Lessons in Domination #1
Fun and filth with fabulous friends
Tag: threesome
All Yours
“He wants to see you. Downstairs.” Grace’s tone is ominous, a current of dark humour running beneath the surface, echoing…
Sexorcism
Exorcism-themed BDSM threesome; a fantasy of kinky correction
On Display
Flogged and edged for an appreciative audience
Sex dream
A very disturbing dream featuring an ex, a figment of my imagination and a hot MFF threesome with dark emotional undercurrents
My libido woke from its temporary hibernation and delivered this dream, alongside my writing mojo. Welcome back to both. Please feel free next time not to drag That Guy up out of my subconscious along with you.
BIG RED CONTENT WARNING: hatefuck, slightly NC, anger
like all good parties, most of the action has coalesced in the kitchen. Guests lean against the counters, drinks in one hand, the other draped casually around nearby waists or scrabbling at tortilla chips. Robust opinions mingling in good-natured rowdiness against the backbeat of the nostalgic 90s Britpop blaring from the corner speakers.
I’m standing alone by the back door, trying not to sneak too many glances at him in case he notices. It’s been a long time since we split up, under not-entirely-amicable terms (for which I must accept my share of responsibility – which is most of it). He’s changed little, his long blond hair showing evidence of recent highlighting; handsome, boyish – almost delicate – Nordic cheekbones and wide blue eyes, tip-tilted nose a startling contrast to the sandy goatee and black leather clothing. My stomach flutters when I look at him. Admiration, for he is as pretty as I remembered. Apprehension, in case he is still angry or worse – disdainful. Hope. A tiny, flickering butterfly of hope. For what, I’m not exactly sure. Something.
#Pervember Joker: Spit-roasting
Today’s prompt was “branding” and that’s definitely not one of my kinks (nothing wrong with it between consenting adults of course, just doesn’t do anything for me) so I couldn’t really think of anything to write about it. Instead, I’m playing one of the jokers – something I have always wanted to experience and fantasise about frequently.
Spit-roasting, with its connotations of gluttony and primitivism; myself as nourishment and celebration, as sacrifice and utility.
A choice, perhaps; between the carnal and the alimentary….
CW: this story depicts not-quite-consensual sexual activity.
Window-shopping
I’m pretty sure I actually saw this on the way home today. Even if my eyes deceived me at the time, it makes for a pretty damn hot fantasy. How lucky it just happens to be #MasturbationMonday!
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So picture this. You’re on the bus on the way home from the station. It’s been a long and demanding day, so all you want to do is silence the whirling work-thoughts buzzing around your brain. You’ve been idly contemplating your favourite sexual fantasies on the journey so far, picking out which to play on your mind’s projector that evening when you settle naked onto your bed. You’re gazing out of the window, not really registering what you’re seeing as you picture scenes of dominance, restraints, floggings and hard fucking.
Then it happens. The bus jolts over a speed bump and you look up momentarily, to meet her eyes.