Masturbation Monday: “The Patterned Carpet”

A black and white photo of a naked woman kneeling on a patterned carpet about to take a clothed man's cock into her mouthThe patterned carpet is rough against my knees. When I put my just-above-the-knee dress back on, will everyone see the redness there and know exactly what I’ve been up to? Will they think I’m a slut? Do I care if they do?

My thoughts are silenced at the sight of his cock springing, already fully erect, from his unbuttoned jeans. This is what I’ve been wanting all night, and he knows it. When he brought me out here to this deserted corridor, told me to take off my dress and pushed me down on my knees, he was in no doubt that it was exactly what I wanted.

I lick my lips and part them eagerly, wordlessly inviting him to fuck my mouth. He takes his cock into his hand and holds it towards my waiting lips, offering it to me.

“Come and get it then, girl.”

I take him all the way into my mouth in one swift movement. It’s been a while since I sucked a cock, especially one as magnificent as this. But muscle memory is powerful and he moans loudly as his head hits the back of my throat. I slide my mouth up and down on him, sometimes deepthroating as far as I can go, sometimes pulling most of the way back and teasing the head of his shaft with my tongue.

I close my eyes and surrender to the taste of him, the salty pre-cum that begins to drip onto my tongue, the surprising softness of his rock-hard erection. Nothing matters except getting him off. I can tell when he’s getting close, because he grabs the back of my head to hold me in place. To hold is cock in the back of my throat. I gag, but he doesn’t care. Good. I don’t want him to care. I want to be a vessel for his cock, thoughtless and blank, naked before him for his use.

He gasps and then, with a long moan, releases down my throat. I revel in the taste of hot, sticky, salty come. When he eventually releases me, satisfied, I pull back and  some of it drips from my mouth and down my chin. I catch it with a finger and suck the finger clean, needing to taste every drop of him.

He buttons his jeans and  leaves me there on the floor, patterned carpet burning my bare knees, my cunt and inner thighs slick with my arousal. And I am satiated.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is by Zen Nudist AKA Kilted Wookie, and was first published here.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Words Words Words”

A woman's breast just out of the water in a bubble bath with erotic words written on it.There aren’t many rules in our dynamic. My Sir is pretty laid back and isn’t really interested in micromanaging me or placing so many restrictions upon me that I’m bound to trip over one or another. One of the rules I do have to follow, though, is this: I’m not allowed to talk negatively about myself.

I’m so sick of this fucking thesis. I’ve been battling it for weeks and every time I think I’ve beaten it into some form of shape, I find something else wrong with it that needs fixing. I sigh and shut my laptop with a click. Put my head in my hands on the desk. Across the room, Sir spins around in his chair to look at me.

“You okay, Kitten?”

“I can’t do this!” I blurt out. “Just… I can’t. I’m too fucking stupid to do this. Why did I think I could?” Fuck. It takes me a second to realise I’ve broken the rule.

“Kitten…” his voice has a note of warning in it. I almost no longer care.

“What? It’s true”.

He pushes back from the desk and stands. “Come upstairs with me. Now”. Shit. I follow him meekly. In the bedroom, he tells me to take off my clothes and lie face up on the bed. My mind starts to race as I strip off. What’s he going to do? I was expecting possibly a spanking, but he clearly has something else in mind. That’s when I notice he’s got his favourite fountain pen in his hand.

He straddles me on the bed, his knees either side of my thighs. He’s still fully dressed. He pops the cap off the pen.

“Keep still,” he tells me.

“Sir?”

“I’m sick of you putting yourself down. Obviously punishing you hasn’t worked, so we’re going to try something else. Don’t move. If you squirm and make me mess up, I will punish you”.

The pen makes contact with my stomach first, just below my belly button. It tickles. I squeak but manage not to move. He’s writing something. I can’t tell what. Higher up my stomach, he writes something else. Then he leans over and adorns each of my breasts with yet more words. Down both my arms, along my collarbone, along the tops of my thighs.

He shifts position and uses one of his legs to make me spread mine. I resist the temptation to grind my cunt into his knee. His hand so close to my cunt that it brushes against the outer lips, I can feel myself growing wet. He writes something on my inner thigh. And just like that, this tiny bit of non-stimulation is all I get and he’s pushed my legs back together and is writing something on my lower abdomen. The whole thing probably takes less than five minutes, though it feels like much longer. He sits back and replaces the pen cap.

“Now go and look in the mirror”.

I hop up and cross over to the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. For the first time, I see the words he’s written all over my body in his beautiful handwriting.

Beautiful. Capable and competent. Imperfect perfection. Talented. Kind. Funny. Sexy. Cute. Gorgeous. Smart. I feel tears starting to prickle in my eyes.

I part my legs to see what he wrote on my inner thigh, close to my cunt. The word is backwards in the reflection but there is no mistaking what it says, his favourite of all the words he uses about me: MINE. The first tear spills over.

He comes over and brushes the tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry, Kitten. You’re going to stand there for fifteen minutes and feast your eyes upon your gorgeous body with the way I see you written all over it. Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you while you read them all back to me”.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week. Featured image is the utterly gorgeous Livvy and was first published as “Erotica“.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Canvas”

A woman with a flower tattoo on her back facing away from the camera. For a Masturbation Monday story called CanvasShe was his canvas.

Anna lay, nude, face down on the massage-bed. The whir and buzz of the machinery had long ago lulled her into a meditative state. This, combined with the delicious pain down one side of her back and the occasional reassuring touches from her Master, made Anna feel as though she were floating. She was only dimly aware, on the edges of her consciousness, that she was so wet she was surely soaking the towels beneath her.

She had never wanted a tattoo before she met Cameron. Sure, she could admire the beauty and artistry when she saw them on other people, but the idea of getting one herself scared her. Not the pain, so much, but the permanence. Could etching something on her skin for life ever be a good idea? Cam had changed all that. Not just a tattooist but a true artist, he prided himself on creating beautiful, unique work for every client and giving them something they could look at and admire for years to come.

“I want you to tattoo me,” she told him on the eve of her fortieth birthday. “For my birthday.”

Cam had pursed his lips, fork hovering in mid air on the way to his mouth in surprise. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. She nodded emphatically. “Okay. What sort of tattoo do you want?”

“Something beautiful. Something us. I want it to mark me as yours.”

Cam had simply nodded, and they had gone on with their meal. This morning, she had come downstairs to find the massage bed laid out in the living room, and Cam setting up his equipment. He’d asked her if she was sure. She told him she had never been more sure of anything.

She wondered what he – her Dom, her Master, her Love – was putting on her body.

No names, she’d said emphatically. And nothing that I can’t show off in public if we go to the beach or the pool. Beyond those stipulations, she’d given him freedom – her body to use as his canvas.

The whirring slowed and stopped. Pausing from his work, Cam stroked a hand down the middle of Anna’s back, carefully avoiding his fresh handiwork. She drew in her breath.

“How are you doing, my love?” he asked her.

“I’m perfect,” she whispered back.

“There’s still an hour or two of work to finish it off. But you’re being such a good girl, you deserve a treat first.” His hand was rubbing her arse as he said these words. He delivered a sharp smack to each cheek, making her squeal in pleasurable pain. Then his fingers were sliding down past her arse, between her legs, pushing them slightly apart. She blushed furiously, thankful he could not see her face, knowing what he was going to find.

“You’re dripping,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice, as his fingers found the core of her arousal. “Why is that, slut?”

“I like the pain. And you putting your permanent mark on me. And…” she trailed off as one finger slid inside her cunt. He quickly found her G-spot and pressed against it firmly, while his thumb found her erect clitoris and started to circle it. Anna gasped and lifted her hips eagerly from the table to meet his fingers.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured, rubbing her clit a little more firmly. “Plenty of the women I tattoo get aroused during. And the men, too.” She moaned, this thought producing another flood of wetness in her cunt. “Only I don’t do this to them, of course. But I can always spot which ones are the masochists. The ones who get all gooey eyed and floaty like you were doing just now. And I know they’ll go home and wank off furiously when I’m done with them.”

She was humping his hand with abandon now. A second finger joined the first in her vagina, while his thumb continued its assault of her now very swollen clit.

“Sir, I’m close…” she moaned. Cam grinned, wondering for just a second whether he should stop and do the rest of the tattoo while she tried not to squirm with unfulfilled arousal. But she was such a good girl, and this was a special occasion.

“Come on then, girl,” he commanded, redoubling his efforts. Then he leaned forward and murmured into her ear, “come for me, my love.”

Anna’s whole body jerked as she came, gushing over Cam’s hand and soaking through the towels beneath her. The sound she made was half mewl, half growl. Then her Master was withdrawing his fingers from her, stroking her hair, telling her she was a good girl. Her cunt spasmed, sending aftershocks through her body. She could not remember the last time she had come so explosively and so quickly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

She heard the buzz as Cam started up his tattoo machine again. “Lie still now, sweetheart, and let me finish decorating you.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is by the gorgeous Marie Rebelle and was originally published as “Negative”.

 

My Scene Went Wrong, What Now? – A Guide to Getting Back on Track

A "support me on Patreon" buttonIf my writing is helpful and/or enjoyable to you, please consider supporting me on Patreon to help me keep doing this work!

Sometimes, play sessions or scenes will go wrong. Mishaps, mistakes, and even the occasional genuine crisis can happen to all of us. It’s an unfortunate fact of this thing we call kink, sex or play, and we would all do well to learn better how to handle it when they do. Anyone who has been playing for any length of time and tells you they’ve never had a scene go wrong is either astoundingly lucky or lying.

A woman turned away from the camera looking upset. For a post about scenes going wrongI’ve had three scenes go wrong in relatively quick succession (a period of about 3 weeks). The first time, the equipment we were using at the club malfunctioned and dropped me. Thanks to Mr CK’s quick reflexes, we were both shaken but there were no injuries. The second time, there was somebody else at the party who I hadn’t expected to see, and who makes me feel profoundly unsafe. I tried to play in the main party space anyway, thinking I shouldn’t let him ruin my good time, but unfortunately I badly misjudged my own mental state. The third time, I let my head convince me that a situation that was actually most likely completely safe wasn’t.

To be clear, none of these was a disaster (though the first could have resulted in much more serious consequences than it did). Even so, they were all unpleasant and left both of us rattled. The after-effects could be felt for the next few days, both individually and in our interactions together. Luckily, we managed to have a spectacular play session a few days ago and I feel much better about it all as a result.

So let’s look at some techniques to get things back on the rails after something goes wrong.

In the immediate aftermath

I’m assuming that, at this point, you’ve moved away from the play area to somewhere safe if possible, and that anyone who is injured has received appropriate medical attention. I am also assuming good faith from all parties and that there were no malicious intentions or consent violations.

First of all, both/all players involved are likely to be shaken up. This is a really good time to be very kind and gentle to both yourself and each other. Sit somewhere comfy. Drink a glass of water, cup of hot tea or other comforting beverage. Maybe have a snack to get your blood sugar back up. Have a massive fucking cuddle, if you’re in the kind of relationship where you cuddle.

Don’t beat yourself up. If the problem was because of a mistake you made, you can and should apologise, but one genuine apology is much better than self-flagellation. This should go without saying, but if there was fault on the other person’s side, don’t be mean to them about it! You can absolutely say what you perceive happened and what you wish they’d done differently, but don’t harp on it more than is necessary and try to gracefully accept an apology, if one is offered. Again: be kind. This is a great time to reaffirm that you still love/like/fancy the pants off each other.

Don’t feel the need to discuss what happened in depth there and then if you don’t want to. You can, if you’re both up for it, but it’s often better to focus on caring for yourselves and each other initially. The debrief is often more productive if it comes an hour or two later, or even the next day.

Later that day/the next day

Check in with the other person. Ask them how they’re doing and be prepared to offer what comfort or support you can. Be honest about how you’re doing and ask for their support in return.

This can be a great time to have the debrief conversation: you’re over the initial shock/upset, but still close enough to the incident to analyse it effectively. Discuss what went wrong, your respective headspaces (and physical states, if relevant) at the time, the factors that contributed, and what controls you’ll put in place to try to mitigate the risk of a similar incident next time. This is also a good time to discuss what you need in the aftermath: do you need some cuddle time, verbal reassurance, some hot sex? Or just some alone time to process? Ask for it! If you can, give your partner what they ask for.

When it comes to processing, if you’re struggling with difficult feelings following the experience, this is a great time to consult a kink-friendly therapist, reach out to other kinky friends, or write in your journal.

It’s also worth remembering that you might experience sub-drop or Dom-drop. Even though you didn’t finish your scene, when something goes wrong you’re yanked out of your headspace very quickly and abruptly, which can actually be worse. Check out my list of self-care tips to try if drop, depression or anxiety hits.

Try to view a scene gone wrong as a learning experience. It doesn’t need to spell disaster for your relationship, your future as a kinkster, or even necessarily your night/day/week!

Next time you play

Re-acclimating to your partner and your play together after a scene gone wrong can be a challenge. It’s a good idea, before you next play, to touch base with regards to where you’re both at emotionally and physically following your incident. It can also be wise to negotiate your next scene or two very explicitly in advance, especially if miscommunication or misunderstanding contributed to the problem. This also applies in very long term relationships where you know each other incredibly well. It’s not a failure to spell things out upfront if relying on your knowledge of each other and nonverbal cues doesn’t feel safe right now.

Sometimes, verbally affirming consent can be really reassuring the next time you play, too. Our first really good scene after the string of issues started with Mr CK asking me to very explicitly state my consent to what we were going to do.

You can also ease back in slowly! You don’t have to go straight to a 10 on the intensity scale if a 4 feels more comfortable right now. Even if you were hanging upside down from the rafters when something went awry, you can dial it back to a gentle spanking next time you play. The only thing that matters is that you play at a level that’s comfortable for you both. A less intense scene isn’t a failed scene. The only criteria for success is that you are both safe, gave free and enthusiastic consent, and had fun.

Final thoughts

There are basically three main things I want you to take away from this post. When a scene goes wrong, remember:

  1. Practice kindness, patience and forgiveness. To yourself as well as to your partner.
  2. It happens to everyone sometimes and does not mean you failed as a kinkster, Dom, sub or partner.
  3. You CAN move past it, learn from it, and use the experience to strengthen both your skills and your relationship.

And if you’re reading this because you went Googling in a panic after your scene went wrong? You’ve got this. I believe in you. It’s okay.

Masturbation Monday: “Take a Seat”

A "support me on Patreon" buttonI’m having a bit of a Patreon pledge drive at the moment because I could really use the support to help me keep doing this work. Click here or the badge to sign up & get exciting bonus content. 

I didn’t know what I was going to write for today’s Masturbation Monday and was pretty much all out of inspiration. I usually ignore the photo prompts and just write what I want. This week, though, I clicked over to the page to see what the image prompt was, and… well, look at it! My mind started to spin, and this is what it came up with…

A glass butt plug on a white chair.I try not to squirm too much in my seat. She hates when I do that – she interprets it as complaining, which I’m not allowed to do. Across the table from me, my Mistress calmly eats her salad, occasionally looking up from her plate to flash me that devilish smile. Her strawberry-blonde curls tumble to half way down her back and her breasts look fucking incredible in that black dress she knows I love and, undoubtedly, her favourite push-up bra beneath it. Her fifties have been kind to her – in the thirty years I’ve known her, she’s got more beautiful with every passing year.

As for me, I’m wearing my best suit – it is our anniversary, after all, and this restaurant is very expensive. I’m sure to anyone observing we just look like a normal, middle-aged couple out for a special dinner. What no-one else knows is that under my trousers, I’ve got a glass butt-plug nestled deep in my ass.

She bent me over our bed before we left, lubed up the plug and slid it into my ass, telling me that I was going to be a good boy and wear it for her all night – without giving the game away in public, of course. And so here I am, feeling it inside me with every movement and trying not to let my face betray our secret.

She pops a forkful of food into her mouth and her eyes lock with mine. Her eyes smoulder with lust and I just know she’s wet and not wearing knickers under that dress. Tormenting me is her biggest turn-on. My cock twitches, unable to get hard in its prison but straining at the metal walls nonetheless. My ass tightens around the hard glass of the plug, sending a rush of pleasure through me.

She swallows her mouthful and mouths a single word at me. Her favourite word. “Mine“.

I am hers, every inch of me from the greying hairs on my head to my plugged ass to my caged cock. I only hope she will let me eat her beautiful cunt when we get home, while I get no pleasure at all.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the badge to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

Image is by the fabulous Exposing 40 and was originally published as Take A Seat.

 

[Wearable Review] Bijoux Indiscrets Maze Choker/Collar

Have you guys noticed that collars seem to be really trendy right now? Everywhere I look, femme folks are wearing them as fashion accessories. This is both awesome (“I can wear my collar in public and no-one will think it’s weird!”) and really annoying (“it’s so hard to spot my people in the wild now!”)

The line between what constitutes a choker and what constitutes a collar is… flimsy. I’d say there are some items that are definitely collars, but ultimately the distinction comes down to the meaning you ascribe to it. Wearing a collar is, at its best, a place of safety and grounding for me. It gives me a sense of security in my submissive identity and the knowledge that my Dominant will take care of me for as long as I’m wearing it.

My former collar was a thing of beauty. I do not miss that relationship but I do miss that collar. Since then, I’ve worn a number of play collars, but none has ever felt as right around my neck as this one.

The black faux leather Maze collar on my desk.

Ethical Glamour

Like every piece in Bijoux Indiscrets’ Maze collection, this collar is made of faux leather made of polyurethane from recycled materials. This means it is both environmentally conscious and certified vegan! A major plus for those of us who love leather but feel weird about the animal cruelty implications of the real thing.

As I’ve said before, I struggle with what I acknowledge is a level of hypocrisy within myself, being a vegetarian who also adores leather. I particularly love Bijoux’s products because their faux leather looks and feels so close to the real thing. It sadly doesn’t have that sexy-as-fuck leather smell, but I guess you can’t have everything. This material is a really fantastic choice for the animal welfare-conscious kinkster.

Simple, Elegant and Comfortable

My neck in the Bijoux Maze black faux leather collar.You can get all kinds of gorgeous and fancy collars. However, I’ve always tended more towards simplicity in the designs I like. The Maze collar is a slender band with a simple ring at the front, which is both decorative and functional (ideal for attaching a leash, for example!)

I have this collar in black, but it also comes in brown, which is equally beautiful and a really nice option for those who don’t want all their fetishwear to be black, red or purple. (I was sorely tempted to ask for a brown one myself! The black won out because it goes with more of my wardrobe.) Both colours are gorgeous.

The Maze collar is also super duper comfortable! I wore it all evening at a party, and it was so comfy that we were half way through our two hour drive home before I remembered I was still wearing it. (Gotta tell you, though, Bijoux collar plus Doxy t-shirt is the ultimate in “post-sex-party chic”.)

One Size Fits Most

I really love the fastenings on this collar. There is no buckle; instead, it is closed with a small peg which you push through one of the holes. I really liked this aspect as it meant it was super easy to put on and take off myself, without needing any help. The downside is that it is not lockable, so if you’re after a collar that can be locked into place, this is not the one.

It’s super adjustable, meaning one size will fit the vast majority of necks regardless of sex or body type.

The Perfect Everyday Collar

I am in love with this collar, and actually this entire range. Pair your Maze collar with a leash and cuffs for kinky fun, with a harness for bondage-inspired glamour, with my favourite ears for kitten play, or with some nipple-pasties/sparkles for burlesque-style sex appeal.

The Maze choker/collar retails for £22.50/$26, making it one of the more affordable pieces in the Maze collection. Eco-conscious beauty at an affordable price!

Thank you to Bijoux Indiscrets for sending me this piece free of charge in exchange for an honest review! If you buy your Bijoux goodies from Shevibe or Peepshow Toys (use code COFFEE for 10% off) sends a small commission my way and helps me keep doing what I’m doing.

Photos are by me and not to be used without permission.

Masturbation Monday: “Oral Service”

A white women's body, from the top of the chest down, sitting with one leg folded in and the other up and bent. She is wearing nothing but pink knickers. For a Masturbation Monday story called Oral Service

She’s a good girl. I tell her so often. It’s one of the many reasons I love her. She’s been serving me faithfully for years now, my girl, and it’s got so much better since we’ve both been self-employed and working from home.

Usually when we’re at home together, we work side by side in my home office. Well… I sit at the desk and she sits cross-legged on the floor by my side, laptop open in front of her. I like her to wear nothing but cute knickers and her collar. Sometimes not even that. She fetches me coffee when she takes a break from typing, knowing exactly how I like it – cream, no sugar unless I’m having a particularly stressful day, and served to me by a gorgeous kneeling service submissive. She glows with pride when I take the drink, take a sip, then stroke her hair and tell her she’s my good girl.

Sometimes, though, the service I require from her is more intimate than just fetching my drink. You see, I’m an erotica author by profession. I write about sex – hot, steamy, wild, kinky, queer sex – for seven or eight hours a day. And more often than not, I get really fucking turned on doing it.

“Girl.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Get to a good stopping place and tell me when you’re ready”. I am considerate of her work and always give her a reasonable time-frame to refocus her attention on serving me. A few minutes later, she tells me she’s ready.

“Good. Now come over here and get under the desk. This scene I’m writing has got me needing your lovely tongue”. I push my chair back to let her get into position under my desk. Then I move back towards her, flip my skirt up – I hardly ever wear knickers for exactly this reason – and offer my cunt to my eagerly waiting girl.

She runs the tip of her tongue against my labia, then pushes it into my cunt, tasting my excitement. Then she finds my clit and begins first circling it, then flicking it gently. I moan, my back arching, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Fuck, she’s good. She licks faster, lashing my sensitive clit with her tongue. She might be my submissive, but I am all hers when she pleasures me like this.

My legs are beginning to tremble as she brings me closer to orgasm. I know she feels it, because she clamps her mouth around my clit and sucks it hard. This always tips me over the edge. I reach under the desk and grasp a handful of her hair, using it to hold her pretty face in position as my cunt spasms and I come, hard, in her mouth.

As my orgasm subsides I release her and fall back in my chair, catching my breath.

She peeks out from under the desk and grins.

“Kiss?” she asks in that adorable voice that I can rarely say no to.

I lean down to kiss her, my girl. My good girl, still with the taste of my orgasm on her lips.

Masturbation Monday is created and run by Kayla Lords. This week’s photo is by the gorgeous and talented Marie Rebelle, who blogs at Rebel’s Notes. Click the logo to see what others are getting off to this week. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider supporting me on Patreon (where you’ll get #BonusSmut every Tuesday!) or buying me a coffee. 

My Safety Philosophy: Why I Practice (C)RACK

I always listen to Loving BDSM Podcast the day it comes out (Fridays), usually on my way to work. They’re always insightful, frequently hilarious and often make me think.  Today’s episode was all about the different safety philosophies within the kink community. Kayla and John discussed why they personally practice SSC – Safe, Sane and Consensual. As always, they’ve got loads of great things to say and I highly recommend you take a listen.

A cracked wall with flowers growing out of it. For a post on safety philosophies in kink.As I was listening, I realised I’ve written about safety tips for kink, but I’ve never actually written about my own personal safety philosophy before.

In kink, the three safety philosophies you’ll mostly hear cited are:

SSC: Which states that everything we do must be Safe, Sane and Consensual.

RACK: Which urges us to practice Risk Aware Consensual Kink.

And PRICK: Which asks us to take Personal Responsibility (in) Informed Consensual Kink.

Each of these has their merits and I will never knock anyone else’s safety philosophy as long as it’s based around the cores of safety and informed consent. Personally, though, I practice RACK. Let me tell you why.

What is “safe” anyway?

Very little in life is completely safe. We take risks in our life every day. It would be absurd to think that sex or kink could be completely free from risk. I take a risk every time I use a sharp knife to chop vegetables. I take a risk every time I get in my car (driving, when you think about the size of the machine you’re in and the speeds at which it moves, is fucking terrifying). And I definitely take a risk every time I let someone spank me, string me up in ropes, or get into edgy and emotionally fraught places in my psyche. (Yes, not all risk is physical. Mental risk is just as real).

Risk Aware, for me, doesn’t just mean knowing the risks are there but taking active steps to reduce them. We know driving is dangerous, so we wear seatbelts, don’t drive drunk, and don’t text while we’re driving. And in kink, it’s exactly the same.

Being risk aware means letting a partner know about any physical issues I might have that could impact our play, and keeping an eye on them during. It means letting my partner know about a pinched nerve or pins and needles in my hands. It means, when I’m Topping, getting proper education on the acts I want to do to another human being and not playing beyond my competence level.

So: nothing we do is, or can be, completely safe. Even vanilla missionary position sex with the lights out carries some degree of risk. By being informed, we can meaningfully mitigate risks to the best of our ability.

Who gets to define “sanity”?

I, like approximately 1/4 of the adult population (conservative estimate,) suffer from a mental health problem. Does that mean I’m incapable of doing kink responsibly? No, absolutely not. As a person with mental health conditions, I find classifications of “sanity” to be intensely problematic.

As long as I’m aware of where my mental health is at, and can communicate that to a partner, it’s generally reasonably safe and completely healthy for me to play. Which… circles us back around to that risk aware piece, doesn’t it?

At best, sanity is nebulous and difficult to define. What feels “insane” to one person might be “average Saturday afternoon” for another.

My unease with PRICK

PRICK is a fine philosophy, in so far as it goes. But it makes me feel a vague uneasiness whenever I hear it, and today I finally put my finger on why.

I’ve been involved in various ways in anti-sexual-violence activism for 6+ years. The phrase “personal responsibility” has been thrown at me and so many of the survivors I know more times than we can count. In those instances, unfortunately, it is taken to the extreme of meaning that you are ultimately responsible for everything that happens to you.

This means that a generally good philosophy (“look out for yourself, take responsibility for your actions and the impact they have on yourself and others around you”) has been co-opted and twisted to mean “if someone harms you, it’s your fault”.

It’s not that I’ll never play with someone who practices PRICK, but I would need to make damn sure that their meaning is closer to “we are responsible for taking care of our own and each others’ safety and wellbeing to the best of our ability”. That’s what a good philosophy of personal responsibility would look like.

Sadly, I just know too many people who say “personal responsibility” when they mean “if you get raped, what were you wearing how much did you drink why were you out late how did you not know that guy was a rapist?????

It all comes back to consent

Whichever you practice, you’ll notice that the one thing all these philosophies have in common is consent. Consent is at the core of everything we do. However, it occurred to me today that there is one key ingredient which none of these philosophies explicitly address…

The missing piece

Kayla and John so often come back to the importance of communication in their discussions on Loving BDSM. I often find myself nodding along, and am in absolute agreement with them that effective communication is at the core of everything we do. You cannot have safe(r) kink and sex without communication. You cannot have a good relationship without communication! And I don’t think we can meaningfully discuss good philosophies of safety without also discussing the importance of strong communication.

Therefore I present to you my new philosophy, adapted from RACK, which you are all welcome to use if it speaks to you:

CRACK: Communicative (&) Risk Aware Consensual Kink.

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Masturbation Monday: “Punishment For Touching”

There’s a back-story to this one. I was a bad girl, and as such I earned a punishment. Mr CK tasked a pretty girl we’re going to be playing with soon to come up with the punishment. Her task for me was to write a piece of erotica about caning… and then read it aloud while being caned. While she watched on cam. So that’s exactly what I did.

Please enjoy the piece I wrote as part of my punishment.

A red and white candy cane. For a Masturbation Monday story about a girl being punished by caning.I hate the cane. Hate it hate it hate it. I love pain, but the thuddy, dull kind – the vicious bite and sting of the cane is something else. That’s why it’s saved for when I’ve been really bad. I knew I was in for it when he caught me with my fingers in my knickers after being strictly ordered not to touch. However much  protested – that it had only been a moment, that it was really his fault for keeping me so cruelly denied – he hauled me into the bedroom telling me I needed the disobedience beating out of me. Which brings me to now – watching him take the evil implement of pain off the hook on the door and give it a couple of test-swings.

“Get your knickers off and bend over”. I squeak. “It’s no use whimpering. Hurry up”. Damn, I wish his orders didn’t make me so wet. My body is beginning to betray me. I peel my knickers off and step out of them and bend over the bed, resting on my elbows, ass pointing up – small and vulnerable. He runs his hand over my ass.

“You know why you’re in trouble, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I touched my cunt without permission, Sir.”

“And sluts don’t get to touch their cunts without permission, do they?”

“No, Sir.”

“Five strokes, and I’m not going to go easy on you.”

He brings the cane down on my ass. I let out a squeal of pain. Fuck, it hurts! I bury my face in the bed and whimper pathetically. The second stroke lands in the exact same spot. I yelp.

“Aw. Did that hurt?” I nod furiously. “Good. That’s because it’s a punishment. Three more to go.”

CRACK.

The third stroke makes me scream, the sound muffled by the mattress. I hate it. I hate it so much. So why am I so wet I feel like I’m going to drip all over the floor?

WHACK.

The fourth stroke brings tears to my eyes, but my cunt is wetter than ever.

CRACK.

The fifth stroke is the hardest. The tears spill over, staining the sheet. My ass is on fire.

“Aww, are you crying?” I nod. “You’ll behave next time then, won’t you?”

Without warning, he shoves his fingers between my legs and into my cunt.

“Don’t. Fucking. Come.”

That’s when I realise the punishment is far from over.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Fluff”

Content note: this one contains cuckquean fantasy and pretty intense sexual degredation. All parties in this scenario are consenting adults.

A black and white close up of a padlock and claim on the door of a cage. For a Masturbation Monday story called FluffI never know quite who he’s going to bring home. His tastes are wide and varied. One week, a curvaceous redhead covered in tattoos. The next, a tall, slender girl with boobs to die for. Yet another week, the one who looked like she’d stepped out of a 1950s pin-up centrefold. I think he likes to keep me guessing as well as keep things interesting for himself.

A surprising number of women go for what he’s offering… I think it’s because he goes for the more Dominant ones who relish the idea of tormenting a stupid little fucktoy like me.

I hear the door go, and hold my breath. Yes, definitely two of them. I count the steps as they come up the stairs, my heart beating faster. I’ve been locked in my cage in the corner of our bedroom, naked except for my steel chastity belt, all evening – as I always am when he goes out to find someone to fuck. A short distance away, the key sits – for emergencies only, of course, in case the house catches fire or something.

If you ever use it when it’s not an emergency, I will know,” he warned me each time he locked me in. “And you’ll be in for a world of punishment.” I never do. I like sitting here, my cunt getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, waiting for him to come home.

The door opens. He comes in first, my ridiculously beautiful Master, his long hair released from its ponytail and his tie loosened. She follows, and I exhale as I get my first glimpse of her. She’s a brunette, petite, only up to his shoulder even in her heels, her little red dress – the same shade as her lipstick – showing off every inch of fabulous curves.

“Such a good pet, waiting in its cage for you to get home,” she coos, looking over at me. “Is it really going to watch while you fuck me?”

“Mm-hmm. It likes it, too.”

My cunt pulses. I love the objectification of being referred to like this, spoken of not as her but as it. My locked-up hole clenches again when I watch my husband – my Master – grab this beautiful woman and kiss her passionately. She moans into his mouth. His hands find their way first to her breasts, squeezing and massaging, and then to her ass, pulling her in closer to him. I’m not jealous. I know it’s me he really loves, and he only does this because of how much it turns us both on. But god, I’m envious when he pulls up her dress, slides a hand between her legs and rubs her. My own cunt hasn’t felt anything but cold, unrelenting steel for weeks.

She moans, writhing against his touch. He kisses her again. She must hear my whimper, because she giggles and breaks away from him, coming over to my cage.

“When I worked in porn, we had staff whose job was to get the guys hard before they fucked. They called them fluffers.” She kneels before the cage, looking in at me through the bars, turning her attention from my Master to me. “What do you think, little fucktoy? Want to fluff your husband so he can fuck me while you watch?”

I look at her, wide-eyed, and then glance at Master. I am not allowed to speak unless given permission.

“You may speak. Respectfully.”

“Yes please, Miss.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Ask nicely,” she taunts. “Maybe we’ll even let you out of that cage if we do a good enough job. On second thoughts, no. Pathetic cunts don’t get their pathetic holes played with.”

I look imploringly up at my Master, who has moved over to stand beside his new friend. “Please, Master, can I suck your cock until it’s hard enough for you to fuck Miss?”

“What do you think?” she asks him.

“Well, since it asked so nicely…” he unzips the fly of his jeans and pulls out his cock. It’s semi-erect already. He shoves it between the bars of the cage, and I open my mouth eagerly to receive it. I take him deeply into my throat, whimpering quietly, flicking my tongue over the head of his cock, gradually teasing it to full erection. God, I could suck his cock all day.

Her hand slips into the cage and between my legs, rubbing the steel of my belt right over my clit. Of course, I can’t feel a thing. I whine and hump her hand, is if it’s going to make any difference. My belted cunt drips.

“Pathetic,” she says again. “Poor little creature, so horny from sucking its Master’s cock. Knowing it’s not going to get aaaaany release at all.” She turns to him. “Has it got your cock nice and hard?”

“Oh yeah. It’s got a talented tongue, that’s why I keep it around.”

She grabs his hand. “Then come and stick that hard cock in my tight little cunt while it watches.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.