Then You Say Please

“Sir,

If I told you I wrote you a story
Of everything I wanted us to do,
Would you read it?

Asking for a friend.

Pet”



From the intimacy and trust of “Quicksand,” to a sprint through the trees “In the Woods,” to video game practice in “Mario Kart,” follow the depraved, wicked, amorous adventures of Sir & Pet. Tease your imagination, and come to where pleasure, emotion, and experience collide.


Contains BDSM themes.

New book under the Zoe Dean handle!!

Short stories intertwined with Prelude, Interlude, and When He Calls Your Name.

Hope you guys enjoy ❤ ❤

Prelude

Third and final preview from the new Zoe Dean short story collection, Then You Say Please.

He asks you,
“What does it feel like?”

A reasonable question;
But how do you answer?

It’s a constant, pressing need
A pilot light waiting to grow
Ignite to an inferno

How could you express that desire in words
Explain the claiming, aching hunger
That will devour you if not satiated

You pull him to you
With patience you do not have
And slowly describe
How the fire feels under your skin

Do you bite?
Do you beg?
Plead,

Or attack?

Because language is sighs and grunts,
Moans and screams
Tangles of limbs and sweat,
Fingers in hair,
Squeezing around skin,
Pinning the claws against his back.

Jaws snapping,
Thighs squeezing.
A roar that could be yours or his,
Or never have happened at all

Yet in the after,
In the quiet stillness
Where time could be measured in seconds,
minutes,
or hours,
And still all feel the same
He still wants to know.

So, you suppose,
You will have to show him
All over again

Until he finally extinguishes the flame

Interlude

Another sneak preview from the upcoming short story collection, Then You Say Please

He says,
“I don’t like how the word feels in my mouth.”
He tells you,
“I don’t like the shape of the words.
I could call you so many things, my dear,
But they don’t sound right coming from my lips.”

You look at him, confused, as his fingers trail to your chin,
Tilting your head up, oh so gently

“I want to ask the question.
I want to hear the sounds that you emit.
The words stuck in your throat,
As I drive sense from your brain.

I want to feel you around me
As I make you say you’re mine.

More than your agreement,
I want your affirmation.
I want to taste the air as you call yourself
My whore
My slut
My toy.

It sounds so much better in your voice
To hear you say, or try to say,
In every way you want me.”

When He Calls Your Name

Sneak preview from a new book of short sexy stories coming from the Zoe Dean handle, but had to give this side of my writing a bit of love too

The voice on the line
The knock at the door 
Your stomach flips over 
And you choose:
Open it, or don’t 
Slam it in his face 
Or he comes across the threshold
And you see his eyes, the corner of his mouth.
It twitches into the smile he saves for you
And you alone.

The fog clouding your brain:
Is it a hand or a claw that reaches out? 
Drawing him to you, pulling him so closely,
To press the air from his lungs or because the space is intolerable.
Anger, gone.
Hurt, gone.
Resentment, annoyance, humiliation, gone.
Because there is truth in the way his mouth forms around yours,
In his hands that can’t touch everywhere at once,
But will try their damnedest anyway.

When he calls your name
And makes you helpless to your hunger,
Do you feel the heat in your blood
Pulsing through your veins?
Does the fire make you burn brighter
Or turn you to ashes at his feet?

When he calls your name
And you scream his into the night
There is sincerity in the touch 
That tries to erase things
You will remember in a moment’s time 

When he calls your name 
And makes you wish for nothing more
Than the sweet surrender of submission,
The bitter taste of honesty, 
Whether it is love, or starvation
It does not matter.
You taste the words on his lips
And make them yours,
Owning them as completely 
As he might have once owned you.