungs.
"Quiet now, he's coming" said Cassandra.
And as she spoke the words Damien watched a man being drawn, his lines pouring into the air from
between the atoms, from the void-ish breaks in ma;er itself, pissing out with an opaline glow that
cooled to flesh tones once it'd wri;en itself with enough detail, exquisite lines that bloomed into
thickly muscled arms and a chest and rippling stomach, powerful thighs that easily trapped Damien's
slim body extending into pelted legs that ran to his sides. Perfectly formed feet which Damien
gripped lusFly the minute air became flesh.
"Hi there" it said.
Damien gulped, flu;ering his eyes even as the man grinned down at him through a bushy beard,
squinFng wickedly from his own eyes gleaming black as night.
"Hello" Damien said.
"He just wants to play" Cassandra said between drags of her cigare;e, adjusFng her posiFon on the
couch to get more comfortable.
"Aren't you a pre;y girl" the man said to him huskily. He pulled the strap of Damien's bra and let it
snap back painfully. Damien winced and nodded his head and said "yes I'm a pre;y girl"
To his relief the man shiGed his weight off of him and se;led between Damien's legs, holding him by
the ankles and spreading him wide. He sighed as the man looked down him and flicked the soGening
head of his erecFon with a finger, the man laughing as Damien winced before tucking Damien's cock
back in the nylon pouch of the thong and saying "so so pre;y"
Damien was soGening to him, to the eyes greedily glazing over with complimentary desire.
"Yes daddy thank you I'm your pre;y girl" he started saying unable to help himself slipping so readily
into the theatres of his clients, thrilling as the man dropped his legs and gripped his arms and liGed
him so easily into an embrace, posiFoning him like he weighed nothing on his lap with Damien's legs
wrapped round his sides, leUng the man grasp the bones of his shoulders and force his head down
into a deep kiss. The man tasted unearthly, like metal and light if light had a taste.
The winter of his dormancy over, the man radiated abundant heat like a second sun.
Damien felt his shadows being blasted away, shedding from him as the man's tongue filled his mouth
and banished every lurking thing with blistering radiance.
"Daddy's li;le girl" the man wheezed between mouthfuls, saliva stranding between their lips like
some precious bridge.
Damien heard movement behind him and felt Cassandra's arms snaking round his middle and pulling
him back and away from the man, laying him on the ground again. They were both looking down at
him with so much warmth that Damien grinned and giddily grabbed his own ankles and pulled them
back, showing himself to the man who spat into his hand and pulled the thong aside, working the Fp
of his slicked finger against his pucker unFl it let him in. It was sudden but painless and Damien
rocked happily on the intrusion even as Cassandra shucked her jeans and her panFes and lowered
herself onto Damien's face, using her fingers to pull herself apart and engulf the bridge of Damien's
nose, riding into his mouth and back, reaching down into Damien's li;le bra to pinch his nipples for
He groaned as the man wedged a second finger inside and Cassandra gasped feeling the groan on
her cunt, the vibraFons running up her parFng folds. She tossed her head back and started really
riding, kicking back on her heels and wrenching Damien's li;le chest unFl the boy cried out. But she
was cognisant only of his mouth on her pussy which leaked down Damien's face, their slurry pooling
on the boards.
"Is daddy's pre;y girl ready for daddy's cock?"
Damien groaned his assent into the humid space between Cassandra's thighs and he heard the man
spit again and felt it hit his twitching hole, felt his own cock pulse dangerously as daddy lined the
bluntness of his impossibly thick head up and started pushing inside, holding the string of his thong
away which made his trapped goods feel even more Fghtly bundled in it's pouch what with his
straining erecFon. He tried breaking from Cassandra to breathe but she had him in a steely vise, was

restricFng his movements with her thighs so he tried as best he could to breathe by creaFng an inch
between her cunt and his mouth, sucking in humid recycled air thick with her taste. She felt him
suffocaFng and giggled, liGed herself ever so slightly and then trapped him again enjoying the
grateful heaving of his chest. She'd made leeway between his chest and his nipples of a few
cenFmetres and ambiFously aspired to more despite Damien’s fi_ul squirming. They were looking
very tender.
Daddy was opening him up nice and easy, teasing with just his head and slowly making room for
more of himself, digging out space in his girl's Fght channel. He raised Damien's legs and licked up his
right calf-muscle as he eased into a steady rhythm, feeling the sphincter muscle release a li;le more
each Fme between it's tender contracFons which were effecFvely milking him. But there was no way
he'd blow early.
He'd been waiFng a hundred years for this.
Finally Cassandra was geUng off his face and moving curiously to Daddy's side, wanFng to see a man
filling Damien the way she knew they did when she wasn't around, peering behind the curtain as it
were. And she was rewarded with the sight of Daddy's supernaturally large cock paFently spearing
Damien's hole, juices squirFng back under Daddy's knees like a real pussy. Damien felt it stretching
him more than his biggest plug, winced through the pain to find that umami which pleasure in his
boy-pussy always started out as unFl it eclipsed his enFre field of vision like an oil spill, perhaps even
elevated by the sFng of being spread into uncharted breadths of accomodaFon. He didn't know or
care because once they started grazing his magic spot, as Daddy was doing now, every defence of
body and mind gave itself up to the feeling.
Cassandra couldn't hide how turned on she was and started playing with herself almost
unconsciously, her cheeks flushing, resFng her hand on Daddy's shoulder while he pumped.
"Does he feel good?" she asked Daddy with wide eyes, filling herself with a second finger to the
knuckle. Daddy was biFng his lips and closing his eyes and he opened them to her, smiled at her and
leant into her petal mouth for a kiss, the pair exchanging saliva with increasing abandon while
Damien rocked under them, Daddy's swivelling thrusts rubbing magic circles on his prostate with
devastaFng accuracy.
"Oh my god" Damien started saying, "oh my god oh my god oh my god"
Daddy broke away from Cassandra grinning and picked up the pace, wrenching Damien's thighs for
leverage as he began systemaFcally turning out his li;le girl's pussy, feeling the walls of Damien’s
chute billow velvety, losing resistance. He got up on his knees picking Damien off the ground and
holding him over his cock, guiding him up and down his shaG, almost able to meet his big hands right
around Damien's slender middle. The boy's legs were quivering as Daddy worked.
"Wow" Cassandra said, "I like how he's coming out and you're stuffing him back in"
And sure enough Damien's insides were being dragged out, cleaving to Daddy's girth, turning out and
then being punched back inside as Daddy's thrusts got meaner and faster. Damien was squealing,
moaning, writhing, his heels flailing behind Daddy's massive back and clacking together making a
sound like the bell on a rodeo bull. The boy was panFng and sweaFng, his makeup running under his
eyes and down his face in painterly rivulets. Cassandra thought it was the most beauFful thing she
had ever seen.
"I wanna cum" Daddy said with deadly seriousness. Cassandra looked at him slanFng her eyes with
dark meaning, looked to Damien in thrall running his hands down his own abdomen and feeling
himself out-of-body, climbing invisible stairs to heaven one punishing thrust at a Fme.
"Wait a second" Cassandra said before vanishing into the kitchen, her pale bu;ocks visible as her
shirt flu;ered around her like the cloak of some nubile sorceress. When she came back it was with a
wine bo;le and she gestured to Daddy to liG Damien into a higher posiFon on his lap. Damien was
vaguely aware of the movements around him, smelled the intenFon and braced himself with his
arms wrapped Fghtly round Daddy's back. He looked alarmed when he felt Cassandra nuzzle his
elasFcised rectum with the bo;le end but then Daddy took his face in one of his big hands and said
"don't worry baby, Daddy's got you, you're Daddy's li;le girl", and he swooned and arched his back

angling himself wider so that Cassandra barely felt any resistance at all as the bo;le-neck breached
and joined the other man's massive cock inside him.
"Oh my god" he grunted and buried his head in Daddy's shoulder.
Feeling himself at maximum capacity his mind bent and fixated on Daddy's smell like an anchor, a
rich musk of flowers and blood, so much blood stretching back in Fme from unknown origin flowing
through Now, a torrenFal river mingling with dreams and desires unbidden, braiding with memory
and shadow and pushing up through yesterday's rubble into the tarmac of today; Daddy's cock
reached all the way back into the past and speared through the future like so many arseholes, glazed
bracelets pulsing with forgo;en urgencies, living funereal wreaths channelling every artefact of
neglect which vibrated in aUcs and basements the city over, callously banished in the sweep of
development for want of an allegedly be;er world.
Daddy gripped Damien's face and forced their eyes together, spraying the boy's marbled painted face
with sweat and spi;le as he said "you're my li;le girl, Daddy's li;le girl"
"I am I am I am, I'm your pre;y li;le girl"
Cassandra was grinning behind them and shoved the whole neck inside Damien which slid in like a
hot knife through bu;er, burying to the hilt and eliciFng a shrill squeal from the pre;y sow. Daddy
purred feeling Damien's hole slacken defeatedly around the intrusions, holding the boy's legs up
under the knees and jack-hammering his way home, feeling the cool glass of the bo;le warming up
against his cock and the sloppy quivers of his pre;y girl's ruined ass.
When Daddy came all three of them saw starbursts and slumped to the ground, blinded by the
biggest bang since ma;er's birthday.
Cassandra was studying law and had been able to cross-credit much of the sociology paper which
she'd aborFvely begun last year. On top of that she spent very li;le Fme in the apartment these days
between course and work, finding the sFrrings of passion in her temp job at a big firm down town
that'd seen something in her worth invesFng in during a preliminary to fourth-year pracFcum; the
terFary equivalent of a field trip.
The woman who ran the firm whose name was embossed in gilded cursive on nearly every surface
had been so impressed she'd felt compelled to pull the girl aside and have a private word with her in
the largest office Cassandra had ever seen. Certainly bigger than their apartment, swirling with
pompous amounts of dead space.
"I can smell strength on you" she said to Cassandra, "tell me; is your intuiFon strong?"
"Yes" she told the woman frankly, not lying either. She had always had something of a sight,
preternaturally giGed at divining when and where to act or not act, as her portentously wriggling gut
would dictate. Her months of romanFc squalor with Damien for example.
She could never have predicted how ulFmately useful that would be, and yet the absoluFsm of her
gut had dowsed meaning where she couldn't see any. So lucky.
"Come and work for me, a sort of paid internship. It's not much but when you graduate we can put
you on the payroll proper"
Cassandra had seen all her wildest dreams for herself in a brilliant flash, lighFng up every hope and
fear and stamping the la;er under a heel of ambiFon.
"Sure" she said, and then rising to shake the woman's hand, "definitely"
"Us girls have to sFck together, especially in this game"
The woman gave her a wink.
Cassandra couldn't believe it, walking home that aGernoon thinking about how she'd desperately
wanted to write, wanted to effect change through the pen when the whole Fme she could've been
striving for something a li;le closer to core process, something that could shape policy directly
instead of through the environmental corrosion of culture which had always been her comfort zone.
'Fuck culture' she thought darkly crossing the street, glaring at the taxi man who honked as she
sprinted for the curb. She pulled a finger and instead of pulling one back or hurling expleFves he
grinned at her.

By the Fme she got to the apartment she didn't even care that the liG was broken and she had to
take the stairs, pracFcally sprinted up and burst through the door in a glorious sweat, shedding her
jacket and scarf and shoes and socks in a trail from the front door into the kitchen where she came
up behind Damien in his pencil skirt and crop-top, snaking her arms around his waist and biFng his
"Stop!" he exclaimed brushing her off, giggling and pecking her cheek before gesturing that she
should take a seat at the kitchen table, "it's almost ready"
"Perfect" she said and turned her back on him, loving the sound of his heels clacking against
gleaming linoleum, loving the polish of the walls and floor, the precise arrangement of furniture, the
new cushion and couch covers and mulFple vases with fresh cut flowers which Damien spruced
every single day with an ever changing roster of seasonal delights.
It was everything she deserved and more.
She sat down and picked up her glass, pouring herself some of the wine Damien had though_ully leG
to breathe. It was Tempranillo. Cassandra's favourite.
"Smells great" she said.
Damien smiled at her over his shoulder and flipped his naturally glossy hair which cascaded down his
muscled back like water, all the way down to his ass pertly defying gravity in that li;le skirt. She
watched him a li;le longer lingering hungrily on his bare thighs, thought she hadn't given him a
thorough shave in a while and flagged it in her mind for tomorrow, tentaFvely pencilling it in
between course and an online seminar about manifesFng leadership qualiFes in both professional
and personal seUngs. She had a book on it but the blurb recommended syncing chapter reads with
the videos, all of which were exclusively available through a pay-per-use channel.
Damien finally liGed the turkey tray from the oven in mi;ens and brought it over, placing it with a
curt flourish on the chopping board he'd laid out in the table's centre.
Cassandra smiled and said "come here"
She was pushing her chair back and spreading her legs and paUng her leG thigh. Damien blushed
and gingerly came over when she grabbed his hip and brought him down, right on her lap where she
smoothed her hand over his firm thighs, giving his balls a Fckle through his lace panFes. He sighed
and rolled his body against hers, closing his eyes as she slipped her other hand down the back of his
skirt and felt between his cheeks for the plug, giving the juUng handle a few finger taps. He moaned,
feeling it against his magic spot. While doing this she checked his cock, felt him already leaking
excitedly, got a grip of the silicone base and twisted it inside him.
"You're such a good girl" she cooed, blowing on his nose while he squirmed.
"Thank you Daddy" he said.
"Are you Daddy's pre;y girl?"
"Yes I'm Daddy's pre;y girl. I'm your pre;y girl Daddy"
"Good girl. You're such a good girl"
Cassandra ran her tongue up Damien's neck enjoying his quivering as she pulled the plug ever so
slightly and swivelled it back in, gently digging him out. A li;le entree course.
Around them the temperature dipped infinitesimally and the lights flickered.
But they were too busy to noFce.

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