Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Vi hums. “Mmm… well, maybe on the downlow. We didn’t even know about you until a few years ago. And he’s been out of the military for almost a decade now.”
I’ve heard this story a few times, so when Clarice says dramatically, “I was his secret lovaaah,” I know she’s mimicking Karen from the sitcom Will & Grace, since my sister showed me the clip after the first time she referenced it.
“So, yeah. I’m a freezer. And when…” I clam up suddenly, realizing I was about to reveal something embarrassing about myself when it comes to my sex life.
“When what?” Crystal urges. “Come on, girl. You’re safe here, with us. Not a single one of us is going to think bad of you or make fun of you for anything you confide in us.” When she sees I’m still unsure of speaking any more about it, she adds, “And if any of them do, I’ll tell their Doms.”
All of the other girls gasp at the threat—well… again, all except Clarice, who snorts at the submissives and their reaction. But when Crystal looks her way with a stern expression, even Clarice has the decency—or maybe just the intelligence, since anyone could sense the Domme means business—to look put in her place.
She holds up her hands defensively, and says, “I ain’t saying shit. My man will jump at any opportunity to top. And he’s six-foot eight and packs quite the impact.”
Crystal goes to turn back my way and say something, but her jaw drops as she gives Clarice a double-take. “Six-foot eight? Goddamn, girl. You can’t be more than, what, five-two?”
Clarice gives her a lascivious look, when she replies, “Yup, and before you even have to ask your next question, the answer is also yes.” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Hooo, Lawd!” Crystal hollers, fanning herself before giving Clarice another high-five, and everyone giggles, knowing the two are referring to Brian’s… other size. Even I do, but nervously, and Crystal notices this detail. “What’s the matter, sweet girl?”
When I clam up even more and can’t immediately find the words, my sister speaks for me.
“This is part of her freezing issue, or maybe in addition to it. While the rest of us have no problem talking openly about sex and what goes on in our different playrooms, Twy has always been super shy when it comes to those subjects. She told me a few days ago that she’s truly bothered by the fact that no matter how long she’s worked at the sex shop and spends time with not only her adorably pervy husband but all of us naughty bitches, she never gets used to it.” She reaches over and squeezes my knee again, and I’m grateful she told Crystal this in an understanding tone instead of a patronizing one. “I told her it’s part of her charm.” She shrugs.
Crystal nodded the whole time Astrid was speaking, her eyes shifting between my sister and me, I assume to gauge my reactions to what she was saying. She must’ve deciphered that I found everything Astrid said accurate. “I can see how that could bother you, Twyla. You see all these girls gossiping and chitchatting about things you might believe should stay private, between you and your Dom, and—”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. I learn so much just by being around everyone and listening to their stories and casual conversations. I love that they’re so open about things. Grateful, even. And I’m jealous that I can’t seem to be that way too. It’s an unconscious reaction—my embarrassment and clamming up. And you’d think, like… exposure therapy or whatever. I’m around sex stuff all day, every day. But this—” I gesture to my face that is no doubt red. “—never lessens.”
She ponders for a moment, her eyes narrowing on me—but I don’t think she’s actually looking at me—until she seems to come to a conclusion. “Well, until you can figure out a way to stop the reaction, we’ll just have to teach you how to keep going and not freeze in spite of it.”
At my tilted head, she elaborates, “Like, even if you do get that embarrassed feeling, you could find a way to ignore it instead of focusing on it enough that it makes you get all squeamish. So when you feel yourself blush, let that trigger you to make the conscious effort to join the conversation right then, not try to blend into the background. When you get the tight feeling in your throat, clear it out with a loud laugh instead of a quiet, nervous chuckle. I bet that would at least startle you enough to give the embarrassed feeling less power.”
She thinks for another few seconds and then nods. “Yeah. That might be it. It’s almost like this shameful feeling is its own entity and has power over you. And what you need to do is tell that bastard it doesn’t have consent to make you feel that way.”