A/N: Another story I will definitely recommend is "absolution." by lordvoldyfarts.
A/N #2: Issue with 50SoG: Once Ana decided that she's visiting her mother, Christian is telling her how she "beguiles" him, then asks if she really has to go to see her mom. After she says yes, so she could have some space to think, Christian pulls out of her fast enough to make her wince. He tries to guilt her and make her hurt by withholding affection as a way to manipulate her into staying instead. Ana still goes, but thinks she did something wrong to make Christian's mood change. (That's the victim blaming themselves.)
Then Ana finally gets the courage to tell him that his threatening to follow her out there is actually creepy and that she's leaving so she can have some time away from him...and not only does he figure out her flight info and upgrades her to First Class, but follows her and rents out the penthouse in the same hotel she's at. (This is why I removed the entire trip out of the plot, it's unforgivably stalker behavior.)
There is light everywhere. Bright, warm, piercing light, and I endeavor to keep it at bay for a few more precious minutes. I want to hide, just a few more minutes. But the glare is too strong, and I finally succumb to being awake. A glorious, bright morning greets me - sunshine pouring through the full-height windows and flooding the room with too-bright light. Why didn't we close the blinds last night? I am in Carmilla Karnstein's vast bed minus one Carmilla Karnstein.
I lie back for a moment staring through the windows at the brilliant skyline. I know this isn't some skyscraper, but it sure feels unreal. This has to be a fantasy - I'm dating a gorgeous millionaire, and we're safe from the realities of life - far away from any neglect, hunger... and whore mothers. I shudder to think what she went through as a small child, and I begin to understand why she lives here, isolated, surrounded by protected from both harm and hunger. I frown because it still doesn't explain why I can't touch her, nor how the scar I'm not supposed to know about got on her chest.
The unreal feeling permeates this lofty tower. It's like I'm in this fantasy world, having fantasy sex with my fantasy girlfriend. The grim reality is that she wants a special arrangement; we're dating so I'm not necessarily submissive number sixteen, but only because she said she'll try for more. What does that actually mean to her? Are we are still at opposite ends of this relationship is supposed to be or are we inching closer together to find common ground? I clamber out of bed feeling stiff, and for want of a better expression, well-used. Yes, that would be from all the sex. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I go in search of Carmilla.
She's not in the living room, but Perry is cleaning in the kitchen area. The sight of her stops me in my tracks. She has curly red hair and clear blue eyes; she wears a plain white tailored shirt and a navy blue a-line skirt. She smiles broadly when she sees me.
"Good morning, Miss Hollis. Would you like some breakfast?" Her tone is warm but business like, and I am stunned.
"Perry, it's me, Laura."
"Good morning, Laura. Would you still like some breakfast?" I blush, embarrassed. It's part of her job here and she likes it... Perry would make a great submissive.
"Just some tea would be lovely, thank you. Do you know where Carmilla is?"
"Ms. Karnstein is in her study."
"Thank you."
I scuttle off toward the study, mortified at remembering she saw me naked before. I poke my head shyly round the door. She's on the phone, facing the window, in a black pencil skirt and a silver blouse. Her hair is still wet from the shower, and I'm completely distracted from my train of negative thoughts.
"Unless that company's policy changes, I'm not interested, Sue. That's going to be a liability for them and we're not in the business of carrying dead weight... No, I don't need any more lame excuses from... Have Marco call me, then... Yes, tell Nick that the prototype looks good, though I'm not sure about the inter-face... No, it's just missing something... I want to meet him this afternoon to discuss...
"In fact, LaFontaine and their team can brainstorm... Okay. Transfer me back to Natalie... " She waits, staring out of the window, staring down at the little people below from her window. "Nat... "
Glancing up, she notices me at the door. A slow, sexy smile spreads across her beautiful face, and I'm rendered speechless as my insides melt. She is without a doubt the most beautiful woman on the planet, too beautiful for words to describe, too beautiful for me.
She is sort of mine, for now.
The thought sends ice through my blood as my self-doubt reminds me that she'll eventually find a girl more pliant. I smile sadly at that.
She continues her conversation, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Get Charles to call me, I'll land by three. I need to talk to Marcus this afternoon, and that will need at least half an hour... Schedule Stinson and her team in after Marcus or maybe Monday... Well, tell her to wait... Oh... No, I don't want publicity for Darfur... Tell Sam to deal with it, that's why I hired her... No... Which event?... That's next Saturday?... Hold on."
"You free on Saturday?" she asks.
"Uhm, so far, yes."
She resumes her phone conversation.
"I'll need an extra ticket because I have a date... Yes Natalie, that's what I said, a date, Miss Laura Hollis will accompany me... That's all." She hangs up. "Good morning, Miss Hollis."
"Ms. Karnstein," I smile shyly. "What am I accompanying you to?"
"Um, boring fundraiser. Fancy-dress. I'm expected to show up and throw an obscene amount of money at them. There's usually good food."
"Oh, okay." That sounds like it could be fun with her there.
She walks around her desk with her usual grace and stands in front of me. She smells so good; like church incense mixed with darker aromas. She gently strokes my cheek with the back of her fingers.
"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep well?"
"I am very well-rested, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower." Did she sleep at all?
I gaze up at her, drinking her in. She leans down and gently kisses me, and I can't help myself. I throw my arms around her neck and my fingers twist in her still damp hair.
Pushing my body flush against her, I kiss her back. I want her. My attack takes her by surprise, but after a beat, she responds, a low groan in her throat. Her hands slip into my hair and down my back to cup my behind, her tongue exploring my mouth. She pulls back, her eyes hooded.
"Well, sleep seems to agree with you," she murmurs. "I suggest you go and have your shower, or I shall lay you across my desk for congress most prurient."
"I choose the desk," I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through my system, waking everything in its path.
She stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.
"You've really got a taste for this, haven't you, Miss Hollis. You're becoming an insatiable... nookie monster," she murmurs.
"I've only got a taste for you," I whisper, biting my lip suggestively.
Her eyes widen and darken at that.
"Maybe I ought to be the one on the desk, then," she growls, and suddenly with one fluid movement, she shoves all of the plans and papers on her desk so that some of them scatter on the floor, and seats herself at the edge of her desk while her seductive eyes bore into me.
As she spreads her legs wantonly in front of me, I step forward and keep eye contact as my fingers trail up her thighs and hike her skirt up as she arches her eyebrow suggestively. "It would be my pleasure, Ms. Karnstein."
"You want it, you got it, cupcake." she mutters, kissing me. "On your knees, then," she breathes as I pull racy lace panties down her legs and drop them to the floor. And in a moment, her fingers are buried in my hair as I'm buried in her quim, my hands clenching her thighs as I lick and pleasure Carmilla's clit with complete abandon. I revel at the sounds she makes as well as the warmth and texture of her folds on my tongue as I savor her.
She groans... oh yes... and I know I'm doing a great job. I pull away, gasping for breath as I lick my middle finger and slide it into her, marveling in how warm she is and I can feel her clenching around me as I curl my finger and resume sucking on her most sensitive spot.
"Christ, Laura. You're so greedy," she whispers in veneration as she wraps her legs around me, crossing her ankles behind my back. I embrace her the only way I can with my left hand as the rest of me is engaged fully to getting her off. I can feel her clitoris firming as I graze my teeth over it and suck firmly, making a rhythm as I pump my fingers in and out of her.
It's only when I hear her sounds - her whimpering - that I realize that she's got me under a kind of spell. I look up at her and see silver eyes staring back at me, passionate in her pleading. I am not making love to Carmilla. I am fucking her, and I love it. I groan at this, loving what I'm doing to this beautiful woman above me. It's so raw and carnal, I revel in how I'm possessing her, our mutual lusts burning bright as I seek to quench it as I try to use my tongue on her.
She rolls her hips from side to side, and I can feel build up within her - that delicious, slow, fervent build-up ready to explode. I increase my stroking fractionally as she moans loudly. I am in sensory overload as I'm focused entirely upon her; enjoying every thrust, every flick of my tongue, and the oscillating suction I have on her as I pick up the pace and feel her react to me.
Her legs start to quiver and stiffen as I feel her tighten and pulsate against my fingers, and I can tell she's on the precipice.
"Come on, Carmilla, come for me," I whisper as an irreverent prayer, and I can hear the need in her voice as she throws her head back and shatters from my ministration, her fingers quaking as she lets go of my head. Carmilla pants as she lays backwards, hair sprawled out over her paperwork as she lays flat upon the desk to recover. I kiss her labia tenderly as I slowly extract my fingers from her and admire the blissful form of Carmilla Karnstein.
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, creampuff..." she breathes as she turns her head to look at me. "I swan, you weave some powerful magic."
I move towards her and bend down to kiss her. She savors herself on my lips and hums pleasurably.
"I'm bewitched by you." I whisper.
She looks up, gazing at me, her expression slightly confused. She seems uncertain as I'm standing over her.
"You. Are. Mine," she says, each word a staccato. "Do you understand?"
She's so earnest, almost - a zealot. The force of her plea is so unexpected and disarming. I wonder why she's feeling like this.
"Yes, yours," I whisper, derailed by her fervor. "Just like you're mine. But I thought you didn't like jealousy."
"I don't. I'm not polyamorous, though." Poly-what-are-us? I'd have to look that word up later.
She sits up and gets off of her desk, somehow making the act of bending over and putting her panties back on look elegant.
She pulls me in for an embrace and kisses me again, licking her lips after. She loves the taste of herself on my lips.
"So, on your desk, that's another first for you?" I ask dryly, trying humor to lighten the atmosphere between us.
She gives an enigmatic smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and I realize that this is not the first time she's had sex on her desk. The thought is strangely unwelcome. I squirm uncomfortably as my post coital glow evaporates.
"I'd better go and have a shower." I stand and make to move past her. She understands that something is bothering me, but not exactly what.
"I'll join you for breakfast once you're out of the shower. I think Perry has laundered your clothes from yesterday. They're in your closet."
What? When the hell did she do that? Jeez, could she hear us? I flush.
"Thank you," I mutter, embarrassment in my voice.
"You're most welcome," she replies playfully, conveying that she should be the one thanking me.
I'm not saying thank you for letting me eat you out. Although, it was very nice...
"What?" she asks, and I realize I'm frowning.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... you're being more weird than usual."
"You find me weird?" She tries to stifle a smile.
I blush.
"Sometimes."
She regards me for a moment, her eyes speculative.
"As ever, I'm surprised by you, Miss Hollis."
"Surprised how?"
"Let's just say that was an unexpected treat." I can't help but smile at that.
"We aim to please, Ms. Karnstein." I make a slight bow of my head to her.
"And please me you do," she says, but she looks uneasy as she looks at the spilled paper on the ground. "I thought you were going to have a shower."
She's dismissing me.
"Yes... um, I'll see you in a moment." I scurry out of her office completely dumbfounded.
While I have to say as physical experiences go, that was very satisfying. But emotionally - well, I'm rattled by her abrupt change back to business as usual, and it made what we did as emotionally enriching as a rice cake is filling.
Perry is still in the kitchen.
"Would you like your tea now, Laura?" I never even closed the door to her study. Perry heard it all.
"I'll have a shower first, thank you," I mutter and take my blazing face quickly out of the room.
In the shower, I try to figure out what's up with Carmilla. Maybe she's got her business trip on her mind? She seems to enjoy having me around, but I've spent too much time here and have to get back home and change in time for my job interviews.
I towel-dry my hair, comb it through with Carmilla's wide-toothed comb, and put my hair up in bun. Of course she doesn't have a hair brush. Seeing the balls by the sink, I find the cleaner solution and follow the directions on the bottle. I'm glad to know that these are new, and I guess I'm okay with having to clean them since they were in me. Wasn't that part of the contract? Division of labor, I guess. My dress hangs laundered and ironed in the closet along with a plethora of various outfits and I frown as I find something better to wear for the interviews today.
At least I can wear my own clean bra and panties. Though Perry was really nice to have done my laundry, I wind up picking out a blouse and slacks that are better than what I have at home and match them with a decent pair of heels so I can look adult-height. I make my way out to the great room but Carmilla is nowhere to be seen.
Perry is there, however, taking stock of the pantry.
"Tea now, Laura?" she asks.
"Thank you." I smile at her. I feel slightly more confident now that I'm dressed, though it's obvious that it's not my own clothing. Well, it belongs to submissive number sixteen, which is me once I sign that contract.
"Would you like something to eat?"
"No, thank you."
"Of course you'll have something to eat," Carmilla says as she walks into the kitchen, pulling out her carton of soy milk. "She likes pancakes, bacon, and eggs, Ms. Perry." She takes a healthy swig right out of the carton before putting it back. Perry looks at her, annoyed for not using a glass.
"It's just 'Perry', Ms. Karnstein. Would you like that as well, ma'am?"
"No, I'll have an omelet, please, and some fruit." Carmilla doesn't take her eyes off me, her expression unfathomable. "Sit," she orders, pointing to one of the bar stools.
I oblige, and she sits beside me while Perry busies herself with breakfast.
"Do you have much preparation to do for your interview?"
"No."
"Good. You're still not going to tell me which local channel?"
"No."
Her lips curl up in a reluctant smile. Perry puts the tea in front of me and I obediently take a sip. This feels oddly like they are preparing me for my first day of school.
Carmilla can see my discomfort. "What is it, sweetness?"
"You know, you never did tell me why you don't like to be touched."
She blanches, eyes darting to Perry before coming back to me. Her reaction makes me feel guilty for even asking.
"I've told you more than I've ever told any other living person." Her voice is quiet as she gazes at me impassively.
And it's clear to me right then that she's never confided in anyone. Doesn't she have any close friends? I bet Mrs. Robinson knows. I want to ask her, but I can't - I can't be that invasive.
"Will you think about our arrangement while I'm away?" she asks.
"Yes." I respond automatically, without even really thinking about it.
"Will you miss me?"
I gaze at her, surprised by her question. Of course I'll miss you.
"Yes," I answer honestly. She smiles at that.
"I'll miss you too. More than you know," she breathes.
My heart warms at her words as Perry puts the food down before us. We both thank her as we dig in.
It's the late afternoon as I sit nervous and fidget in the lobby waiting for Mr. James Stevenson of Channel 3 news. This is my second interview today, and the one I'm more anxious about. The first interview went well, but it was for the independent newspaper and it looked like they could barely make ends meet, let alone offer a paid internship. I can imagine the paper going out of business in today's economy, which is really sad but true.
Channel 3 is where I want to be. It's small and unconventional, covering local news, and has an interesting and quirky roster of on-air talent.
My surroundings are sparse, but I think it's a design statement rather than frugality. I am seated on one of two dark blue chesterfield couches made of leather - which oddly reminds me of Carmilla's 'playroom'. I stroke the leather appreciatively and imagine a naked Carmilla sprawled out on that couch. My mind wanders as I think of the possibilities... no - I must not go there now. I flush at my wayward and inappropriate thoughts.
The receptionist is a young African-American woman with large silver earrings and long straightened hair. She has a bohemian look about her, the sort of woman I could be friendly with. The thought is actually comforting. If I work here, I think she'd be an interesting person to get to know. Every few moments, she glances at up me, checks to see if anyone else came in, and smiles reassuringly. I tentatively return her smile.
By this time Carmilla is flying off to New York, and I can't help but wonder how fun it must be to just fly off to New York for the weekend. Except she's there to schmooze Corporate Executives. I never really did get why she was doing this, I think she changed the subject.
I roll my eyes at the memory of her overbearing bossiness, but I realize now that's just the way she is. Carmilla likes having control over things, which includes me. Yet she's also disarmingly agreeable too. I don't like her trying to force me to eat, but I get where she's coming from. I just have to remain firm and stand up to her. She is also tender, good-natured, and even sweet... well, in her own way.
"Laura Hollis?" A woman with long, brown, Lorde-level curly hair standing by the reception desk distracts me from my introspection. She has the same bohemian, floaty look as the receptionist. She could be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. It's so difficult to tell on her.
"Yes," I reply, standing awkwardly.
She gives me a polite smile, her cool hazel eyes assessing me. I am wearing one of the submissive special outfits, charcoal grey slacks with a white blouse, and my black pumps. Very interview, I think. My hair is restrained in a ponytail, and for once the tendrils are behaving them-selves... she holds her hand out to me.
"Hello, Laura, my name's Elsie Morgan. I'm with Human Resources here at Channel Three."
"Oh, how do you do?" I shake her hand. She seems to be sizing me up with her honey-brown eyes, and I can't tell if she recognizes me or something. Well I was in the paper, so maybe it's that.
"Please follow me."
We go through the double glass doors behind the reception area, into a large brightly decorated open-style office, and head into a small meeting room. The walls are pale blue, decorated with photos of different major news events. At the head of the Maple wood conference table sits a young man with dark, wavy hair cut in an almost hipster-like fashion. He wears a pale blue shirt, no tie, and grey flannel trousers. It strikes me as trying too hard to look like he's an English professor. As I approach him, he stands and gazes at me with fathomless dark blue eyes.
"Laura Hollis, I'm James Stevenson, the news editor here at channel three, pleased to meet you."
We shake hands, and his dark expression is unreadable, though friendly enough.
"Have you traveled far?" he asks pleasantly.
"No, I'm pretty local."
"Good, no worry about a horrible commute. Please, take a seat."
I sit, and Elsie takes a seat beside him.
"So why would you like to intern for us at channel three, Laura?" he asks.
He says my name softly and cocks his head to one side, like a certain someone I know - it's unnerving. Doing my best to ignore the irrational wariness he inspires, I launch into my carefully prepared speech, conscious that a rosy flush is spreading across my cheeks. I look at both of them, remembering The Patented Betty Spielsdorf Successful Interviewing Technique lecture - maintain eye contact, come across as confident and assured, and act like you don't really need this job but really wouldn't mind it. James and Elsie both listen attentively.
"You have a very impressive GPA. What extra-curricular activities do you indulge in at Silas?"
Indulge? I blink at him. What an odd choice of word. I launch into details of my work at the campus bookstore, and my one experience of interviewing an obscenely rich despot for the student magazine. I gloss over the part that I didn't actually write the article.
They both laugh, which is the response I'd hoped for. Nope, don't mention Carmilla by name. Slowly, I relax and begin to enjoy myself.
James Stevenson asks sharp, intelligent questions, but I'm not thrown - I keep up, and when we discuss my reading preferences and my favorite books, I think I hold my own. James, on the other hand, appears to only favor American literature written after 1950. Nothing else.
No classics - not even Henry James or Upton Sinclair or F Scott Fitzgerald. Elsie says nothing, just nods occasionally and takes notes. James, though slightly argumentative, is charming in his way, and my initial wariness dissipates the longer we talk.
"And where do you see yourself in five years' time?" he asks.
With Carmilla Karnstein, the thought comes involuntarily into my head. I frown at that.
"Reporting, perhaps? Maybe do documentaries, I'm not sure. I am open to opportunities."
He grins.
"Very good, Laura. I don't have any further questions. Do you?" he directs his question at me.
"When would you like someone to start?" I ask.
"As soon as possible," Elsie pipes up. "When could you start?"
"I'm available starting next week."
"That's good to know," James says.
"If that's all anyone has to say," Elsie glances at the two of us, "I think that concludes the interview." She smiles kindly.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Laura," James says softly as he takes my hand. He squeezes it gently, so that I blink up at him as I say goodbye. His eyes look like a slightly lighter shade of blue now.
I feel odd as I make my way to my car, though I'm not sure why. I think the interview went well, but it's so hard to say. Interviews seem such artificial situations, everyone on their best behavior trying desperately to hide behind a professional facade. Did I get it? I'll have to wait and see.
I get into my smart car and head back to my dorm room, though I take my time. Betty calls, and I use my bluetooth to answer.
"Hey, I wanted to apologize about... you know."
"About interfering in my personal relationship?"
"Yeah, that. I just... this is your first relationship, so I want to protect you." I don't think she'd ever understand the contract and the Red Room of Pain, though.
"That's sweet of you, but I'm fully-grown adult and capable of making my own decisions."
"Really? Fully grown, Hollis?" I can hear laughing quietly on the phone and it makes me smile.
"Yeah, I know." She's like barely two inches taller than me.
"So how did your interview go?" she asks, excited.
"Really good, actually. Not sure this outfit was cool enough for the second interview."
"Oh?"
"Something more Boho chic might have done it."
"You and boho chic..." I can hear her tsk, tsk as I can visualize her shaking her head at me. "Actually, Laura, you're one of the few people who could really pull that look off."
I grin, thanking her for the compliment.
"I really liked channel three. I think I could fit in there. The guy who interviewed me though... was slightly unnerving," I trail off, forgetting who I'm talking to.
"Oh?" And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Betty Speilsdorf's radar searching for any interesting tidbit of information - which will obviously resurface at some inopportune and embarrassing moment to make Carmilla upset at me. Though she did have a point.
"Unnerving how?"
"He just... something that made him really confident, almost domineering... and he said my name with a head tilt that reminded me of Carmilla."
"So a control freak."
"Carmilla isn't a control freak." I said, lying my pants off.
"I don't know how you stand her, Laura. I mean, yeah, I was trying to make her jealous - give her a little nudge with her commitment issues... but if you don't want me to interfere, I won't," she says in a rush.
"Good. Life with Carmilla is complicated enough, trust me."
Jeez, I sound like him.
"Laura," she pauses for a beat. "You're okay, aren't you? You've been seeing her for how long and you're still not calling her your girlfriend?"
I roll my eyes.
"I'm fine, Betty. She and I aren't um... big on using that term." My throat feels hoarse as I pull into the parking lot for my dorm and kill the engine. I feel tears threaten as I blink my eyes.
"You're just, I don't know... different. I hope you're okay, and whatever issues you're having with her, you can talk to me. And I will try to not wind her up. Look, Laura, if something's wrong, you can tell me, I won't judge. I'll try to understand."
I blink back tears. No, you won't understand, and I signed a non-disclosure agreement so I can't.
"I... I think I've really fallen for her." I first thought I was having the worst kind of crush ever, but I can see myself with her in five years. That's not 'crush'.
"Well duh, anyone can see that. And she's fallen for you. Kirsch told me all about how she couldn't keep her eyes off of you."
I laugh uncertainly.
"You really think so?"
"Hasn't she told you?"
"Not in so many words."
"Have you told her?"
"Not in so many words." I repeat uselessly.
"Laura! Someone has to make the first move, otherwise you'll never get anywhere."
What... tell her how I feel?
"I'm afraid I'll frighten her off. She said she's not the hearts and flowers kind of girl, anyway."
"But how do you know she's not feeling the same?"
"Carmilla, afraid? I can't imagine her being frightened of anything." But as I say the words, I imagine her as a small, hungry child of a whore. Maybe fear was all she knew then. Sorrow grips and squeezes my heart at the thought.
Betty then did the last thing I really expected from her: she gave decent advice.
"You two need to sit down and talk to each other." I harrumphed at that.
"We haven't been doing much talking lately." We've done ... other stuff.
"That'll be all the sexing! If that's going well, then that's half the battle!" There's the Betty that I know.
"Well, I'm back at the dorm, hope you are enjoying your summer break." I say as we hang up.
Is Carmilla afraid of her feelings for me? Does she even have feelings for me? She says I'm hers - but that's just part of her control-freak Domme self, surely. I realize that while she's away, I will have to run through all our conversations again and see if I can pick out telltale signs. This is as bad as that time I tried convincing myself about the Doctor and Rory having a thing.
I shake my head. I don't want to think about her now. I check my email on my phone, and there's nothing new. Okay. I'll just write her an email.
My interviews went well today.
Thought you might be interested.
How was your day?
Laura
I sit and glare at the screen. Carmilla's responses are almost instantaneous. I wait... and wait... and finally I hear the happy sound from my inbox.
Everything you do interests me; you are the most fascinating woman I know.
I'm glad your interviews went well.
My morning was beyond all expectations.
My afternoon was very dull in comparison.
Carmilla Karnstein
The morning was exemplary for me too, in spite of you weirding out on me after the impeccable desk sex. Don't think I didn't notice.
Thank you for breakfast. Or thank Perry.
Laura
My finger hovers over the send button, and I am reassured that she's on the other side of the continent still. She did get awkward this morning, and I wish I knew why.
'Weirding' is not a verb and should not be used by anyone who wants to go into journalism. As for impeccable... compared to what?
Carmilla Karnstein
Language evolves and moves on. It is an organic thing. It is not stuck in an ivory tower, bedecked with expensive works of art with a live-in waitstaff.
Impeccable - compared to the other times we have... what's your word... oh yes... fucked. Actually the fucking has been pretty impeccable, period, in my humble opinion - but then as you know I have very limited experience.
Do you play with anyone else? I get the feeling that Perry is better-suited to be your submissive than I am at times.
Laura
My finger hovers once more over the send button, and I wince as I press it.
Laura-
Perry is a valued employee; I have never had any relationship with her beyond our professional one. I would not employ anyone I've had any sexual relations with. As for her being a better submissive, I am shocked that you would think so. I would, however, make an exception for you.
As I have said before, I am glad you have limited experience. And I shall take 'impeccable' as a compliment - though with you, I'm never sure if that's what you mean, or if you are trying to pull my beard - you do vex me at times. And I don't live in an ivory tower; may I never be that gauche.
Carmilla Karnstein
I vex her? That word hasn't really been used since the mid 1800's. I have no idea about 'pulling her beard' either.
I think I have already expressed my reservations about working for your company. My views on this have not changed, are not changing, and will not change, ever. My sense of vexing you and I must now bid you goodnight.
Laura
Goodnight sweetness.
Carmilla Karnstein
I close my email and curl up to go to sleep in my dorm room bed, and for the first time, it feels too large by myself.