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(This is temporary artwork. A professional cover image will be used on the re-release.)
(This is temporary artwork. A professional cover image will be used on the re-release.)
Goldie & the Three Doms
Copyright ©2011-2015 Patricia Green

All rights reserved.

Through a smidgen of time, in a place far, far away, lived a young woman with hair as bright as a Krugerrand and eyes like sparkling sapphires. Her name is unpronounceable to us English speakers, but we‘ll call her Goldie for the sake of this tale. Goldie was a hip chick, with a stripper’s body and a rock star’s attitude. She was also very unhappy.

“You know, Harold, we can get a little kinky once in a while. Maybe some whipped cream? Or maybe you could smack me on the behind. What do you say?”

Harold Humdrumm looked up from his place at her feet where he was doing her toenails. “Swat your behind, dearest? What for?”

Goldie sighed. “Pretend I‘ve been naughty. Pretend I‘m a spoiled brat. Let‘s just get past the girl-on-top position, Harold.”

It was Harold’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know, honey-bun. It seems awfully…well, risqué. How about you let me go down on you. You liked that when I did it that one time.”

She pointed. “You missed a toe, Harold.”

“Ah! So I did.” He bent to his task with more concentration.

It’s always the same, thought Goldie. Tommy, Dicky, and Harry…all the same. Where’s the excitement? Where’s the adventure? The kinkiest thing she’d experienced was bright red nail polish on her toes. I want to be spanked! I want bondage! I want to be spoken harshly to by someone I respect!

Later, she broached the subject with her friend as they sipped rum and coke at the local watering hole. “Willy,” she began, for that was the name she called her best girlfriend, “why can’t I find a dominant man? Are they all taken?”

“Yep,” said Willy, for she was a terse little creature.

Goldie hung her head.

“Except for the guys on Bear Island.”

Now Goldie’s eyes lit up with interest. “Bear Island? Tell me more!”

“They’re strong.”

Goldie grinned. She liked strong.

“They’re rich.”

Goldie beamed. She really liked rich.

“They’re all Doms!”

Goldie thought she might faint from joy. The spark was missing from the men in Femville, and she knew there was something wrong about spending every date night having your boyfriend paint your toenails. She wanted a guy from a beer commercial. A man who did manly things-whatever that was.

“Okay, that tears it; I’m going. Wanna come, Willy?”

“And miss my pedicure? No way!”

“All right for you. I’ll send you a postcard.”

With that, Goldie gassed up her land speeder-I told you this was a faraway place-and headed for Bear Island. Willy was wonderful and wise, waving as Goldie walked away.

What adventures will Goldie have on Bear Island? Will Goldie find the man to master her?

This story is unavailable at online distributors. It was previously published by New Dawning, but I recently got the rights back. It will be re-published in 2015, by me.

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