Some people spend their spare time knitting, while others prefer more dangerous hobbies – abseiling, base jumping, exploring tiny dark caves that they might get stuck in – the kinds of activities that get their adrenaline racing. The same is true of kink. While many will be satisfied with a little light bondage and some occasional role play with a safe word, others like to dive deeper and kink things that others find far more scary. There aren’t many people I’d commission to write a guest blog about consensual gaslighting, but Jenby – who’s tackled things like surveillance, tongue-stapling and Total Power Exchange with extremely enthusiastic consent – is right up there. So! Today she’s here to talk about gaslighting as kink. And although I know it sounds like a cliché to tell you ‘don’t try this at home’, I’m going to say it anyway. As a general rule, the darker and more potentially harmful a kink is, the better you need to be at playing safely and communicating and all those important things. I would no more trust a stranger to write this post than I’d follow a stranger into a dark cave without safety rope and proof of competence. But Jenby’s written so much before from her eagerly submissive perspective that I rate her as an expert spelunker of kink’s darkest and twistiest caves, so if anyone can talk gaslighting as kink, it’s her.

Note that this piece does exactly what it says on the tin: discusses gaslighting as kink play. It also features ‘Daddy’ as an honorific – everyone in this story is over the age of 18. 

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One of my favourite songs by The Beautiful South, Prettiest Eyes, tells the story of a lifelong love by the lines it has drawn on the face of the singer’s beloved. “Line one is the time that you, you first stayed over at mine. And we drank our first bottle of wine. And we cried.” Life makes its mark on you, if you’re lucky enough to keep living it. The lines you draw tell a story about how you’ve lived. In the spring of 2026 I drew these lines.

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Remember a while back when I wrote about how great it is to have tits? This week’s blog post is on a similar theme, but with a different incredible body part. It’s a post I have desperately, eagerly, fervently hoped someone might write, because I want to experience and feel the perspective on genitals I do not have myself. So please give not just a warm welcome but a standing ovation to Kara, who has written a guest blog about the joy of having a cock that is so evocative and descriptive I almost felt myself getting a ghost boner as I read it. Take it away Kara…

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“Breathe for me,” he says, all soft-dom calm and patient. I’m lying on my back and his dick is almost inside me. It’s taken a lot of work for us to get to this point. And by ‘work’ I mean, of course, ‘fun’. I’ll explain all that in a second, but for now just know that I’m lying on my back, folded in half, and he’s got his hands on my thighs. Holding my ass at the perfect angle for him to slip his cock in with least resistance. There is still resistance, though, because he’s got girth and I’m lacking in practice. That’s where the meditative breathing comes in.

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It’s 11:24 in the evening, and we’ve already had a phenomenal time. A card, a cute gift, cake even. A devastating fuck that was as playful as it was brutal, which ended in him thoroughly draining his balls nice and deep in my cunt. Off the back of a week when I’ve been showered with kind words and birthday wishes from friends and family, I can’t remember the last time I felt this lucky and calm. Happy, sated and loved. And there are 36 minutes of my birthday still to go, so I ask him: “will you do exactly as I ask until it ends?” Yes, he will. Of course he will. Even though he quite rudely specifies ‘within reason’. As if I’d be anything other than reasonable in my requests…

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