Tag Archives: whip
A maelstrom of fuck: stories are never enough
There are marks on my thighs, on my arse, on my tits, and on my brain. All of those marks will fade. I could take pictures of the first three, but I’m terrible at photos, and even my very best attempts can’t hope to capture the things I really want to remember. The ache in my limbs and the sting of the flogger and the satisfaction of being held down and fucked. The all-encompassing, electric joy of getting ruined by two people at once.
This post features BDSM and impact play, some of it quite vicious. All of it extremely consensual. I don’t know how well I have written consent into this story, because I am too busy trying to capture the things that happened, but yeah… please understand that holy shit this is all consensual-as-fuck. It was more than consensual: it was a fucking gift.
Prosecco and coconut oil – we made a real mess
This story is part 2 of ‘The Virgin and the Escort’ – written and read by Ariadne Awakes. “For my 40th birthday, I decided to treat myself to my favourite thing: you. I bought the whip and the spreader; you bought prosecco and coconut oil…”
Three sadists walk into a dungeon – play in a BDSM club
This gorgeous real life story about play in a BDSM club is by Victoria Blisse, and first appeared on her website. It is read here by Sherryl Blu. Features sadism, BDSM, pain and blood.
It was Kev’s birthday party at Miss Ts. I was wearing my new polka dot dress with pockets and telling everyone it had pockets because that is a given. I was doing my hosting duties and when I wasn’t I was sitting between Kronopticon and Palantilin. I tell you, there’s something quite decadent about flopping down on a sofa between two hot guys, both happy for you to snuggle close and touch them. The two meanies hadn’t met before, but they seemed to bond quite happily over their mutual desire to hurt me.
I was glad to be of service.
The call of the beast – Fear erotica
This spine-tingling fear erotica, by Victoria Blisse, first appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
I stand on the threshold, heart beating fast, eyes opened wide. Behind me: safety, warmth, mundanity. Ahead: dangers untold. Imagined in minute detail.
Whip me, fuck me, distract me
When he asked me what I wanted, as my reward for winning the game, I think he expected me to demand pleasure. Orgasms, delivered by hand and vibrator, or his wet lips wrapped round my nipples. Maybe a good, hard fuck bent over the sofa. Instead I asked him for pain. “Whip me,” I told him.
Note, this post makes references to That Fucking Virus and These Weird Times.