Chair Scene

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

One of them pushes me across the room, small contemptuous shoves as the others look on with predatory smirks, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. Today I’m playing the dumb terrified animal captured and tormented; I move as though in a daze, eyes wide and trembling, silent and passive. I’m a toy, a vessel, a doll for them to play with until they get bored or break me, whichever comes first. For this I need no words. Nothing is required of me but pliant flesh, open holes, a heartbeat.

Ambivalent

Scenes of non-consensual activity on TV turn me on…and make me feel guilty. Am I a bad person?

The Fella and I have been binge-watching ‘Sons of Anarchy’ lately. I’m enjoying it very much, the plot twists are clever and the characters are complex. It’s violent and pretty fucking harsh in places, and that’s what triggered this blog post.

Without going into detail that might reveal spoilers, there are some scenes of nonconsensual sexual activity, quite graphically depicted. Gratuitously, one might say, considering that this is fiction and not documentary; what is the necessity to portray for entertainment the awful things that people might do to each other? Perhaps it’s for titillation – and this is where the title of this post comes in for me.

Conference Call

I close the door of the hotel room and lean against it, kicking off my kitten-heel shoes with a sigh. Conferences are always so exhausting once the high of getting my geek on wears off. My mind is racing; notes to make, follow-up emails to send, ideas, conversations, names, faces…it’s all too much to cope with right now. I reach for my phone and text Him.

Cake

Quinn Rhodes wrote a very sexy story this week involving girls and cake. It made me wet and urgently horny as hell. In gratitude for the inspiration, I dedicate this to her – she’s a great writer and a lovely person.


It was just a tiny nibble. A small corner of a small slice of choclate cake, the slightly-rounded edge my teeth had left barely visible except on close inspection.
But inspect it she did. She knows me too well.

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