Today I'm bringing you a special post for the winners of my Inanimate Object "Writing" Contest, because the decision was so easy to make since I only had two entries (grumble).
The First Place winner is Joe P. of Your Daily Joe who submitted a short story called "The Flask." Take a moment to enjoy the awesomeness:
Way to know your audience, Joe! How could I resist a sub/dom story? That's right, I couldn't! Fucking LOVE it, especially since the tone and some of the phrasing is so like actual things subs I know (through the internet) have written. Kick ass!The FlaskMy Master wastes no time. As soon as we’re home, he pulls me out and puts me in his mouth. Not for long, though. Only for a moment; a brief encounter. A tease. A mere notion of what is to come. Then he puts me aside and makes me wait. This is good. I want to wait. I love to wait. It makes it better. Anything my Master wants. I know I will be his again. I can wait. I am patient.
He leaves me cold and alone on the kitchen table. Little to see and little to hear. Clocks tick loudly at night. I think of him in his bed, comfortable and warm, wrapped in cotton. I grow angry with him for leaving me out here to suffer. Then I smile to myself. I love it when he makes me feel this way.
I hear his alarm the next morning. He presses snooze, lazy like a cat. The alarm goes off again, and I know this time he’s out of bed. The shower starts and soon the entire apartment smells of steam and soap and him. Glorious him. My anticipation builds. I crave that first glimpse of him, clean and fresh and glistening, wearing only a towel around his waist – or perhaps nothing at all. I could only be so lucky. No, it will be too cold for him after the shower. He’ll definitely wear a towel. Some steam builds into a bead and rolls down me.
Finally my Master permits me to see him. He comes into the kitchen for a small breakfast. Yes, he wears a towel. Blue. Navy blue. Manly blue. He pays me no attention, like it doesn’t matter to him that I’m even here. I know it’s just pretend. I know his thoughts are on me. This is part of the game. It’s what I want, what we both want. Makes it better for both of us.
He pours some cereal into a bowl, something with chocolate and marshmallows. He might as well spoon straight sugar into his mouth. Didn’t his mother teach him better than that? How does he maintain such an amazing body? Some men starve themselves dreaming of that body. He takes a mouthful of his cereal as he walks past me, back to his bedroom. A glance! He gave me a glance! I love my Master. He is merciful.
I continue to wait. It seems like too much time has passed if all he’s doing is dressing for work, though it is not my place to judge. My Master may take as much time as he desires. I realize that time has slowed for me. My senses are keyed up. That’s what he does for me, with just a glance.
I look around. I love this place, our place. No, not ours; just his. He calls it his bachelor pad. It’s one of the ways he insults me. He knows it gets to me.
My Master returns to the kitchen dressed in his business attire for the day – crisp white button-down shirt, a smart tie, a black suit tailored perfectly to his body. Emphasizes all the right parts. And then he puts on those glasses. He doesn’t need to wear them all the time, but he knows how they make him look. He is irresistible.
Then my Master gives me the thrill of my day. As he heads toward the door to leave for work, he pauses. He looks back at me. This is more than just a glance! This is a long, meaningful stare. He is considering me, seriously considering me. Sometimes he allows me to go to work with him. He knows what a special treat that is for me. He wants today to be one of those days. He knows how bad I want it. And because I want it so badly, he denies me. He leaves me here, and goes off to work alone. I am forced to spend another long day in still boredom and solitude. My Master knows what’s best for me.
The time passes. Slowly, of course. I become calm, settled. The high of the morning’s activities subsides. But I know that when the time is right and my Master returns to me, it will all come flooding back, stronger than ever. That’s why he does it to me. That’s what I want him to do. So I wait. I listen to the ticking of the clock.
The day grows long. It’s late now. Work should have ended hours ago. He must have gone somewhere afterwards. Perhaps to the gym – oh, that body! But this would be a long time to spend at the gym.
Finally, I hear him approaching. Yes, I recognize the sound of his footsteps. He is in the hallway right now, coming back to me!
But then I hear something more. He is not alone. Another voice echoes down the hallway. A woman.
Sure enough, I was right. As my Master enters the apartment, she’s right behind him. Her hands are all over him. She’s young and pretty, of course. Dark skin, darker hair, black dress. They waste no time. As soon as the door is closed, she has my Master pinned against it. He doesn’t allow this for long. He pushes her forward, never breaking their kiss. He pins her against a wall. She pulls off those dashing glasses of his and tosses them away. She ought to be more careful. She hikes her dress up her thighs, hops up, and wraps her legs around him. She is eager. My Master grabs firm hold of her – he’s so strong – and carries her toward the bedroom, kissing her neck.
As he carries her to the bedroom, biting and sucking at her shoulders, he casts a gaze at me sideways. My heart skips a beat. In an instant, I know that I’m in his thoughts. He may be with her, but he’s wishing he were with me.
For a moment, I wonder who’s really the master.
I try not to listen. I know what they’re up to, and I don’t need to hear it. I shouldn’t be upset. I’m not allowed to be upset. I know the arrangement. My Master can do whatever he pleases. I have no say in the matter.
I’ve seen this before. I know how it ends. Soon, she’ll be gone. And I’ll still be here. I’m the one who gets to stay for good.
The next morning, my Master sleeps in. She’s still in there with him; but it’s been quiet, nothing is going on.
Suddenly, to my delighted surprise, I am grasped from behind. It’s him! He caught me off guard, snuck up on me. I didn’t even hear him coming. My heart races. In a moment, I’m in his mouth. He sucks fervently. He wants it all, and he wants it now.
I knew she wasn’t enough to satisfy him. I knew it all along. My Master wants me. He needs me. And he always will. She was just a distraction. An appealing distraction, perhaps, but a distraction just the same. I give my Master what he needs.
He sucks me dry, and it is beautiful. He wipes his mouth and smiles faintly to himself. He holds me in his hands and regards me with contentment. These are the moments I long for. I hold onto them the best I can.
And then she comes into the room. She sees him with me and her face turns sour. The hard daylight treats her naked body a lot less kindly than the moonlight, and I laugh at her for it. She begins yelling at my Master and becomes uglier still. I would be defensive on my Master’s behalf if I didn’t know he had the situation well in hand. He could care less about her yelling. He knows what’s next as well as I do. She gets herself all worked up, gathers her belongings, and is out the door never to be seen again.
I don’t know what she’s yelling about, and I don’t care. That’s between her and my Master. All I care about is that ticking clock, counting down the moments until she is gone and I’m alone again with my Master. All I have to do is wait. Her time is almost up. But I have all the time in the world. I am patient. My Master always returns to me.
Coming in for Second Place is my fabulous friend Darcy of Create Your Own Reality, who submitted a photo essay "Stories of Neighborhood Sitting Areas" on the subject of porches. Here's the slideshow on Flickr, which you should really go and watch since I can't embed it, but here are some selections:
Darcy said of her submission: "I examined the front porch sitting areas in my neighborhood. The main characters change from porch to porch as I tell a story that is empty of people. Listen carefully and you can hear the conversations still in progress." It's amazing how watching photo after photo of porches and seats go past you can create its own story! Well, done, Darcy! I was imagining an entire neighborhoods interrelationships before the slideshow was done!
For prizes, I'm giving both Joe and Darcy the t-shirt of their choice from Jeph Jacques, author/artist of Questionable Content, one of my favorite web comics.
Let's give Joe and Darcy some feedback, mkay?
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