(Request for contest winner @tedegrams!)

It was so confusing.

Avril had found the ring sitting in the middle of her table when she came home. She had no idea how it got there–maybe it belonged to the new girl from the housekeeping service, what was her name, Emma? Emily?

But something about it drew first Avril’s eye, and then her hand. She needed to try it on, and to her surprise, it fit perfectly.

And then the whole world changed.

She felt something inside her melt into hot fudge. It felt just like that tasted: warm, sweet, decadent, a little naughty. She almost knew the feeling; it was like the first time she fell in love, her first crush, that desperate need, that wanting to be noticed.

But who was she crushing on?

And that wasn’t quite right, anyway. It was more than a crush. More than love, even. She didn’t just want his love and approval–whoever he was. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to be happy with her. Would do anything to make him happy.

The direction her thoughts were going was scaring her. She looked down at the ring glittering on her finger. It was doing this to her, she knew. It felt incredible, and looked so beautiful, so right on her finger, but it was wrong, so wrong.

It wasn’t too late. Close, but not quite. She could take the ring off and this feeling would go away. This wonderful, terrible feeling, she could escape it, escape and never feel it again. Never meet the man, the wonderful, amazing, worshipful, perfect man for whom she was developing these amazing, wonderful feelings.

She grasped the ring, the beautiful, beautiful ring, in her other hand and began to slide it off her finger. As she did, she could feel the feeling that had swept her weakening, feel her thoughts growing clearer.

She would be free. This was freedom. No wonderful desire to devote herself utterly to the most amazing man in the world. Just the gray ordinary everyday world, full of that pale shadow of real love that until now was all she’d known, the absolute love of a slave for her master.

Yes, that was it. That was the feeling. The ring was making her a slave. Making her want to be a slave, love being a slave, a worshipful, adoring slave who would suck and fuck and serve, giving herself utterly over to that feeling.

And it wasn’t too late. Enough of her was left to know it was wrong. Enough of her was left to finish taking the ring off. To be free. To never find out what it would feel like to fuck her master, to please him, even to meet him.

Her fingers tightened around the ring as she wavered, indecisive, her newfound need to submit warring with her knowledge that it was artificial.

She waited too long. There was a knock at the door. Avril looked up, surprised, and in that moment of distraction she slid the ring completely back onto her finger.

When she opened the door, her face lit up in recognition of the man standing there, a man she’d never met but instantly knew. “Master…” she said, breathy with delight and anticipation.

Reblogging my favorites of the captions I did this year.