Tag Archives: belt
Post-apocalypse relief duty: Servicing him
Next in the wank-tales series, in which I tell you some of the fantasies that I masturbate over (and which are precious to me, please don’t kinkshame), I’m gonna take you forward to an unspecified point in the future when most of humanity has been wiped out and the remnants are trapped in huge communal bunkers. This piece includes some dubious consent (potentially non-consent, but I’ve tried to write a few consent cues into the text so it’s less brutal than it is in my head). As explained before, I have a kink for misogyny, and fantasies about being used fit the bill for that kink pretty well. As per previous stories like free use secretary, this is not a how-to manual for life, it is only fun in fantasy and role play. Features some BDSM/beating, aggression and coercion too. Here’s a story about being on post-apocalypse relief duty.
The party: making your ex jealous
This fabulous story is written and read by JM Seaborn. I couldn’t work out how to categorise it, but it touches on a fantasy that I imagine quite a few people will have had, leaning in to the idea of making your ex jealous by fucking a new partner. Note that this story contains use of the words ‘Daddy’ and ‘Babygirl’ during kink. All characters in the story are over the age of 18.
It’s a busy house party and you’re nervous for two reasons. 1. Your ex is going to be there. 2. This is the first time your friends will meet Daddy.
Palm punishment: hands out, palms up, I’ll get the belt
I understand why the bottom is the go-to place to spank. It’s deliciously wobbly, satisfying to stroke and touch, and it frames the cunt so nicely. If someone’s going to lay into me, I get why they want to start off with my arse. But I reckon there’s another hot place for punishment that doesn’t involve me removing any of my clothes. Hands out, palms upwards, strapped with a belt or a tawse. Unngh.
The blue scarf – She teases her slut
This glorious erotic fiction is written by E. L. Byrne and read aloud here by Sherryl Blu.
She wraps the pale blue scarf tightly around my eyes. I can’t see anything and my breath catches. I’m nervous. I trust her, we’ve talked about this in detail, but now that the darkness is upon me…
Sober sex: chasing the fuckrush
I start this fucking weird day (a day which I hope will contain at least some weird fucking) with two cups of coffee. And then a third, to be on the safe side. But you can’t get high on coffee… at least I can’t. I’m meeting this guy at eleven am, and we’re going to fuck in his hotel. At eleven. In the morning. I am stone cold fucking sober, and sober sex is a pretty new kink.