Olive grabbed the sheet the ancient fax machine had finally finished coughing out and peered at it. The law practice where she interned was buzzing with activity as she waited on "Ol' Bertha," as the machine was affectionately called, to produce some documents for a new case in discovery. Her share of the research and writing had gradually been expanding since she took the position after finishing her 1L year, and this case was the most responsibility she had been given yet. She was eager to find out who she and her colleagues would be up against this time.
As she scanned the letter for familiar names, one made a hot flush rise to her cheeks.
Oh no. Not good.
Her eyes darted back and forth to ensure none of her colleagues had seen her lose her composure, and she clutched the packet to her chest as she walked it to her supervising attorney's office.
Olive had waited five years to recover from undergrad before embarking on her law school journey. She had gone through a wild period in college, deeply affected by the pressure to perform well in school, and would lose herself in drugs and kink to escape the stress for a while. A "slut phase" is normal for any young person discovering themselves, sure, but Olive wasn't sure she liked what she discovered. She learned she liked to forfeit control to men that were stronger than her, she almost liked it too much. She learned she was a ravenous submissive at her core, and that no vanilla sex could ever deliver the satisfaction of total surrender to orgasm after brutal orgasm, her body bound tight in restraints, her limbs and her holes no longer her own to operate. She shivered as the heat from her cheeks bubbled down to her loins.
After fucking her way through what felt like half the city's kink community via Fetlife and even Reddit, Olive had put that submissive side of her to bed. Instead, she fed the part of her soul that craved a gentler intimacy for a while, secure in a monogamous relationship with a loving but vanilla man who had made her feel special. It was hard to feel special to men that would make a whore out of her for the night. Men like him.
Though Olive was still close friends with her ex, when she moved back to the city she'd decided to tread her new career path single and celibate. Her carnal needs could usually be managed with porn and toys such that they didn't pull focus from her work. She had put in the work to get distance from that past version of herself, and reading his name had snapped her right back, as if she'd been trudging forward all these years with a rubber band around her ankle, and tripped on the memory of him.
