Tag: Erotic Fiction

Smut Marathon Round 2: The Results

end-1733893_640The 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 Disciple

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.

When all the entries were released I knew as soon as I read them that I wouldn’t make it through to Round 3. From the way the judging went in Round 1, I had a feeling that there were others there that would draw people in more. Not because I don’t think my entry was good though. I am proud of what I wrote and to be honest I really love what I came up with.

When I first read through the feedback my initial reaction was ‘well clearly I know nothing about writing’, and believe it or not that was not solely based on the feedback for my own piece, but on many of the other entries too. People who are in a place to offer useful criticisms to those of us in this contest, not only didn’t respond overly well to what I had written, but also did not favour the pieces I especially liked and pieces that I thought had glaring flaws or just to my mind weren’t as good as others were given higher praise than I would have guessed.

The feedback I received was a mixed bag.

  • Halfway you change perspectives from ‘he’ to ‘I’. I am missing a story here.
  • Words have depicted great anticipation and ritualistic preparation for the sexy scenario which is likely to follow, but I feel this prologue itself isn’t erotic.
  • This one was missing something, I thought. It’s good and it’s well-written, and it seems to extend the metaphor versus tell its own tale using it, both of which are good ways of doing similar things. I think it was because this one was almost too short, too succinct. That said, I liked it!
  • This is beautiful and intense. At first I thought that you should have used more words, as you had quite some to spare, but this just works so well that I see why you have left it this short. More words might have taken away the strength of the ones you have used.

I think all the feedback is fair and accurate, except the first piece. I think the context of the words and the title of the piece should lead most people to understand why there is a change in perspectives. The Disciple, the ‘I’ is telling the story, he bearing witness so is he watching the ‘he’. Perhaps a line break before the last sentence would have made that clearer. Had the feedback been, ‘I had to read this a couple of times before I understood the change in perspective’ then my feathers would be a little less ruffled. That said I disagreed with all of the feedback that particular judge left for all the pieces, so clearly we do not view things in the same way.


I wrote the above paragraphs on the day the Round 2 results came out and have been pondering the past few days whether I should start this blog post over. I’m worried I sound bitter at my leaving the contest and as that really isn’t the case. The reason I’ve chosen to leave it is because I think it’s valid.

The judges are entirely within their rights to judge on whatever aspects of writing they choose too. However some feedback was far more helpful than others in assisting the writers to not only act upon the feedback but also accept it as useful critique as opposed to lowering their morale.

I feel hugely positive about the experience I had in the first two rounds of the Smut Marathon. In only two rounds I discovered ways to improve my writing and also new ways to approach my writing overall. I identified where my strengths lay and to be honest, what I do well is what I have always wanted to do with my writing; convey feeling and create emotion.

Is it important to me that my punctuation and grammar is good? Of course it is, and I will continue to improve my knowledge and execution of the technical side of my pieces. However, I suspect that isn’t why people read what I write. You don’t come here for the perfect use of commas, or the the well chosen placement of a semi-colon. With any luck you’re here because you enjoy what I have to say, either because it resonates with you or offers some glimmer of advice. Perhaps you only come for the erotica because it turns you on and makes you want to touch yourself. On every level I am okay with all those reasons for you being here.

Many of my favourite entrants of the Smut Marathon have left alongside me. I am as sad to see their journey come to end as. However I will be swinging by their blogs to see what wonderful works they come up with and you should too.

Of course 40 brilliant writers still remain and I am so excited to see what the future rounds bring. I have no doubt that we will see some wonderful assignments be presented to them and they will rise to the challenges set with gloriously delicious smut.

I will be voting and blogging about future rounds of the Smut Marathon and I urge you all to place your votes too. I appreciate it is a lot to read, but too many people said they were sad to see their favourites leave but hadn’t actually voted for them. I appreciate we all lead busy lives but those votes might have made the difference to your favourite staying or going.

The most unexpected but also the most enjoyable thing to come out of my entering thesoft-toys-3158361_640 Smut Marathon is new friends. I have discovered so many new bloggers and Twitter friends and that has made every moment of entering worthwhile.

Life and time permitting I fully intend to enter the Smut Marathon next year and I hope that entrants who have both left the contest already and those that still remain will be back too.

As I mentioned in a previous blog post I actually wrote three potential pieces of micro-fiction for the second round and I will now share the other two pieces with you.

Absent Lover

When he came home to her, she would lose herself in him as his presence engulfed her and their bodies entwined. She examined and filed away every sight, sound, touch, taste and scent; her mind becoming an ever-expanding catalogue of sensual experiences to be re-experienced at will. She loved to delve into those memories when he was out of reach. When she ached for him and longed to feel his touch. Her hands moving deftly across her soft flesh, as desire flushed upon her skin and her wet, aching cunt called her fingers to action. Her fingers would beckon him, memories and orgasm growing stronger together. Until mind and body exploded in tandem satiating for the briefest of moments her long for him.

The Witness

His cock twitched and ached at the sight before him. The three lovers twisted into a knot of flesh, bearing no identifiable shape to the witness in the chair. He longed to be amongst them, to feel their soft, supple bodies against his own. Mouths lapped at nipples and cunts, causing a melody of pleasure at odds with the involuntary grunts that escaped his gagged mouth. Limbs bound to the sturdy chair beneath him, his only protest at his lack of attention was to strain with futility against his bindings. His body betrayed his enjoyment though. Cock erect, tip glistening with excitement. They had him right where they wanted him, and he was exactly where he loved to be.

Good luck to all the remaining entrants, I will be cheering you all on and sending positive vibes your way throughout.

Smut Marathon: Round 2 Voting Is Now Open

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.

I had three possible pieces to submit for this round and I have this niggling feeling that I have made the wrong decision on the one I finally chose. I still love it, and I worked hard on making it the best I felt it could be. I think one or even both of my other options might have told a more unique story, that would perhaps have drawn in more votes.

The feedback I received in the last round was helpful once I’d digested it, but I must admit it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. This time round I think I have a fair idea of the feedback I might get. If I’m right, and this piece doesn’t get me through to the third round, I still think this is a valuable lesson. Yes, I needed to see my entry alongside others to see where I might have gone wrong, but maybe in the future I will hone that skill so I can make alterations ahead of time.

One of the things I touched upon in ‘Smut Marathon: Round 2 Is Upon Us’ was leaving more feedback. Turns out that is easier said than done. I’ve got feedback for my top six, but would ideally like to contribute a little more, as I know many entrants were frustrated by the lack of feedback they got. With that in mind I’m going to try and focus on; Did you make me feel something? If so, why? And if not, why not? I don’t feel remotely qualified to comment on the technical aspects of writing, so it seems unfair to do so.

My entry from the first round has been used twice for this round. Which in itself is an absolute delight. Going into this round I did harbour a hope that at least one person would be inspired to use my piece for their round 2 entry. I can’t share which metaphor I used, as it would narrow down which piece is mine, I do hope that the person who wrote it originally enjoys what I have done with it though.

Whatever happens with the voting of this round I wish all the writers taking part the very best of luck, and I hope that those who don’t make it through to Round 3 will return next year to give it another shot. I know I will definitely be back, no matter what the outcome of this year’s competition is.

Many of the other entrants are sharing their thoughts on the ongoing progress of the Smut Marathon too, so why not swing by their blogs and give their posts a read.

#SoSS – Therapy, Fucking and … More Fucking!

IMG_6992Monday 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.

I’ve had an interesting week. I’ve been delving into the parts of my brain I don’t tend to visit very often and when I read Sometimes I need the Rough Stuff by Sassy Cat, I absolutely got it. Unfortunately weather and other commitments meant Bakji and I didn’t get any sexy times this week, but oooh boy was this a week for needing the rough stuff. For me it’s more about feeling something ‘bigger’ and ‘deeper’ than what I’m feeling in my head. Rough sex or kink that hurts so good, or words that sound harsh to the unknowing ear but sooth my brain niggles like a lullaby. I love that stuff, but as Cat says in her post, ‘only when I know they don’t truly mean what they say in the heat of the moment’.

Escape on the High Seas by Livvy Libertine is a following on piece from her previousIMG_6997 post A Valuable Treasure. I won’t lie I didn’t read them in order though, I normally would have but I got so caught up in the story I just couldn’t stop. I feel like I’ve read part of a book and don’t have the rest of the pages to quench my thirst for the rest of the tale. I am hoping that Livvy gives us more of this tale, because I really want to know more.

As I said I’ve been feeling the urge for the rougher side of sex and kink this week. For me that also includes dirty words and forthright descriptions of sexual activities. Such a Dirty Bitch Deserves a Whipping by May More delivered on both counts. I got to the end and all I could think was 1) that dress does look delightful, 2) I’m a dirty bitch and 3) Goddammit where’s my whipping!

My last offering for this weeks #SoSS is That Time in the Car Park by PixieHeart. It is an all over sexy tale, and it definitely got me hot under the collar and feeling frisky. However, there was one sentence alone that made it worthy of being included in this roundup.

He takes hold of my hand and for a minute I thought I was safe, that my punishment was over

Now I don’t know PixieHeart’s Husband a.k.a The Boss Man. However, the Sadistic Dominant in me laughed hard when I read this. That sexy evil laughter though, that tends to get masochists and submissives giddy with that nervous sexual energy. ‘For a IMG_6998minute I thought I was safe’, what a delightful way to make someone feel, right before you prove them wrong. Loved this Pixie. Absolutely loved it.

That is your lot from me this week. I hope you give all these posts a read and more that will be shared through #SoSS over on Twitter. I have seen plenty of sex bloggers commenting on how they have been shadow-banned this week, so this is definitely something we need to keep ploughing away at so that all these wonderful posts don’t go unnoticed.

Confessions of a Bad Girl

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, whrainbowcircle1-150ile 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.

The first time her moans drifted down into my apartment I tried to ignore them, to stay focused. I lasted a good fifteen minutes before my fingers were parting my wet lips, as my other hand found my vibrator in what can only be described as a frenzied urge to come.

I could hear her gasping and moaning, the quiet lulls in sound as she held back before building herself up again. I however was nowhere near as controlled, I wanted that throbbing between my legs to give way to something stronger, the need to feel ripples of pleasure flowing through me was overwhelming.

Today I soon forget her once my orgasm has started to build, my memories take me to a place I know intimately. My minds landscape is filled with images of you. Images of your body as your flesh meets mine, your eyes shining as you tease and deny me. The desire for you intensifies, until the need within me lies like a weight upon my chest. I miss you desperately in these moments. I want to burst forth from my own skin with the frustration of needing you so desperately in your absence.

The vibrator thrums against my clit, and my skin is on fire with the pleasure that is beginning to ripple through me. The walls of my cunt begin to flex and clench, a cruel reminder that you are not here filling me and fucking me. My hips move rhythmically though as if they can somehow will you into being.

The room fills with the cacophony of sounds that escape my mouth, as teeth graze lips and I salivate at the thought of your hands against my throat and your deep whispers promising all manner of depraved things that are yet to come. In this moment even my mouth feels empty without you. I want you to fill it, like I want to fill every part of me. Both physically and metaphorically.

I want your fingers and you cock to push into me and probe every corner of my being that you can reach. While your mouth and tongue fill my own with kisses. Kisses that I will devour with feverish need, so that I can dine out on the memories of them on days like today. I want to drink you in until I’m drowning in you. I want you inside of me and surrounding me, and filling all the spaces in between.

Instead of being filled though I’m being emptied, as my orgasm ricochets through me, leaving no part of me untouched as it gushes out of me in a dazzling display of squirting.

I’m lying here thighs wet, in a puddle of my own juices and it is now that I realise she is not alone. The sound of thighs slapping against arse is too familiar to go unnoticed, and my chest tightens once more with thoughts of you. The tingling fires up again, even though my orgasm has barely subsided. The urges are animalistic now, and I won’t be sated until there is flesh beneath nails and teeth marks peppered across our bodies.

I’m counting down the minutes until you are home, and if you manage to restrain me as the wild urges burst forth and ravage you, then maybe I will get the spanking I deserve.

#WickedWednesday – Travels Of Lust

rainbowcircle1-150This piece was inspired by the most recent Wicked Wednesday prompt, this is my first time getting involved in this particular prompt, but I am so excited to finally be a part of it. Please do visit the Wicked Wednesday site and read the other submissions, and maybe even get involved yourself.

Seth slept peacefully beside me, his bare chest mesmerising as I watched the rhythm of its slumbering rise and fall. I traced the lines of his fingers with my own, travelling up his toned and muscular arms, across his shoulders and finally coming to rest to feel his heart beating against my palm.

My eyes fluttered shut as my thoughts drifted to his hands running up and down the curves of my flesh, from tentative first fumbles, to the deep, knowing caresses of a devoted lover and to those times when we were strangers, faces hidden, few words spoken, and yet the intimacy engulfed us.

A brief flicker of guilt rises within me, I know only I can appreciate those last set of memories, they come to him like a dream he can’t hold onto, staying only briefly in his first wakeful moments, and fading by the time he’s finished his first cup of coffee. I tell myself I should stop, that I’m somehow betraying his trust, knowing what I do but being unable to confide in him. Those thoughts are quickly banished though, by the promise of his body against mine, the feeling of him pushing inside me, for what for him will be the first time.

The initial idea had struck me when I discovered we’d been at the same event some 10 years earlier, both trying something new at what can only be described as a fiasco of a sex party. The ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ theme did nothing to invigorate the atmosphere, masked faces seemed to make everyone present more uncomfortable rather than less and the best thing about my night had been the beautiful and elaborate mask I’d had made for the occasion.

Neither of us prospered that night, I left early and Seth spent the night trying to find a woman that had caught his eye. When he described my mask and dress with unnerving clarity, I just sat there. I was urging myself to declare that it was me, that I’d been there too, but I didn’t, I kept quiet and to this day have never shown him the mask sitting in the bottom of my wardrobe.

It had been such a long time since I’d pulled the old and inconspicuous looking timepiece from my bedside table. I’d forgotten how good in felt in my hands, as I brushed my thumb over it’s smooth, cold surface. How the adrenaline started to build within me as I held it, knowing it granted me the power to journey into my past. A power that had left Seth feeling unwell and disoriented when he returned from work the day of my first visit, the unwanted side effects of someone dabbling in his personal timeline.

That first time I’d been shaking with nerves as I pulled on my outfit from those ten years previous, thankful that an inability to throw away good clothes meant it had remained in a drawer unworn until that day. Then I sat on the edge of my bed, cast my mind back with focused and unwavering clarity and turned the dial. My body became weightless and the world blurred until my feet landed in the venue that hosted the night Seth and I never met.

Tonight as I watch him sleeping beside me, I feel none of those nerves. Just a deep rooted need to experience him as man emboldened by a sexual encounter with an amorous stranger. Knowing our meeting would seep into his dreams, his past and present self always connected. He would wake and reach out for me, sleepily muttering how he’d had that dream again, about the stranger, never knowing it wasn’t a dream and that the stranger was me.

Once again I was ready to journey into our past, to find the man in the golden mask, so I could seduce him three years before we would ever meet.

I found him as I always did, propping the bar up, his mask wonky and a tumbler of whisky in front him that I knew he wouldn’t drink. He looked crestfallen, like a man who’d had enough and needed a new adventure.

When I sit beside him at the bar he doesn’t even turn to look at me, until I take his drink and down it one. As he moves to scold me, he stops in his tracks, taking in the mask that earlier caught his eye. I take his hand and lead the way. Behind closed doors it doesn’t take long for him to get the measure of things and with a swift movement he has me pinned against the wall, his lips tracing the line of my neck and collarbone, his hands ravenous against my dress as he traverses the contours of my body.

I unzip his trousers, and even though I know what to expect, a small gasp always escapes my mouth as I see how hard he is. At how hot, and primal this anonymous fuck with a stranger gets him. I take him in my hand, my grip making his mouth fall open in a achingly familiar way. As my hand begins to move up and down, his sense of urgency increases. My dress is up and my knickers are down, and I’m bent over a conveniently situated table.

As he runs his fingers between my labia, he swears through a groan, as he feels how wet I am. I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, that causes me to throb with anticipation, after all these times I never want him less in that moment. When he pushes himself inside me, balls deep with that first thrust, I feel like I’m going to die from pleasure. He strips me of my worldly self, and just pulls me into him, as he does in our present he makes me feel like an ethereal being when we fuck. I think some people call that making love, but to me it’s more like transcending love, and passion and flesh and bones.

I orgasm hard, gripping his cock with every muscle I possess, when that starts to ebb away he begins to thrust again and I hear his pace of breath changing, his body tensing and the noises he makes when he comes nearly tip me over the edge again myself.

Each and every time it is the same, and each and every time it is fucking glorious. He removes the condom, fixes his clothes, and plants a kiss on my back as he steadies me on my feet. Our eyes lock, as I briskly exit the room, knowing that when he wakes the next day he won’t remember me in this timeline, due to my stay there being all to brief to take hold and change time.

When the door closes behind me, and I prepare to return home, my heart aches with love for this past version of the man I’ve left in our bed at home. Knowing his passion and sexual desires will go unchanneled for a little while longer. That, I tell myself, is why I keep returning, to help him, for those brief stolen moments, explore and unleash the deviant within.

Smut Marathon: The First Assignment Has Landed

As anyone who has read my blog previously will know, I am huge fan of teasing, I use it a lot in my FemDom adventures, but my joy in teasing extends to other areas of life too. This blog post is a prime example of that.

I recently decided to enter the 2018 Smut Marathon, which I discussed in ‘Smut Marathon 2018’. The rules of which state that assignments are secret and are only revealed once all stories are posted on the Smut Marathon website. I am allowed to ask you to vote, but can’t tell you which piece is mine.

I love these rules, I think it is a brilliant way to encourage writers who might feel they’d rank lower in any voting due to popularity, being a new venture blog, having low traffic to their site or any other number of reasons we convince ourselves not to do something.

Despite those rules however, I am allowed to promote the Smut Marathon and as I said earlier I am allowed to ask you to vote. I will do this many, many times, starting now, please go and vote once the voting is open. The first round of voting begins on February 11th.

The reason this blog post will be such a tease is because it is about, but totally not about, the first assignment. Despite a healthy dose of ‘should I really have done this’ nerves settling in, I was also extremely excited to receive the email containing the first assignment. When I saw it sitting there in my emails, my fingers were fumbling over each other to open it.

Eventually fingers and brain worked together and the email was opened and the assignment was read. My first thought? … Yep, I was right about this presenting me with some challenges, but also I was really keen to explore how I might approach and execute this assignment.

My brain almost instantly started whirring, and in the days since I received that email I’ve been thinking of all the words in an attempt to find the piece I will submit. One idea keeps pushing itself forward though, revisiting me in different guises, as if it will one day reveal it’s true nature as my final piece.

As well as being enthralled by my own Smut Marathon journey, I am also following others with great interest. I am loving seeing daily Twitter posts about how people are getting on, some have already submitted their final piece, many more of us are still trying to make the magic happen.

With that in mind, I am going back to revise what thoughts I have had so far, and I will return with more thoughts on my Smut Marathon journey soon. Don’t forget you can use Twitter to follow both myself @_floss_84, the Smut Marathon @smutmarathon and many of the other writers and judges, details of which can be found on the Smut Marathon website.


When I initially published this post I was fairly certain I had the main premise of the piece I would eventually submit for the first round of the Smut Marathon. What I didn’t envisage was getting a second Idea that I loved just as much.

One I feel is more overtly erotic, I find it instantly summons sexy visuals and feelings, even after I’ve read it time and time again. It takes my mind straight to the person and moments that inspired it, it makes me want and need, and long for their presence. It would be my hope that if I used this one for the Smut Marathon it would ignite the same feelings in those who read it.

On the other hand, the alternate piece is more subtle. It would possibly be lost on many people, but those that it spoke to would probably find it intensely erotic. It was inspired by a feeling I’ve felt but never truly encapsulated, though that doesn’t make my memories of those moments any less special.

I went back and forth over which piece to submit, but finally one seemed to step forward as the chosen one. Now I am eagerly awaiting all the submitted pieces to be released so I can enjoy everyone else’s take on the assignment and see how the first round of voting goes.

I know it has already been a challenging round for a lot of those who have entered, so once again please do support us wherever possible, especially by voting for your favourite piece when the voting opens on February 11th.

Smut Marathon 2018

IMG_6383The 2018 Smut Marathon is about to being, and I am delighted to be involved for the first time. In a moment of ‘let’s do something new’ I put my name down and now here I am wondering what on earth I’ve done.

For anyone who isn’t familiar with the concept of the Smut Marathon, please do visit the official site for a thorough explanation, including a list of this year’s entrants, judges and how you can get involved as a reader.

I will give a brief overview for those of you who hate clicking on links or just have to know right this second what all the fuss is about, but I would urge you to give the site a visit and find out more.

Smut Marathon is an annual competition for erotic writers, from those who just trying their hand at it right through to those who have more experience.

As per the rules our assignment for each round will be published anonymously, so I won’t be urging you all to vote for my piece in each round,  however, I will be urging you to get involved and vote for your favourite piece of writing. The first round of voting begin on 11th February and I will be getting my first assignment Sunday 28th and writing will commence very soon after it is received

This will challenge me as a writer on many levels, as my blog posts and my erotica reflects, short and brief is not my strong point. Unfortunately long enough for a decent novel seems to slip me by as well, no matter how often I try to channel my inner novelist. I will however be pushed to write within a given limit. While this isn’t the only challenge I will face, I think it is my biggest.

I will be supporting the Smut Marathon until the very end, whether I remain in the competition or not. I would be delighted if some of my readers here would join me in supporting the other writers too, some are names I know well from my years of perusing Twitter, some are new found internet friends and many are going to be new discoveries for me. Whoever they are though and however long their Smut Marathon journey is, I wish them all the best and can’t wait to read all the submissions over the coming weeks.