The cuffs were her birthday gift, so in a twisted way it was appropriate that the first time they used them was during another person’s birthday party. His father’s.
The first instruction came as she bared the nape of her neck so he could fasten her necklace.
“At 11pm you’ll go to the bathroom, remove your knickers, and give them to me. If I’m busy, you will wait with them in your hands until I take them.”
She nodded, committing this to memory as she turned to face him and straighten his tie.
“And then, when all the guests have gone and we are all alone, we’re going to take off that pretty dress, and cuff you to the bed, and I’m going to eat that wet, desperate cunt of yours.”
She blushed crimson, the first of many pretty blushes that night.
“Yes Sir.” She said in a small voice.
“That’s my girl.” He took her arm and they made their way downstairs.
Of course, he tormented her that evening. Putting his arm around her he would palm that exact spot on her back which made her melt; trace his finger along the creases of her palm and she would try to hold it together in front of his aunts and uncles. Simple, unobtrusive gestures which no one could possibly think were turning her insides to jelly. His mother served kir royale, and he whispered “Who’s my wet little slut?” into his girl’s ear when passing the glasses round.
She smoothed her best dress out over the dented wooden floor and looked up at him.
“You don’t think I’m pretty, do you? You don’t like me at all.”
His face was almost quizzical.
“No. Of course not.”
A loose frond of her chocolate coloured curls had worked loose – he tucked it behind her ear gently as she reached up and unbuttoned his flies.
They were not quite alone, though no one paid them much heed in their corner of the hallway. Occasionally stepping on her heavy silk frock, there would be a muttered “Excuse me,” and she could hardly answer them with her mouth so full of him and the distraction of his weight pistoning into her.
I’m not a great person. I’m entirely self-centred whilst being made up of around 98% self-loathing which is very confusing if you stop to think about it. I love my blogger friends, I love the breadth and skill of their writing, but sometimes find it difficult to articulate that beyond “I like this” or just retweeting it. I am shit at comments, so I am going to try and get into the regular habit of a #SoSS post to actively show people how wonderful they are.
Anyway enough about me.
Exposing40’s Fat Bottomed Girls is a delightful shot of her glorious backside
Submiss34’s Sealed for Extra Freshness tracks the story of her Vac Bed experience (and includes some photos I took), and is included because it’s such a departure from her usual photography but no less sensually compelling.
Eye’s Being Owned really spoke to me, beautifully examining the conundrum of the submissive feminist, something a lot of us can identify with.
I had avoided Hannah’s For Breaking My Heart, Thank You because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to examine rebuilding after a breakup just yet, but as ever with my beloved Hannah, this is a joyful, tearful, cathartic reading experience if you have ever had your heart broken.
Exposing40 (again!) Created a vital call to arms with The Catastrophe of Ageing, a piece I fully intend to revisit again and again to remind me that I can plow my own furrow and be myself and be as visible or as behind the scenes in the world as I wish to be. Reading this has made me excited to be a woman, to make tracks, to create space, to do anything! (And to rewrite this paragraph where I initially had described her as spirited which is about as fucking patronising as you can get.)
And last but not least, this horrifyingly excellent #EuphOff winner from Love & Lust in London. A worthy winner that made me cringe with painful delight.
Note: Whilst Gwendolyn refers to Whittaker as her uncle, they are not blood relatives. This is all part of the game to them. Both are well above legal age.
The room was stifling hot, a fire that had lain dormant all day, was now purring contentedly in the grate and the heat made the smoke curling from Whittaker’s cigar hang thickly in the air. He was facing the window, his back to her, watching the late evening lovers take the air.
“Did you have a pleasant evening?” He didn’t turn around.
Gwendolyn took off her jacket and shoes. “Quite.”
“Did he try anything?”
She laughed and made her way through his tightly-packed office to the window, whose ledge was just wide enough for her to perch on.
“He was a gentleman – he was the gentleman he was paid to be.” Here she reached forward and took the cigar from his hand. She took a long drag and when he took it off her, blew languid smoke rings into the air, kicking her feet into his thigh. He caught one and held it as he smoked, her toes contained in his fist.
“You’re drunk.” he said after a while.
Eroticon is an amazing conference for sex writers and creatives of all kinds, an inclusive space to learn, network, feel inspired and express gratitude for the amazing community we have found ourselves in. This year was my first experience and certainly, hopefully, won’t be my last.
I am grateful for everyone who helped me have the best weekend possible, and here are ten things I am excited for in the future, as a direct result:
A dinosaur photography adventure with Exposing40
A transgressive writing adventure after Remittance Girl’s Taboo talk
A sleepover adventure to visit Molly & Signs
A slippery adventure with my box of slube and my GOTN mug
A lunch adventure with Missy
A photography adventure using the tips from Molly’s talk
A Smuthathon adventure masterminded by Amy
A science is fun, not using them for sex adventure with Hex condoms
A Bank Holiday adventure with my bathroom comrades
A loving, caring and listening adventure with myself
In honour of today being derby day in Liverpool
I take it upon myself to be match day servant.
During the warm ups and pre-analysis I start lunch, and bring drinks. Sometimes I glance up at the screen.
“Are you winning?”
“No.” He frowns
At half time I rest my head in his lap and he absent mindedly strokes my hair but still distracted.
“I hope you win.” I say into his stomach
“Go and check on the pizza.” he replies, gently pushing me.
From the kitchen all I hear is the dull hum of the crowd, punctuated by his subdued yet anguished cries, and swearing.
When I come back in, all is quiet. My customary brief look at score gives an explanation; 2-0 down.
I look at him. He’s still frowning. He knows it’s only a game. Only it isn’t, it’s something binding him to his brothers, his father, no matter how far away they are from one another.
I look back at the screen, then back at my love, bereft.
First Anita adjusted the drapes, casually, naked from a long, hot shower. Out of the corner of her eye the lights from the apartment opposite flickered on as she heard the bedroom door open and shut behind her.
He was there again. But as she came closer to the window to catch a glimpse, the light was extinguished, and her heart fell a little. No audience tonight. She sighed and turned to her husband, standing in the doorway, removing his sweater.
“Ready?” He asked quietly. She nodded, when the doorbell rang.
“I suppose I’ll answer it, you’re hardly dressed appropriately.”
They shared a small smile before Alan turned and headed downstairs to see who it was.
We’re having dinner with his parents and I’m on my best behaviour, of course I am, bringing wine and flowers and holding his hand like a power supply and admiring baby photos of the man I love. All is well, dinner is planned late, later, later still because timing is not his mother’s strong suit but I am doing well and he is gently stroking my palm with his thumb, which is the reminder I am doing fine.
Femme Sub Film Club
A Co-Venture between @HannahLockhardt and @CoffeeandKink
Femme Sub Film Club is a place where femmey subby mutuals can watch kink or sex-themed films in a girly, slumber party-y atmosphere, with an informal discussion forum element.
Live-tweeting is encouraged. Films will be a mixture of the good (Secretary), the bad (Any 50 Shades monstrosity) and the ugly (Salo). Snacks and cocktails will be provided. Snuggling will be encouraged, with consent of course. Snark will be mandatory.
TBC but both Hannah (North West England) & Amy (East Midlands) are happy to host, possibly on an alternate basis, and of course depending on everyone’s availability.
As we will be hosting in our own homes, these events would only open to our mutual submissive friends
We’d love to make this a regular-ish event if possible, although it’s probably a logistical nightmare! Suggestions of tweaks and changes are welcome.
Films on our List so far
(Recommendations are definitely encouraged)
The Duke of Burgundy
The Story of O
50 Shades of Gray
50 Shades whatever
50 Shades Blah
The Story of O
Belle de Jour
For a Good Time Call
The Night Porter
The Piano Teacher
A Dangerous Method
Professor Marston and the Wonder Women
The Notorious Bettie Page
Any of these films about de Sade http://whatculture.com/film/the-marquis-de-sade-10-films-based-on-his-life-and-literature
A Very British Brothel (parts I/II)