A Demon's Regret

(Y/N) and I had the most delightful day together! We showered off the previous night’s sweat from our lusty coupling, and I was pleased that (Y/N) allowed me to lotion her again. She surprised me by following through on her earlier proposal and lotioning my now once more flat belly in turn, making me hum with pleasure.

I managed to persuade (Y/N) to remain scantily clad by working my charm to the utmost, but in exchange, I had to abstain from any clothing at all. I certainly didn’t mind. It amused me to see (Y/N) blush whenever I started to get an erection around her, which seemed to happen far more frequently than was the norm.

Perhaps my favorite activity was when (Y/N) and I sat down and went through her collection of fountain pens. Though not as extensive as mine, of course, it had character. Hers were all lower-end, but had a certain panache that I found I relished.

She had a vacuum-filling TWSBI I especially liked, and she filled it with a brand of ink I knew of, but had to admit she was a real expert on, “Noodlers.” It turned out to be as eclectic as (Y/N), with many of the colors having deep meanings or special properties.

I liked listening to (Y/N) tell me the stories of the inks and the artwork on the bottles. I had previously had no idea that Black Swan in English Roses made a World War I poppy symbol when blotted, for example. She told me that the maker of Noodler’s ink had been told by a woman (who had lost a loved one during the war) that ‘the red of the poppy was the blood of the fallen, and the center of the poppy was the Hell they went through.’

Apparently the artwork on the bottle symbolized the paradise lost, in England, before the war. The roses on the bottle represented the memory of the veterans and their loved ones from that time period, in lieu of directly depicting the poppy, so emblematic of the grave. She then shared with me a poem by a Canadian brigade doctor I had never heard:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

As I held (Y/N)’s TWSBI in my hands, and watched the burgundy ink in it flow, I marveled. I had just thought it was a beautiful color. She had similar stories for other colors from the same brand, and finally I grew curious as to how she came to know so much.

That was when (Y/N) showed me you tube dot com! While I did not consider myself a luddite, I had generally avoided availing myself of the internet when at the homes of my prey. However, I had no idea there were videos about ink to be watched!

Though, apparently, one had to navigate through videos of cats and sundry other animals to get to them. I tried to watch for a consistent pattern, but it wasn’t obvious how to access the penmanship section. I decided to remain silent and be content with receiving (Y/N)‘s guidance, as we watched a video on conversion of a cartridge pen to an eyedropper pen. Fascinating!

I was pleased when (Y/N) shared some calligraphy books with me, and we spent some time practicing on some very nice paper. Of course, I required no practice, but it was very fine paper, making the experience enjoyable. I noticed even her stub nib was smooth, and she blushed, tasting scrumptious, when I told her so. I was perhaps even more satisfied that, when we were finished, (Y/N) emptied and cleaned both of the pens we had used immediately. I loathed maltreatment of fountain pens; it was a pet peeve.

(Y/N) seemed a bit antsy, and offered to take me out to see a film. I reassured her that I was content, and wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in the comfort of her home. And, oddly, it was true.

After (Y/N) had eaten something horrible and full of greenery, and I had eaten some candy and cheeses, we sat on the divan and looked through her at-home cinema service. Naturally, I encouraged her to get something terrifying, so that she would squeeze on to me all the more tightly. We settled on the ‘The Ring,’ which achieved what I had set out for. By the end, (Y/N) was in my lap, and I was quite distracted by her delicious aroma.

Notes

‘In Flanders Fields’ by Major John McCrae, May 1915
Click here to watch a lengthy video about the ink, 'Black Swan in English Roses.'

A picture of a TWSBI vac 700: