A Tale of Two Breannes

In 2004 I wrote a short story entitled "The Museum of Inquisition," a cute little tale describing a certain lush, college aged red-head with a penchant for BDSM. She was an unwilling actor in the story, and I never intended to bring her back as a character, until a month or two later when a reader contacted me.  Full of praise for the story, the young lady who wrote me waxed philosophic on sex, making it clear that had she been the girl in my story, she would have volunteered, rather than been forced into the situation.  She loved the artistry of the story.  She loved the sex.  She loved how it made her feel, and most importantly, she loved that she had the same name as the main character.

And that was how I met Breanne Erickson.  Admittedly, she was an unwholesome influence on me, as anyone reading my "Angie" stories can attest, since the relationship between Angie and Kat are practically replications of Breanne's relationship with Kari.  Completely with Breanne's permission and knowledge, I used some of her "tales" as fodder for my writing.

But it wasn't enough.  Angie was sufficiently different from the real Breanne that I felt as if something was missing.  And it was.  And so I penned "The Silver Locke," a true Breanne story that encapsulated the real thing into a two dimensional, fictional character and set the facsimile on a different path.  The real Breanne remained in Katy, Texas, working her parent's farm, all while my fantasy began working at an imaginary, high-cost, BDSM themed whorehouse on some unnamed Indian Reservation.  The real Breanne thought my fantasy fantastic, and actually told me she was jealous.

It was about this time that Breanne started showing me her own work, such as "The Computer," a piece she wrote ages ago.  It wasn't bad and as our online relationship matured, I invited her to post to my blog, hoping - somewhat selfishly - that her daily "toys" and assignments would be a draw for readers.

I was right too.  Breanne's daily assignment postings became this massive thing and her writing improved in leaps and bounds.  Two or three paragraph postings became pages, then "parts" and finally  "chapters."  The lure?  Her amazing narratives, which brought not only a sense of realism to the sex, but a touch of humor and self-depreciation.  Breanne presented sex from not only an arousing perspective, but from a human one as well. 

I fell in love with her just as any one else might, and like a writer of fan-fiction, I took my pen in hand and expanded the role of my fantasy version of the real thing.  Except now the character added dimensions of the real girl.  As I came to know Breanne Erickson, nympho humiliation pain slut, my fantasy fictional Breanne evolved to more closely resemble the flesh and bones girl.  I wrote Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM as well as the short story "Heart of Ice" (included in "The Silver Locke").  Can you tell I was fixated?

As the real Breanne's popularity surged I swore to stop writing Breanne stories, to go back to my "Angie" character, or perhaps work on Tami from Corporal Punishment, or maybe even finish writing my other Sigma Epsilon Chi tale, bringing Samantha Mayfield back to readers.  But as much as I love Tami's light brown hair swinging wildly as her cute little teenage bottom wriggles under the strap, or Samantha Mayfield's brunette locks bobbing as she struggles to sit quietly on the punishment phallus, there was something missing.  Something red.

I'm just as much in love with my fantasy Breanne as I am with the real girl, just as many of you are.  And I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I miss her.  I miss the tweets.  I miss the silly commentary.  I miss the eye-widening, hilarity of her prose.  I miss her colloquialisms.  I miss visiting the blog, brightening my day to see a new post from her.  And while I'm still in touch with Breanne, and we're working on editing "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 8," it still isn't the same.

I miss you, Breanne.   - MA