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Breakfast and a Bit of Fun, A Taste

Breakfast and a Bit of Fun, A Taste

Chapter 2 – Breakfast and a Bit of Fun

Just a taste of my newly published book. Tell me what you think.

Available exclusively from Redmund Productions.


Last night left me trembling, my knees so weak I could barely stand. You were tireless, pushing me beyond my limits, and I have never cum so many times. I am delightfully sore, still throbbing from our lovemaking. You have dragged me to the center of the bed, wrapped your arms around me and held me the entire night. Your breath on the back of my neck is a reminder, the length of you nestled between my thighs an invitation to more.

This morning though, after you rest, I have something else in mind.

My bedroom is my domain, I have taken extra care to ensure there is everything here we could possibly need or want, at least in the short term. It is cool and dark, though the lights can be adjusted. There are mirrors where we might like them. Scarves dangle from each post in the bed in case we might want more creative play. Pillows are scattered on the bed and floor. At the end of the bed there is a linen chest that sits higher than the foot-board, perfect for certain views, the possibilities are endless. Maybe, I will show you later. My en suite bathroom was designed to satisfy my slightly decadent taste, with an open shower large enough for two that includes a seat perfect for me to bring myself off on and a river stone floor that massages your feet as you shower to wake you up. The tub is big enough for two, with jets to sooth or excite, I often sit for hours simply reheating the water.

I designed my bedroom with only me in mind, with the thought I would be alone and this would be my sanctuary. When I found myself suddenly single, it was the first place I scrubbed, the first place I made my own. Every floorboard, every wall color, every cabinet I selected with care to create a perfect refuge for myself. I spend so much of my time working, this was to be the one place I could shed my outer public layer and unwind.

Everything about my existence ‘til now, even my marriage, had always been so controlled. I colored inside the lines; rarely did I not play by the rules. My bedroom then reflected my restraint; it could have been any bedroom in any model home ready for sale.

When my husband left I looked around and decided I needed a change, something that just my own and I started with my bedroom. When I created my bedroom, I let my imagination run free just the tiniest bit. I allowed myself to touch a part of me I barely knew existed. This first sanctuary is all mine and all me because I gave myself permission to explore a more decadent side of myself. When we began to talk I started to add pillows, mirrors and other more risqué items of play and comfort with the thought someday I would share my space if only for a short time.

Now, here you are within my inner sanctum.

Today is a day I am going to serve you a different feast, one meant to delight more of your senses. Your arm tightens on me even as you continue in your rest. I gently lift your arm and roll to my side slipping out from under the covers, still damp from last night’s efforts. As I stand in front of the mirror examining myself I can see where the bones from my corset left marks along my ribs, my chain still hangs around my waist since you told me to leave it so you could use it to hold me still. Turning, I look behind me, and I see the red mark of your hand across my ass where more than one time you brought it down bringing greater heat to our shared pleasure. Fucking creates a heat all its own and the mere memory nearly pushes me right back to orgasm. You seem to have that way with me, one I do not understand.

Mine, Introduction

Cover 200x300

Where it all started… I know the exact moment but would have never believed it would lead to where we are today. I am a saver, though usually I don’t save random e-mail. But your very first one, I saved it for some reason, and the hundreds since that one I have saved them, too.

You started with a simple kindness, was I “okay”? You had seen my husband had walked out on me, through a social media site we both follow. We had “talked” before, about random political leanings, the state of the world. We had many common philosophical bents, many similar political stances and we had often “talked” about the daily grind of war, poverty, education and a host of other “issues” of the day. Never once, in our many conversations had we crossed the line into the personal.

Then my husband walked out. I was hurt and alone; my angst was strewn across the page along with my fears and self-doubt. You reached out with a simple kindness: “Are you okay?” You were nearly a stranger who became a friend. For some reason, I saved that first e-mail and every one after, now I have thousands. Through shared confidences, secrets, rants and vents, tears and my fury, we became friends. Through the months of my divorce, you stood by with calm advice and reminders I was worth more.

Then something shifted in our relationship; something moved beyond the daily grind to the more esoteric and more personal. You begin asking questions, to probe and prod. You begin to push me to consider what I wanted and to see myself as deserving of more than what I had before, more than what I had been with husband and more than what I was alone.

Months went by as we talked and explored our evolving relationship, one day out of the blue I said to you, “I think you should say yes, whatever yes means just say yes. Whether this is a dinner or a weekend, just say yes.”

I think this surprised us both. I wasn’t usually forward, not usually the one to breach the walls. We didn’t pursue this line again, only agreeing someday we would both say yes to a meeting. You continued to be my best supporter as the months rolled over me, sometimes like a steamroller. My divorce dragged on, painfully so at times. With each setback, my ego took a beating, and you challenged me, challenged my perceptions of self, challenged what I saw in the mirror on the wall and in my head.

Finally, one day I received notification all the paperwork was signed, all the agreements met and I had a court date. You were the first person I called with the news. You patiently listened as I told you I would soon be free, as I said to you soon nearly twenty years of my life would be wiped away with a judge’s pen. You said very little as I rambled on. You must have known I had mixed feelings, that even while I was relieved, I was hurt. Soon after we hung up you sent me this in an e-mail:

So my question is twofold. Are you happy to be on your own, caring just for Scarlett, no concern what others desire in making your daily schedule and your needs. And will you require a period of rest from sharing yourself with a man, meaning, will/won’t you desire a time/break in your life to spend time working on you.

I had to consider what you meant, what you were asking, but finally days later I responded with this:

I am contented. It feels nice right now to wander from room to room knowing they reflect me and my taste and my desires, or they could. It feels good to write when I choose without being questioned, or go to the lake or wander the market, go to the ballet or turn the music on and dance or simply curl up with a book. Yes, I like those things. I like claiming myself. I like sitting in the tub. Someday I might learn to sleep in the center of the bed, though honestly I wouldn’t mind a body next to me. It is a big bed after all. I want to continue to reclaim me. Find me under all the debris, but yes I feel content that it is done.

Remember talking about a Grown Assed Man? If that man walked into my life tomorrow, I wouldn’t kick him to the curb. I probably wouldn’t move him into my home, but I wouldn’t turn away from the possibility of love either. I don’t believe we are meant to be alone through life. I believe truly in my heart we are meant to be loved and to love in all its different meanings. We are meant to be cherished, petted, pampered and seen for who we are. We are meant to share our lives. We are meant to find our ways to each other and to love.

Scared? Hell yes, scared as hell. Scared I might be alone forever because I might not ever trust someone with my heart and all my secrets. Scared I might not recognize love if it were to stand in front of me heart in hand. Scared I might grow too content in my self-imposed isolation and too selfish in my contentedness. Nevertheless, as I have said to you more than once, hope is something I cannot allow myself to give up. Cracks in my heart let in light not darkness. I will rest; I have been resting for years now without even knowing it. But if that Grown Assed Man stumbled through the door, hell if I know what I would do.

Your response was quick and pointed. Your response made me laugh at the time. I realize now you were saying yes, and it is time. From then on, our relationship changed again and has been evolving since:

You’d better get educated to what love is, and teach yourself to alertly recognize love when it does eventually come ringing your front doorbell, or when it sneaks up your tight back door.