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I Don’t Do Mondays: Rain

"So it’s raining; big whoop," she mutters to herself. She tries desperately to convince herself that she doesn’t care, but it’s a lie and even the cat isn’t buying it.  She really hates Mondays.

Sighing as she turns away from the window to look back into the room, her eyes land on something that genuinely pleases her.  Pedro, trussed up like a Christmas goose, all for her.

He mumbles forcibly around the gag in his mouth - the real deal, not some Macgyvered knock-off - and the sound makes her smile.  His teeth flash, pearl white around the black ball in his mouth when he makes noise, and the contrast is so very pretty.

It is a Monday, true, and raining besides, but she has Pedro and a new set of knives, and the world could go fuck itself because she is going to make the most out of what would have otherwise been a hum-drum day.

[Is she a serial killer, or just a girl into some more interesting kink?  Maybe we’ll find out.]

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