Warning: this post contains sadomasochistic erotica and may be triggering to people with a history of trauma. (Although I don’t consider it especially erotic)
Felicity and Roger danced at the fashionable Club Uranus in the fashionable
Warehouse District of fashionable San Francisco.
They had disguised themselves as nothing and they were dismayed when
Friends who hadn’t spoken to them in years remarked they should be
nothing more often.
“You look so relaxed!” shrieked the man that Roger was whipping.
Felicity dragged Roger to the dance floor.
“Felicity.” whispered Roger.
“What!” She was desperate for fun.
“I don’t like being nothing.”
“You’re nothing and there’s nothing I can do about it! Enjoy yourself!”
Roger put on a pout: “But I can’t!”
“Then you’re a baby.”
Roger jumped and clapped, “I knew you’d think of something!”
He removed his clothes and curled up on the dance floor.
“Oh look!” cried a little man in a flannel nighty, “Another baby!”
He crawled to Felicity and yanked on her dress: “Can I play, can I play!?”
Felicity was disgusted.
She gave the little man a withering look.
“Get up this instant or Mommy will kill your surprise!”
The little man gazed up at Felicity with wide eyes and said: “I’m a good boy Mommy.
Let me have the surprise!”
“Very well,” she smiled
Felicity removed one of her stiletto heels and beat the little man on the head.
“No Mommy! No!”
“Bad! Bad! Boy!”
The little man soon fainted and her fun was over.
Roger grabbed her by the waist when Felicity returned. “I love it when you play bad
Mommy.” He said.
“I hope I didn’t kill him.” She giggled.
Roger examined the people who applauded as the little man moaned and bled.
“I bet they don’t.”
Rob Goldstein (c) 1992