Author's note:
This story had an unusual origin. At the request of another Lit member, I agreed to co-author a story with her. She told me a fantasy she wanted to work with. I started with the male character's perspective then handed it off to her to write a portion of the story from the female character's perspective, and so on. We eventually completed it after a month or so.
She, however, was not pleased with her contributions. After some discussion, I agreed to rewrite her portions. The resulting story represents our collective narrative, but at this point the writing is all mine. It's distinct from a story I would write on my own, since the actions and responses of the female character, and in some cases the male character, originated with her. I left in dashed lines to show which parts she originally wrote versus mine. It's pretty obvious anyway, since the perspective changes.
She has asked to remain anonymous. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to message me.
The story features mild BDSM themes. All characters are over the age of 18.
Thank you for reading!
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James drew in deep breaths, trying to calm himself. At fifty-five he had mostly mastered his temper, but there were a few situations that could reliably set him off. Seeing his son mistreated, or in this case merely thinking on it too long, was one such trigger.
He couldn't go in there angry. From what he had seen from her, and heard from Chip, Khym had her own issues controlling her temper. If the two went at it, he'd never get what he came for. So as the engine popped and cooled, James sat behind the wheel, drumming his fingers and trying to gather himself.
James Cliff had never cared for Khym. Whereas at twenty-six, Chip was already showing promise in his career, Khym seemed to lack purpose. The younger Cliff had paid the rent for their apartment, furnished it, and taken his girlfriend on a few modest vacations. Khym, though she had finished her undergraduate degree, showed little interest in putting it to use. Instead, she seemed comfortable spending Chip's salary while trying to present an outrageous lifestyle on social media. It was all so shallow.
James did a breathing exercise to calm himself. He was ready. The past wasn't important, he told himself. All he had to do was go in, grab a few last things that Chip had left behind, and get out. It would all be over in less than an hour.
Closing the car door, he strode toward the little garden apartment his son had shared with Khym. Did he imagine it, or had the girl just disappeared behind a curtain? He knocked.
For a moment, James was speechless. The young woman who opened the door was barely dressed. Khym was wearing a ripped crop top which didn't even pretend to cover the gold bikini she was wearing underneath. The generous scoops of her cleavage were on proud display. Below, jean shorts so skimpy as to be pointless had been pulled over the bikini bottom. Her skin was toned, tan, and firm. James gawked at her for a heartbeat too long before he finally recovered.
"Khym," he started, trying to sound comfortable. "Thank you for letting me come over. Chip said you had most of his stuff in a box, but that maybe a few things were laying around."
The brunette shrugged indifferently and turned away. James followed her in and stood awkwardly in the doorway. There was a mat on the floor, and some trippy new-age music playing - the kind James couldn't stand. Nothing ever changed in it, just protracted tones alongside an occasional gong or some such. The airhead must have been practicing yoga.
"I think it's here," the girl said, bending over to rummage through a bookcase. James was treated to a view of her voluptuous ass. For a moment he could see why Chip had stayed in the relationship so long. Khym had an impressive body.
"Here," she said finally, dropping a box onto the coffee table. Finished with him, she flopped back onto the couch, immediately burying herself in her phone.
James tried to shrug off her rudeness. He sifted through the box, trying to remember everything Chip had said should be there. A few things were missing.
"Khym, there should be a cigar box here. A wooden one. Chip had some mementos in it."
If she had heard him, the brunette pretended otherwise. Astounded, James raised his voice. "Khym!"
Her eyes flew open, startled. "What?" she said.
"The cigar box. Where is it?"
"Oh," she said, before returning to her phone. "I'm using that."
Despite his efforts to manage it, James' temper was rising. "'Using it'? That belongs to Chip."
Khym rolled her eyes. "Shit, it's just a stupid box."
"That 'stupid box' has medals from me, and Chip's grandfather, among other things. Now, are you going to get it or should I go into the bedroom and tear things apart?" The girl's indifference was more than he could bear.
The brunette stared at him, eyes wide. In the two years he had known her, James had never seen her look at him that way. The girl had always dismissed him, choosing to spend her energies ordering Chip around, or hiding in her phone. This was different. She was assessing him.
"Uh, okay." Khym pulled herself up from the couch, and with a long look back over her shoulder at James, disappeared into the bedroom.
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Once out of sight, Khym stopped to collect herself. Her heart raced, a reaction better suited to a hard workout than the yoga she had just finished. Desperately, she tried to suppress the unexpected turmoil within her.
It was happening again. The old guy, Chip's father, had an effect on her. His forcefulness, his physical presence, the intensity of his gaze, all set off triggers within her. She wanted him. No, she wanted him to take her, claim her as his property and use her however he wished.
How long had it been? How long since she had been owned, dominated? Too long, she knew. Her body cried out for it. Already, warmth seeped into her pussy. She slipped a hand to her clit.
Khym spotted her reflection in the mirror. Though young, pretty, and with a shapely, petite body, she had never felt comfortable in the role of a confident modern woman. With a passive man she quickly grew bored. Even Chip, tall and handsome as he was, disappointed her. She had wanted to make it work, but her spirit was restless. Her flesh yearned to be dominated. She ached for it.
