Melian’s Cure for a Broken Heart (Unagi Joro, femdom)

I sighed as I looked at the picture of Julia on my phone. Her smiling countenance, which had once been a source of such great joy, now brought me pain and embarrassment. I stared at her face and didn’t know who I was looking at. I could recall my old feelings, but with them only a surreal dread as well.

Adultery is not unlike a death, but in its way it is worse. When a loved one dies, sad as it is, they never broke faith with you. They were who you believed they were, and in the hereafter (if you believe in that sort of thing) you will see them again, and it will be in happiness. Death is just a sad goodbye, but a hello will be said again.

But if you are cheated on, there is no hello. That person isn’t just dead, they were a lie. They are, in a sense, removed from ever existing and replaced with a demon in their form. There is no reunion. There is no repair of the trust. A delicate crystal is dashed upon an obsidian floor, and the fragments are visible to be seen, painful to walk through.

Julia was now a hideous mockery of what she once was. My wife, the woman I loved, was fake. My life was fake. The self-worth I had derived from knowing that someone in the world loved me, that someone considered me special, was gone.

“Are you still on about Julia? Don’t be a pussy,” Brooks said, smacking his lips as he saw me at my phone. Phrenology is discredited, but I feel that in his misshapen skull the practice had much credence. With his large lips that were always a bit apart and his bulbous nose, his beady eyes and the gap in his teeth, he looked every bit like a moron.

He smacked me on the shoulder. “Nut up. Let’s get some food.”

Brooks was my friend, but often I wanted to just strangle him. I glared at the slack-jawed man with clenched teeth as he turned away and fumbled with his tie.

I said and did nothing, however, because if I killed Brooks, I knew that I would probably go to prison, even on this alien world. Besides, he could have pissed on me and it wouldn’t compare to what I had been through over the last few weeks.

It had been a month, but the wound was still fresh. I wanted to crawl off somewhere and hide, away from prying eyes, and laughing colleagues, but I had no choice: I had to go on this trip through the portal for the Bank.

I shut my phone off and pocketed it. I should have deleted the damn picture, because every time I went to use the damn phone I found myself opening it and getting stabbed in the heart. And yet, I couldn’t delete it, for in my mind, in the feverishly delusional place which always hopes, I thought she would be vindicated. I foresaw Julia undertaking an amazing quest to prove her love to me, prove it was all some mistake. It was absurd, but to a heart which had long believed that she was loyal, it made sense. Faith and hope make us all ridiculous as a price for daring to dream.

I stood, and joined Brooks at the glass double doors to the bright nightlife of MamonoTown. We exited the posh, granite interior of the hotel and entered the humid air of this alien world. The streets of MamonoTown were exotic, perhaps even slightly Asiatic, although there was an evident commercialism in all these trappings that made me wonder how authentic any of this was. It all seemed designed to entice and ensnare men, which from history I knew that it did extremely well.

Single men never returned from these business trips, which is why Telson’s, my employer, started sending married men through for its business. Although Brooks and I were perhaps the worse specimens of married men: he being a philanderer, and I being recently divorced. I had petitioned to be removed from the trip, but the company said it was too far along. Instead, they informed me that ‘protection’ was purchased for if I was abducted by an aggressive female suitor: a squadron of Valkyries would be dispatched to liberate me.

Not that any of the bright paper lanterns or neon alien-charactered signs mattered to me. The strange monster-women who looked up at us as we walked down the wet streets didn’t really matter much, either. They were women, and they were quite beautiful, but none of that holds much interest to a heartbroken man.

“I’m getting a weird vibe here…” Brooks said, adjusting his tie as he looked about nervously. “The locals are kind of eyeing us…”

I heard him, but I didn’t register what he was saying. Okay, so they were looking at us. That’s what mamono did – they looked at men. We were married, or close enough to married. They’d leave us be. But when we arrived at the restaurant, that was where I picked up on what Brooks had meant by a weird vibe.

The hostess was a Kraken girl, standing behind a podium with her tentacles coiled about it. When she saw me, her smile faded. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand, and her eyes were filled with an immense, unfathomable horror.

“Hello. W-welcome to Mama Zao’s…” the Kraken girl began.

“Are you Mama Zao?” Brooks asked with a self-satisfied smile, because he was that kind of guy.

“Eh? Oh no, no…m-my name is Calypso,” the Kraken girl said, flustered by something other than his question. She fumbled with some papers at the podium.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

She stared at me with wide eyes, and forced a smile on her face. “Yes! We’re…we’re all good and happy here! No problems! A-are you good?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but her eyes bulged as she was aghast by the forwardness of her question, and she added:

“Don’t answer that! We can give you a nice, nice evening,” She said with a sudden vigor. “A good evening, a fun time. A Happy time! So…two?”

“Yes, two,” Brooks replied. “For the special dining experience.” He said, elbowing me with a moronic grin.

She looked down at Brooks’ wedding ring with a frown, then at my recently ringless finger. “Okay…” she said with a sigh. She marked up her seating chart with a marker. As she did, I glanced to my right, through some doors into the bar area. A group of rough-looking Oni were staring at me with sad eyes. One of them clutched a nearby man -her boyfriend or husband, it seemed- into her arms and kissed him on the forehead. The others seemed similarly disturbed.

“Right this way,” Calypso said.

Nobody prepared me for the sight of a Kraken escorting people to their table. I would have thought that she would go along at a wriggle of tentacles, but in fact she lashed her tendrils to the doorway into the dining area and launched herself through the portal and to a large, glass fish tank

“This is gonna be great, Sean. I hear that they have these whore chefs that cook for you naked,” Brooks whispered eagerly as we walked to join our guide.

The tank was filled with enormous fish, all swimming and churning to and fro with abandon. One swam by, close to the glass, and I saw a pair of breasts wrapped in a bikini, then a shark’s tail.

“What is this?” I asked, taking a step back.

“This is where you pick out your chef for the night,” Calypso said.

“Our chef?” I asked.

Calypso nodded with a smile. “One chef for each of you. Madame Zao’s prides itself on its personalized aquatic chefs. We provide a more…intimate dining experience here. The girls’ function is similar to the Geishas on your world…”

Brooks laughed, and interjected: “Gimme that mermaid with the big juggs!” he said.

Calypso frowned, and looked at Brooks’ wedding ring with an eyeroll. “Excellent choice, sir,” she said, because she had to say that. “Remember, she’s cooking your food, nothing else.”

Brooks grinned. “Oh of course, of course,” he sneered. Brooks was convinced that this was Singapore, and that he would be able to get a cheap blowjob here. I shook my head and observed the water with lidded eyes.

From within the tank, the chefs churned and swam, all of them shapely and gorgeous. Some where well muscled, some were curvaceous, some were fit. But I was not in a mood to contemplate such women. Any mamono I saw would be compared against Julia, and not favorably. Julia was the only woman who mattered. She was the only…

My thoughts were interrupted by the flames that I saw in the water.

A pair of orange eyes, like fire, stared at me from the other side of the glass. They held a purity and intensity which only fire has, and each seemed to dance with light. I stepped in closer to the tank, and my eyes peered in to discern their source.

The owner of those eyes had a pale face obscured in the darkness of the water, and she floated still, very still, as the others churned and swam. She watched me with graceful motions of a crimson tail that was so red that it looked like a lash of flame. This fluid fire and those bright eyes enraptured me, and I found myself lost in them. For all the swimming and churning in the tank, none of the other chefs got between us, none interrupted our mutual gaze. The pale face stared at me, unblinking, with adorable little fish fin ears beneath a shock of orange hair. On her dimly lit face, I thought I saw a slight smile form.

“I don’t think it is necessary to ask who your choice is,” Calypso said to me in a whisper. Her tone was very happy, and her face had a giant grin. “That’s Melian; she’s an Unagi Joro, and one of our very, very best chefs. Unagi Joro are considered the premiere.

She grasped up two menus from the table, one large and one small, and motioned with them towards the dining area. “Right this way.”

I looked down towards a field of pillows and tables, with canals running between them from the giant tank like irrigation to a farmer’s field. It was like a hibachi set up, but the chefs were in a slightly elevated pool of water, around which was a counter where they cooked on stoves or chopped fish. There were many people sitting and eating, tended to by a chef who expertly twirled a knife or did other gimmicks. There were some couples on dates, but quite a few single men getting personalized shows which seemed close to being dates themselves.

I took one last look into the tank, but the Unagi Joro was already gone. I turned away, blinking, trying to understand the mysterious woman that I had just seen. Calypso launched herself and coiled near a table towards the back of the room.

“Here you are, gentlemen,” she said, motioning to the pillows. We followed after her.

I sat on the leftmost pillow, near to the wall. Brooks sat down to my right, clapping his hands obnoxiously with a loud hoot that disturbed a nearby man and his Wurm girlfriend as they fed each other maki by candlelight.

After first calming the couple (and the man who looked ready to punch the oblivious Brooks in the mouth), Calypso handed us our menus, and launched herself back to the hostess podium. Brooks looked to have a very standard menu, but I had a small white paper upon which were written the words:

MELIAN ECCAIA (Unagi Joro)
3 COURSE MEAL FOR A HAPPY HEART

Appetizer – Opee Sea Killer sushi
Entree – Megalodon steak
Dessert – Nightlock Ice Cream

Our waitress came over, a shorter Kraken who looked very much like Calypso, except her hair was dark and her eyes green.

“I’m Circe, I’ll be your waitress,” she announced cheerily.

“Are you related to the Hostess?” I asked.

Circle smiled. “She’s my older sister.”

“I’ll have both of you, in jello,” Brooks said with an obnoxious snort, closing his menu. I cringed.

Circe laughed, choosing to play off Brooks’ pervy flirting as if it were witty innuendo. “No can do, I’m married! Can I get you boys anything to drink?” She looked at Brooks. “We’re doing a special on Scorpion Bowls tonight.”

Brooks rubbed his hands together. “Get me one. For two.”

She looked at me. “And you, sir?”

“Just whatever is on tap, thanks,” I said.

“I think you’ll like it – it’s a pale ale,” Circe replied. “I’ll bring your drinks right back. Your chefs should be out in a bit.”

Circe turned to head to the bar, but moved at a slower pace than Calypso. Brooks made a move to pinch her rear, but a tentacle deftly swiped his hand away. Rather than being chastised or upset, Brooks let out a belly laugh. If there was one redeeming quality to Brooks, it was his joviality. I often told him that he would laugh being frog-marched into a gas chamber. I also told him that very often, I wished to see it happen.

As we waited, Brooks talked about his maladies – he had bills to pay, his wife was a bitch, his kids were assholes. I was okay with his whining, because focusing the conversation on Brooks’ miserable life and problems made me forget about my own.

Drinks came. Brooks got his scorpion bowl, for two, and consumed it and asked for another. I got some of the potent local brewed beer on tap, something called Mama Sabbath’s Van Pale Ale. It was bitter, and that fit my mood. Brooks became beet red with drink, and if you can believe it, actually became obnoxious.

“…Yeah, we knew about Julia…” he said with a laugh as the blue drink in his yellow bowl depleted. “Hell, I knew about it before we were even working together. It was at the Christmas party where she and Sloan first started necking.”

“The Christmas Party?” I asked with alarm. “Where was I?”

“Getting a drink for her, or some shit. You thought she was like an angel or some shit. You were fucking blind, man! That’s how you got the nickname Gribble,” He said with a laugh.

“I had a nickname?” I asked with alarm.

“A few. It’s good you know, now, because we don’t have to pussyfoot around the jokes, or the stories.”

The words cut, as if someone stabbed a wound that was still bleeding. I took a long gulp of the ale, reveling in the bitter aftertaste of the draught as Brooks regaled me with stories of my wife’s longstanding infidelity, oblivious to the anguish it caused me. But it was good. I needed to hear this. The truth is in some ways a narcotic, and an overdose can surely kill you.

I listened to the many and varied excesses of my wife, comedically told but with not mirth generated, about Sloan and Julia’s many escapades. For my part, I had considered Sloan a friend. He had been a younger man, fresh from college, and I had been a mentor to him when he started at the company. I had invited him to my house for dinner, when he had first moved into the city. This had been my mistake, and my innocent invitations and friendship had led to the affair, as his irreverent wit had charmed my ever-acerbic Julia. For my part, I trusted them both like a fool.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Brooks in as quiet a voice as I could.

Brooks laughed, still beet red. “How could I? If I told you about Julia and Sloan, she could very easily tell Dianne about me. Everybody cheats, Sean, you lived in a fantasy,” he replied.

He looked with eagerness towards the kitchen. “I’m kinda hoping my ‘chef’ comes out topless. Monstergirls are total sluts.”

The chefs didn’t come out, however. Just Scorpion Bowl after Scorpion Bowl, until Brooks was barely sensate, screaming monosyllabic words and slurring his speech.

The Wurm and her boyfriend glared at us, and I began to squirm uneasily. Circe approached the couple – a Scorpion Bowl in her hand- whispered something which seemed to calm them, then approached me.

“Your friend looks a bit gone…” Circe said. My eyes bulged as she set the Scorpion Bowl down in front of him. Brooks, now incoherent and purple, laughed as he reached for it and poured it down his gullet.

“Well, you keep bringing him those things!” I exclaimed. “Where are the chefs?”

Brooks murmured something unintelligible, then stood. On legs of rubber he advanced on Circe and tried to sniff her hair. She deftly wriggled around his half embrace, and he fell face first onto the floor.

“Fuck!” Brooks yelled into the tile, his first coherent word in two Scorpion Bowls.

“I think your friend needs to go home,” Circe said.

I sighed. “He does…” I began. “But we haven’t eaten yet. Oh well, I’ll get him home…”

“No! you stay put,” Circe said with a smile. “Some of our people will take him to his hotel. You are at the Continental, yes?”

“I, uh…that’s right,” I said, unsure how she knew that.

“I’ll have some of our ushers escort him home. Bruno, Crusher!”

Two large gentlemen arrived, looking like mafia muscle in sportcoats that were a tad too small. They picked Brooks up off of the floor and dragged him away with relative care, though I heard him yelp as he apparently ‘fell’ into the outside door.

Circe smiled. “That’s my husband and my brother in law,” she explained. She leaned in. “They were not exactly happy about his pinching and sniffing.”

“They’re not going to hurt him, are they?” I asked.

I heard a distant yelp, and a curse. “You are a good friend,” Circe said. “By the way, Melian has set up in a private room.”

“A private room?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s a bit more…intimate,” she said. “Just come this way.”

I had finished my ale, and so she took me into a small room with a similar setup to the stations on the restaurant floor: a small pond was connected to the main canal, and I sat by it on a pillow. I found myself relaxing to the sounds of flowing water, my stomach rumbling. The grill surface hissed, obviously turned on, and a cart was there with various meats and vegetables on it. I realized that no one had done that at the station where Brooks and I had sat.

I saw her enter as a wriggling bright shape in the water, and then rise up and out of it in a brief downpour of droplets. She took my breath away.

She had orange hair, the color of some coral or kelp, and those fire eyes. Her lower half was a wriggling long eel body, bright red, which shimmered in the light. Her adorable fin ears.

“Hello,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Mel, I’ll be cooking for you today!”

“H-hello, Mel…” I said. I took her hand, which, though wet from the water, was dainty and pleasantly smooth. “I’m Sean.”

“Hi Sean,” she said, reveling in my name. Her cute fish ears wiggled, and she tossed her orange hair out from in front of her face as she unrolled her knives. “You are here on business?”

“Yes,” I said. “I work for Telson’s.”

“Very prestigious!” She announced, impressed. Involuntarily I felt my chest puff out with pride. “You are from the Human realm?”

“Yes, Earth,” I replied.

“What a funny name,” she said with a laugh. “It’s like being from Air, or Fire, or Water.”

I frowned. “Odd. I would think that you would call earth something different. Then again, you are speaking English: a language resulting from conquest by Germanic Tribes of Celtic lands with a good bit of French tossed in.”

She smiled. “I could just as easily say that you speak Amazonian, with Camp Human and a good bit of Goblin tossed in.”

I laughed. “Really, Goblin?”

Mel nodded. “Oh definitely. All you Earth humans sound just like the sons of goblins,” she said.

From her tray, Melian produced a large chunk of fish, looking much like a raw tuna steak but with a bluish tint. It had a slight smell of the sea, but not strong. With a clang of her knives, she began to deftly chop up the portion into smaller cubes.

“That looks enticing,” I said, my mouth watering.

“Opee is very flavorful,” Mel replied as her knife moved through the fish with such an easy speed that I was almost hypnotized. “When not in sushi, it is very lightly seared to keep in flavor.”

“That I’ll have to try sometime,” I said.

“Indeed, but I think you’ll find the Megalodon to be even better,” Mel said. “It has so much flavor, but it is very filling. It sticks to the ribs, as they say.”

“Sounds delicious, best meal I’ve had in ages.”

“That is not good enough,” Mel said with mock indignation. “It must be the best you ever had, or I have failed.”

“Trust me, the bar is low to satisfy me. I haven’t eaten a fancy meal since my wife Julia’s…” I stopped myself. My smiled faded as I saw Julia’s face, and remembered what she had done. “…since my ex-wife’s birthday.”

I saw Mel’s eyes glance at my hand, and at the mark where a wedding ring had been. “Julia is your ex-wife?”

I looked down at my finger, feeling a tremor as I saw the bare white line. “Yes. I signed the papers this morning,” I said, as if I was confessing to a crime. I felt shame.

Mel worked quietly for a moment, stretching out a flat section of brownish seaweed.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m not admitting any guilt, I’m saying that I regret that it happened.” Mel replied.

“I appreciate that, truly. Look, this is heavy conversation for a meal. I don’t want to burden you with this,” I said.

“I am not burdened, except by the thought you are anguished.’ Mel looked up for a brief flash, her eyes locking with mine like an exhilarating thunderbolt before she returned to her work. “She was…unfaithful?”

I nodded. “For years. I found out only recently. I went and got the papers the same day, I was so mad. But I couldn’t sign them. I’ve just had them with me…”

Her eyes were focused on the cutting board, where she laid out rice. “What made you sign today?” She asked.

I shrugged. “I thought it might make me feel better. As you can imagine, this has been hard,” I said.

“I imagine. So did it help?”

I sighed. “I think I feel worse. Are you married?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, taking chunks of Opee Sea Killer and laying them on the bed of rice.

“I don’t know what to do,” I continued. “I’m thinking of tearing the papers up. Maybe we can reconcile. Maybe it is my fault, like she said. I am gone a lot, and…”

Mel winced at that, as if the suggestion gave her pain.

I frowned. “You disagree?”

She evened out the fish pieces on the rice and seaweed bed. “It is not really my place to say.”

“No, please…” I said. “I could use an outside perspective.”

She put down her knife, and looked up at me, her flame eyes taking my breath away yet again. “I think you should turn them in. Forget about your ex-wife: she obviously has chosen a different path. If you weren’t enough to satisfy her, then let her go, and to hell with her. Put her from your mind. Thinking about her will only bring you anguish.”

“I would if I could, but it doesn’t work that way,” I said. “You can’t just shut off feelings for someone that you loved for five years.”

“I agree,” Mel said. She took out a little jar of clear liquid, and squeezed a torrent of droplets out onto the meat.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A personal recipe,” she said nonchalantly. “Very private. I only give it to special people.”

“Well…thank you,” I said. “I hope it isn’t because you feel sorry for me. I’m fine…”

“You don’t need to lie,” she replied. She rolled up the sushi tightly, then began to cut it into perfectly spaced slices. “Maybe, if a person betrays you, they can be forgotten with effort.”

“I’m not sure I want that,” I said.

Mel deftly poured several sauces and placed them upon the sushi plate with the cut roll.

“Well of course you don’t. You have feelings for her,” Mel said. She slid the sushi plate to me, presented as if by a five star chef. “But this may help you forget for a moment…”

I picked up one of the morsels. “Is there any soy sauce?” I asked.

She recoiled. “Soy? For a man?”

I nodded. “A fair point,” I said. I took a bite.

Everything about that bite was amazing. The clump of rice, the rough seaweed outer wrap, the smooth texture of the Opee and the flaking taste. And there was an imperceptible…something…in the food. I found myself feeling slightly more awake. Every breath felt like cool, crisp air, of the refreshing kind among tall pine trees and other dark green conifers. Before I was truly aware of it, I had eaten all six of sushi pieces on the plate.

“Good?” Mel asked, and I was surprised to see genuine hope on her face.

I nodded, vigorously. While before her eyes had been captivating, the whole room now seemed to be lit by them. I found it almost impossible to look away from them. I thought I could see flames flickering in them. I blinked, but it was true, and obvious- her eyes were brighter now. But how could that be.

“That was delicious,” I said. “Almost as amazing as your eyes.”

This last line, delivered almost involuntarily by my eager heart, made me shudder. But Mel only smiled. “That is a wonderful compliment. Are you ready for the next course?” She asked.

I nodded eagerly, and she got to work. Surprisingly I found the sushi filling, but something about it had made me hungrier. Somehow I had more room; the eating of it had calmed my stomach, but not my taste buds.

She took out the Megalodon steak and began to sear it. The smell was aromatic, and I found my stomach rumbling anew in anticipation of eating it.

But I also found that Melian’s eyes now so dominated the room that I could not look away from them. They flashed, they sparkled, and she moved with grace as the flames in them followed her movements. Her body flowed like water, her eyes flickered like fire, and within the waters I saw her crimson form flick its finned tail.

The scent of the food entered my nostrils, and reminded me of salmon and swordfish, of haddock and cod and every fish meal I had ever eaten. She prepared it with some kind of bean sprouts and a long grain brown rice. She added in more of her secret recipe to the sprouts, the rice, and the Megalodon.

“So, how long have you cooked here?” I asked. She put the seared shark meat and cooked veggies down in front of me.

“Not long,” Melian replied with a smile. She blinked her orange eyes, and rested her face on her hands as her elbows rested on either side of the plate. “My audience is very limited.”

I inhaled the steam of the Megalodon into my nostrils, smelling only a slight aroma of fish. I put my fork to the flesh, and watched as it flaked off into slabs. I speared one, and brought it to my lips.

It tasted that way that salmon does, where it is warm and clean, and it fills your stomach in a soothing way. The taste was perfect, the meat warm. And something in it, something intangible, invigorated me, just like the sushi had done. I hadn’t felt this well in weeks.

“This is amazingly good,” I said, eating forkful after forkful. “You deserve double whatever they pay you.”

“Oh, I am not an employee,” she replied calmly. “I am not compensated by money.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re a chef here, aren’t you?”

“Right now, I am. I’m a customer, just like you,” she replied. “The tank is not only for you to pick.”

I put down my fork with wide eyes. I had learned enough to know that things over here could precipitate quickly into a sexual encounter. “N-now listen. I-I’m not…”

Mel laughed, and touched my arm. “Easy, cutie. I won’t lie and say that I am uninterested, but I am not going to do anything other than talk, and cook you a nice meal. At least…for now.”

My mind raced. I thought of Julia, and instinctive, obsolete fidelity kicked in. “N-no, I should go…” I said, rising.

“Please don’t,” Mel said, and her hand gently squeezed around my bicep. “Just stay. Talk to me. Eat. Forget your troubles for a few moments.”

The pleading in her eyes overpowered anything else, and I felt myself standing still in her gaze, lost in the flames.

I stood there, dumbly, for a long time before I stammered a response. I knew I couldn’t leave – her gentle touch may as well have been an iron manacle, holding me in place. I sat down, and her eyes sparkled as her smile became triumphant. I picked up my fork and continued eating, each mouthful ambrosia.

“I think you deserve to forget,” Mel continued. She carefully poured me a cup of tea.

I took a sip, and tasted the same ‘zing’ that was in the sushi and the Megalodon. “Is some of your special sauce in this?” I asked.

Mel nodded. “You noticed!” She said happily. “I add a bit of it in everything I cook. Do you like it?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “It’s hard to say what it tastes like. I’ve heard that there is magic here. Is it a magic potion?”

“In some ways. How does it feel?” She pressed. She leaned in eagerly. “Tell me…”

“Energizing,” I said. “Like…like I could climb a mountain. And it makes your eyes…”

Mentioning them made her eyes glow, and her tail flick, churning the canal waters. Her fish ears wiggled rapidly. “What? What does it make them?”

“It makes them brighter.”

Melian clasped her hands. “Wonderful!” She said.

“W-why does it do that?” I asked.

“Oh. Well, my mucus is in it,” Melian said.

I blinked. “Your…mucus?”

She nodded. “I can say that now because it has taken root.”

I recoiled. “You drugged me?” I asked.

“Now, calm down Sean,” Mel said. “It does no harm, I promise. And don’t you feel better?”

“I do,” I admitted. I felt the hollow feeling inside as I remembered Julia with guilt. “But I shouldn’t.”

“That is the oddest thing I’ve ever heard a man say, and you men do nothing but say odd things.”

“I’m supposed to feel bad right now,” I said. “I know that sounds silly, but it’s the truth.”

“I reject that,” Mel said. “I think grief is necessary when something is lost.”

“And divorce isn’t a loss?”

“It is just,” Mel replied.

“It hurt,” I said. “It felt like a gut punch. I actually doubled over when I walked in on them. My body shook and I couldn’t stop it. More than anything else in the world – more than anything I’ve ever wanted before, or since – I wanted to die.”

Mel’s eyes welled. She reached for and clasped my hand. “I didn’t mean to diminish that,” she said. “I just…have a different perspective on it. I’m sorry.”

I stopped and took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t be talking about this. You made me a nice meal, and I’m being negative.”

Mel rubbed my hand. “You have a right to be. Does it help to talk?”

“No,” I said. I paused. “But it does help to have someone listen.”

“Then I’ll listen,” she said. She leaned in closer, and her proximity, her presence, aroused me. I resisted the urge to kiss her. What was happening? I had never felt this way before about someone other than Julia…was my divorce really so freeing?

“W-well, she said she wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for some time,” I stammered, fighting the feelings. I focused on the coldness in my gut, and my arousal diminished.

“The worst thing was the way she just didn’t care,” I continued. “She was fine with what she did, almost angry with me that I had a problem with it. She told me that it was my fault. What was clear was that she didn’t care about me. All I could think of was that this wasn’t the person that I knew.”

“Do you think she changed?” Mel asked. “Became corrupted?”

I shook my head. “She always liked to denigrate me a bit,” I said. “She liked to crack jokes at my expense. Little things that I always assumed weren’t serious. As time went on, the statements became crueler, the affection less. The irritation in her voice became constant. I started to leave her alone, because I didn’t want her to be mad. And she and Sloane began to share in such jokes more and more. Until I caught her cheating.”

“How did it happen?” Mel asked.

“I came home early from work, walked in on them,” I said. “You know, she didn’t even seem shocked, or upset when she was caught. That surprised me. Sloan looked guiltier than she did, or maybe just afraid.”

Mel said nothing. She simply rubbed my hand.

“When I asked her if she would stop seeing Sloan, she said no. She needed him, she told me. She wanted to stay married to me, she said, but if I wanted a divorce, that was fine with her.”

Mel clenched her jaw and blinked. Her expression was blank, and unreadable, but her tail lashed back and forth, striking the water like the cracking of a whip.

“She said she was tired of me. I was needy, and the romance was gone. There was no spark anymore,” I said. I stared at my teacup and twirled the handle.

“But she didn’t want a divorce?” Mel asked.

“She said she thought I was a good enough husband, but that she needed excitement. She needed more,” I said. “What could I say to that?”

Mel said nothing, but gave me a patient, tender look. She reached out and rubbed my arm.

“When you fall in love, it’s like there’s this fire inside you, this brightness,” I continued. “And when that fire is gone, you can feel the hollowness, the cold like an unlit stove in the winter. It’s the feeling that there’s no one out there for you. That no one cares. That there ever was a fire makes that feeling worse, because it made you believe there was something better. The ashes leave their mark in a cold hearth.”

Mel took my plate wordlessly.

“You have been quiet,” I said.

“There is not much that I can say.”

“Women are always better with these kinds of things than men are,” I said. “What do I do?”

“You’ve already done it – divorce her and move on.”

I sighed. “Do you think less of me?”

She put a hand to my face, and her fiery eyes were tender. “Of course not. I am fighting the urge to hug you forever. A man with a broken heart is like a screaming child…I am amazed that you weren’t snatched on the streets.”

“You can tell that easily?”

“Sean, the whole city has known about you for days,” Mel said.

“I…I had no idea…” I stammered.

“We didn’t want you to know. I didn’t expect you to be drawn to me, but when I looked in your eyes, beyond the pain I saw the kind of man you are. A decent, good man, an honest man. A man who is worth his weight in gold. You want my opinion?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Julia wasn’t the right person,” Mel said. “When you meet the right person, everything works. Sure, there are problems, but they are addressed, and love wins. Betrayal is impossible. A cold hearth can be reignited. It takes some kindling, a gentle bit of wind, some attention, and care. But first, the ash must be removed.”

“And Julia is the ash?”

“Not Julia: your feelings for her. No warmth will come from them, ever…” Mel said. “And a new fire cannot be kindled while they remain.”

She stared at me a moment, then turned her back to me, facing the troy car. “I am ready for the final course,” she said with a shaking voice. Her long red tail swished and gently wriggled in the air. She seemed perturbed.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

She looked back at me with big eyes. “Yes. I just…I have to fix you.” She returned to her work.

I smiled. “It’s kind of you to say that, but that isn’t necessary. I mean, we’ve only just met-”

“That doesn’t matter,” Mel said. “I stared into those pretty blue eyes of yours. I saw their pain, but I saw something else in them. It doesn’t matter how well I know you; I know enough about you. We belong together.”

“Just like that?” I asked with a laugh.

“As you say, women know more about this kind of thing than men,” she replied.

When she turned back, she held a rice bowl filled with scoops of ice cream. The ice cream appeared black, at first, but observing its melt, I saw that it was in truth a dark purple, like blackberries.

“That’s nightshade, right?” I asked, remembering the ingredient name. “What is it?”

“A very special kind of berry,” she replied. Her manner had shifted, and she seemed nervous. “Do you trust me?”

Normally, I would have said that I didn’t really know her well, and that she seemed nice. People could say that the mucus in the food had softened my resistance, and while that was true, it wasn’t all of it. Staring into her eyes, into those coral reefs alive with flame, my heart stirred, and I found myself believing in them.

“Yes,” I said.

She grasped the spoon in the bowl, and slid it through the nightshade ice cream, cutting off a piece and bleeding purple into the white bowl. She brought the purple morsel to my mouth, touching my lips with the cold metal.

“Eat this,” she whispered. “I will take care of you.”

I hesitated a moment, but looking in her eyes, I took the plunge. I parted my lips, and she forced the spoon inside. The taste was strong, both overwhelmed by her special ingredient but mixed with a very, very tart fruity taste. I let the sharp taste linger in my mouth a moment, making my teeth tingle, before I swallowed.

I began to feel light-headed, and woozy on my feet. Mel caught me gently in her arms, lowering me until I was laying on the pillows. She looked down at me with tender eyes, and concern.

“W-what…” I began, too drowsy to be alarmed.

“Don’t worry Sean; I’m going to take care of you…” she said sweetly, and as I faded into slumber, I felt her lips press against mine.

When I awoke, I was underwater.

I was in a tall dome, looking up at murky ocean water from a soft bed. The dome itself was lit with outside lights, and I could see the large shapes of various fish swimming past it, feel their shadows pass over me. A large green kelp rose up alongside the dome to my right, tall like a spruce or oak tree.

I was upon a bed of blankets and pillows. I was warm among them, though the air was cool. To my right was a nightstand with rice wine and two glasses upon it. A ways off was a cupboard and kitchen. I rubbed at my head, feeling groggy but otherwise no worse for wear.

The floor was metal, and in its middle was a pool into the water. The way in and out of the dome, I realized. I looked up the murky depths, and doubted I could reach the surface without help. I heard the sounds of splashing, and a moment later Mel slithered in from the pool. I stood as she rose from the water in a rain of droplets.

She was naked, and I realized that I was also. And what a sight she was! Her breasts were so firm and full, her hips curved, and her body flowed as she approached me, dancing through the air with the grace she swam through water.

“Where have you taken me?” I asked. “My company has a contract to secure my safety. V-Valkyries are…”

“It’s been arranged with your company,” Mel replied with a patient voice. “Madam Zao’s took care of it. We are in the Haberem Sea, twenty fathoms below the surface.”

I stared up at the water. “I am imprisoned here?”

“For now. I can breathe for both of us as we go to the surface, just as I did on the way down. This is an Oubliette,” Mel explained. “It’s a place where an aquatic monstergirl of a more…dominant persuasion can take her intended.”

“And h-how do you know that’s my interest?” I asked, fearful I would betray myself.

Her tail swished, like a cat with a mouse. “A predator can always tell,” she said. She drew in closer.

The way she looked at me – like food – made me begin to stiffen. I found my heart pumping, my breath short.

“She can see it in the eyes of her prey. Can see that desire to be taken without being asked.” Her eyes glanced down for a moment at my manhood, and my stiffness became a rock-hard erection. She smirked. “There are other, more obvious ways to see desire.”

I covered myself, or tried to, but Mel lunged, and when her skin made contact with mine, my will to resist ceased.

“I’m taking you,” Mel continued, her body coiling around mine. Her voice had an aggressive quality which sounded natural, but had been suppressed at the restaurant. She was slick with her mucus, and in contradiction to her menace, her little fish ears were wiggling madly.

“You…you lied to me,” I said in a soft voice, desperate to be angry and not to simply surrender to my desire for her.

“Yes. And I’d do it again to get you here. You are mine. I knew that when I first locked eyes with you. I like you. Don’t you like me?”

“I do, but it…it’s too soon…” I protested.

“No it isn’t,” she said, fiercely. She brought her face close to mine. “You are hurt. I am going to make you unhurt.”

“You can’t just fix heartbreak with sex,” I said. I was aware, however, that my penis was brushing against her womb, and eager to enter it.

“That’s where you’re wrong, kiddo. We aren’t going to have sex. We are going to make love,” Mel replied. Her coils tightened around my legs. “What better to mend a heart than love?”

The warmth of her body, the feel of the force in her words and embrace, began to dislodge me. “I don’t know…” I answered.

“I do,” She replied.

Her breath hit my face, and inhaling, I felt the same energetic high that I received from her mucus.

“Are you memories stronger than my warm breath upon your face?” She asked.

“I…uh…” I stammered.

She moved her lips near my ear, pressing her attack. “Perhaps the echoes of things said long ago are stronger than the sound of my voice?” She whispered, and the sweet tones traveled straight into my mind, invading my thoughts and becoming my own. I gasped.

Mel saw the effect, and with a triumphant grin she wiggled her body against mine, slowly, her smooth and slick skin gliding along my torso. Her breasts rubbed into my chest. My penis throbbed, and I could feel her labia pressed against my cock head. My heart raced in my chest.

“Doesn’t my body feel nice?” She asked, her voice a whisper.

“Yes…” I rasped quietly, totally overwhelmed. After all, what was a sad memory against the joy of feeling, of a tangible form full of love and desire? Feelings from within are strong, but those from without have power, also.

“Of course it does. It is the only body you will touch, or remember. You are to forget that other one.”

To punctuate her point, she squeezed me, rubbing her womanhood against my hardness. For the briefest of moments I pressed in and found a semblance of release before the aching returned.

“Oh, God…” I rasped.

“You are not to refer to Julia any more,” Mel said, and her displeasure at using the name herself was obvious. “From now on, she is Whore, and only then until she is forgotten completely.”

I opened my mouth in alarm, but she forced her lips over mine, and pushed in her smooth, wet tongue. She slathered her saliva down my throat. It was warm, and thick, and her tongue swam in it much like her eel body swam in water. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and held me in place as she continued to force her tongue and mucus in my mouth.

The kiss had intensity and passion, and though it was wet, it was more like fire than water.

The mucus was much like the ‘secret ingredient’, but far stronger, and as it entered my bloodstream I felt a massive surge of energetic lust.

She broke away her kiss, a trail of saliva from my lips to hers. She licked my face with her long, flat tongue, and through half-shut eyes I could see her satisfaction at my drenching.

“You look absolutely precious, covered in my spit. I’m taking you,” Mel said. “I’m going to kill the memory of her within you.”

She slid down my body until her full breasts were over my cock. Her orange eyes stared up at me in the darkness.

“Did she ever take you between her breasts?”

“Julia…”

She slapped me on the stomach angrily, making more noise than pain. “Who?!” She growled.

“S-she…Whore…did it once or twice. When we were first dating,” I said. I swallowed, watching as my penis rested in the small space between her swinging breasts, which were slick with her mucus.

“I see,” Mel said. “Well, it is going to happen once or twice every fucking day from now on, because I need to feel your dick there.”

My penis was wrapped in her slick mammaries. Even in the faint light, her breasts were shiny, like they had been slathered in baby oil, and the feel of her breasts against my hardness was as warm and wet as I could imagine. Her fish ears wriggled as she felt my manhood slide against her chest. I moaned, and she let out a happy cry of delight.

“You are so nice and hard,” She marveled. “I need to be careful – you could go at any moment!”

“Oh God, your breasts are so soft…” I cried out.

“Yes, they are, aren’t they, Sean? Are they better than Whore’s?” Mel asked in a taunting tone.

I nodded, vigorously.

“Then tell me,” she said. She wrapped my penis in her slick breasts and pressed me against her chest. I could feel her heart beating against my shaft. “Tell me my breasts are better than Whore’s.”

“Melian…” I began. “Your breasts are better than…than…”

“Say it!” She commanded.

“Than Whore’s. They are bigger and fuller,” I said. “They are wonderful. Oh God, it feels amazing…”

Mel laughed triumphantly, and began to slide her breasts up and down me. The contact between tits, chest, shaft, and head made a loud slurping sound that lingered with each stroke. I was filled me with almost unimaginable pleasure, wrapped as I was in soft and lubricated mammaries and pressed against her soft chest. I stared upward at the top of my fishbowl prison, and the bubbling air that rose up and out of it. My eyes rolled into my head as I left my manhood feel every wonderful sensation.

My eel girl seemed to enjoy the feeling as much as I did, and while she smiled she stopped to frown and let out little coos on occasion, when the feel of my cock between her breasts overwhelmed her. She slid eagerly, fucking my dick with her big and full boobs.

Mel leaned down between strokes and touched her tongue to the tip of my penis, flicking it as her orange eyes stared up at me and her fish ears wiggled. I could barely hold myself from emptying my balls into her face. She could tell how close I was, and she began to bathe my cock with her tongue, giving it the same treatment that my mouth had gotten. She stopped titfucking me momentarily, and took me all the way down my shaft.

This was too much for my penis to sustain, and I found myself close to climaxing.

“Mel…” I panted. “I’m…I’m…”

She backed off slightly, but still kept adoring attention to my penis with little kisses on my head.

“I know: you’re close. Whose cock is this?”

“It’s yours,” I said, eager for the release to come.

She kissed and sucked me, perhaps as a reward for acknowledging the apparent truth. “Does it belong to some whore?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Mel, please…”

“Call me your wife,” she said, and she betrayed a note both of impatient hunger and eagerness.

“W-what?”

“Say I’m your wife, sweetling…” she said, kissing and licking me. “Admit that you are mine, that I already own you.”

“Oh…Fuck!” I said, now close I was trembling. “Mel, you…will you marry me?”

This question more than satisfied her. She wrapped my penis in her breasts and slid them furiously against my shaft, so fast that but for her lubricating mucus I surely would have suffered a burn. Instead it was pure, mind-numbing pleasure, and I cried out and exploded. My white, hot cum erupted into her oily breasts to her squeals of delight, and she laughed loudly as her ears flapped.

“Oh, good job! Good job!” She exclaimed happily. She took her hands and gingerly wiped off each trail of my sperm from her tits and licked the cloudy film from her fingers with her tongue, making a production of swallowing and grinning at me.

“The answer, of course, is yes,” she said. “I already have married you – by mamono custom, if I make you ejaculate, you are mine.”

She began to rub my lingering hardness against her breasts, and instead of feeling pain or discomfort from the touch against my spent member, instead I felt more energized. The saliva against my penis soothed it and restored it, and within a few strokes I began to feel hard again, and more than hard, eager.

She reached over and took up a bit of the sake from the nightstand. She swished it in her mouth and swallowed. “There,” she said. “All nice and clean, for kisses…”

She leaned in over me, and now her body coiled about me and her arms and mine mingled. We began to kiss each other, and hold each other.

“Now Sean, tell me…” she whispered. “Tell me the most treasured memory from your embraces of the Whore.”

“We were both out drinking,” I said. “I was tired, and I was on the bed, and the Whore…she rode me while I lay there-”

I felt a prickling sensation as Mel enveloped my cock into her sex. Her coils pulled my hips toward her as her groin pressed forward onto me. The combination of pushing down on my cock and pulling it into her womb forced my cockhead against her cervix, and my eyes bulged with rapturous joy.

“You are mistaken, my sweet Sean…” Mel whispered, the scent of her saliva on her breath invigorating me. She slid herself up and down on my penis. “There never was such an event, or a night. There was only ever me, and my embrace.”

“Yes…yes, of course…” I said, my mind reeling from the sensations. I felt as if invaders had breached into my heart, into my inner most sanctum, but rather than defiling it, they had slain some hideous creature coiled within.

“I am glad that you know that,” she said with a patient smile and a wiggle of her ears. She began to exercise her coils as she grinded her hips, the sensation sliding her pussy up and down upon my shaft. Her mucus covered us both, and within her vaginal walls it was so thick and sopping that I almost glided through without friction, just the warm and smooth sensation.

She let out a little moan of pleasure, and her orange eyes stared into mine. She bucked and gyrated, and tightened her coils. The pleasure made us both pant and clutch each other tightly, and we kissed, licked, tasted each other’s mouths and faces. Her smooth and sopping walls were quick to overwhelm me, and the saliva brought with it an aroused energy that made me rock hard and throbbing.

I began to thrust with her gyrations, and her eyes widened. With sudden force she coiled on me, forcing me to stop.

“Bad Sean,” she growled. “Very, very bad! You do not thrust on me, ever, or you will ruin the memory! I fuck you, do you understand that?”

I nodded vigorously, my heart pounding as my deepest fantasy was realized. She renewed the pumping of her hips with massive aggression, thrusting me into her womanhood and putting my head against her womb over and over. I screamed in pleasure, much to her enjoyment, and her own cries came soon after. I put my hands to her soft fish ears and stroked them, and she cooed with delight, covering my face with kisses.

Eager in her total domination, Mel was soon howling, lost in the pleasure, clutching me so tightly that I could just barely breathe. Her musical, lyrical cries made my heart race, and made her grip me tighter as she forced me into her at a still faster pace. I could feel her tits against my chest, her arms around my waist, and the slickness of her sex against my shaft.

Despite her vulnerability to the pleasure she took from my penis, everything else established her utter supremacy over me: her coiled tail, her grip, the hungry, insatiable stare in her eyes. I was hers. She was fucking me, using me to make herself happy.

When she came, it was with loud cries of my name, and with her fingernails digging into my back, howling in pure mind-breaking pleasure. Her mouth opened, her eyes bulged, and her wet skin turned flush. She reached down and twisted at her little nipples, and taking my queue I eagerly took the job, gently squeezing and lightly twisting the erectile tissue and making her orgasm even more intense.

This, above all, felt the greatest and the best – I was able to give Mel pleasure, great pleasure, and she was alive with her enjoyment of my hard penis inside her, and of my thrusting. She had used me to make herself cum. I loved it.

The knowledge invigorated me, as did the tingling sensation of her mucus, and I erupted inside her womb with thick, full ejaculations that emptied the full contents of my genitals deep in her belly.

We both stared at each other in mutual amazement as our orgasms and their aftershocks subsided, and we began full, passionate, and feverish kissing. This was my soul mate, I knew that now. Our embrace would eventually end, her tail would inevitably uncoil from my legs, but that would be the exception. We belonged together, our forms fused in this way. This was how it was meant to be.

“Thank you,” I said, though it was hard to speak through the shower of kisses which Mel planted on my face and lips.

My Unagi Joro smiled triumphantly. “I have fucked you,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel better than I ever have,” I whispered. “You saved me, Melian. It’s like you are a bright light, and there are no shadows anymore. I love you.”

Mel clasped her hands together happily, giving me a kiss. “I love you, Sean. I will make you happy, I promise. I’ll be a good housewife to you. Cook for you, clean your house…”

“Fuck me?” I asked. “Use me to make yourself cum?”

She stared at me with a predator’s eyes. “Every morning and night,” she growled. “When you wake up in the morning, I shall drain you before you leave the bed. When you get home from work, the first thing you will have to do will he to get naked and get into our bed. I’ll coil you in my body and bring myself to orgasm on you, over and over…”

I kissed her eagerly, enjoying the feel of her soft lips against my own. “I like that,” I said. “I’ll need to settle up affairs back on Earth.”

“If that is what you want,” Melian said. “I would move there for you.”

I put a hand to her cheek and felt its softness, tracing my finger over the freckle on her cheek. “That is sweet of you, but there is nothing for me there, and everything for me, here. My company will permit me to work in the office on this side of the portal.”

Contented, Mel nestled on my chest. “That will be nice. I can show you the sights of my home world, and my home village. You will like my parents and my siblings, my aunts and my uncles. But don’t forget,” she whispered with a growl as she clutched my face in her hands. “You are mine.”

I stared up at the glass dome of my Oubliette. “Melian, my wife, I have forgotten much in here, but there is no way that I could ever forget that!”

If you liked this story, please consider visiting the link here to let me know at this poll at strawpoll.me. Thanks for reading!

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11 thoughts on “Melian’s Cure for a Broken Heart (Unagi Joro, femdom)

    1. >emotional investment
      I write stories, 100% for free, that take me hours to write, late at night after my fulltime job. I do it because I’m stupid, and I like when people say they liked my story. That’s all I ask for in return. And if you didn’t like it? Okay, you can tell me, but be respectful. I don’t appreciate abuse for something I wrote for free and shared with everyone. I am not being paid for this. I am sharing stories. In fact, this costs me money to do.

      You could have said, “can you add a tag to this?” and I’d do it, because trust me, I don’t want people reading things they won’t like.

      You say some of my stuff is good. Have you ever left a comment that you liked a story?

      >tagging
      If there is a tag you want to suggest for this story, I’ll put it on it. It’s tagged as femdom. I’m not sure what is missing. I know femdom is a sliding scale, but it’s safe to assume that in my femdom stories, things like this can happen, since they happen in almost all of the stories I write.

      As for the situation:

      In this story, if he wanted to leave, like truly wanted to leave, Melian would let him go. That’s pretty much a staple of everything that I write: the MC is enjoying what is happening to him. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t write it. Melian is giving him what he really wants. He wants to be taken away and have some care for him.

      Like

    2. Oh please. I didn’t “abuse” you. All I did was call that bitch a bitch, Sean the faggot that he is and you a hack writer, which you are. You’re a good writer (in the strictest sense of the word, of someone that writes), but you aren’t a good storyteller. You’re a GOOD writer because you have a good prose, your sentence structure flows well and your execution of imagery is also great. You are a BAD storyteller because your plot always bends itself to what YOU WANT to happen, not what would be a logic progression based on everything that has been set up before. For example:

      >Melian would let him
      If you honestly believe that that is AT ALL apparent to any reader, then jesus fucking christ, you’re more oblivious than I previously assumed.

      >the MC is enjoying what is happening to him. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t write it
      And yet you didn’t spend a single line to tell that to the reader. NOTHING shown to that point of Sean’s character gave any indication that he wished to be drugged and then kidnapped by a psychotic bitch, or that he wanted to be in a hard femdom relationship, SPECIALLY after what he had gone through with his ex.

      That’s why you’re a horrible storyteller. Instead of either setting things up and writing towards the ending that want to reach OR writing the ending that you’ve set up, no, you write the story that you want and climax that want, no matter how disjointed an incongruous they mutually are.

      As for tagging. Dude… if you really can’t think of any other tags except femdom that is in every story of yours, and the specific monster girl…. that’s just fucking sad, man.

      Like

      1. Dude, you are a man triggered by a free story because it hurt your fee fees, then begging for tags and not suggesting any. I have absolutely no reason to deal with, or talk to you anymore. Please stop posting on my site, and reading my stuff. If you continue, it is just a creepy and weird obsession with a guy you claim to hate.

        You don’t like my femdom, or my stories. Fine. Go and find a better use of your time. This tantrum and screed doesn’t change what I’m going to do at all. I don’t value your opinion.

        Like

  1. I never begged for tags, I just said that you should’ve appropriately tagged your story, just as I never said I hate, because I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you, so there’s no way to hate you.
    Sadly, there’s no better use of my time than this. And I don’t care, at all, if you value my opinion. I comment on stories for my own reasons, to vent the feelings they make me feel. Whether you reply or not, if I decide to read other stories from you, I will keep on commenting, either if they make me feel good or if they make me feel bad.

    Like

  2. No matter what others say about this piece, as someone who’s been through cheating a few times, this hit me really hard, and I enjoyed reading it.

    Aside from the narrow but heartwarming enjoyment of a story about heartbreak and new love, I also liked the sections of both the wise metaphor of the fire stove, but also the intellectual bit when Sean and Melian first meet.

    The former has been saved so that I may look at it in the future and the latter caught me off guard, as something rarely included. Personally, I like to see a segment where the mind is exercised a little, and seeing them discussing the way they talk and where they are from was a nice way to indulge in that.

    In all, it’s a wonderful piece, and I wish there were more like it. Going from extreme situations like Cheating and Divorce, or darker beginnings are very rare to find, and I honestly wish that there were more stories that started from a place of deep pain, and ended in a caring, loyal, and fulfilling love.

    Thank you for the read.

    Liked by 2 people

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