Sorry, my blog refuses to accept the Charity Sunday Photo. Computer getting old. So am I.
My chosen charity is:
Environment America, Inc.
action@environmentamerica.org.
“We've all seen headlines about bees dying off in massive numbers and wild bee species facing extinction. Toxic neonicotinoid pesticides, or neonics, are incredibly deadly to bees, attacking their central nervous system, immune system, and eventually killing them. And while more and more people have become aware of the dangers of bee-killing pesticides and try to avoid them, the most common use of neonic pesticides is actually through seeds that are coated with these pesticides before they're even sold. Every year, 150 million acres are planted with neonic-coated seeds, from soybeans to corn to wheat.4
That's why new legislation, adopted first in New York and now in Vermont, is so groundbreaking. It not only restricts the application of bee-killing pesticides but also seeds pretreated with neonics.
And just one neonic-coated seed can contain enough bee-killing pesticide to kill 80,000 bees or more.
Environment America and our nationwide network of affiliated organizations is working hard to keep the momentum going in other states and urging retailers like The Home Depot and Amazon to stop selling bee-killing pesticides.
Bee-killing pesticides are pushing many wild bee species to the brink of extinction. A quarter of known bee species haven't been seen in the wild since the 1990s.”
The story I’m adding is not about bees, or any pollinators, as far as I know, even though my mind is very much on those with my garden. Stag Beetle is just an insect that intrigued me several years ago. Fair warning: a reviewer once said that the story is engrossing, but almost impossible not to shrink away from, until it gets along on to a quite happy end. (Well, she said something along those lines. It was a very long time ago. And as I re-read it now, it’s really pretty mild.) Anyway, feel free to shrink away.
So here goes. As usual, I’ll contribute $1 to this cause for every hit of this blog, and $2 for every comment.
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Stag Beetle
Sacchi Green
Kit touched the little box in my pocket and smiled like an urchin sure of a treat from an indulgent uncle. "Is that my present from Japan?"
I gripped her wrist. "Is that a hand in my pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"
Kit, brow puckered, tried to puzzle out my mood. "Well, of course I'm glad to see you!" She tried to wriggle her fingers against my thigh. My grip tightened.
What am I doing with a girl too young to get a Mae West reference, even by way of Jessica Rabbit?
"I'm glad to see you, too, Kitten.” A warm, loving, beautiful girl. “I did bring you a present, but that isn't it. Careful now. Don’t let the lid come off." I drew her hand slowly out of my pocket. The white box emerged, still intact, the thick rubber band now perilously close to one end.
"What..." Kit jerked an inquisitive finger abruptly back as the cardboard lid twitched from some inner movement. Her expressive eyes widened as the significance of the tiny ventilation holes sank in.
"Do you really want to see?" Kit had an involuntary horror of creepy crawly things. "My old students remembered that I'd been interested in their collections when I taught there, and thought it would make a fine present. I couldn't refuse. It was an honor."
Kit had met me at the door wearing only a silk shirt, open down the front; now she tucked her hands firmly under her armpits as she hugged herself for comfort. "I don't know...maybe..." She pulled herself together and let her arms drop to her sides, body taut, scared-kitten face firming until it could have been a smooth stone carving of Bastet. "If I don’t see it, I’ll imagine something worse."
"That's my girl." Warm, loving, beautiful, and smart. And eager to please. I opened the box, my hand curved close just in case. The stag beetle, two inches of black shell and another inch of chitinous "antlers", peered over the edge. Kit inclined her head just enough to get a good view, the trembling of her body barely perceptible.
"They're quite beautiful, in their way,” I said. “And harmless. I'll keep him in a bigger box, a very airy, safe box, and feed him fresh fruit--bananas, mangos, sweet peaches." Was it accidental that Kit's shirt slipped aside just enough to reveal the soft peachglow curve of her breast? A startling inner vision of the black beetle moving across that sweet tender flesh sent tremors over my body, too. "It's an ancient tradition for Japanese boys to collect and breed stag beetles as pets. They’re quiet, and don't take up much room." Am I babbling? Don't overdo it, nitwit!
"It was an honor, wasn't it.” Her hand came out slowly. “Only boys keep them? It must be their way of honoring you as Jess, instead of the Jessica they knew ten years ago."
"Yes." A tangle of emotions gripped me. Pride in her bravery fought with a need to push her limits, to see how much she could bear—and how much I could bear before nothing mattered but fucking her so hard she screamed like a wildcat.
"I want to hold him," Kit said. "Really." She held steady, the faintest of shivers rippling across the tender skin of her arm, while the beetle took a few steps along the back of her hand and wrist. She was pale and somewhat breathless, still frightened on a level logic couldn't reach. “I’m not sure I can hold still. Scary things…sometimes they feel so…so…I don’t know. Maybe you could tie me up?”
“How did you guess the real present I brought?” I picked up my backpack and nudged her toward the bedroom. She lowered herself carefully until she sat on the bed, her back against the brass bars at its head, never looking away from the glossy black presence now innocently exploring her forearm--until she felt the wide silk obi wrap her tightly just below her breasts.
“Oh! How beautiful!” The delicate bamboo leaves embroidered on a pale gold background distracted her for just a moment, until I raised her arm to her chest. Her gasp shook the insect just a bit, and then he kept on, up over the mound of her breast. She was visibly shuddering now, barely keeping her hand from scrabbling at the beetle.
“There’s a whole outfit in my suitcase to go with that, kimono and all,” I said conversationally, while I tied her wrists securely to the bars with the ends of the long sash. She gave a sigh of relief when the bonds held however hard she strained at them.
“Thank you so much!” It didn’t matter whether her gratitude was more for the gift, or the restraint. The relief vanished when the stag beetle crept along to her nipple and poised at its tip, feeling for a further foothold. “Jess…” Kit said tightly, then held her breath.
I reached out to re-route him, but she shook her head. “It’s…okay. Okay and…and awful at the same time.” The beetle turned back, revealing the nipple darkened from pink to rose, and so temptingly erect that I could barely resist it.
A lovely flush lit her skin. No longer just struggling to please me, she had crossed a line from fear to arousal, like pain giving way to pleasure. Heat surged through my own body.
By the time the beetle descended between her breasts and over her belly almost to her navel, she was whimpering, not so much like a frightened kitten as a very hungry one. Her thighs twitched, and her wrists strained at freedom, but she wouldn’t beg.
I was the first to give way. “No more!” I retrieved my new pet, tucked him gently back into his box, and set it on the nightstand. Then it was my hands that made her skin flush and thighs dampen, and my not-so harmless mouth that forced her nipples to a rigid pleasure indistinguishable from pain, until her cunt and clit needed all my attention and I drove her on from mewling cries to howling release.
As we nestled close together afterward, catching our breaths, Kit reached up with her now-freed hands to stroke my face. “Isn’t it lucky,” she said, with a mischievous twist to her kiss-reddened lips, “that really, really scary things turn me on?”
What am I doing with this warm, loving, beautiful, smart, brave girl? Getting luckier than I'll ever deserve, that's what.
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For other blogs participating this month, go to: https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com