…And yes, I can be that other kind of a tease too. LOL!
Anyway, for anyone that has bought and re-read The Arrangement, they will know that I make significant re-writes between the rough drafts I post on Literotica and my ‘paid’ eBooks on Amazon. In that case, over 30,000 new words. Most of those changes are meant to fill in ‘plot holes’ that you readers found. For instance, I cleaned up Jill’s sons’ language, except for a very angry D.J. that is.
I have already begun that same process on Ӕgir’s Captive. But this time, it is requiring a whole new Chapter 1 to fill in the most egregious plot hole of all…WHY? Why did this woman surrender so totally and completely to these men? Yes, she is pretty fucking submissive, but still. Yes, her old life was pretty shitty, but she was fucking kidnapped by them. Until you add one thing…the intensity of all those messages and texts that they have been sharing for months.
I did a blog awhile back about ‘cyber’ or virtual relationships. Would it surprise you to know that like Kirsty, I love a man I have yet to meet? Granted we have been friends way longer than she was with them, but still… The truth is that without the complications of ‘real’ sex you spend much more time talking, getting to know one another and communicating.
There are no stupid movies to watch, instead you talk about movies that you like and why…and learn something about how this person thinks/feels.
There are no crowded restaurants, instead you talk about your favorite foods…and your least favs too…and learn stories of why.
There are no bars, no coffee shops…you never need to strain to hear what this person is saying over the den of the noise of the world…when you are together, you are fucking together…and you both know that was a choice.
You made the time to get to know one another because you think there is something there worth exploring…and that was only partially affected by how fucking hot he (or she) is. You get to know this person, explore their hearts, minds and souls before you do their bodies.
So in this new first chapter, you will get to understand how all these things combine to motivate Kirsty into that seemingly shocking surrender. You will get to read some of those messages, especially the tingles of that first message. You will get to explore the depths of her budding submission when she undertakes some of those kinky challenges they set. You will get to experience a taste of just how barren her old life was.
Hopefully this chapter will make all that clearer, because honestly this one is not even a plot hole…it is more a foundation crack. Three books rest upon the believability of her surrender… Here is the first bit of it…some new and some stolen from the original first chapter, which itself will undergo serious re-writes to further that part of the story…like how turned on she is the first time she hears Sven’s accent, more about what that first touch across that turnstile actually did to her, maybe even snippets of their conversations…if she can pay more attention to what the man is saying and less to what her own body and mind are… Enjoy…
Kirsten Dickens threw her oversized purse on her bed. Little Miss curled about her leg begging and pleading for her attention, but that was the last thing she wanted after another ninety minute work-out sessions at the local gym. She was too tired to deal with a needy pussy, even her own. The creature was a reminder of her destiny as the crazy cat woman in the basement flat.
At twenty-six it was not the most pleasant of thoughts. After wasting six years of her life, practically her whole adulthood, on a virtually sexless relationship that ended three months ago when her ex-boyfriend gave into family pressure and entered an ‘arranged’ marriage with a second cousin from India, Kirsty had decided to make drastic changes to her life.
Well, probably not drastic to most people. She had no plans to change her career, her work as an Occupational Therapist for children with autism was emotionally and financially rewarding. She was not going to move from her relatively well-to-do neighborhood in north London either. This flat that she had shared with two acquaintances since she completed university was perfect.
She had not even made drastic changes to her physical appearance, at five foot ten in bare feet she would have stood out in a crowd, even without the flaming red hair that fell half way down her back or the freckles that covered almost every single inch of her body. Of course, the break-up had motivated her to join the gym and six months later her curvy figure had never been in better shape. She might not make Vogue, but she could have done well moonlighting as a plus size model.
No, most people would consider the changes she made rather sedate. But they were radical to someone, who had spent the whole of her life in the same area of city, who had the same few friends since primary school, and who wanted nothing more than to please her doctor parents in her choice of careers and men. While they might have been a tad disappointed that their only child had chosen not to follow in their footsteps by becoming consultants, her role as a therapist fell within the realm of ‘respectable’ for their upper middle class friends.
And Raj, the up and coming young pediatrician, had more than met their standards. In fact, they had been more hurt by the betrayal than Kirsty. She had been almost relieved at the turn of events. Her feelings for the man had long since cooled to professional respect and friendship, but she simply did not have the will to end their comfortable arrangement. It was not like she and Raj had ever really shared a great passion, certainly not like the attractions that she read about in her multitude of racy erotic romances on the tablet that had been his final gift to her for Valentine’s Day.
Of course, Kirsty had never really experienced that type of passion or even witnessed it firsthand. Her parents, their friends and even her own were all in relationships based upon shared values, interests and companionship. Certainly not the wild and tumultuous sexual attractions portrayed in her books about ménages and BDSM. The very idea of that level of need and surrender was both intensely attractive and petrifying to Kirsty.
But over the past couple of months since her split with Raj, her repressed desires had increasingly overtaken her sensible side. She found herself spending hundreds of pounds each month on her erotic romances, devouring them at the pace of two a day sometimes. On the weekends, she could easily read ten or more. The worst of course were Raquel Graffen’s Captive Brides, tales of women captured and ‘married’ to not one man, but two…three…or more.
If her mother, the esteemed consultant Nancy Dickens, knew the content of her only child’s tablet, she would have her committed. She could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head. ‘Woman are stronger than men…more intelligent. If it were not for centuries of religious subjugation we would rule the world…and it would be a better place too.’ She supposed her naturally submissive tendencies would be just another disappointment to the woman. For the daughter that was never thin enough, smart enough or ambitious enough.
She sighed, what was the use of such thoughts. She had spent a lifetime trying to be everything the woman wanted and always falling short. Tonight once more she would put all that aside and escape into fantasy. It was barely seven and summer nights in London stretched out endlessly, so she had plenty of time.
A quick shower to clean the sweat of her workout from her full-figure, another salad for dinner, then she could look forward to indulging her dark imagination in the latest of Graffen’s too naughty eBooks…My Brother’s Keeper. She was just getting to the juiciest bits. Ménage. Definitely a cold shower she thought as she succumbed and rubbed her hand slowly down her pussy from the top of her head to her tail.
Who knew maybe she would even stroke her own before falling asleep? She chuckled as the thought of the Woody Allen quote. “Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone you love.” That was more than she could say for those rare, lukewarm and awkward encounters that she and Raj had endured.
No, sex was definitely something that was highly overrated. Well, sex with men anyway. Although with only two lovers in her vast repertoire, she might not be the best judge. Still nothing had compared to what she read in books or even the orgasms that she gave herself. She sighed, if only it were half as good as the shit she read in Raquel Graffen’s erotic novels.
Who knew maybe it was if you were not a full-figured ginger with freckles and cellulite? But she was and no amount of time in the gym or tasteless salads would ever get her any smaller than a size twelve or fourteen. Her current size sixteen or eighteen certainly would certainly never attract the attention of those types of men.
‘Enough,’ she chided herself. Her life was not that bad, she reminded herself. She loved her job and the autistic children she worked with. She had a safe, quiet and relatively nice place to live. Food to eat and some money in savings. That was far, far more than many people had. But still she craved something more…excitement, wild sex…love most of all.
She shook her head as she pulled the scrunchie from her long red tresses and shook it free. She would not cry. Not again. She would be happy. Okay, maybe content was a better choice of words, but she would be. She promised herself as she headed down the hall to the shower.