Stella's New Toy

At first, she tossed it on her desk, still inside the little black bag, feeling silly to have wasted almost fifty dollars on something she’d never use. She shoved the contents in a drawer as shame overwhelmed her, thinking someone may recognize the familiar white logo of the package. But out of sight was not out of mind, where short seconds became the agonizing, frustrating, and endless stretch of time. She itched to examine her purchase again. With a tentative hand, she reached inside the drawer until the telltale, pliable plastic crinkle stopped her heart.

Her head whipped over her shoulder. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar, but she’d locked the apartment entrance, and no sounds drifted from elsewhere. She was alone. No one would know.

A hot flush coursed through her like liquid fire, forcing her to tear the bag away, run her fingers over the object’s supple material, and imagine what it felt like to wield such a tool or to have it brought down hard and fast upon her naked flesh. Perhaps it would burn. Perhaps her flesh would tingle.

The purchase was impulsive. She couldn’t help herself; it would have been rude to leave the fetish party without buying something. Her roommate Jody had persuaded her attendance during a very low time; she never would have considered the idea otherwise. Stella was seen by many as a prude, a priss—holier than thou because of her strict ideas and proper ways. No wonder why Jody’s friends laughed...