How To Write A Short Story
Author: Eric Moffat
INTRODUCTION
Not until I learned to control my powers—that was the deal. He had sent me out of the house to fuck his other bimbo sluts, but me? The one with the real power? I was cast aside. And yet I loved him for it. I craved his touch more than I dared admit. I was already enslaved to him, and his power over me was total.
Even now, as I sat in the bar, looking over the various tables of guys getting drunk, none of them appealed to me. They were stupid, dumb, and idiotic—all I wanted to do was go back home and serve my Master. But he said that I had to train, and I could only do that by making my own way.
My phone beeped in my pocket, so I took it out, smiling at the picture of him as three women simultaneously licked the thing he knew I wanted more than anything in the world.
«I got bored.»
I rolled my eyes, putting it away for now. I’d look at it later before I went to sleep, pushing a finger deep inside of myself—maybe two. As the night wore on and the bar emptied out, there were only three choices left to me, none of which led me back into his good graces and at his feet.
The first was impossible—I couldn’t go back yet. He had made it perfectly clear that I was to grow, and he couldn’t teach me that. He had learned his way like this, and I would be better off doing the same. The second, sleep on the streets—one night in the park was fine, but two? Three? When would it end? Better to just find somebody I could use.
That left the third choice, and I had found him, sitting alone at the bar down a bit. He kept taking looks at me, so I knew he was interested. I figured that for one night under a roof, I’d fuck anybody that looked alright. He mostly fit the profile that Master had given me, but he was older than I had expected.
‘Don’t go for the groups of guys,’ he had said as he let his fingers dance over my skin and underneath my breasts. The loners, men who have been put upon—they are forgotten easily. They will think themselves lucky to have you; show them how right they are.’
Taking my half-empty glass of water down to the other end of the bar, I pulled up a stool beside my new target, finishing off the water like it was tequila.
“Hey.”
“H-Hi.”
“I’m Lucy.” I turned to face him, holding a hand out.
“Doug,” he said, taking my hand, looking into my eyes. “Doug Blanche.”
“Buy me a drink?”
“Sure,” he said, never looking away. I smiled, feeling disgusted with myself. To whore myself out, just for a place to sleep tonight. This whole ordeal was beneath me. I deserved only the best in life, but Master had forbidden me from using my powers for that. He said that only somebody who understood the ramifications of getting what they wanted could control it to their own ends.
Every action had a consequence, even if it wasn’t me who had to deal with them. In the end, my turn would come up, and I would need to learn how to handle it all it when it did. But, I reasoned, until that moment arrived I might as well have some fun.
“Tell me, Doug.” I moved a bit closer to him, looking into his eyes, and felt the power surge through me. “Do you think I’m pretty?”