5 Things I Used to Believe About Myself (That I Don’t Believe Any More)

I’m writing this as part of the Smutathon 2020 writing challenge in aid of Endometriosis UK. We’re coming to the end of hour number 10, with two more to go.

This one is inspired by this week’s Quote Quest prompt:

“Change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live. Do not try to change people; they are only messengers telling you who you are. Revalue yourself and they will confirm the change.”
– Neville Goddard

I’ve done a lot of work on changing my perception of myself over the last few years, particularly since leaving my abusive partner just over 5 years ago.

So here are some of the things I used to believe about myself but don’t believe any more.

I have a low sex drive

Turns out I DON’T have a low sex drive – if anything, my libido is on the higher side (depression notwithstanding). I just thought I had a low sex drive for a long time, because I was in relationships where I didn’t feel empowered own my sexuality.

The first two men I had long-term relationships with both conceptualised my sexuality as something they could – should – own. They both placed a high value on “purity” and “innocence”, expecting me to stay a timid, shy creature forever. They wanted my availability, but my actual desire was somewhere between “irrelevant” and “mildly distasteful”.

I don’t have a low libido at all. No – I just need to be with people who value it.

I can’t leave a relationship

This is probably the most toxic and harmful thing I used to believe about myself. I believed this one for years. Prided myself on it, even. However bad things got, I told myself, I wouldn’t be the one to leave.

Loyalty and commitments are values I hold very close to my heart and take very seriously. But loyalty and commitment have limits. Eventually, even the most devoted person will be pushed too far. It wasn’t actually a virtue to stay in a relationship with someone who continually harmed me. It was a symbol of a profound degredation of my personal boundaries and self esteem.

Now, I know that if I am not being treated well, I will leave. And as a result, I’m in healthier relationships.

I’m too difficult to love

This was another narrative my abuser put into my head. He convinced me that I was inherently difficult to love because of my mental illness, trauma, and – frankly – my reasonable and sane negative reactions to the ways he treated me.

Another part of the reason I stayed so long? Because he convinced me that no-one else would love me the way he did. That I was “poison” and “cursed” (his words) and that he was doing me a huge favour by putting up with me.

The reality? I’m no more difficult to love than anyone else. We all have our “stuff” and in any long-term, commited relationship it will sometimes feel challenging. But no-one is too difficult to love. Especially not due to things like illness or trauma.

I’m defined by my trauma

It would be a lie to say that my trauma hasn’t changed me. Of course it has. No-one can come out of a long-term abusive relationship unscathed. The fact is that I do not know who I would have been without that experience.

But that doesn’t mean I am defined by my trauma. It is a part of me, but it is not me. I’m many things, and a survivor is one of them – an important one. But not all there is. Not by a long shot.

I’m straight

Lol.

Yeah, this is something I really used to believe about myself at one time. Seems strange now.

If you haven’t donated to Smutathon 2020’s charity yet, please do so now! We’re into the last couple hours and we really need your support. (If you read this in the week or so following the event, the page will still be open).

Five (More) Smutty Flash Fictions

I wasn’t kidding when I said y’all delivered with the prompts! To that end, for my third post of Smutathon 2020, here are five more smutty flash fictions inspired by the one- and two-word prompts I requested on Twitter.

Follow the Twitter account to keep up with the event – and don’t forget to donate!

Afterward

(Prompt: “biscuits,” offered by @V_greyauthor)

My wife fucks other men.

She does it with my blessing. In fact, I really, really enjoy it. Knowing that she’s out getting laid, while I’m at home wondering what she’s up to and who with, makes me so fucking hard I can hardly stand it. Which, of course, is the idea.

I’m not allowed to get myself off while she’s out. She expects me to be hard and waiting when she gets home. Her sex drive is such that half the time, getting laid just makes her hornier for more. If she’s in the mood when she gets home, she’ll push me down on the bed and ride me until I explode inside of her recently-fucked cunt, then have me eat her out until she comes two or three more times.

Of course, sometimes she’s too tired when she gets home. Then I have to wait until the next day. On those nights, I go to sleep with my cock throbbing, aching for release.

Whatever happens, we always end the night cuddling, eating biscuits, and talking about her adventures.

My wife fucks other men, and I get off on it. But I also love knowing I’m the only one she’ll come home and eat biscuits in bed with.

Unrequited

(Prompt: “you wish,” offered by @makeupandsin)

Unrequited love is the fucking worst.

He doesn’t want me. He’s never wanted me. I know the kind of women he dates, and they’re nothing like me. Truth is, feeding this hopeless crush – this hopeless love – turns me the fuck on. It’s like a bruise I can’t stop poking. The little jolt of emotionally masochistic pleasure is addictive.

Night after night I lie in bed, rubbing my clit and thinking of him. I imagine him pinning me to the bed with those strong, muscular arms. Sometimes, in my fantasy, he tells me I’m beautiful and he loves me. Other times, he tells me I’m a filthy little slut and it’s pathetic how long and how obviously I’ve mooned over him.

I’ve tried to train myself out of this habit. I’ve tried to read erotica, watch porn, fantasise about other men, fantasise about women. But it always comes back to him. Even if I manage to get into another fantasy, at the point that I reach the point of orgasm it’s always his face I see, his voice I hear.

Unrequited love is the worst, but thinking of him gives me the best orgasms I’ve ever had.

Multiples

(Prompt: “once more,” offered by @QueerCourtesan)

(TW: CNC, forced orgasm)

He buries his fingers deeper into me, pounding my G-spot. “Again,” he orders. I don’t want to obey the order, but my body is conditioned to do as he says.

“Again.” 

“No, please…” 

“Fucking do it, slut.” 

He’s made me come so many times already that I am long past the point of pleasure. This is what he does after he’s denied me for a long time – forces the orgasms out of me until I beg for it to stop. The first one is blissful relief. The second and third, satiating pleasure. After that, I start to get oversensitive. By six or seven, it hurts. We passed ten a while ago and I’ve lost count. 

The torment comes from knowing this is a game I can’t win. As soon as I safeword, he’ll stop. However, until then, he’ll make me come as many times as he likes. Every forced orgasm takes one day off my next chastity sentence, which starts at six months.  

“Again.” The orgasm racks my body, making me buck my hips off the bed as another rush of wetness leaks out of me. 

“Again. Again. Again.” This time, they’re in such quick succession that I don’t have time to catch my breath between.

“Red!” The word slips out of my mouth before I can pause to decide if I can take any more of this torment in exchange for a shorter period of denial. 

“Seventeen. You did well this time. Your sentence is reduced to five months and fourteen days.”

Sharing

(Prompt: “your turn,” offered by @WitchoftheWands)

Master likes to share me with his friends at these parties. I love it, too, of course. It satisfies my slutty tendences without me feeling like I’m putting our D/s dynamic aside.

They’re all trusted friends, experienced in the lifestyle and trusted by Master with his favourite toy – me. I have a safeword, of course, but until I use it, they can do whatever they want with me.

Sometimes they want to spank me, bending me over their laps and reddening my ass in front of the whole room. Sometimes they just want service, sending me to fetch their drinks or shine their shoes.

I like it best when they want to fuck me. It seems that that’s what tonight is going to be. Being at the centre of a gangbang, with five or six men who all want me desperately. I might be the submissive, but god it makes me feel powerful.

The second man of the night is fucking me and I can tell he’s getting close to coming. I watch his muscles tense, listen to his incredibly fucking sexy groans. I won’t come unless one of them decides to be kind enough to give me the clitoral stimulation I need. But that’s okay. I get more satisfaction out of service than I do from orgasm.

When they’ve all finished with me, I know that Master will use me last. He’s happy to share, but at the end of the night, we both need the reminder that I’m his.

Anonymous

(Prompt: “swords,” offered by @just_a_gremlin)

I never knew her name.

We met in the queer bar downtown the first week I moved here. I didn’t ask her name, and she didn’t offer it or ask for mine. Her hair was shoulder length and dyed the colour of blood. She had a sword tattoo on her left arm.

She kissed me on the dance floor with lips that tasted of vodka and coke. Later, she pushed me up against the wall in a locked bathroom cubicle, pressing her fingers to my lips to keep me quiet and sliding my other hand down the front of my skirt.

Her fingers manipulated my cunt until I squirmed helplessly against her hand. When she made me come, she kissed me to swallow the sound I made. I wanted to reciprocate, but she didn’t want me to. She kissed me once more and slipped away into the night, leaving me still trembling.

I haven’t seen her since, but every time I come to the club, I still look out for a flash of scarlet hair and a sword tattoo.

I hope you enjoyed these smutty flash fictions! Thank you to everyone who offered a prompt. Please donate to Endometriosis UK using the link above!

Five Smutty Flash Fictions

Hey everyone! Smutathon 2020 is well underway, with writers from all over the world typing furiously for 12 hours to raise money for Endometriosis UK, a wonderful charity who deserve all your support.

I asked for one- or two-word prompts for smutty flash fictions on Twitter, and y’all DELIVERED. To that end, here are the first five inspired by your words.

More Tea?

(Prompt: “tea, please,” offered by @luminiferous)

It takes about 15 minutes before my knees and wrists start to ache. 25 minutes before “ache” turns to “pain”. Maybe half an hour before I can feel my muscles trembling with the sheer effort of holding me up.

Have you ever noticed how long half an hour is when your task is to stay very, very still in one position and not do anything?

I’ve been on all fours with the tea tray resting on my back for thirty one minutes, and my body and mind are engaged in a battle of wills. I know I could safeword if I had to, but I keep bargaining with myself to hold out for just another minute. Then just one more minute. And another. And another.

Sir and his friend are mostly ignoring me, except for occasionally reaching out a booted foot to caress me. I have long stopped listening to their conversation. I like doing this because I don’t have to talk, I don’t have to listen or think. Instead, I can let my mind go blissfully blank.

The feeling of Sir’s hand sliding across my naked ass sets my nerves tingling. Coupled with the challenge of staying still and in position, it takes all my concentration not to drop the tray.

I feel him pick up the teapot from the tray on my back.

“More tea?” he asks his friend.

Dessert

(Prompt: “hive mind,” offered by @jennkryst)

I don’t know how, but it seems that all this time, they were both thinking exactly the same thing as me. When I got the text message – “dinner at ours on Friday night?” – I allowed my mind to wander into a delicious fantasy realm for just a moment.

Dinner was delicious, of course – Kate is a chef and everything she makes is incredible. What I didn’t realise until part way through the meal, when their flirtation switched from “plausibly deniable” to “too obvious to ignore,” is that they had something very special in mind for dessert – me.

The way they laid out their proposition, seeming almost nervous for the first time all evening, might have been sleazy coming from anyone else. But from my two dearest friends, married for over twenty five years, it was both sweet and incredibly enticing.

From there, it happened with all the fluidity of long-term lovers coupled with the excitement of a brand new partner. First she ate me out while I sucked his cock, then he fucked me from behind while I went down on her until she squirted in my mouth. Later, they spit-roasted me, her strap-on filling my cunt while his cock filled my mouth until I came so hard I saw stars.

Hours later, and I’m the filling in a sweaty, exhausted, but very happy human sandwich in their big bed. “How did you know I wanted to fuck you both?” I ask them.

Their eyes meet over me and they both grin.

“Just a feeling,” Joe says.

“Call it the hive mind of thirty years of friendship,” Kate adds.

Bake Sale

(Prompt: “cookie,” offered by @ayalamoogsigan)

My wife is up shortly after dawn, making cookies for the church bake sale. Chocolate chip, lemon, peanut butter, oatmeal and raisin. She can’t decide which variety of her famous treats to bake, so she makes them all.

To my surprise, when I wander into the kitchen to get my morning coffee, she’s rolling out dough completely naked except for an apron. She flashes me a wicked grin as I pour coffee, my eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Well, I only get flour all over my clothes otherwise,” she says. I lean against the counter and sip my coffee, watching her. She slides a tray of perfect, golden-brown chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and replaces it with a new tray of neat balls of dough.

She unties her apron, takes it off and hangs it on the peg on the door. “These take 8 minutes to bake so if you want to fuck me, you’d better do it quickly,” she says. I almost spit out a mouthful of coffee in shock. In eleven years of marriage I don’t think I’ve ever heard my shy, demure wife use the word “fuck” to describe sex. My cock, already half erect from the sight of her gorgeous mostly-naked body, springs fully to life. We haven’t connected much sexually in the last few months, and I have no idea where this new version of her has come from. Still, I have no complaints.

When I bend her over the kitchen sink and slide my hand between her legs, she’s already dripping wet. I push two fingers inside her but her hips thrust back against me, seeking more. My cock quickly replaces my fingers inside her, harder than I can remember it being in a long time.

She moans deeply and I feel her cunt clench around my cock. The gutteral noise I make involuntarily encourages her and she does it again and then again.

“Fuck… I’m not going to be… able to hold off… much longer if you keep doing that!”

“Don’t hold back, then,” she says, squeezing her vaginal muscles around me again. “Come in me, my love.”

The invitation and a couple more of those delicious squeezes is all I need to tip me over the edge. As I come down from my orgasm, I hold her close with one arm, while my other hand finds her clit. I’m wondering if I can get her off before…

Fuck. The oven alarm goes off to indicate the cookies are ready.

My wife extricates herself from my embrace and plans a kiss on my lips before retrieving the apron. “Later,” she says.

Commuter Train

(Prompt: “tickets please,” offered by @witteringwench1)

The jostling of the commuter crowd and the rattling of the train makes me very, very aware of the plug filling my ass. I feel it with every movement, just a little too big to be comfortable. Stretching me. Reminding me, with every step I take all day, that I’m hers.

“Are you going to be a good little slut and wear this for me all day?” she asked this morning when she slid the well-lubed plug into my ass. I know her well enough to understand that the question was rhetorical. She wanted it, so of course I would do it.

I didn’t complain, just like I don’t complain when she spanks my ass until I cry, just because seeing me in pain amuses her. Just like I don’t complain when she brings me to the edge of orgasm, laughs at my frantic whimpers, and then stops and tells me to go and make dinner. She expects obedience, and I willingly give it.

The train pulls into my stop. Only nine more hours of this to go.

First Light

(Prompt: “what time,” offered by @polyladyincali)

“What time is it?” she asks sleepily. I glance at the green digits on the bedside clock.

“Early enough.” We have exactly thirty seven minutes before I need to get up and start getting ready to go to the airport. I wrap my arms around my girlfriend from behind, burying my face into her hair and breathing in the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo.

After a minute or so of blissful, naked cuddling, she reaches behind her and slides her hands between our two bodies. Her fingers quickly find my clit and I shudder as she strokes it in that perfect way that only she can. I bite my lip, a gasp escaping.

She shifts, positioning herself between my legs. She looks up and her eyes meet mine for a moment, before she wraps her lips around my clit.

“Fuck!” I gasp. We’ve been dating for three years but every time we have sex, the skill with which she pulls the responses from my body astounds me. She alternates between sucking my clit into her mouth and pulling back to draw circles around it with the tip of her tongue.

I never squirted until I met her, but she can coax it from me with surprising ease. When I come, I gush, flooding her mouth and soaking the sheets beneath us.

She grins and kisses the inside of my thigh. The first light of morning is seeping around the edges of the curtains, and I know we’ll soon have to go.

“Something to remember me by,” she says. “Until next time.”

So there you have it, folks! Did you enjoy these five little smutty flash fictions? If so, please donate to Endometriosis UK using the link above! And stay tuned for more #Smutathon2020 content.

[Toy Review] We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator

A co-produced toy by one of my favourite manufacturers and one of my favourite retailers? Sign me up! The We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator (woof, that’s a mouthful) recently landed on my doorstep to review as part of my Sex Ed September series.

I’m writing this post on Saturday 26 September 2020, which is Smutathon 2020 day! A group of sex writers around the world are writing for 12 hours to raise money for Endometriosis UK, a fantastic cause that’s very close to our hearts. To that end, if you purchase through my affiliate links today (not just this toy – any product) I’ll donate any commissions dated today to the charity.

And of course, we’d love you to donate directly and help us reach our £3000 target!

With that out of the way…

Let’s have a closer look at the We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator.

This toy is the latest in the line of We-Vibe’s signature U-shaped vibrators, designed to be worn during penis-in-vagina intercourse. The slimmer of the two “arms” anchors the toy inside the vagina, while the outer arm rests against the vulva and provides clitoral stimulation.

The We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couples Vibrator

This toy is rechargeable via a USB cable, giving about 90 minutes of playtime for a 2-hour charge. While the toy itself is completely waterproof, the remote is not. The WV x LH Couple’s Vibrator is 3.5 inches in total length, and the insertable section is 3 inches long.

What I liked

The We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator is made of body-safe matte silicone. This makes it phthalate-free, non-porous, and a breeze to clean.

This toy’s two arms are separated by a flexible hinge. This allows you to position it at whatever angle is most pleasurable for your body. Since no two bodies are the same, making it adjustable better enables users to get the perfect fit for them.

The slimline design of the internal arm will make it comfortable for the majority of wearers, and prevent it from being too obtrusive during penetrative play.

I often roll my eyes about “hands free” toys. But, to give this product credit where it’s due, it did stay in place reasonably well. I don’t think it can truly be described as “hands free” as it moves around with intense thrusting, but I found it much easier to keep in place than an entirely hand-held toy. For solo sex purposes, I can pretty much use it hands-free.

Finally, the remote control is well designed. It’s very light, easy and unobtrusive to hold, and the controls are intuitive. Two buttons allow you to scroll through pattern settings, the othes change the speed.

Remote control for a remote control couples vibrator

And what I didn’t like

I had high hopes for the We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator. We-Vibe is known for producing toys with high-quality, powerful and rumbly motors.

Sadly, the reality just didn’t match up to expectations. I don’t know if We-Vibe decided to use a different type of motor for this collaborative production, but the power in this iteration of their classic design is woefully lacking.

The vibrations are buzzy, surface-level, middling strength at best, and ultimately unsatisfying. I was not able to reach orgasm with it and I doubt I will use it again.

Final thoughts

Honestly, I’m underwhelmed.

I really wanted this toy to be amazing, as a collaboration between two companies I love should be. While the design is great in some ways, I can’t easily forgive a sex toy that completely failed to get me off. While I understand that the We-Vibe name carries a premium price-tag, at £99.99 this toy is far too expensive for its quality level.

For that reason, I sadly can’t entirely endorse this product. If you can afford to spend a little more, get the Sync or Chorus instead. If you’re on a budget and looking for something that will fit between bodies during sex, you’ll be better off with a really good bullet vibe.

Thanks to Lovehoney for sending me the We-Vibe x Lovehoney Remote Control Couple’s Vibrator to review. All views are my own. Affiliate links appear in this post.