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Please!" she managed to get out. He slid up her legs and sat on her thighs. "What do you say?" he said in his singsong triumphant voice. "You're an ass?" she asked with a wicked smile. He pinched her sides and she yelped. "Fine," she said with a huff. "Conrad G. Finnigan, you are master of all. Except Monopoly," she added under her breath. He pinched her again, and she squealed. "You're not finished," he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes before continuing. "You are smarter, faster, and. " Sorry?!!" she bellowed, "you will find out what sorry is for not doing as asked!"She stood up, almost knocking me over, walking over to the table she picked up something and returned to where I was still kneeling afraid to move for fear of angering her more. She placed earplugs in my ears and a mouthpiece in my mouth which held my mouth open not allowing me to close it.With one swift movement, she took the hood from my hands and pulled it over my head, making sure the eyepiece was closed over. Reliving that orgasm, each sensation is some catharsis to reenter the real world. My brain is here. The room is dark, and only red embers glow from the fire place. The wood is damp and the room smoky, it reminds me of the wet Appalachian apple orchards of the harvest times of my youth. Naked I throw some more logs on the coals and stoke the fire. The little light from the fireplace emits a gauzy reflection off the window panes, but I see a slender figure beyond them on the screen porch. The. Fuck. It was like a kick in the teeth. Deflation.“Wasn’t she sweet?”Mum gushed and squeezed my arm excitedly. We sat, half way back in the audience in the middle, watching my mum’s friend Sarah’s little girl, Flo, perform ballet. A whole class of little girls were doing ballet and the synchronization was awful. I had waved and nodded at Sarah, sitting down in the front row, as we’d taken our seats. The audience was mostly mums, plenty of siblings, a handful of henpecked dads, and no other boys.
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