A follow on from last weeks Wicked Wednesday piece Cool Shower.
Content Warning: Humiliation and degradation.
‘So … Together or apart?
‘Apart. They’ve enjoyed each other too much today. Time to separate them.’
At our attempts to get on with showering and preparing for lunch, their hands rose into a stop motion and the words ‘don’t you dare move’ were uttered. We both sat motionless on the bed, as the atmosphere in the room shifted.
‘Which one do you want?’
‘Well mine needs a shower, she’s filthy and some punishment for fucking yours. So you take her.’
I love it when they speak about us like this, reduced to nothing but commodities, things they can share between them. The loving endearments of our individual relationships cast aside, while the focus becomes ownership and hedonism.
I am unceremoniously dragged to the bathroom and he shuts the door behind us, muffling the sounds that are beginning to come from the bedroom. He has that look that tells me he is going to make this hurt, whether that is physical or emotional it’s hard to tell.
Physical comes first as his hand makes contact with my face in a firm slap, with a simultaneous command to get on my knees.
His shorts are barely containing his cock and it bursts forth as if it has been suffocating when he undoes his button and zip. Once free it is forced into my mouth, his hand clamped in my hair. I gag and I drool as tears stream from my eyes.
When he releases me, I briefly gain enough focus to hear deep, enthusiastic moans of pleasure coming from the bedroom. I know he’s inside her, pushing, throbbing, lost in the thrill of her warm, wet cunt consuming him.
I am pulled to my feet by my hair, and left standing while his hand reaches for the shower.
‘You look so fucking grubby. Get in the shower and make yourself decent again … if that’s even possible.’
The warm water is mine for just a second before he turns the temperature dial and ice cold water cascades over my body. My eyes close in shock and when I open them he is stood before me, safely out of reach of the water, his eyes upon me, cock in hand.
‘Turn the water off and kneel down.’
I do as I’m told and it soon becomes apparent that my painfully cold shower was completely pointless. The rhythm of his hand now promises to be fruitful, and it would be optimistic of me to think he’d do something as kind as order me to swallow.
I am transfixed by him. He is awful to me in these sessions. He does his absolute best to humiliate and degrade me. Having excavated all the darkest and most depraved thoughts I possess from my mind in order to use them against me. Which is how he knows that I can’t abide having come in my hair, but as he pointed out with great glee, not enough to have it on my list of limits.
I watch as he shudders and tenses while his orgasm builds within him, before his come lands just above my hairline.
He smears his come into my hair and across my face. There is nothing sexy about this, which begs the question why my thighs are wet with my own arousal.
With the shower off and a brief lull in our own activities, I hear the noises of our respective partners floating into my mind as if calling to me from a far away place.
He opens the door just a fraction, and the sound of their pleasure becomes more audible. He moves me into position, my head is leaning against the door frame, he is purposely holding it there because he knows that not only will it be uncomfortable, but it also give me the slightest glimpse of them.
He closes in on me, his body holding me captive as his mouth falls to my ear and I struggle against him, but he holds me in place, knowing my desire to escape is half hearted.
‘Look at them. Look at how much he’s enjoying her. I bet you thought they were still fucking, hard and dirty, like you always beg for. That’s not fucking though is it?’
When I don’t reply, he pushes my head harder against the wooden door frame, repeating his question with an almost venomous force. My voice cracking I manage to utter a single word, ‘no’.
That isn’t good enough though, he wants to hear me say the words that I can’t bear to use. Watching them though, I can see why he wants me to say it. Missionary, would describe the basic position, but it wouldn’t convey the intensity of their interaction. I can see them moving in harmony together, taking deep, laboured breaths that look as if they are breathing in each other, not the surrounding air. Her head cradled by his hands, as his lips keep returning to hers, for one more kiss, and one more, and one more. Their eyes flicker from open to closed and back again, drinking each other in while they are open, committing the others face to memory for when the depth of the pleasure draws them shut. It is so fucking sensual I could cry.
‘Tell me … if it’s not fucking, then what the hell is it?’
‘It … it looks like … like … m-m-making love.’
I cringe inwardly as I say it. It’s a phrase I hate and an action I find hard to embrace. Seeing it though doesn’t create one emotion, but many. It’s hard to untangle them, they well up inside me, until I’m like a river threatening to burst free from its banks. Just as it starts to verge on unbearable, he saves me.
‘That’s enough voyeurism for you. Lie in the bath and spread your legs. Head under the tap.’
His fingers do not move gently or with grace. They slam into me, hard and unforgiving, and the shame of how close I already am to coming brings the moment of climax even closer still. His voice graces my ears with a tirade of verbal degradation, the more he belittles and berates me though the more turned on I become. His fingers continue slamming into me, with what seems like reckless abandon, but he is actually exceptionally aware of the spot he is hitting. Over and over again, pushing me closer and closer, just as I am perched on the edge, only one more forceful push to tear my climax from body, he turns the shower on.
I can barely breathe as the water cascades over face, and it feels like an eternity of fear has descended upon me. It pulls me back from the edge ever so slightly, but his fingers keep on going and before I know it fear and arousal have combined, and I don’t know if I’m going to die or come, and for just a second I don’t care, because wave after wave of pleasure starts to wash over me and suddenly the water is gone too, and the deep breath I take seems to fuel the fire and I come so hard the world goes black.
Wonderful, lovely and sexy readers, get ready to open multiple browser tabs and be prepared for a roller-coaster ride of sexy and emotional blog posts. I have an an EPIC week (yes it did need the capitalisation) of blog reading and I am about to hit you all with some awesome and in some cases intense posts from some fabulous people.
Oh, Cousin Pons what a delightfully smutty blog you have. This weeks offering to Masturbation Monday from Pons was ‘Hornithology’, now while it did leave me with more questions than answers, it did also give me the horn. So that’s a win. You can also see more of Cousin Pons if you pop along and browse through the Sinful Sunday submissions. Would anybody like to see his bottom? If so head to his blog now.
This next blog post is all about the feels.’ Travels with You’ by submissy is just wonderful. In the almost three years I have been with Bakji we have journeyed hard. Sometimes I find it hard to articulate just how much that means to me, but this piece speaks for many of us I think. It is not only one of my favourites from this week, but one of my most favourite things I’ve read in a long time. I honestly think it deserves all the love so please do give it a read. I actually sent this link to Bakji, because I suspect my blog readers see more of my feels than he does, and I felt like this piece of writing said something that I’ve been wanting to say for a long time, but didn’t know how to.
Through Twitter, Sinful Sunday and possibly through the Smut Marathon which his Miss (Violet Fawkes) is taking part in, I have recently started frequenting KinkyandPerky’s blog. This week he wrote ‘Absent’ and I loved it. His Sinful Sunday pictures also cause me to giggle, quite often it’s my FemDom giggle too, which is the best giggle I possess, so finding a blog that encourages that is awesome.
Violet also happens to be the author of one of my Smut Marathon Round 3 favourites,
‘Weak Flesh’. While the voting may have ended, you can still visit the Smut Marathon entries and give it a read. If you need anymore encouragement to enjoy Violet’s writing maybe I suggest her most recent Kink of the Week submission ‘Worn Out’, it is hella sexy.
I have given a shout out to Pixie before, but I’m doing it again. Less for a specific post and more for her entire run of recent posts. I won’t lie, some of them will be hard for people to read, but Pixie is so brave and honest about topics that many people shy away from and I think that needs to be championed. I was recently in awe of the post she wrote about her Mum’s passing, within days if not hours of it happening. My Mum died nearly 9 years ago, and I often think I should blog about it, I want to, I do, but I just … I can’t. Grief is so complex, for so many reasons and in so many ways, and unpacking that in words can be brutal. Pixie has my sincere admiration for being able to share that process with her readers.
CuriousClitty brings us back to Kink, with ‘K is for Kaleidoscope’. Her take on the myriad of kinks we can all encounter, whether we enjoy them or just learn of their existence is fabulous. She also talk about adding colour to her deeper, darker kinks and that really resonated with me on a personal level, as I’ve been doing a little bit of that myself lately.
Social media platforms are becoming more and more restrictive in what we can see and share as a sex positive and kink positive community. Current political climates in a variety of our countries will only add to this. While this seems like a bit of fun, which it is, it is also really important that we do not let each other be silenced. #SoSS allows us to support and share fellow writers who may be unable to reach people due to the recent and ongoing spate of shadow-banning. If you have a platform where people are listening to your voice and you can share some of your favourite sex bloggers then please do. The more of us that get involved in this the better.
There were also amazing posts for Wicked Wednesday, Sinful Sunday and for #30DaysofOrgasm which some of us are indulging in for April. They are all worth a visit and you are guaranteed to find thought provoking and sexy posts there.
‘It’s too fucking hot. I’m going for beer, anyone coming with?’
‘Count me in.’
With that we were two men down, and it was just us girls keeping each other company. I hadn’t noticed just how sweltering the heat had become, until their departure had pulled my attention away from my almost coma like sunbathing. I become aware of the sweat dripping from my body, and as I look over at you, I realise I am not alone.
‘I think the boys are right, it is a tiny bit warm. I’m going to go and have a cool shower I think.’
You decide I am full of the best ideas, and we head to our shared room to make ourselves presentable before we all regroup for a late lunch.
I head straight for the shower when we enter the room, but your hand catches my wrist and you pull me towards the bed. I can’t help but giggle as I realise we will be getting dirtier before we get cleaner.
Our barely there bikinis, and lightweight sundresses are scattered in a trail leading to the bed, and our lips are locked together as we tumble onto the crisp white sheets, tangled together as our limbs entwined.
Your skin is sticky and dewy, from the combination of sun cream and sweat. When my mouth finds your nipples, you taste like salt, but goddamn it’s the sweetest salt I’ve ever tasted. The heat and the arousal is a heady combination, and I’m feeling spacey as our endeavours to please each other increase.
Your fingers are frenzied as they slide into me with ease, I can’t remember the last time I was this wet. The sunshine and relaxed environment has sent my sexual appetite through the roof. Thankfully I am not alone in this, and I have not one, but three people to satisfy my hunger. For now though it is just you and I. The boys didn’t know it yet, but they chose beer over boobs.
I can barely breathe as my orgasm closes in on me, once again we’ve forgotten to turn on the air conditioning, and the heat has become more and more oppressive as our physical activity has increased. My nails digging into your flesh actually provides some kind of relief as your moans straddle the line between pleasure and pain.
I can’t resist any longer, and my orgasm ricochets through me, bouncing off every cell I possess until my whole body is quivering with delight. We are not done though. Far from it. I flip you onto your back, and you smile widely, knowing that I’m a big fan of giving as good as I get, and I just got it pretty good.
My lips find yours and feel like I am being consumed by the need to ruin you. I want you trembling and begging, with bites marks strewn across your flesh and red welts showing exactly where my nails made their presence known.
Tearing myself away from kissing you isn’t easy, but it is aided by the knowledge of where my lips are travelling to. Slowly they make my way down your body, your breathing is ragged, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest as my hands alternate between gentle teasing and firm pinches to your nipples.
My teeth graze as I go lower, until they reach a favoured sweet spot and then I can feel your flesh firm in their grip. Your sharp intake of breath and murmurs of pain spurring me on, at this rate I’ll be the one coming again. Making you come is first on the list though, and my mouth finally reaches its destination and my tongue moves slowly from the bottom of your labia, gently flickering across your soft folds, until my mouth envelopes your clit.
You moan so fucking sweetly, and you taste like … like I am never going to able to tear my mouth from your hot, wet and addictive cunt. My tongue is buried as deep as it can go now, as you grind relentlessly against my face. I’m not sure I’m breathing, but I’m sure I don’t care. Your hands are in my hair, tight fists pulling me further into you, further denying me the chance of air. Fuck air though. Fuck everything. Because I can feeling your body tensing and clenching beneath me, and your words are beautifully depraved, as you lose yourself in a wave, or possibly a tsunami, of orgasmic feels.
My head falls against your soft thigh, as our fingers intertwine and we both burst into laughter. Sex adrenaline, extreme heat and slight lack of oxygen on my part combining for post orgasm hysteria. Just as we start to compose ourselves, the door clicks open …
‘What the hell did we miss?’
I look up to see our two extremely bemused partners following the trail of discarded clothing to their very naked and out of breath girlfriends.
‘A good time boys.’ I reply ‘’That’s what. But I’m sure we can have a repeat performance after lunch.’
‘We really should have a shower first though!’
Your comment has me in in fits of giggles again, and the men are clearly baffled as to what is so funny about a shower. As their eyes fix first on each other, and then on us, I get the feeling that our shower will be postponed once more, and our late lunch might turn into an early dinner.
This piece was inspired by a flirty conversation with a friend and happened to coincide perfectly with the current Wicked Wednesday prompt of travel. Please do check out the other Wicked Wednesday submissions and give some love to the ones you like best.
When I entered the Smut Marathon I declared that not matter how long I stayed, or more appropriately how soon I left, I would continue to support the other entrants and blog about the contest and I am determined to stick to that.
Part of this is because I believe in supporting and encouraging other writers. However there is a more selfish reason for my continued support and that is personal growth.
I often read through writing memes like Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday when time permits, and I will leave comments where possible on the ones I enjoy most. These are never critiques though, because I don’t believe in offering criticism however constructive, unless it’s asked for.
As I learnt from my two short rounds of the Smut Marathon, feedback is mighty useful, but sometimes hard to take. The usefulness of it far outweighed my discomfort at receiving it though, so I endeavoured to leave as much feedback as possible for the writers that remained in the competition.
My feedback does not come from a place of writing knowledge. I don’t talk about semi colons, line breaks, sentence structure or anything that remotely relates to the actual technical aspects of writing. I will leave that to the Judge(s).
All I can offer in terms of feedback is how I felt, personally, on a completely subjective level about what some wrote. I wondered at first if this would be helpful, and maybe to some people it won’t be, but I know for me it would be, and that is why I decided to offer my honest thoughts on every piece submitted to the last round.
For me, the whole reason I write, especially erotica, is to make people feel something. Sexy is mostly what I’m aiming for, but erotica can do so much more than make someone feel sexy. It can help people accept their kinks and encourage them to explore new-found desires. It can create dialogue between friends, couples and bloggers alike and as this recent round of Smut Marathon has shown it can educate and inform.
In terms of how offering this feedback help my personal growth, well that’s easy. Like most people, I want to be liked, I do not admit that very often though and I try to take a very ‘those who mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind’ approach to life. The interesting part of Smut Marathon though is I am offering feedback to people who do matter, at least they matter to me.
There are many bloggers I have connected with on Twitter, both prior to and because of the Smut Marathon. Many of them I would consider friends. I know lots of people don’t ‘get’ online friendships, but I do and those connections mean a lot to me. When the reveal is made and we find out who wrote which piece in the Smut Marathon it can be hard to see you didn’t exactly champion the work of someone you think a lot of.
That is why I think the initial anonymity of each round is such a good idea. If I knew whose work I was commented on I don’t know if I could be as honest. In part because I think I would be swayed by knowledge of the person and their previous writing.
I’ve since read the some of the entrants thoughts on the feedback they’ve received and in some cases it has been hard because I’ve offered less than glowing feedback to people who are struggling with confidence in their writing or the Smut Marathon process or both, or an alternate issue. I hope though that none of my feedback ever comes off as ‘hey I’m right and that’s shit’. My thought process is more along the lines of ‘I have no idea what you were trying to portray when you wrote this (because I’m not you), but here is where I, as a reader, am at with it.’
Whether I voted for your Round 3 piece, or whether it didn’t resonate with in quite the way you might have hoped, I still think everyone did so well. That was a tricky assignment and I was honestly a little bit relieved I didn’t have to tackle it. I did have a little think as to where I might have gone with it and I decided that it was nowhere good. I’m very forgiving of imperfections, unless they are my own, so you probably would have got a character sketch of what I perceive to be my worst flaws and that is certainly not going to be erotic.
Voting for the next round of Smut Marathon doesn’t open until 29th April. As always those of following do not know what the next assignment is, but I cannot wait to find out and give the entries a thorough read. Please keep your eyes peeled for social media announcements that the voting has opened, and even if you can’t leave lots of feedback, I know that all the writers appreciate every vote they are given.
Try as we might to ensure all our BDSM scenes and play session go smoothly, there is always a chance of something not going according to plan. When an action, phrase or scenario stimulates a reaction in an individual we refer to it as a trigger.
Trigger – an experience that provokes or generates a memory or reaction for someone
For the purposes of this article I am referring to the kind of triggers that are unwelcome and will likely end your scene and require all participants involved to know what the next steps are after the trigger has occurred. It is worth noting though that triggers can also be used to stimulate welcome reactions, but this should absolutely be explored after negotiation and with consent.
Triggers may be known to us, or they may be something we stumble upon during play. I have been trigger twice during my time as a kinkster and both times they were things that I did not know to avoid. Now I know and I would actively mention the activities that triggered to future partners as hard limits.
It can be mortifying to everyone involved when a trigger is found, especially if you weren’t expecting it. Nobody likes to be the one to end a scene early, but there is no good to come from blaming ourselves or others when this happens. It is one of the risks we accept when engaging in kink and how we deal with it has the potential to be a defining moment in whether or not a dynamic is successful or indeed if someone chooses to continue exploring their kinks. Not to mention that some triggers may relate to past abuse, including but not limited to things like rape, sexual assault, physical assault, verbal abuse and domestic violence. All triggers are valid and important but it is worth remembering some may transcend what we are used to handling in our own lives.
Reassuring. Kindness. Compassion. Empathy. These should be the kinds of things we aim to provide with a trigger plan. Ensuring our partner/s a safe space to recover and work through the feelings they have encountered.
To give a comprehensive list of what things might trigger someone would be impossible. Physical actions, name calling, teasing, specific words, smells, songs, body positions, tone of voice, emotions, noises, individual people, are just a few things that might trigger someone. While that may make it seem like a terrifying prospect to play with anybody, just in case you trigger them, the solution to navigating triggers is simple. Communication.
Anyone and everyone who offers advice or education on BDSM will mention communication so often that you will wonder if we get some sort of commission from a secret communication organisation. The truth is, we go on about it so often because it is so incredibly important. Discussing past experiences, current desire and hopes for your kinky future can go a long way to highlighting what might be a potential trigger.
Even with due diligence and everyone’s best effort, things can still go wrong. It might be with a new partner, it could be after years with being someone. Sometimes it might make sense, sometimes it might not. Whatever the situation or the specific trigger what can we do to help someone after the event.
As with everything in life individual cases will differ, but some of the more popular things that get included in trigger plans are:
Physical affection and closeness
Being in company
Being left alone
Food and drink
Staying warm and cosy
Peace and quiet
Talking things through
Taking their mind of it
Anything that offers comfort – cuddly toy, favourite music, favourite movie etc
Trigger plans are not just for bottoms and submissives. Tops and Dominants may also require support after triggers too. If as a bottom or submissive you are wondering how you help a Top or Dominant through a trigger, the answer is simple, treat them like a person and offer them the same kindness you would want for yourself.
It can be extremely tough to watch someone you care for suffer the effects of being triggered, especially if it is your actions or a thought you induced that caused it. While in the immediate moments and days after a trigger are quite rightly likely to be focused on the person who experienced the trigger, I would recommend that once you feel able to that you check in on your partner and enquire after their feelings on what happened.
When done correctly everything we do in kink we do together. Whether you are engaging in a long term D/s dynamic or a one time Top/bottom exchange. No one is exempt from feelings, and everyone has the potential to be triggered. The balance of giving and taking is far easier when things are going right, but keeping that same balance when things go wrong is often a lot harder, but it’s just as, if not more imperative to get right in those situations.
This is the fourth instalment in my ‘A Switchy Girls Guide to Kink, Fetish and BDSM’ series of posts. The next instalment will be published on May 7th and is titled ‘BDSM Labels and Roles’. If you would like to hear more of my thoughts you can tune in to the#ProudToBeKinky Podcast, or you can follow me onTwitter andInstagram or you can send a friend request onFetlife through _Floss_.
I’ve been thinking a lot about ways in which I feel vulnerable and the actions I take to try and protect myself from getting hurt, or simply from feeling unpleasant emotions. I try my best to be open and honest on my blog, and I am … for the most part.
There are elements of my past that are extremely relevant to who I am as a person, why I live the life I do and why I have this blog. They’re not horrific or overly traumatising, but they are the most vulnerable pieces of my story and it hurts to tell them. The truth is I judge myself for that. Even though though I find the courage to be vulnerable in others a beautiful and inspiring trait.
While this may not seem that relevant for Sinful Sunday, there is a reason I chose to share today. I have been lurking here for a long time, and I am always astounded by how raw and honest many of the images are. Part of not wanting to be vulnerable is making sure my pictures that I share online are very much ‘an image of me’. While I’m not tech savvy enough to do lots of photo-shopping, I am persistent enough and vain enough to make sure my pictures look the way I want so I can portray myself in what I deem to be ‘the internet me’.
In the interest of full disclosure even this week’s image isn’t the me you get first thing in the morning, or the puffy eyed, tear streaked me who has no idea why she’s crying (or does know but is too scared to admit it) or the me that sleeps with the light on sometimes because I’m terrified of my persistent nightmares.
I’m sharing this today because I want to work on being less afraid of admitting some of my truths, not only to others but to myself and to take the opportunity to say how inspiring and touching many of the posts for Sinful Sunday are on a weekly basis, as well as being incredibly sexy.
Please do take a moment to follow the lips to the rest of these weeks Sinful Sunday images and when you find one you love leave a nice comment and show your support to the awesome participants.