Tag Archives: bdsm
Masochism: dreaming of 100 lashes
I’ve never described myself as a masochist. Masochism implies a desire for pain that is pleasure in and of itself. But I don’t get wet from pain. It isn’t the smack of someone’s hand on my naked backside that gets me hot: it’s the dirtiness, the horniness. The fact that whacking me with the flat of his palm might make his dick hard. The pain itself is a by-product. To be endured, not enjoyed.
But sometimes endurance is the whole, miserable, masochistic point.
Struggle-fucking: hold me tighter
When I was young, my best friend used to come and hug me from behind. He’d wrap his arms around my stomach, with his skinny forearms nestling just under my breasts. Ridiculously in love with him, I’d seize the opportunity to breathe in the smell of him, lean backwards into his chest and wonder: if I struggled, just a little … would he hold me tighter?
Sensory deprivation sex, self-confidence and anxiety
As a general rule I don’t like blindfolds. I could try and bullshit you about how I like to look into someone’s eyes when they tip over the edge of a powerful orgasm, but while that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. My dislike of blindfolds comes from a meaner place. They’re a bit… tame, aren’t they? A bit … (whisper it) … 50 Shades? But laying my irrational snobbery to one side, the other day I cracked out one of my many airplane-branded blindfolds (they’re free, so I am literally allergic to not taking them home) to try some sensory deprivation sex.
Reward fucking and punishment fucking
This post’s going to talk about control, BDSM, intense beatings, and a few things that my partner and I have discussed and negotiated in a lot of detail. It’s erotic fantasy in a role-play context: it is not a guide for life.
Reward fucking: the act of getting exactly what I want because I’m a really good girl. Punishment fucking: the act of getting what I want by doing something that he – in turn – pretends to think is bad.
The wedding night fuck: a NSFW story
Before I begin, allow me a minute to put off 50% of you: this is not erotic fiction about what to do on your wedding night. It’s not a post about a romantic fuck at the end of your special day, or how to arouse your partner on the wedding night even though you’ve been together five years and you’re bored of the sight of their bollocks by now. If that’s what you’re after, then please pick up your warm white wine and move on to another buffet: this wedding night fuck is dirty.