This is my chosen charity:
TrustWomen.org
“Founded in 2009, our organization provides access to healthcare for those in need. Established first to provide abortion care, our services have expanded outside Kansas.
Our clinic in Oklahoma provides gender-affirming care and low-barrier medication-assisted treatment for opioid use. Both our locations in Kansas and Oklahoma provide sexual health services.”
I gave up trying to match a story to my chosen charity, but this organization is desperately in need, because so many women come to them from states around them that are forbidding abortion. I intend to contribute to them in any case, besides a dollar for every hit on my blog, and $2 for every comment.
So here goes my totally different story, just the middle third of it, but enough to be fun. “Flesh and Stone” was published originally in Thrones of Desire edited by Mitzi Szereto, quite a long time ago. If you want to read more, I noticed that there’s only one left of the book on Amazon, but I’m willing to send you my story by email. Just ask me.
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An excerpt from the middle of my story “Flesh and Stone” by Sacchi Green
"Come, mistress, I will unbind your stone gladiator, and then you must let me unbind you, and bathe you, and ease you."
"You must be as tired as I, Shebbah."
"Please, mistress, your ease will be my ease." This was truer than she knew. Longings suppressed by hard travel were rising in me.
I sensed tremors of longing in her, too, as I unwound Nyal's wrappings. The heat of her gaze brushed his cold form; I marveled that he did not melt under it.
She watched him broodingly while I filled the copper tub, sprinkled in herbs from my precious silk-wrapped store, inhaled, and felt that even stone might be stirred by such a mist.
"Come now, lady, let me slip off your tunic. And unbind your breasts...ah, mistress, how can you be cruel to such beautiful flesh?" I stroked, very lightly, the silky curves of breasts freed at last from confinement. Her nipples tautened. So did mine.
"Legend says that women warriors once severed them, the better to wield their weapons. At least I have stopped short of that."
"I am very glad," I murmured, drawing her toward the bath. I would make her very glad, as well.
Her body, golden in the firelight, was so beautiful I could scarcely breathe. A pulse emanated from the stone figure in the corner; he too was aware, and aroused. How long could he hold his rigid form?
"What herbs are these?" She bent over the tub, breathing in the vapors. The lines of smoothly muscled legs flared into taut, rounded buttocks, firm as any other athlete's but just full enough to be unmistakably a woman's.
"A blend, my lady, with special soothing powers." I slipped out of my own clothes.
"Soothing?" She sounded doubtful, but stepped in, and sat with bent knees as I poured more water and watched it sheet over her strong shoulders and swirl around the curves of her lovely breasts.
The herbs were, in fact, more stimulant than relaxant. I closed my eyes and struggled to focus on my art and my role. To give pleasure, to seek out my mistress's longings and fulfill them, to show her unimagined joys; to be slave to her desires, even those she scarcely knew herself.
"Let me massage your neck, Mistress, and your back, to rub away the tension." She leaned forward compliantly. Short bronze curls wrapped about my fingers as I kneaded the stress out of nape and scalp. My hands moved over shoulders and upper back, digging into the firm muscles there.
"Does that ease you, Mistress?"
But I knew already. At last she had opened to the sensual link that was my greatest skill, and I felt with her the stirrings of her pleasure.
I reached farther down, my breasts pressed against her wet flesh, and she arched under the pressure of my hands on her lower back. Then gently, slowly, I stroked around her sides to her belly and below until my fingers tangled in dark-honey curls.
"Do you call this easing?" Her voice vibrated through her body into mine, but there was no anger in it.
"The wilder the journey, the greater the ease at its end," I murmured. "If I may show you the way, Mistress…"
She tensed, then grasped my arm and drew me around to face her. "Do you think me so untouched, Shebbah?"
I said nothing. After a moment she looked away. "I was as curious as any other, but the 'journey' was always brief and disappointing. I found better use for my body in feats of arms."
"Let me show you, Mistress, how much more it can be."
She leaned back, her eyes deep amber pools reflecting the fire. "Why not? Why should I not know what it is to be a woman?" She let one glance stray toward the stone figure. I could sense its mounting tension. Soon there would come a shattering, or eruption; but not, I hoped, too soon.
For any other participant’s story, go to: "Come, mistress, I will unbind your stone gladiator, and then you must let me unbind you, and bathe you, and ease you."
"You must be as tired as I, Shebbah."
"Please, mistress, your ease will be my ease." This was truer than she knew. Longings suppressed by hard travel were rising in me.
I sensed tremors of longing in her, too, as I unwound Nyal's wrappings. The heat of her gaze brushed his cold form; I marveled that he did not melt under it.
She watched him broodingly while I filled the copper tub, sprinkled in herbs from my precious silk-wrapped store, inhaled, and felt that even stone might be stirred by such a mist.
"Come now, lady, let me slip off your tunic. And unbind your breasts...ah, mistress, how can you be cruel to such beautiful flesh?" I stroked, very lightly, the silky curves of breasts freed at last from confinement. Her nipples tautened. So did mine.
"Legend says that women warriors once severed them, the better to wield their weapons. At least I have stopped short of that."
"I am very glad," I murmured, drawing her toward the bath. I would make her very glad, as well.
Her body, golden in the firelight, was so beautiful I could scarcely breathe. A pulse emanated from the stone figure in the corner; he too was aware, and aroused. How long could he hold his rigid form?
"What herbs are these?" She bent over the tub, breathing in the vapors. The lines of smoothly muscled legs flared into taut, rounded buttocks, firm as any other athlete's but just full enough to be unmistakably a woman's.
"A blend, my lady, with special soothing powers." I slipped out of my own clothes.
"Soothing?" She sounded doubtful, but stepped in, and sat with bent knees as I poured more water and watched it sheet over her strong shoulders and swirl around the curves of her lovely breasts.
The herbs were, in fact, more stimulant than relaxant. I closed my eyes and struggled to focus on my art and my role. To give pleasure, to seek out my mistress's longings and fulfill them, to show her unimagined joys; to be slave to her desires, even those she scarcely knew herself.
"Let me massage your neck, Mistress, and your back, to rub away the tension." She leaned forward compliantly. Short bronze curls wrapped about my fingers as I kneaded the stress out of nape and scalp. My hands moved over shoulders and upper back, digging into the firm muscles there.
"Does that ease you, Mistress?"
But I knew already. At last she had opened to the sensual link that was my greatest skill, and I felt with her the stirrings of her pleasure.
I reached farther down, my breasts pressed against her wet flesh, and she arched under the pressure of my hands on her lower back. Then gently, slowly, I stroked around her sides to her belly and below until my fingers tangled in dark-honey curls.
"Do you call this easing?" Her voice vibrated through her body into mine, but there was no anger in it.
"The wilder the journey, the greater the ease at its end," I murmured. "If I may show you the way, Mistress…"
She tensed, then grasped my arm and drew me around to face her. "Do you think me so untouched, Shebbah?"
I said nothing. After a moment she looked away. "I was as curious as any other, but the 'journey' was always brief and disappointing. I found better use for my body in feats of arms."
"Let me show you, Mistress, how much more it can be."
She leaned back, her eyes deep amber pools reflecting the fire. "Why not? Why should I not know what it is to be a woman?" She let one glance stray toward the stone figure. I could sense its mounting tension. Soon there would come a shattering, or eruption; but not, I hoped, too soon.
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