Goldie & the Three Doms

  New Dawning International Bookfair

  Presents

  A Twisted Fairy Tale

  By

  Patricia Green

  Copyright©2011 Patricia Green

  Goldie & the Three Doms

  Chapter 1

  Through a smidgeon of time, in a place far, far away, lived a young woman with hair as bright as a Krugerrand and eyes like sparkling sapphires. Her name is unpronounceable, but we’ll call her Goldie for the sake of this tale. Goldie was a hip chick, with a stripper’s body and a rock star’s attitude. She was also very unhappy.

  “You know, Harold, we can get a little kinky once in a while. Maybe some whipped cream? Or maybe you could smack me on the behind. What do you say?”

  Harold Humdrumm looked up from his place at her feet where he was painting her toenails. “Swat your behind, dearest? What for?”

  Goldie sighed. “Pretend I’ve been naughty. Pretend I’m a spoiled brat. Let’s just get past the girl-on-top position, Harold.”

  It was Harold’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know, honey-bun. It seems awfully…well, risqué. How about you let me go down on you. You liked that when I did it that one time.”

  She pointed. “You missed a toe, Harold.”

  “Ah! So I did.” He bent to his task with more concentration.

  It’s always the same. Tommy, Dicky, and Harry…all the same. Where’s the excitement? Where’s the adventure? The kinkiest thing she’d experienced was bright red nail polish on her toes. I want to be spanked! I want bondage! I want to be spoken harshly to by someone I respect!

  Later, she broached the subject with her friend as they sipped rum and coke at the local watering hole. “Willy,” she began, for that was the name she called her best girlfriend, “why can’t I find a dominant man? Are they all taken?”

  “Yep,” said Willy, for she was a terse little creature.

  Goldie hung her head.

  “Except for the guys on Bear Island.”

  Now Goldie’s eyes lit up. “Bear Island? Tell me more!”

  “They’re strong.”

  Goldie grinned. She liked strong.

  “They’re rich.”

  Goldie beamed. She really liked rich.

  “They’re all Doms!”

  Goldie thought she might faint from joy. The spark was missing from the men in Femville, and she knew there was something wrong about spending every date night having your boyfriend paint your toenails. She wanted a guy from a beer commercial. A man who did manly things—whatever that was.

  “Okay, that tears it; I’m going. Wanna come, Willy?”

  “And miss my pedicure? No way!”

  “All right for you. I’ll send you a postcard.”

  With that, Goldie gassed up her land speeder—I told you this was a faraway place—and headed for Bear Island. Willy was wonderful and wise, waving as Goldie walked away.

  * * *

  After a time, Goldie came to the shore of a white-capped sea. Only a few boats glided within sight, but Goldie could see the marina of Bear Island as a misty port of call not too far distant. She parked and set off to find a friendly sailor to ferry her across to the island.

  “Hey!” she called to a fellow wearing a white sailor hat. “Can you ferry me to Bear Island?”

  The sailor turned around and Goldie confirmed that she hadn’t escaped Femville yet: the sailor was a woman. “For a price,” the woman called back.

  Goldie’s eyes narrowed, though not from the bright sunlight.

  “Two kisses and your panties.”

  Wow, thought Goldie. My panties only cost a buck at Sale-Mart; this is a great deal! “Okay,” she hollered back.

  “Get your speeder and come aboard.”

  The ferry was roomy, big enough for a handful of speeders, but Goldie was the only passenger that day. The captain’s voice was sincere as she introduced herself. “I’m Captain Deidre Doomee. Welcome aboard.”

  Goldie smiled and held out her hand. The captain slid callused fingers over Goldie’s soft skin and then turned her hand over and placed a lingering kiss in Goldie’s palm. Already a little kink! “That’s one kiss,” she told Deidre Doomee. “But I’m not a slut; I draw the line at kisses.”

  The captain nodded and went off to pilot the ferryboat. It didn’t take long before they reached the island. Deidre Doomee came to Goldie. “Panties, please. And, don’t turn away—part of the fee is in the show.”

  Goldie bit her rosy lips, her cheeks warm, but raised her pink flippy skirt and shimmied out of her panties, exposing her private bits and their sprinkling of golden curls. Her eyes never left Diedre Doomee’s face, and as she slid the garment over her high-heeled leather pumps, she wondered idly what the captain would do with them. Maybe she had a collection. Goldie handed over the panties and, unable to resist being a tease, slowly lowered her skirt back into place. Deidre held the panties reverently in her hand for a few moments then, with a pirate’s smile, slid them into her pocket. “One more kiss,” she said.

  Goldie thought about turning her face aside at the last minute, but a deal was a deal, so she allowed the captain to touch her lip-to-lip for a long moment. Goldie wasn’t into girls though, and dissatisfaction dominated Diedre Doomee’s eyes as they broke the embrace. With a smile and a flip of her golden locks, Goldie left the disappointed Diedre Doomee desperately deprived.

  Chapter 2

  Along, yellow-cobbled road led from the port toward the valley at the middle of the island, but many hills made it hard to figure out what was ahead. There was a large swath of forest to pass through, and the road branched in three different directions. Goldie stopped to consult her GPS. She typed, “Dominant Men,” into the gizmo and it lit up all three branches of the path. Sighing, she realized she’d have to find her way on her own. Bear Island was fairly small, so Goldie hoped that she’d come upon what she was looking for soon enough.

  She sped down the western road, enjoying the tree-lined highway, broken up with green meadows bright with wildflowers. The island was lush. The sky began to cloud, dimming the sun as rain threatened. She passed a roadside fruit stand, a small gas station, and a decrepit diner, before it began to pour. Lightning struck nearby, and she jumped, slowing the speeder to remain safe despite the deluge. Thunder rattled the little transport’s doors and gave Goldie a feeling of dread. It seemed prudent to find somewhere to park while she waited out the storm.

  A little road, barely perceptible through the downpour, led off the main highway. Wet gravel spewed from beneath the speeder, though she throttled down to a snail’s pace. Visibility was down to only a few meters. Eventually, she came upon a corral with horses standing still as the rain pelted them, and then outbuildings, a barn, and not far from it, a shingled house. Smoke rose from its brick chimney like a welcoming banner. Goldie pulled up to it and hurried to the front porch. Although it wasn’t cold, the rain running down her back from her shirt collar chilled her and she shivered. Just as she reached to rap on the sturdy wooden door, it opened. Bright light spilled out, along with soft warmth, and the smell of baking bread.

  A man stood in the doorway. He was a few inches taller than Goldie, though not a tall man. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, but his mouth was a grim line across his face, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or hit someone. Goldie took a step back.

  “Well, hello there, Miss,” the man said. His voice was soft but firm. “Can I help you?”

  “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but the weather is too awful for me to continue down the highway in my speeder. Would you mind if I sit here on your porch and wait the worst of it out?”

  “I would most certainly mind.”

  Goldie studied his face for a moment a
nd then he smiled, his face transformed with the happy curve of his cheeks.

  “I insist that you come inside where it’s warm and dry.”

  She giggled, relieved. “You had me going there.” A drip of water went down her back again. “Yes, I’d like to come inside. If you’re sure it won’t be a bother.”

  He opened the door wider and gestured her inside. “No bother at all.”

  Inside, the main room was comfortable and lived in. A fire burned in the stone fireplace, and comfy-looking overstuffed chairs and a sofa dotted the space. To her right was a large kitchen with a breakfast bar on which two fragrant loaves of bread cooled.

  She dripped on the bright rag rug. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I got a bit wet as I ran for the porch.”

  “No problem.” He hurried off toward the back of the house and then returned with a fluffy green towel. “Come in, come in. The fire is warm.”

  Goldie took a few more steps inside and patted her hair and face and the back of her neck dry with the towel. Her tie-dyed crop top seemed inadequate for the day, but she watched as his eyes traveled over her, and her interest piqued. He was a pleasant looking man with a farmer’s tan and curly blond hair.

  She offered her hand. “I’m Goldie. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  His work-roughened hand held firm to hers. “Bob Bentley,” he said. “Please sit down.”

  Smiling, she sat near the hearth.

  They talked for a few minutes, mostly about the weather and its unpredictability on Bear Island. He offered tea and toast and she accepted. Finally, unable to resist, Goldie asked him a personal question. “Are you married, Bob?”

  “No. No man on Bear Island is married. We move away once we find just the right woman.”

  “Wow. You’re so well established on your little farm. How long have you been on the island?”

  He seemed a little embarrassed as he squirmed in his plush chair. “Many years. A good woman is hard to find.”

  Goldie could relate.

  “What brings you to the island?”

  “I came to find just the right man. All the good ones seem to be taken on the mainland.”

  His eyes roamed her face and he licked his lips. “I like you,” he told her. “Wanna get it on and see if we’re compatible?”

  Bob Bentley was a nice guy. They had a few things in common. And, he baked a mean loaf of bread. “Sure. But I’m no slut. I draw the line at touchie-feelie.”

  “No problem. You realize, of course, that I’m a Dominant.”

  “You strike me as a normal kind of guy.”

  “I’m a demon in the bedroom,” he warned, then hedged. “Not literally.”

  “I’m game.”

  “Take off your clothes and come into the playroom with me.”

  Playroom? Goldie quickly shucked her clothes while he watched, enjoying the lascivious look in his eyes as they lingered on her full breasts and narrow waist. A bulge formed in his denim overalls, and she wondered if she’d been hasty in putting oral sex off limits. Nonetheless, she followed him into the playroom.

  The room was bare except for a trapeze bar hanging from the ceiling, and a well-made wooden chest of drawers.

  “Put your hands on the trapeze,” he instructed. She complied and he got a pair of fur-lined leather wrist cuffs from the chest and clipped them to the bar. Once he’d secured Goldie’s wrists, he made sure that her wrists were held firmly in place, and that the bonds were just right. “You’re remarkably pretty.” He ran his hands over her flanks, and cupped her breasts tenderly.

  Goldie wondered when the good stuff was going to start. So far, there’d been a lot of hat and no cattle. “Thanks.”

  He manipulated her nipples gently, then with a little more pressure, until she moaned with pleasure. “That feels good, Bob.”

  Pressing his mouth to a peaked nipple, he sucked and bit lightly.

  Warmth stired in her loins. Unfortunately, he picked that moment to stop and go back to the chest. Bob rummaged around a bit, returning with a blindfold.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She bit her lip. “Well…”

  “Your safe word is ‘prestidigitation’.”

  “’Prestidigitation?’ Can’t we just settle on ‘stop-you-rotten-prick’?”

  “Oh now, don’t be like that. Do you want me to quit?”

  “No.” She eyed him, looking for signs of corruption, but none were visible. “Okay.”

  He gently tied the blindfold on her, and Goldie shivered with delicious fear. A thrill-of-the-roller-coaster kind of scared. Once her eyes were covered, he kissed her lips, gently at first, then with a more demanding pressure. Now we’re getting to the good part.

  Their kiss ended. She listened to him walk away, open a drawer, and then his footsteps led him back to her. She could feel his warmth as he approached, and heard the scuffing of his pant legs rubbing together. Something soft touched a nipple; the sensation pleasant but not as satisfying as teeth would have been.

  “If you want to orgasm,” he told her, “that’s okay. You don’t need permission or anything.”

  She wasn’t even wet yet. “Okay, Bob.”

  The light touch flitted over her other nipple, then continued down her belly toward her navel. She squirmed at the tickly sensation. It traveled over her lower belly and then up the side of her body toward her smooth armpit. When it stopped, she quivered with anticipation. Any minute now he’ll make me melt with sensation.

  But, alas, Bob Bentley’s idea of the good stuff was to tease her more, tickling her until she giggled, then more, until she was out of breath with laughter.

  “You have a lovely laugh,” he said, laughing along with her.

  More tickling and then he kissed her once more.

  “That was nifty, Bob,” she told him. “But where’s the slap to go with the tickle?”

  “Hmm. I have just the thing.”

  He rummaged in the chest while she waited.

  “Now, don’t forget your safe word,” he warned. “This is going to be forceful.”

  Forceful is good! “I’m ready, Bob.”

  Her muscles tensed as a puff of air blew by her naked bottom.

  “That was a warm-up,” Bob told her.

  Something soft and light hit her behind. “You okay, Goldie?”

  “Sure.” She wondered how bored she’d become in Bob Bentley’s bonds.

  “I’ll continue,” he said through gritted teeth. There was another touch of tails on her butt, and then another and another, until she thought she might be polished, but she sure wasn’t stung.

  “You’re not orgasming, are you?”

  “Um. No, Bob.”

  She felt his hands behind her head and the blindfold fell away. After she’d blinked for a few seconds, he held up his torture implements for her to see: a long marabou feather and a velvet flail.

  “Wow, Bob. You are scary.” She couldn’t think of anything more gracious to say.

  He nodded. “I know. I warned you, though.”

  “You sure did. You know, I’m not sure I’m the right girl for you.”

  Untying her hands, Bob sighed. “Well, you didn’t come.”

  “No. I’m sorry. Maybe the next girl will be just right.”

  “I haven’t given up hope. Want to take a loaf of bread with you as you leave?”

  Goldie dressed. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Not even the weather had any starch. She waved to Bob as she hurried away in her speeder, hoping that the next fellow she met would be the one for her. Bob Bentley bored her beyond belief.

  Chapter 3

  Returning to the main road, Goldie once again confronted the trident fork in the path. This time, she chose the eastern thoroughfare. She went a few kilometers down the yellow cobbles and an apple scent drifted through the air intake. It was a nearly overwhelming smell and made her stomach growl, despite the chunk of bread she’d had that Bob Bentley’d baked.

  Apple trees surrounded her. She stopped and got out. Th
e clouds had cleared and sunshine beat hot and stifling against her back. As she gathered a pair of apples, she wondered at the weird weather on the island and chalked it up to global warming.

  She hurried back to the speeder, and once she got in, she turned the air conditioning all the way up and sat back to enjoy her lunch.

  The apples were delicious, and she was wiping juice off her chin when a man rode up on a roan horse. His dark hair blew in the hot wind.

  “You’ve got some nerve!” he shouted. “Stealing my apples!”

  “Oh!” Goldie took in his riding crop and tall riding boots. “I’m sorry, Mister. I’ll pay you for the fruit.”

  “You sure will. Get out of your speeder.”

  Goldie considered hitting the accelerator and zipping away from the bronze-skinned guy, but she loved his take-charge attitude and woodsy look. She got out and offered her hand with a smile, trying to diffuse his anger. “I’m Goldie, and I’m looking for a man who’s just right.”

  “Hmph.” He hesitated over her hand. Finally, he shook it vigorously and introduced himself. “Raoul Ramirez,” he said. “You owe me for the apples.”

  “How much?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you like mysteries? I assure you, it’s safe.”

  He was good looking, in a rugged kind of way. She shivered, despite the heat, as she imagined the sting of his riding crop on her pristine behind. It was just too alluring. “Okay, but I’m not a slut, so I draw the line at oral sex.”

  He nodded his agreement as he got back up on his horse, offering his hand to help her up. “Ride behind me.”

  “But what about my speeder?”

  “It’ll be safe here. Climb up!”

  Thinking that she was going to get chafed as she rode along without jodhpurs, or even panties, she settled behind him and put her arms around him securely. He spurred his horse and they took off through the trees at a trot. It wasn’t long before they approached a stable. Horses tossed their heads as they baked in the sun.

  Raoul’s stiff posture relaxed as they headed into the stable. It was quiet there as the afternoon heat made everything and everyone move slower. Raoul tossed his reins at a groom, dismounted, and reached up to help Goldie down. Her knees were a little wobbly, but she recovered quickly.