Betwixt and Between

“It doesn’t matter,

But I’m telling you so you

Know.” Education

For me consists of

Polarity. If there is

A fact that I know

It is frivolous.

If I don’t know it, it is

Essential. If I

Answered the question,

They wanted it in different

Units. There was a

Typo. Twenty two

Catches snare me and I am

Broken. I cannot

Stand divided, I

Can be only one thing. I

Will tell my own truth.

June’s New Sex Kitten, Leyla, Ch. 2

Leyla had been with us for a few weeks, and I was pleased to watch her progress. She had integrated well into the team, was exceedingly sharp in her assessments, and gave excellent presentations. Every instance of her radiance and excellence increased my desire to break her, to see her on her knees before me.

On this particular afternoon, she was in my office for a small meeting regarding new markets and expansions. She was explaining to the group that my company must tread lightly when entering a new market which was controlled by our competitors: “I think it’s important to be strategic and deferential to the market. We don’t want to get into a trade war.”

I leaned in, smirked, and offered, “when I see a rose ripe for the plucking, I don’t restrain my hand, Leyla.”

She blushed, and stammered, “you’re right, June, there is an opportunity here. But if we’re seen as predatory, they’ll fight us.”

“I like a fight. I win. It’s my nature. I don’t want peace. I don’t want a settled customer base. I want to conquer and rule an empire. Surely you’re beginning to see my trend, dear?” I arched my eyebrow, and every woman in the room held her breath.

Leyla looked down at her hands, and whispered, “I see, June. Of course.”

I chuckled and dismissed the meeting. The attendees looked at Leyla, who hadn’t lifted her eyes. They slowly withdrew from the room; Leyla remained, frozen, trembling. I walked over to where she was sitting in my now empty office and took the chair next to her. She kept her gaze from me. I took her chin in my hand and raised her eyes to me. “Don’t be frightened, girl, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

She tilted her head to the side and fluttered her eyelashes; I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers. I could have her now, probably. But I wanted to see her crawl, not take her to dinner.

She was nearly cooing at my ministrations, and I dropped my hand to her knee and gave it a hard squeeze that brought her to attention. “Speak, Leyla, what can I do for you?”

“I’m just so happy you’re not angry with me, June. I can’t bear the idea of disappointing you.” Her open mouth curled into a hopeful smile.

I released her thigh and stood. “We must be bold, and we must not waver in our work. Our products are supreme, and we will take all the customers in the end. It mirrors my beliefs about sex: why fuck one for life when you can fuck them all?”

The tiniest whimper escaped her lips as I strode over to my desk. I poured myself a snifter of whiskey from the decanter. I touched it to my lips, inhaling and allowing the aroma to bathe my mouth and nose. “Would you like one, Leyla?”

She stood and clasped her hands in front of her heaving chest. “I should really get home. My fiancée is cooking dinner tonight, and he says he’s making something special. Last time he did this, I had to cook everything because he got confused in the kitchen. I don’t want to leave him alone in there.”
“Very well, Leyla. You’ll have time for a workout, I hope?” I gave her my most knowing smile, and her alabaster skin flushed a deeper red than I’d seen before.

Her voice squeaked, thrilled and confused. “Maybe!” She gave me a long glance and skittered from the room. I’d have to check the monitors in a few minutes and see if she’d repeat her self-love routine of her first day.

A few weeks later, Leyla was making a presentation to management, a well-crafted slideshow I knew she’d spent several hours on. She was dressed as I liked her: a fashionable, form fitting charcoal blazer over a crisp ivory blouse, open at the neck to hint at her ample cleavage. Her tight skirt hugged the curves of her ass, and her long legs were sheathed by black stockings. She stood on tall black high heels. I watched her strut back and forth as she laid out her points. She concluded and took questions from management.

Marcella, a no-nonsense Hispanic manager, was critical. “Leyla, I know you’re new here, but I’m concerned with how aggressive this approach is. If we run afoul of the regulators, we earn ourselves a heap of trouble.”

Leyla nodded, folding her hands solemnly and knitting her brow. “We’ve been in direct consultation with legal, who has been advising closely to make sure we’re within boundaries. I think …”

Marcella interrupted her. “You think? Listen, our reputation as a responsible company is crucial for our overall sustainability. If we act like a bunch of rascals, we could get shut out of the market.”

Leyla’s eyes went wide. She giggled and rolled her eyes up and down. “Marcella, I didn’t catch the last part of what you said. Could you say that one more time?” She crossed her arms in front of her and felt the sleeves of her jacket.

“Well, I said that the regulators would think we were a bunch of rascals!” Marcella gave her a very concerned look.

“That’s what I thought you said.” She giggled, a high, nasal sound. “I’m just feeling so hot. Is anyone else hot?”

The managers shook their heads. Leyla let her long dark hair down in back of her, and it shimmered as it fell along her neck and shoulders. “I think I hear music. Is that Ginuwine?”

Marcella leaned forward. “Leyla, I think it’s time for you to sit down.”

Leyla slowly shrugged the jacket off her arms, dropping it to the floor. “I don’t want to sit down, Marcella. I want to dance.”

To me, she had never looked more gorgeous than this moment, when she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt, giving the women a fuller glimpse of her ample chest and the modest lace bra beneath. With each flick of her wrist, she’d pause to watch them sigh. She twirled, tousling her hair like a goddess’s headdress. She dipped, alternating knees, opening a button to each beat of the music in her head. The crowd was on the edge of their seats.

After the last button, she thrust her arms back, gaping her ivory blouse and jutting her breasts proudly beneath her brassiere. She rocked her hips back and forth, forcing her tight skirt further and further up her hips.

While I wanted nothing more than to see her bared before me and my company, I wasn’t in the habit of eating my cake before my dinner.

From the head of the table, I quietly intoned “Ruby.” With that, the spell was broken. Leyla froze in place, looking down at her open dress shirt, hiked up skirt, and white panties above her stockings. She jerked to her feet, covered her chest with her arms, and screamed.

Read prior chapter:

Chapter 1: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/20/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-1/

Read next chapter:

Chapter 3: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/11/24/junes-new-sex-kitten-leyla-ch-3/

Cursed Geometry?

Warning: some of these images really disturb me. No actual violence is depicted, but they’re disturbing symbols. This post is really just a rebus thread representing my train of thought.

I was at my job, and came across the unicursal hexagram on an artwork on one of the walls. I was surprised, as it’s an occult symbol, and my first thought was Lucifer’s Sigil.

Which it resembles, certainly.

Spanish penitents, capirote

Capirote and kids
Early KKK
Crocodile
Goose

The Wound

The beginning wasn’t a beginning, it was an ending; just an endless circle. It was complete, nothing needed to happen.

Something did happen. What was it, the moment in the everything, the potential, that kicked over, infinite space, folded in on itself, creating a change, beginning time?

Time began when space was divisible into “is”and “is not.” Was it a sin, or a delusion, or an illusion? They’re all the same.

Needless to say, it hurt. We still hear that scream every day, every night, throughout eternity. In our head, it’s a high pitched whine, around 1600 Hz. It’s the sound of time, of incompleteness, of an aching need for something that we can’t even name.

We think we’ll find something to salve this burn, but we never do. It just festers and rots. Then we think that if we find another who hurts like we do, it won’t hurt so bad. But ultimately, there have never been any like us, so we go on limping, alone.

Still we hope. We search. We inquire. We persist. One day we’ll find him, or her, or them, and we’ll all speak our truth to each other, and we’ll have found the words that bring us back into our circle. We’ll be one again.

Time will cease, and we’ll rotate on our axis, harmonious and lovely, we’ll orbit.