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From: cats_sara@yahoo.com (Cat's sara)
Reply-To: cats_sara@yahoo.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 09:07:52 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Spell Checker - (FF,FD,DS,BD,MC) - By Cat's sara
Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 17:10:04 -0400
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If you are younger than 18 years
If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words full of sexual sleaze
Do us both a favor and skip this, please.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere.
Copyright 2000 by Sara H.

"Shockingly Black," used in reference, is brought into this fiasco
by kind permission of Eye of Serpent.

The characters in this story are real, although the circumstances
are not. Really. It's just an idea that came into my head and I had
to get it out in order to get on with other writing. Please enjoy, if
it tickles your fancy.

- Sara

----

Spell Checker

By Cat's sara

Categories: FF, FD, DS, BD, MC

----


Those of you that have corresponded at any length with me know that
one of my greatest frustrations in writing is grammar, followed
closely by spelling homonyms. You know, those little words that the
spell checker says you wrote perfectly: "Mai pea sea is knot
correcting prop early."

Every time I post a new story, I find little mistakes I made, and it
drives me crazy. It doesn't matter how many times I proofread; there
are always one or two things that I miss.

Then there is the annoying grammar checker that wants to change
every sentence to something that doesn't make sense. Like in the
story "Blasphemy," the grammar checker said that I should change "a
woman, dressed in a jumpsuit identical to her own" to, "a woman,
dressed in a jumpsuit identical to her owns." Now, tell me, does that
make sense? No! And that's not even one of the really *stupid*
examples.

The heart of the problem, though, is that I don't ever have enough
time to go over my writing at length. So, I decided that my mission,
should I choose to accept it, should be to find a really, really good
spelling and grammar checking program.

I couldn't find anything at the local stores that seemed to fit my
needs, so I did a search on the Internet. I got thousands of
listings, most of them complaining about the same problem I was
having. I tried defining my search a little better, and got the
listings down to three hundred or so. Then I searched in *those*
listings for "spell +correction."

The first listing that came up was just what I was looking for.

It advertised that it could check anything written for context, for
spelling, and even had a pronunciation guide, and it had a language
base that could work in every modern language as well as more
obscure, ancient languages. It included a translator, and a "Spell
Check Wizard" that would let me tune my prose to my personal
preferences. It looked perfect.

It also cost $250.00, but I figured if it was good enough, it would
be worth it. It was still less than most of the software I used. I
ordered online and even paid the ridiculously high shipping charge
for next day delivery. I was psyched.

When I came home from work the next day, it was waiting for me on
the doorstep.

My partner, Susan, was working late, so I took the opportunity to
load it and try it out. It included one floppy disk and one CD-ROM,
and took only about five minutes to load (and integrate itself into
my word processor). It demanded to be registered, and it was kind of
odd. It not only asked name and address and computer information, but
asked for spousal/partner information, names of friends (I assumed to
include names in its dictionary), and personal statistics, up to and
including sexual orientation. *"What the heck,"* I thought, filling
everything in.

My first experiment was a story I'd written over a year ago; one
that was so bad that I'm almost embarrassed to mention it. It was
called "The Necklace," and was a typical "jewelry with amazing
powers" sort of story. I won't go too much into the details, because
that was then and this is now. It will have to suffice for me to say
that it wasn't my best work.

As soon as I asked it to check the story, it came up with the Spell
Check Wizard menu that asked for what I wanted it to do. I decided to
go for it. I checked the boxes next to Spelling, Grammar, Continuity,
POV First Person. At the bottom there was a little sliding scale
thingy that went from "Fiction" at one end to "Realism" at the other.
I thought it was kind of strange, considering my understanding of the
definitions of fiction and reality... but I decided to make it 80%
realistic. I thought I might as well see what this program would do
when I let it loose.

I hit the "Finish" button and waited. The thing churned for nearly
twenty minutes, stopping, starting, stopping, and restarting. Finally
it finished, and I looked at what it had done.

To my surprise, it had changed very little, but as I read I was
amazed at how much the subtle changes made a difference. It also
changed the names of the characters to people in my life, including
myself. I decided that it was the "Realism" factor. Regardless, I
couldn't stop reading, and read it three times through before I could
bring myself to quit for a moment.

At the bottom of the last page was some kind of Latin phrase... a
corporate motto, I assumed, followed by copyright information and the
note, "Spell checked and approved." Kind of arrogant, but hey, it had
done a great job, so who was I to complain?

I returned from the Land of Critique, and realized that I felt a
little scornchy, so I decided to take a shower. Susan would probably
be home by the time I was done, and I was hoping for a nice night
together. Damn, reading that story had made me hot... and although I
usually relate well to the victim in MC stories, it was *much* more
intense to see my own name taking up that place in the story.

I let my soapy fingers run over my nipples, and found them
incredibly hard and sensitive... tried to tweak them but the soap
kept making them slip out... absolutely delicious. My mind turned to
Susan as I let my fingers "clean" my clit... it seemed like it had
never been quite so sensitive...

I decided to wait for Susan to come home before I continued... the
way I was feeling, all hot and randy, was something she would
definitely want to share.

----

I was watching the six o'clock news when Susan walked in the door.
"Hey, babe... you're late... I was wondering if you had found someone
else," I pouted, teasing her.

"No way, Sara... I just stopped to pick up something," she smiled
back, holding a hand behind her back.

"Nothing for me?" I joked, smiling.  "I'm disappointed!"

She held out a small box, without wrapping paper but with a cute
little silver bow on it. "No, I just saw it and knew it was 'me',"
she shot back, grinning from ear to ear. "I know you're gonna love
it..."

She opened it slowly, while I watched... and my heart nearly stopped
when I saw what was inside. It was an alexandrite pendant necklace,
and the stone was at least five carats. A small fortune. But more
than that, it was exactly... and I mean *exactly*... like the one in
my story.

"Well, put it *on*," I said impatiently. "You didn't buy it just for
me to gawk at in the box!"

"Okay," she said, hesitating. This was just too weird. "My God,
Susan, it's just beautiful," I added. I meant it, too. It was
gorgeous. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I began to notice a sort of
dreamy throb somewhere between my ears.

She pulled it over her hand, and let it dangle in front of our eyes.
Then, something else strange happened. I felt a wave pass through me,
sending a shiver. "Someone just walked over my grave," I laughed.

Susan was still gazing, admiring her new purchase. She was looking
kind of intense, actually. "Huh?" she finally murmured.

"I was just saying that seeing this thing on you sent a shiver
through me... too weird, eh?"

"You *do* like it very much, don't you, Sara."

"It makes you look like a queen, Susan," I gushed, almost with awe.
"It's like it's a part of you or something..."

"Well, then, go fix your queen a fuzzy navel, my loyal subject!" she
quipped. Now, I know you don't know me, but really, what happened
next was quite out of character.

"Yes, M'lady," I responded.  Where had *that* come from? *The
story,* came the answer. I thought I had been joking, but my feet
walked me into the kitchen, eyes cast down, and I heard the clinking
of glasses as I began to do just as she had "commanded." My head was
*definitely* in a weird place. I was thinking of not doing it, but
kind of getting turned on by it, too.

Still, I didn't take it too seriously. We always play around, and I
figured I was just letting myself go a little. Why, then, did it feel
like the voice of reason in me had nothing to do with my actions? And
why was the thought coming back to me over and over to surrender, to
submit, to obey? Why was this pressure growing in my mind and down my
spine and into my asshole and clit to worship my Queen - I mean, my
lover and partner?

The story. Real. 80%. Holy fucking shit...

I began to fight the compulsions, but fighting just made hot sparks
shoot through my slutty little clit and nipples as if connected by an
electrical wire. My revulsion just made me hotter to obey... my mind
was starting to fall into line... I could feel each barrier crumbling
under the relentless need to obey the wearer of the alexandrite... my
snatch was fucking *dripping* and my mind was dripping away with it.

Every step back into the room took me deeper into Susan's
irrepressible draw. I glanced up into her eyes, and gasped. *She
knew! The bitch KNEW!*

"Serve, slave," she commanded, her voice filled with strength she
had never before possessed.

I tried to hold my legs back, but all that happened was that I
looked awkward. *"A slave must be smooth and perfectly graceful,"*
came the soft inner command. Of course, smooth and graceful... smooth
and...

I tried to reconcile the widening gap between the last of my reason
and my powerful, almost instinctive, reactions as I bent to one knee,
and then bowed low before my Queen. No, Susan. My Queen. Susan my
Queen. My Mistress. My protector. My existence. No. My purpose.
Whore. Yes. No. Obey. Surrender. Slut. Submit. *"Let go for Queen
Mistress Susan,"*the inner voice began to chant.

I raised and held up to her the glass of orange juice and peach
schnapps. Before I could even think, my lips spoke. "May this cold
refreshment please Your Highness as much as it has honored Your slut
to make and present it to You..."

I nearly gagged at the cornpone of my words, but they flowed out,
nonetheless. I was the victim of my own poor attempts at dialog...

She opened her legs, and I saw a thin wisp of my Queen's juices drip
down in a long, sinewy dollop. That's when I finally gave in, when I
finally knew that my Queen had won, that I was beyond choice as my
own tongue drooled in sympathy with her wanton, beautiful cunt. I
fell to her as her hands guided me, and began to lap up... up...
up... up... up... up... and as she screamed out her pleasure, it
screamed out through me... our bodies one in our obscene parody of
life, but life that was now real...

Her hands reached out and pulled on my nipples, hard. The pain
nearly made me scream... but I held my tongue. I felt the delicious
rapture of fear and desire, wanting to please, afraid of the pain
pleasing might bring. I was at the top floor, and watched inside my
mind as my hand, slowly, unstoppably pressed the button for the
basement. Da basement. Debasement.

My psyche was at the great chasm of total submission, of letting go
until nothing was taboo, and my existence was only held to earth by
the word of my Queen...

My mind was spinning uncontrollably down into the quagmire of total
submission, my body singing its pleasure as my Mistress Queen was
pleased, and I felt her hands, stinging, slap my ass come around to
my belly, scratching. I flinched at every touch, gentle or stinging,
and I didn't just feel apathy, I *wanted* her to use me for her
pleasure, whatever that would mean. There was no end to her torture
and pleasure, combining and recombining them so that more and more
they were the same thing...

I felt the inevitable building of my release, my rapture, and when I
felt myself cum this time, and felt it take me over, my mind and my
soul, my body bucking like a mindless whore in the dance of endless
abandon, it was not even on the frigging Richter scale.

It was the sun burning through my soul.

Just like my story.

I won't even talk about what she did with clothespins... but it was
wonderful.

Finally, after we tasted every inch of each other, and teased each
other to untold glory and climax upon maddening climax, she fell
asleep.

Taking what I knew must be the 20% that was still mine, I crept back
to the computer, and clicked on the "Undo" button. At that moment, I
came to believe that perhaps there is a God. Or a Goddess.

Still, the event changed our relationship. Although "Queen" and
"Highness" are no longer standard parts of my vocabulary, there is no
doubt who is in charge. She is my obsession and I am her toy. It is
just as it should be.

I know how it was. This is better. Better than I ever dreamed it
could be.

And that would be the end of *this* story, but...

----

....the real problem is this. I think I'm in trouble. In a moment of
even further weakness, I ran the story, "Shockingly Black," through
my Spell Checker.  Like my own story, I gave it the full treatment,
except I set it to 100% realism. I know I'm probably insane. Just
now, I answered a knock on the door, and I opened it to find a
suitcase sitting on my doorstep.

And, despite every instinct that's telling me not to, I'm about to
open it.




----

Please send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com.

- Sara



http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sara_H/www/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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