Recently, I watched “Labyrinth” again for the thousandth or so time because it’s such a great movie. Aside from gawking at David Bowie’s titillatingly tight trousers and singing along with every song, I had a flash of pervy revelation. That scene with all the hands as Sarah falls into the oubliette. Uhuh.
Amalia likes the Tube. Except at rush hour, no-one likes being on the Underground at rush hour. Not being employed, she has the leisure to ride beneath and between the streets of London all day if she chooses but it never comes to that. Sooner or later her attention is distracted – a throaty laugh, a lustful glance, a bulging crotch; it doesn’t take much – and she has found her next vehicle, her next adventure.
I’m not remotely susceptible to hypnosis, much to my bitter disappointment. Probably because of that, I find it fascinating and live in hope that it will work on me one day. I’d love to play with hypno-kink.
This is a kinky fantasy of mine – I’m not a 24/7 lifestyle sub and I’d hate to be under someone else’s control all of the time, so being a slave isn’t something I’d want to do for real. But pretend, part-time sexual slavery….oh yes….oh yes please…..
Tonight is the night. We’ve negotiated the scene carefully, establishing hard and soft limits, safewords and safecues. He’s curious and slightly nervous at the idea of power I’m putting into his hands. I’m hyper-aroused by the prospect, wondering how he will choose to exercise it.
He greets me at the front door with our usual kisses – both tender and hungry, wordlessly telling each other of our sheer joy in being reunited.