My erotic supernatural lesbian short Truth & Dare is now on sale here.
Truth & Dare started life as an attempt on my part to write sexual mind control, which is not really a Thing of mine but which I find kind of interesting in terms of the power dynamic it sets up. Like a lot of what I write, I’m not really sure where the rest of it came from, but I do know that I’m just as attracted to the idea of emotional erotic domination as I am to the physical kind, and that features here pretty strongly. Also the idea of domination and submission as fundamentally both enlightening and liberating, which is a theme I return to now and then.
Daena is actually a figure in Zoroastrian mythology, representing insight and revelation; she meets you after your death and evaluates the worthiness of your soul. It’s mostly the name that’s borrowed here, though this can also be read as the figure herself being present. She does have powers, after all.
Generally SFW excerpt under the cut.
“So how does that feel?” she asks me, and I would answer her except that I’m not sure how to put an answer into words, and I’m not sure I could say the words at all.
How it feels is like someone split my head open and it’s all out there, my brain, slick gray matter, maybe pulsating gently like in the movies. But it isn’t just that. She can see everything. Everything. Not all at once, but it’s all there for her to touch if she wants to, if she finds it. She’s flipping through my mind like she’s rummaging through a file drawer. I wouldn’t say that it’s comfortable. That might be a start.
But it’s not uncomfortable, either.
When she told me about it in the bar, what she could do, I thought it was just some stupid party trick. You know, you hypnotize someone, they waddle around the room and cluck like a chicken, you snap your fingers, they look embarrassed and everyone else laughs. That kind of shit. I thought this was a trick because things like this don’t happen, but after tonight I might have to rearrange my thinking on that subject.
If it isn’t rearranged for me.
“Well?” she asks, and I lick my lips. I can do that much. My body feels like it’s waiting for some kind of permission, like the signals from my brain aren’t enough anymore. My fingers twitch and she laughs.
“God, you are easy. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this. You seemed like such a tough little cookie before.” She smiles and leans forward in her chair, her fingertips trailing down the back of my hand. I shiver, because that doesn’t take any effort and no one has to tell me that I can.
We’re alone in my apartment. Even if I could call for help, no one would hear me, not through these walls. I like my privacy. I like my quiet. Well, now I wish I liked those things a little bit less. You never think paper thin walls are a blessing until you need them.
“You’re very pretty. I told you that back at the bar, didn’t I?” Her fingertips slip off the back of my hand and down onto my knee, bare beneath the hem of my skirt. It tickles, but I don’t laugh. I don’t move. “You’re just what I like in girls. You’re soft but you’re not too feminine… like your name. And that hair of yours.” She reaches up with her other hand and ruffles her fingers through my short-cropped hair. “In fact… yes, you do kickboxing, don’t you? I probably could have guessed that. Your arms. And you go running on the weekends.”
As she says the words I remember, yesterday–it started raining halfway through but I kept going, trees flashing past me, running until I was soaked through and opening my mouth to the sky to soothe my burning throat. But it felt good, it always does, and with her in my mind I feel that pleasure again, stronger than a mere memory. The tingling in my thighs, under the burn. The breath rushing into my lungs and out again, steaming in the cool air. It’s like it’s happening right now, all over again, and it’s her. Seeing through me. Feeling through me. Everything fades before my eyes and we’re back in my living room, back on my couch, and she’s gasping like she’s the one who’s been running.
“Very nice.” She pushes her dark hair back from her face, and I see her forehead’s lightly beaded with sweat. “You have incredible sense memory, Charlie.”
I manage a thin smile and a word thought with a tinge of sarcasm. Thanks.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” She drops to her knees in front of me, her hands on my thighs, and I watch her because I can’t look away. “You believe me now, don’t you? So I’ve won the bet. I can let you go and be on my way, and on Monday you can buy the drinks.” She leans forward again, and I see her lips, red and full and glistening with the thinnest sheen of moisture, and I can’t see much of anything else. “Or I can stay and show you some more tricks. Your choice.”