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.

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I love being a submissive. Although I play in a dominant mode sometimes, I tend to be most comfortable at the absolute rock-bottom of the power hierarchy. And as a sub who desperately wants people to use and degrade me, I’m always fascinated by how those fantasies look from those who perform the degradation. What is it that appeals about being dominant? How does it feel to perform the kind of acts that I love, when you have to be the one wielding cruelty? This week’s fabulous guest blog is written by a dominant guy – who has guest blogged beautifully here before – in response to a question I asked about this. I love being submissive, but what does it mean to love being dominant? I’m so grateful to him for his thoughtful (and extremely hot) response, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did.

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I ask: “please will you hurt me?” and he stares down into my face. In contrast to my own childish eagerness, I always find this particular guy disarmingly grown-up. When I ask him to hurt me he replies, simply: “How?”. It’s not confusion, it’s a flex. He knows there are many ways to hurt me, and this feels like a way to neatly work in consent – giving me the task of articulating my desires aloud. In the moment I can’t work out how – my mind is just a blur of want. For him specifically. His strong arms, powerful muscles. The dominant way he carries himself. Combined, these attributes give a tall woman like me that precious, rare feeling of being outgunned. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “Just… fight me for it.”

Note: this post involves a super hot fuck that hinges on consensual non-consent, i.e. me pretending I don’t want to get fucked when actually I really do. The man who features in it knows this, and would not play this way with me unless he was confident I could (and would) withdraw consent if it all got too much. This post is not a ‘how-to’ manual on kinky fucking, there’s a lot of background chat behind this kind of sex.

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A few days before we’re due to hang out, he texts me a fantasy. Couched in the standard consent-focused caveats (“Only if that sounds hot to you…”) that I find extremely cute – they function essentially as the ‘no worries if not!’ of fucking. His request is neat, specific, and very easy to achieve: he wants to arrive at my place, have me greet him at the door with no words whatsoever, then as soon as he’s inside, drop to my knees and start sucking his dick. No words, just cocksucking.

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As part of operation ‘give myself some time off and a bit of leeway to commission new guest audio’, here’s another piece of improv erotica written using prompts suggested by my extremely lovely and creative Patreons. If you’d like to read all the improv erotica (including a lot that’s never been published here on the site), support the audio porn project at any level and click this link. If you just wanna listen to a story about a lady getting horny in the changing room of a clothes shop, click ‘listen now’ above.

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