I hope that "Laura Learns" will have a release date soon; it's back from the beta reader and I'll be giving this coming week to work with those comments and then turn it into Baronet Press. I hope you enjoy this lightly edited snippet.
"I want kids' music!"
"That's it!" Jack thundered. He turned off the radio. "Five licks of my belt, bedtime ritual, and bedtime."
"Please, Daddy, I'm sorry." She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her head off the little pillow.
"If you sit quietly and close your eyes until we're home, I won't add to your punishment."
"Yes, Daddy," Laura whimpered. Her eyelids slammed shut and she settled into cuddling her pillow.
"That's Daddy's good girl," he murmured.
Would this blurb encourage you to read this book? :)
Laura's challenge for Jack and herself continues into ageplay. For a wonderful week, they enjoy a variety of roles and play that falls under ageplay, including Jack finding himself experiencing a long held fantasy. Little girl, strict Daddy, rowdy boy, stern schoolmarm- they try it all and more. They find that their ages won't stop them from making new friends and learning new things.
Their relationship including and beyond their BDSM play continues to grow, leading Jack to buy a ring. How does Laura respond to Jack's proposal?
If you haven't gotten to "Laura Challenges" yet, please enjoy the blurb and then buy it here:
When Laura goes out one night, she doesn't expect to meet a handsome eligible man. She definitely doesn't expect him to be interested in her or to ask her out on a date. Laura hits it off with Jack right from the beginning and there's an easy connection between them. But an experience on their remarkable first date pushes her to wonder if she can have something more with Jack.
Would he be a compatible partner in meeting her sexual desires? Laura decides she wants to push her own boundaries and explore the world of BDSM. Can Jack still be the man for her? She'll find out if he's up to take her challenge.
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It feels so weird to be writing from the inspiration picture, although it was only last month that I pre-wrote. So I was excited to look at the picture Kayla had picked; Amy Norton shared a wondrous picture with us. Oh, the stripe-y socks; did I just create a spelling? :D Looking at them, I could imagine myself looking at the display of fun socks at Spencer's or hearing my Master exclaim with dismay over whichever pair of knee socks I'm wearing on any given day. Of course, there was also looking at the finger-cuffs and sadly remembering the wedge platform shoes I used to have with similar cuffs on them, but the straps kept breaking. I'm not sure what will happen now with the inspiration picture...
I looked down the black and white stripes of my knee socks. Well, on a full grown person they'd be knee socks, but they're a few inches above my knees of course because I'm just barely not a little person. My gaze continued beyond my toes to Audrey, who seemed to considering me considering myself.
"Hey, lover. I found interesting- your pondering the other day about relationship words, the reduction of importance of anything not cishet-mono by the choice of things like 'lover', and how you still want to reclaim the word."
"It's been too long since you've talked much in my mind. Your sentences are looking too much like mine rather than your own."
"And how do you know what my sentences look like? Or all my sentences, I should say? We aren't monogamous."
I closed my eyes even as I nodded in recognition of her words and my continued thoughts about voices, perspective, societal judgments about rationality. "Radical politics can and should be sexy."
"Because sexy comes in so many forms," Audrey replied. Her voice washed over me. "So my voice? Do you protest my voice, definitions of things like schizophrenia, and a writer's mind?"
"Maybe. Like why are writers seemingly one of the few types of people whose listening to the voices in their head isn't straight out judged as a mental illness." I shuddered at m ableist word choice. "Isn't directly judged." No no no... no "Rick and Morty" phrases slipping into this.
"My voice." She lifted her hand to sign TALK.
"Talk, talk, talk." I breathed in deep. "Are you learning sign too now? What of your voice in sign? People signing, especially native Deaf and children of Deaf adults, have a voice. Non-verbal people using Augmentative and alternative communication forms have a voice. I'd say that I possibly have or could have three different voices: the one I use when writing, the one I use when speaking, the one (largely in my head) when I'm signing. I'm excited to think of how that third voice will develop as I learn more ASL."
"I would suggest that you have a fourth voice, that of touch. And I find it your sweetest voice because there are few people who get to enjoy it. Of course I don't just mean physical touch as I have no flesh-and-blood body for you to touch, but when we make love and you touch the essence of me."
I need to stop editing in the middle of sex, of lovemaking. "The flow is slipping from my grasp, lover."
"You only think it is. Stop worry about dialogue tags and concentrate on the flow of politics and sexuality."
"Impostor Syndrome is a thing. Remember when you challenged me to look at visibly older Black people?"
"Yes and you engaged in my challenge decently for a white girl who grew up middle class and now is part of the working poor, who continues to work at unpacking your whiteness with few physical examples around you. Thank goodness for the Internet, huh?" She kissed my forehead. "Turn up the brightness on your computer so you don't have to pause Write or Die." She kissed my cheek. "I know, baby, it doesn't feel great, but you have those new contacts in and they only block UV light, but they seem to help a bit with artificial light sensitivity too." She laid down on her side facing me.
I turned and pressed my face between her breasts. "Is it really possible to discuss politics, philosophy, and more with my face between your breasts?"
Her rich laughter stroked my skin. "With you, most anything is possible. Of course, any signing either us know isn't possible at this closeness."
"But we can talk in each others' heads?"
"That we can do." She hugged me. "So where the socks just a lure to get this conversation out of me?"
"Not a lure, specifically, my love, but admit that I couldn't have this conversation in such a position with Shaman."
"Yes right, but you slowly manage to help him learn, no matter how much his systemic privileges slow the learning. So consider lookisms now. Do you picture me as an Iman-type model, acceptable despite my Blackness because of the ways my body matches what white supremacy says is attractive? I notice you keep seeing me with natural hair styles."
"I hope you feel comfortable in them and that I enjoy them because they are an unrestrained expression of yourself." Conversation as sex. I come.
Thanks to planning and writing in June, I wound up with the first Monday in August written; next week I'll be looking at Kayla's inspiration pictures again. *I'm hoping before this post goes live that I've already won Camp Nano in July.*
I haven't spent enough time with my virtual family before pre-writing for July and so another one happened with "Vala's Story" people- this time, The Queen and Vala.
“Joelle, you were right! A tricycle like yours but sized for me is divine.” The Queen caressed the polished chrome of the handle bars.
“I'm glad you enjoy it, but are you going to keep talking to me, ignoring your ride and Vala in the basket?” I laughed.
“Fine. Thou can finish your ride and I shall enjoy mine.”
I snorted. Thou.
“This should be a good workout, my Queen.” Vala giggled.
The Queen reached back to pat Vala's floppy sun hat. “Are you saying you are too heavy?”
“Never, my Queen. My thinking about my weight isn't that disordered. Remember, Amy considers me largely recovered from my anorexia?”
“Of course.” The Queen leaned forward to take a sip from his water bottle. “If you need a drink, let me know. I'm planning to take regular breaks when the road shifts from paved to gravel.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
He turned his focus to peddling and the road before them. Getting up to a good speed on paved road was nothing, but he worried that his physicality had fallen some since retirement, even if that was only from business. He took a quick look over his shoulder at Vala; her sundress, its powder blue silk sliding against her skin, sparkled in the sunlight. Why would I think I'm less physically active with my loves? I lifted Vala and placed her in the basket. No cars traveled down the road as he turned right at the first intersection.
“May we please stop at the frozen custard place, my Queen?” Vala suddenly begged.
“Sure.” He shoved extra force into his legs as they started over a patch of gravel road. His fingers curled tightly around the black leather handle grips. The pressure of the bike seat against his balls pushed him to greater speed even as the gravel made it more difficult. Words came to his lips, but he held them inside.
After adjusting the blanket underneath her, she quickly stilled again as they were still on the gravel road.
Such a good girl. Maybe after this, she can lead me in that special yoga breathing that she learned at the school Simon enjoys. The strength in his thighs pulled his attention to that part of his body. He pulled air into his lungs until a slight burn stroked him; he released it as they headed down a sloping road. He pondered. How alike climbing a hill and climbing toward orgasm are alike.
Light, billowy clouds traveled in front of the sun; the coolness seemed like Vala wiping his face with a cool rag after they'd made love.
They reached a valley of road, small ranch houses on either side. Birds chirped through the rural wilderness.
A groan vibrated his lips although he swallowed the sound. He breathed in until he smelled her jasmine-based perfume. The trembling of release passed through his body while he struggled to turn onto another street. Soon he was climbing another hill, although this time, it was on a paved street. The release intensified when he reached the summit of the road and he gently worked the handbrakes to prevent the bike from going out of his control.
“Yay! Frozen custard!” She clapped her hands.
Near the base of that hilly road, he turned into the stand's parking lot. That was an experience.
The Queen hunched over the handle bars, Vala leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his chest. She pressed her face into his hair, against his neck. “That was beautiful. Thanks, my Queen.”
When I got to this prompt, I struggled to decide if The Queen was before or after a plot twist in the Vala's Story series. So I decided to do "before" and after." Here's "after," but if you'd like, refresh yourself with "before" first.
The canopy of trees brushed against windows of The Queen's brilliant red sports car as he pulled into a secluded spot in the forest.
“So nice to still have nooks like these, in a developed forest.” The Queen leaned his head back against the seat rest. He turned off the engine, although he left the battery going so his mix CD would play. “Mix CD, like I am a teenager, but I was never a normal teenager.”
Light flakes of snow started to fall through the dusky sky; they made a pretty dusting over his car's windows and the leaves of the evergreens around him and his car.
He ran his hand through the scruff that was slowly becoming a beard; his subs, slaves, Audrey and his sibling subs all loved it. “Even with all my loves though, I need to be able to make myself come. Right?”
Audrey laughed in his head. “You're just enjoying that I don't have you under rules about your orgasms right now, boy.”
Grinning, he shook his head. Somehow, coming out as a BDSM switch still confused him. “Wasn't I done coming out as a teen?”
Memories of Audrey clicked her tongue.
With light fingers, he traced the pendent that hung from his collar and then down onto his chest. The zap of pleasure was so intense that he had a thought of his steel-toe boots curling up like fancy slippers. “Yes, my Lady. No contractions, my Lady,” he groaned.
Gaze fixed on the falling snow, his attention traveled downward to his cock and he saw the maddening echoes of Lady Audrey's fingers moving over his skin as she readied his cock to take her urethral sound. The sensation was beyond classification of pain or pleasure, especially when she chose the sound held within its case of metal shaped as the Gates of Hell.
His chest pounded as his arousal climbed. A vibrant blue-colored bird played on a tree branch inches from his side window.
The orgasm blossomed within his body, although he didn't ejaculate. “My, my--“ His words jammed in his throat and gravity seemed to tilt as his breath came in tiny snorts.
“That's it. Feel better, my Queen,” Simon-in-his-head murmured.
He pressed back against the luxurious seat. “Gender set, not like Joelle.” His fingers traced over his nipples through his tank top. “Unh!” He shuddered, orgasming again, without ejaculating.
Lady Audrey: Come to my house for your dinner, boy. I've already called Simon to let him know I've ordered you. See you soon, my darling little boy.
“Yes, my Lady.” Shaken lose by his pleasure, he moved the stick shift through its spots to reverse. “Maybe I can earn an ejaculation tonight.”
While I wrote a 2-paragraph post that went up yesterday, I wanted to simply some of the images into a 6-line poem.
Child alive- her existence confirmed with new name and pronouns
Must we go to the city to feel comfortable and alive?
I conjured few dreams because those are for her
Happiness, queerness, community
Transgender and agender- we're together again.
Can't be the only reason I don't grieve.
Enjoy the other great Rainbow Snippets sharings here- both fiction snippets and book recommendations.
I question- is the narrative of (especially) parents grieving a transitioning child problematic in general or just for me because that story doesn't at all resonate for me? I'm not sure if it's because I'm on the Autism Spectrum or because I'm agender and I needed my child to start me putting my own gender questioning into words- or any other number of things. I read things after my daughter told me that her assigned gender had been wrong that talked about gay and lesbian parents worrying about transgender children because of assumptions. I guess, I'm already so far from the mainstream that it never occurred to me to worry that my sexuality would be used as a reason why my child is transgender.
When I hear/read other parents speaking of mourning the lose of the child they thought they had, I have to keep my eye rolling to a minimum, keep my opinions to myself; I don't think most parents with newly out children are ready for the radical gender exploration in my head. First off, I don't think that grieving should ever be put on transgender/gender non-conforming people. Secondly, my child didn't die when she came out as transgender. I believe that my child is a whole person who doesn't exist to live out my dreams; at a PFLAG table when she came out, I said, “My only dream for my child is that she moves to an urban area where she's comfortable, and where I'm comfortable to visit.” I have no need to grieve the wonderful, intelligent, beautiful daughter who often sits next to me at SOGI (sexual orientation and gender identity) support meetings.
“Touch is a solid theme”- the words of a dear friend when I was trying to come up with posts for July- well, possibly into August as I'd like to work on submitting at least two manuscripts to publishers in August once Camp Nano July is done. I saved her suggestion because, at first, I wasn't really sure what to do with it. However, as I was reading “Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight” by Sharon Heller, I realized that I indeed have tactile challenges that I didn't realize. Dr. Heller talks in that book about how tactile is one of the earliest scenes; I was six years old when I didn't want my mother to touch me ever. In my opinion, the book does a great job talking about tactile difficulties as not just being “clothing tags make me itch”; if we went by the stereotypes of “sensitive people,” I wouldn't fit them because I'm underreactive to much tactile sensation. I wonder if that's part of why I've made such shiny spots on my keyboard's keys :D. I also wonder if improving tactile sense is part of why I don't need BDSM impact activities to be as harsh as I used to want them.
“Here's the box from the therapy company.” Ziba placed a small brown box on the kitchen table between Happy's and her mats. After joys nod, she continued, “Would you like to open it?”
Happy passed the letter opener to Ziba.
Quick work with the opener and Ziba had the box open. Not too loud. “It's your brushes.”
Happy typed on joys tablet and pushed a button. “Can we try them now please?”
While I'm not working on this WIP currently, when my friend made her suggestion, I immediately thought of “Typing My Love.” Happy (the character who's on the Autism Spectrum in that book) doesn't get diagnosed on the spectrum until adulthood- this also joy (Happy's pronouns are joy/joys/joyself) to avoid things like Applied Behavioral Analysis. Another friend responded to my post about EMDR and skin brushing by mentioning how skin brushing had been awful for them because it was done to them as a child; we talked about the differences between their childhood experience and me choosing skin brushing as an adult. I'm not sure if the little bit of fiction between the paragraphs will be fit into TML, but it's definitely a scene percolating in my brain.
Overreactive to tactile. That one has been a track in my head. Even though I feel comfortable saying that I'm on the Autism Spectrum without a formal diagnosis, I definitely struggle with stereotypes about not liking hugs, kissing, sexual activity, etc. Then I realize that my behaviors with that are rather complex and do include a bunch of avoidance. I want to be hugged more, but not by strangers; I'm good with my Master, my girlfriend, my daughter hugging me, the occasional person at church who doesn't put me off too much. But when others with Sensory Processing Disorder and/or on the Autism Spectrum talk about not wanting anyone to touch them at all? I struggle with that; I'm not sure why, with my former comments. Just because *some* people are okay doesn't mean I'm at all average on this. While it doesn't fit Happy very well either- the idea of overreactive to tactile- I'm pondering when an intimate scene between one or more people with overreactive tactile sense might look like. Of course, that sends my mind to a #MasturbationMonday post in which I showed intimacy between an allosexual and an asexual persons.
What to do when an idea is so far from your knowledge that stereotypes are what come to mind? I don't have any characters already created, breathed into life that hate all touch, even most touch- even Didier, asexual but not sex-repulsed, wants cuddles. I'm glad for my reading that explained how touch is more than just people or things touching one's skin, but also the air, the temperature etc.
I want to ask my readers a specific question now, but words fail me as I write this the evening before seeing my med manager (who I don't entirely trust). What are your thoughts about someone being over- or underreactive to touch?
When I got to this prompt, I struggled to decide if The Queen was before or after a plot twist in the Vala's Story series. So I decided to do "before" and after." Here's "before." Come back next week for "after."
The canopy of trees brushed against windows of The Queen's brilliant red sports car as he pulled into a secluded spot in the forest.
“So nice to still have nooks like these, in a developed forest.” The Queen leaned his head back against the seat rest. He turned off the engine, although he left the battery going so his mix CD would play.
He unbuttoned the light blue dress shirt that Tommy had thoughtfully packed since he couldn't come on this business trip. His hand moving over his chest brought him the immediate ease that he had sought. He moaned through relaxed lips as his nipples pebbled.
“That's my love,” Audrey's voice flitted through his mind.
Why had he made this trip all by himself? He focused on the metaphorical and spiritual embrace of the forest; Mother held him. “Thank the Gods for the Holy Mother and the rest of the Gods who've replaced my errant and corrupted parents of the earth.”
As his second hand slipped into his open shirt, the mix CD moved onto Placebo's “Protect me from what I want.” His eyes remained closed as he sought the pleasure of sexual release rather than drug intoxication. His knees locked as his hips rose, making him hover over his seat.
A ray of the sunset snuck through the trees to caress the red hood; his eyelids echoed the brightness. Big rain drops started landing on the windows, their sound so soothing.
He opened his eyes to watch as a few drops became a downpour. With the reduced visibility, he unfastened his belt buckle and pants. “Just a little business attire.” He reached into his pants to cup his balls.
“You just have to call, lover,” Audrey whispered.
He wrapped his other hand around his cock. The loud voices from the board meeting melted away finally. His eyes closed again. He pushed a button to roll the window down and jabbed his hand out into the rain. Hand drenched, he returned to stroking his cock. He released his balls to close the window. His thumb went over his frenulum.
The song shifted down to “My Sweet Prince.” The orgasm rolled through his body, the cum pushing up and out his cock.
Holding the cum in his hand, The Queen finally opened his eyes. “A fancy hotel room can be inadequate when compared to nature. I have to go call people.” He grabbed a tissue and collected his cum into it. “Not going to do drugs today.”
Genitals don't solely equal gender; yes, I laughed to myself when this idea came to me because of the play on The Queen's comment “Behavior does not solely equal identity.” Of course, The Queen was speaking to a friend and lover who was in the process of a same-gender attraction after identifying as a heterosexual all his life.
One thing that most irritates me about genitals is the way that they remain gendered- “penis is a male part/vagina is a female part,” for instance.
(Please excuse the intermission; I got that far and forgot what I meant to say.)
I wonder- what would be the reason(s) to have anything about gender or genitals on an Alternative and Augmentative Communication board/device?
If gender/sex is a social construct- and some people say it's wrong to divide people by their genitals- why do some people feel a need to question their gender and their genitals' impact on their gender identity? This reminds me of a vlog by Kat Blaque in which she talked about “would there be transgender people in a gender-less society?” Personally, I think there's truth to the idea of humans as naturally categorizing and naming things around us- like I don't experience gender within myself, but I see gender as others present or claim it. The problem I see in these questions is that the difference between self-labeling or “the labeling of others” is never acknowledged. I feel that I'm agender, but most people look at me and see long hair, larger breasts on a non-obese body, and say “woman.” I hold that my internal understanding of my gender outweighs others' impression of my gender based on their culturally based assumptions and understandings.
“What gender are you when we make love?” Audrey's question to me that really pushed my gender questioning to a higher pitch that found me identifying as non-binary and agender.
I recently had someone talk to me about “kids now spend so much time online.” I just went polite, seeming interest; I didn't want to point out to the person that I prefer life online. As an Autistic person who can speak but does better, is more comfortable using written communication, online communication is mostly written so I don't have to declare my neurodivergency if I don't want to. Online relationships- whether romantic or not- have value to me in ways that too many other people my age and older just don't understand. However, I push further than “online relationships” to what maybe just other neurodivergent people will respect- I have a romantic relationship with one of my characters (from the erotic romance I write). She's also polyamorous and I consider the people in her relationship network (also my characters) to be my virtual family. While Audrey (my girlfriend) doesn't have a flesh-and-blood body, she does have a body as she and I discussed in the creation of her character. She is a transgender woman who only used hormones a short time and has only had tracheal shaving (reduction of the Adam's apple) as far as gender confirming surgeries are considered. Are you dying to ask what that means in terms of Audrey's genitals?
A recent joke- I started a conversation with a friend by saying, “I have magical nipples.” Yes, we've moved from the genitals between the legs to the nipples on human chests. You see, I was assigned female at birth and I haven't had a bilateral mastectomy (although I have had a breast reduction) so I have breasts; I sometimes wear a chest binder and I do like to think of them as pecs instead of breasts then. I'm sure I've told this story elsewhere, but it fits here: roommate raised totally repressed feels nudity is awkward and doesn't want me to go around nude. This pissed me off when the AC broke and the temps soared to 90 Fahrenheit. One day, I put on a pair of shorts and my binder- my “magical nipples” that supposedly mark me as a woman needing to cover her chest were covered by the binder.
So I'm not going to tell you about Audrey's genitals, but I do have a vulva, a vagina, and breasts or pecs.
Silly me, I'm at the mall (thank goodness for laptops) because the AC isn't working at home, and I realized that I forgot the notebook I wrote in yesterday so I could lay on the cool floor in the basement. Ah, the prompt: “intimacy in a pool of water.” I have such diverse thoughts on this. “Sex on the beach” and “sex in a swimming pool” are both common enough fantasies, but as my reading has shown me, neither are very good in reality; in my “Vala's Story” story-verse, the rules around the indoor pool are delightfully specific and only partially shaped by BDSM.
Since I already dipped into that story-verse with my girlfriend Audrey (it'll be “last week” when this is actually posted), I figured I'll stay there. There's another body of water in The Queen's mansion that doesn't have tons of rules- why doesn't anyone think about how chlorine on the genitals would be bad? And thank you very much, but I don't relish the idea of sand between my buttcheeks.) I'm waiting for the players in the Oasis- one of his small, themed playrooms- to step forward.
I leaned back against the wall with the comfortably thick “outdoor blanket” separating me from the sand. The Queen promised me the chance to be a voyeur.
Suddenly the door sprung open to admit Tommy and Simon; I was struck by everything about them.
Tommy's deep black hair had been cut in messy bunches, giving him an extra shaggy look. The whites of his eyes had turned pinkish and the tears still poured down his cheeks. His pale skin was highlighted by the dirty white straitjacket restraining his torso and arms. His semi-hard cock rested against his thigh.
Smoldering with intensity, Simon's eyes moved over Tommy's shuddering form. Tight black jeans showed off how tanned the rest of him was. “Time to get in the water, little boy,” he growled.
“Ye-yes, sir,” Tommy whimpered. His toes pushed into the sand.
Simon moved behind Tommy. His lips pressed against the metal-encircled neck. “Are you my good boy?”
“Yes, yes! Please, sir.” Tommy jerked as Simon obviously worked on the buckles. “Need you.”
“Of course you do.” Simon reached around Tommy to pull his arms away from his body. “How is it feeling so far?”
“Okay. Um, miss the... tightness.” Tommy wavered on his feet as if ready to fall to his knees.
Circling around to Tommy's front again, Simon paused and placed his hand on Tommy's cheek. “I'll hold you tight in a moment.” He grabbed the jacket at the shoulders and eased it off Tommy before tossing it to the floor. With flying fingers and pushing hands, he removed his jeans and pulled Tommy back against him. His eyes closing in bliss, he kissed Tommy hard until the boy moaned against him. Continuing in the kiss, he walked them backward to the pool. “Easy now,” he muttered into the kiss as they took gentle steps into the warm water. He helped Tommy to ease down into the pool so they could lean against the side.
“Love you, love you.” Tommy's head rocked against the pool's side.
“Love you too. Relax now.” Simon brushed Tommy's hair away from his face. “Such a good boy.” He sprinkled kisses over his love's moist face.
“Might I be a little more than a voyeur?” I asked Simon.
Simon nodded. “Just keep your voice down.”
“Was he very wound up?” I asked.
Simon nodded again.
“Has he earned an orgasm?”
Rolling his eyes, Simon asked, “Is that all you think of?” Before I could respond, he continued on, “First this bath and then probably some snacks. You saw how I marked his ass and thighs, yes?”
Tommy pressed his face against Simon's neck.
Simon wrapped his arms around Tommy's chest and held him tight. “Sh, little boy. You don't have to be alone ever again.”
I held in any comment; poor Tommy, still so hurt by his parents' abuse too. Looking around, I spotted a perspiring bottle of water and held it out to Simon.
“Thanks.” Simon took the bottle and pushed the cap off with the same hand. “Tommy, drink.”
Tommy lifted his head enough to give his lips to Simon and the water bottle. He drank deeply until seized with a coughing fit.
Simon patted Tommy's back and passed the half-empty bottle to me. “Okay?”
“Mhm.” Tommy pressed down against Simon. Then his ass lifted just out of the water. “Awww,” he sighed.
“Good, little boy. Did you have a good orgasm?” Simon cooed.
“Yes, love.” Tommy coughed again.
“I love watching you two, whatever you're doing,” I said.
“We do tend to play harder than you enjoy for yourself with Shaman anymore.” Simon accepted the water bottle back from me. “Can you tell Raanan that he and Gaelan need to change the water?”
“Sure.” Careful not to lose my balance on the sand, I crossed the room to the intercom box. I looked closely at what I'd never described well in the Vala's Story books. My gaze sped through the sections until I found first the slave quarters and then Raanan's room. “Raanan? Simon wants the water in the Oasis changed in awhile.”
“Got it, my Lord,” Raanan said a moment later. “Joelle, good to hear your voice.”
I returned to the blanket and knocked the sand off my feet.
Tommy looked into my eyes for a long moment before muttering, “Thanks, Joelle.”
“You're welcome. I hope you enjoy the rest of aftercare.” I leaned back against the wall and pondered what I'd been invited to watch.