This is ‘Consent’ – a story demonstrating why consent is sexy, written and read by JM Seaborn. Note that this story uses ‘Daddy’ as an honorific. All characters are over 18.
Consent isn’t homework. It’s not the boring part or the legal disclaimer. It’s not the vegetables you have to eat to get to dessert. Consent is the pulsing electricity that will pass between us with enough power to blow the bulbs of a city.
Consent is everything.
Consent is why your cunt is mine and no one else’s.
My property. My toy. To fill and to stretch, to kiss and to use.
Consent is why your cunt weeps when I squeeze your throat.
Consent is why you sink to your knees, and why you don’t panic when I fuck your face and make you gag.
Consent is why we can build a whole universe inside a small room. Our own bubble. Our own rules.
This is the most exclusive place in the world. This is where you will be degraded and worshipped, bruised and healed.
Consent is why you can release your brain along with your body. It’s why your worries didn’t pass the threshold when I carried you in here, tossed you on the bed and called you my whore.
Consent is why danger with me feels so safe. Why my size and aggression feel so comforting.
Consent never leaves us. It’s not a green light, flashed at go time.
It’s a continuum of noises, gestures, utterances and trigger points.
Consent is the look you give me when you’re trying to cook and I bite your neck.
It’s the smile I spy when I push you against the wall and you bang your head.
It’s the giggle you make when I rip your tights and it’s the way you swear when my finger pushes into your ass.
I take consent a thousand times a minute. I refresh it endlessly, never allowing it even the briefest moment of rest before securing it again.
I read every sentence, word, and punctuation mark your body writes.
It scribbles furiously, the needy little slut.
And if those sentences contain even a hint of reluctance or worry, or if our safe word makes even the slightest appearance, consent is my self control. It’s your perpetual access to your own power.
But you don’t want it back.
Consent is using your body and your voice to answer the question that’s asked a thousand times a minute: Is this what you want?
Yes, Daddy.
More. Give me more.
Consent isn’t just boundaries – it’s exploration.
It’s why all your holes will fill with cum tonight.
Consent is why your friends playfully ask about bruises. It’s why I can put your soaked underwear into your mouth as I finger fuck you and mock you for being such a dirty girl.
Consent makes me powerful.
I love it. I need it. I won’t ever act without it.
It’s feeling you submit to me over and over and over again. It’s being told I am special. Being shown I am worthy.
Consent is the glorious high of knowing you want me, and only me.
It’s an addiction for which there is no cure.
Consent. Is. Everything.
If you liked this gorgeous piece about why consent is sexy you can find more of JM Seaborn at writteninkink.com, or on Twitter at @JMSeaborn, or head to the audio porn page for more sexy stories read aloud.
1 Comment
Great text. Too often I’ve been in contact with potential or actual dates who believe consent to be a nuisance, restricting , annoying, limiting. Its the opposite and this is greatly spelled our here.