You said you enjoyed humiliation, forgetting – just for a moment – that you were pouring your heart out to a gleeful sadist. You saw the ideas flicker across his face, quirking the corner of his lips, dilating his pupils.…
Three shakes of their fists, and they both choose ‘paper’. An opening gambit, each hedging their bets, testing the other. Eye contact locked and loaded. Game on.
A strange ability, a voyeurism kink, and a hot lunchtime fuck
A mean machine-cuckqueaning scene
It’s roulette boys, but not as you know it
The story I wish I’d entered into Round 4 of Smut Marathon, instead of the one I actually did
Ruffled skirt flouncing, heels stamping, she dances her valediction to his venomous embrace. Beneath her dress, broken, bitten flesh burns and sways in time to the guitars, her blood pounding in time to the handclaps of her audience and the…
I guess I brought this on myself, in a literal as well as figurative sense. The law says that the template individual is solely responsible for the actions of their clones, no matter which of them actually does the nefarious…
The woman in the mirror is frowning, brow creased and biting her bottom lip. A quarter-turn to the left, then to the right, appraising with a critical eye. I look up and meet my own eyes, counter the expression of anxious self-doubt with a wry roll. Let my tummy relax from its tense, defensive, held-in stance. Allow the truth to seep in and expand before me. I may never regain the smooth flat planes of my teenage shape. A sigh.
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.