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.’
He looks fucking glorious, and he is glorious to fuck. Collar on, he kneels in the centre of the room. You arrive first as planned and we continue to adorn him with his accessories of submission. Ankle and wrist cuffs, his harness and for the time being a blindfold and a gag.
Our eyes meet as we stand either side of him and I’m compelled to touch you. The collusion in planning this for him has brought us closer together. I am delighted to find you are as wet as I am as my hand reaches under your skirt. My finger moves between your slick and inviting labia … and the doorbell goes!
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.
The results are in for Round 2 of the Smut Marathon, and the feedback is now available on the blog post containing our entries. I have not made it through to Round 3. While I am obviously disappointed, my feeling are overwhelmingly positive. Before I go on I will start with the entry I submitted. The original metaphor I used from the first round is in Italics.
The hot water cascades over his body, cleansing him as his ritual begins. Once dry he adorns himself with his symbols of submission. Reciting his mantra with every buckle he fastens. ‘I am bound to only you, I serve you with reverence and devotion.’ He is like the High Priest, called to worship at the temple of her body. I am their disciple. I bear witness to their passion, as I am baptised by the glory of their love.
In Round 1 of the Smut Marathon we each wrote our own metaphor. In Round 2 we were challenged to take one of those metaphors and turn it into a piece of micro-fiction. The voting has now opened for the 62 micro-fiction pieces that were submitted. Please do give them all a read and place your votes. Only 40 of us will make it through to Round 3, so getting the votes from as many people as possible is so important to all the writers.
I was so eager on Sunday evening to read through all the entries and place my own votes. At the time of writing this it is Wednesday and I have only just done it. Partly because I had a little bit of post-kink recovery going on, but also because it was so hard to choose my favourite three. I managed to get down to my six favourites, but from there it was tricky to favour only half of them.
Monday brought me my first, ‘well that’s a #SoSS post’ moment when I read The Therapist by Karin at theswingshift. This week saw me starting to share some of my experiences with mental health, part of which details how I never quite succeeded in sticking with therapy. That isn’t because I don’t value it though, I absolutely do, especially when as Kinksters we find an understanding and supportive therapist. I don’t know Karin personally, only through the post I’ve read on her blog, that didn’t stop me thoroughly touched though at her thoughts on finding and visiting a therapist.
Written and submitted for Wicked Wednesday. Some of the other writings this week are awesome, so do swing by and give them a read.
I’m a bad girl. I can’t help but think that I deserve a damn good spanking, while being told what dirty, voyeuristic pervert I am. Though to be told that I need to confess something to you first. I am a peeping tom, of the auditory variety.
In my defence, the floors are thin. It’s not as if I can stop myself hearing. I suppose I don’t need to turn all my appliances off so I can hear more clearly though. I could also keep my mind occupied with other things instead of imagining her naked, legs spread, cunt dripping as she fucks herself.