The New Guide
- Mar 13
- 19 min read
A short story by Anne Weller
This story includes: her and him, contemporary romance, self-pleasure, strangers, BDSM/kink, sub/dom, femdom, firsts
For two long and difficult years, Daniel Runcible’s Guide had led him down unexplored corridors of his own psyche, helping him to achieve sporadic improvements in his morale, his health, and his appetites.
Now she was gone, and Daniel was alone again.
The news had arrived by email, abrupt and unwelcome: ‘As of this date, your Guide is no longer available. We have selected a replacement for you. If you wish to terminate your contract, reply to this email. If you wish to activate this new placement, complete the attached form. Your new Guide will review it at your next appointment. Thank you for understanding.’
But Daniel didn’t understand. Building trust with his Guide had been arduous, costing him months of emotional turmoil. He couldn’t go through all of that again. He wouldn’t.
***
Daniel fully intended to cancel the contract and get on with his life. But for three days and nights he hardly ate and barely slept. His spirits plummeted, and the numbness he’d worked so hard to banish crept back in.
It reminded him forcibly of why he had filled out the form in the first place. In the year after his wife’s death, he’d neglected friendships, abandoned hobbies, and ignored deadlines. His physical appetites had flagged and failed. He was wretchedly lonely but convinced he would never remarry. The relationship he and Eileen had shared for so many years couldn’t be replicated, and he wouldn’t settle for some cheap imitation of it.
Well then, he’d finally asked himself, what do you need, because you sure as hell need something.
It took soul searching and far too much Scotch before an ill-defined answer formed in his mind. Damn it, I just want somebody to tell me what to do!
And his body responded with a tiny flicker of arousal.
But he hadn’t meant it literally, had he? Did he want somebody to order him around?
His body offered another spark, where for months he’d felt nothing.
I need somebody to tame the chaos, he admitted. Somebody to force me to take care of myself, even when I don’t give a shit.
His cock actually stirred and thickened, rousing from its stubborn slumber.
A word floated into his mind, unbidden: dominatrix.
He recoiled. No. Out of the question.
Want to read more?
Subscribe to botheredstories.com to keep reading this exclusive post.
