Welcome
to my last Charity Sunday of 2018. I asked the members of my VIP
Readers list which charity I should support today: PlannedParenthood, Doctors Without Borders or Amnesty International. All
three of these organizations are favorites of mine, and all of them
got votes, but Doctors Without Borders was the clear winner. Readers
also offered suggestions for several other charities—which I will
support in future Charity Sundays.
In
case you’re not familiar with them, Doctors Without Borders, also
known as Medecins Sans Frontieres, works to provide health care and
humanitarian assistance to refugees, people in conflict zones and
victims of disasters. The medical professionals involved volunteer
their time and knowledge, often in perilous circumstances, to help
other human beings, around the world. MSF is currently active in
Yemen, where civil war has devastated the population and millions are
on the verge of starvation; in South Sudan, where new violence has
erupted; on the U.S. border, where Central American migrants deal
with hunger, squalor and disease as they wait for word on asylum
petitions. What I particularly love about MSF is the fact that they
never take sides. They will help anyone who needs it, regardless of
their affiliation. In fact this courageous position often puts
volunteers on the ground in severe danger, but the organization will
not compromise its principles.
Anyway,
as is the case for all Charity Sundays, I will donate one dollar to
MSF for each comment I receive on this post. I’ll leave this open
until January 2nd. In addition, I have an excerpt from my
holiday BDSM erotic romance tale Silver Bells, which
is one of the stories in my Coming in Costume
volume. I will give away two
copies of this book to
randomly selected people who leave comments.
May
your days be merry and bright!
“Tinkle,
tinkle.”
I
nearly dropped my cup into the punch bowl. Under my loose black
velvet tunic, my clamped nipples throbbed with fresh heat. Blood
rushed to my cheeks as well as to my steel-pinched clit.
Embarrassment and lust mingled until I didn’t really know what I
was feeling. It was simultaneously awful and delicious.
I
didn’t dare whirl around to discover who had whispered the taunt in
my ear. The tiny silver bells Greg had affixed to the thumbscrews
above and below might ring more loudly. Swallowing my moan and
gathering the shreds of my dignity, I turned at a stately pace to
find Greg’s old friend James standing behind me, sporting a naughty
grin.
“Did
you say something, James?” I managed to hold his gaze with some
degree of poise, though I knew my face must be flushed. Wearing my
party heels, I was only a few inches shorter than my guest. Behind
his wire-framed spectacles, his brown eyes gleamed with mischief. For
the hundredth time I wondered how much he knew about the nature of
Greg’s and my relationship.
“Just
that it’s a lovely party, Isabella,” he replied. Was he laughing
at her? “Simultaneously elegant and festive. You’re a very
talented hostess.”
“We’re
glad you could make it.” I was astounded at how cool and in control
I sounded. The ache from my tortured nipples and clit was nothing
compared to the fear that my perversity might be revealed to the
outside world.
“Well,
when I found out about the conference here in Manhattan, it seemed
like the perfect opportunity. Especially since it was close to the
holidays. I’ve been wanting to visit you two for quite a while.
Seems like ages since the wedding.”
“Just
a year and half.” James had been Greg’s best man. Apparently
they’d known each other since college, and kept in touch through
grad school. Greg had implied more than once that James had kinky
interests that paralleled his own, but I thought it was unlikely he
would have shared the thrilling and sordid details of our sex life,
even with his closest friend.
My
husband was a very private person. We didn’t go to clubs or play
parties. He enjoyed threatening me with exposure, and we’d
occasionally engaged in some semi-public scenes (the sudden
recollection of one spanking in Central Park set my pussy flowing),
but most of the time he preferred to test and torment me at home. To
be honest, I was the one with the exhibitionist fantasies. Greg
understood my warped mind only too well. Hence the bells.
“California’s
quite a ways from New York. And of course, I’ve been really busy
with work.” James looked exactly like the Silicon Valley super-nerd
he was: unruly black hair too long to be fashionable, geek glasses,
a sensitive mouth, penetrating eyes, a complexion without the
slightest trace of a California tan. He was well built, though,
neither flabby nor too skinny. The company he’d founded must have
had a gym. “I’ve thought about you quite a bit, though.”
About
me? About us? I didn’t have the nerve to ask.
Don’t forget to leave a comment! Help MSF help others. And please include your email address, obfuscated if your prefer, so I can find you if you are my winner.
