Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I want her. Keeping my hands off her is difficult. The way her father monitors her has made getting to her impossible.
This mere mortal form is impatient in ways my previous one was not. The urges are un-tempered by a sense of wise perspective. I am more animal now, and the animal wants to burst in, take her, and claim her for his own.
For the moment, I content myself by carrying more sacks of cement. Doing work is good for my mortal body, and probably good for my mind, though it does not prevent it from bringing up memory after memory of the most filthy acts that are possible to engage in with a human woman.
The ground is slippery and muddy after another good dose of rain. I did well when I ran the simulation for this planet. I solved an innumerable number of problems. These people will never know the suffering they would have encountered in a less, let’s say, designed universe.
I may be a creature of flesh and blood now, subjected to brutal mortality, but I have had a hand in the creation of all of this, and if I were to be called a god it would not be entirely inaccurate. I wouldn’t call myself one, of course. That’s arrogant, but I do enjoy the satisfaction of seeing fertile crops and growing moss and knowing that it was I who tweaked the settings behind the curtain before it was brought down on me.
Her father expects me to build a house, not knowing that it was I who built his entire world. I wonder what he would say to me if he knew that I had saved his life in a dozen timelines and stopped a series of brutally unfortunate events. I wonder if he would kneel…
“Ah, fuck!”
All of that pride comes to an abrupt halt as I slip on the mud and slide unceremoniously down into the stream. Clambering out is messy and harder than I thought it would be, and trying to keep the cement bag out of the water is a whole mission in itself.
A cackle from the tree line accompanies my attempts to get out without getting covered in mud. They fail abysmally. The distraction of hearing feminine laughter does not help at all.
I turn to see who is laughing. It’s her. Mara.
I don’t know how she got here. I almost have the sense she simply appeared, though that cannot possibly be true. She is sitting up in a tree where she has clearly been watching me for quite some time. She looks comfortable up there, wearing a short brown skirt that allows her to move easily, and a tight green top that keeps her agile. Her hair is bound up around her head in a braid. She looks healthy and happy, and very well amused.
“What are you doing?” She laughs the question at me.
I am so pleased to see her, but my palms do itch with the way she is grinning at me.
“How did you get here?”
“I followed you,” she says. “Well, not followed. My father has your address in his files. He knows where everyone is. So I found where you were because I got curious. You said some very weird things on the day we met, and you did even weirder stuff.” She tugs at the hem of her skirt, which is short and gives me a look that makes me think she didn’t hate how I touched her as much as she pretended to.
I have replayed that moment over in my mind, mostly feeling as though it was a mistake. She doesn’t remember me, not properly. I very nearly groped her because I still think of her as being every bit my pet. But she does not know that, not yet anyway.
She’s still giggling, and she is adorable when she laughs. She covers her mouth with her hands, and screws her eyes and nose up and emits a series of high-pitches little snorts and gasps that only get more intense as she tries to stop them.
“Came to laugh at me, did you?”
“I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t been acting so clownish,” she smirks disrespectfully.
She’s practically begging for a spanking, and who I am I to deny her?
I growl under my breath, close the distance between us, and grip her by the wrist. I enjoy the way her eyes widen right before I lift her out of the tree, prop my knee up on some lumber and toss her over it, throwing her little skirt up over her hips and landing a muddy handprint right on the seat of her generous rear.
“You come all the way out here alone to a single man’s homestead and you act the brat and think you won’t end up with your hide being tanned?” I lecture her, spanking her just hard enough to make it feel stingy and good. So much has changed about the world, but the way she responds to having her ass smacked has not. She starts to gasp and squeal and moan.