...not even 16, dammit. I feel vaguely like a cradle robber. Mind you, it helps that a) I have no intention of actually DOING anything with him, as things stand... b) he has an ego that outweighs mine and Rhett's put together, which is, while occasionally amusing, in general more annoying than anything else... c) he is so very NOT submissive - I can have fun playing with Dom/mes, and at the moment am more-or-less enjoying him, but I AM devoted to ONE Dom, and refuse to get involved with anyone I don't in some sense have a collar around.

...where was I?

Oh, yeah. Fehan.

Not his name, of course, but you know me - anyone I'm interested in and actually respect in any sense ends up with some sort of name that I think fits them. This one... suits. In Bato'Cirn, it translates as 'cruel'... which he is. He's got the potential to be quite a few different things; he writes well, expresses himself decently, and doesn't have to worry about work at the moment, if ever. He's got just enough attitude and just enough ego to be both amusing and irritating.

...damn it. Took oxycodone... have I mentioned recently how much I WANT TO STOP HURTING? I'm getting tired of spacing out, loosing track of time and place, staring at little white pills. I want to have a nice, normal, drug-free life, thank you.

Anyway... attitude. He's got plenty of it, and it's really getting quite tantalizing.

I'm NOT going to get tangled in this though. He's young enough that it makes me feel like a pervert, far enough away that it would only add to my frustration, and wealthy enough that I could never be sure how much of what I felt was real and how much was money inspired. I WILL NOT get involved with someone for money...

...or rather, not for anything less than the sort of amount that Bill Gates might have trouble providing. I DEFINITELY have a price, and it's in the 10-figure range. *snickers*

And dammit, apparently I mentioned him in some earlier entry and he won't tell me which one, leaving me all curious and thus having to look.

I SO have no survival instinct when it comes to acting on my curiousity.

Oh, story-segment-in-progress:

Fehan. It rolls so easily off your tongue now, my warrior prince... fehan, cruel, the nickname I found for you too long ago. I am grateful today for your company; this new capture is quite a pretty little bit of fluff and in all honesty, she needs a taste of your sharp tongue to carve her down to size.

Some days when I find myself sitting at the auction hall it is as if I've woke from a dream, looking about at the sweaty, shouting, disgusting mass of humanity and wondering why the hell I am in the middle of them. Even the private seats my rank entitles me to are not enough to really protect me from unwashed and uneducated canines, pigs with beady little eyes and hands quick to count out the change they get after paying for a drudge stamped out of the same cookie-cutter lineup that most slaves, it seems, have been pulled from. Days like this I rarely stay longer than a round or two of bids; leaving quickly, light silk scarf draped with precise care 'cross my mouth and nose, only the twin glittering copper-and-green orbs revealing the depths of my displeasure.

Some days.

Others, rare indeed, find me stumbling back to the carriage, some new treasure on my arm or following behind or crawling in the lamplit, dusty circling path as we wait for our transportation to return. These infrequent days usually provide me with prizes to break for other peoples' pleasure... pretty little toys who I know would look excellent in the collar of a friend, or bright, clever-looking creatures that I suspect I can re-sell at a good profit, even after you add in the cost of the time it takes me train them. I enjoy them for the brief time they reside in my dungeons; more often than not by the time I'm done educating them I am quite glad to see the last of them. I have very little patience, as every pet who has passed through my hands will attest to.

...and once, just once, I came back from an auction having purchased a sandy-haired Felinis, his animalistic traits showing clearly in his slitted blue eyes, his strong, sharp claws, and the light dusting of what could have been mistaken for body hair at first glance but, when touched, revealed itself to be fur as soft and delicate as spiders' webs.

Yes, inspired by him, of course. He's been reading through my stories and said I should write more... so, I am.

Apparently, if I post now, he'll tell me where that damned entry is... fair trade.