Last night it was late, and most of twitter was asleep. Some were awake, though. And made me think of something that has occured to me before. That other submissive women know how to manipulate me better than anyone. With thanks to Molly
Well, I am no longer shadowbanned! So to celebrate, I’m going to do what I was planning on anyway, a #SoSS post highlighting my favourite pieces from the past week (or a little older than that, in the case of at least one.) I hope you find something new, or someone new from this little selection!
Inspiration comes from funny places.
They make me wear a dress, no underwear. A strappy, summery thing, floral, flippy, far too short and far too tight. My breasts barely contained. When I stand before them for examination, he roughly bares them, threatening the straps which are thin and unstable.
I took the photo myself. My body looks very white in his darkened, twilight room lit only by the camera on my phone. I don’t concentrate on his handsome head nestled between my thighs, the drinking of life. I am forgetting the pleasures afforded by his tongue, today at least.
I’m not sure if this is allowed, but this is a second entry to Exhibit A’s Song Lyric Prompt.
I may change the title (I’m terrible at titles), but this came from a combination of Inhale the Anxiety and What’s the Point in Always Looking Back?
A little solo something. Now I need to get out of bed.
She needed not to think. To fall out of herself for a day, an hour, a minute. She sellotaped her poor, battered heart back into her ribcage and lay down on the bed.
The rather lovely and wonderful Exhibit A is running a competition based on selected lyrics by one of his favourite bands. So here is my attempt, from the prompt “Libraries Gave Us Power”.
I do love a historical romance, a sliver of D/s, a hint of exhibitionism, voluptuous female flesh and this rather nicely covers all of these things, and a little more besides (shut up, the 70s was nearly 50 years ago and therefore totally historical….)
With thanks to Hannah and Ros for reading, proofing and con/crit x
The smell of books was one of many that made Julia feel sick. Not the fish and chip newness of paperbacks, she didn’t mind that at all, but the musty, mildewy scent of decaying fabric and horse glue.
These books filled her with gloom, and libraries filled her with dismay. She only visited them because Gloria found them so endlessly fascinating.
Almost every flat I’ve ever lived in has had thin walls and noisy neighbours. I once shared a adjoining wall with a couple who would have loud arguments each night at 11pm, soon to be followed by even louder (make up?) sex.
Once I heard the male of the couple shout ‘perineum’ mid argument. The rest of the sentence is long gone but this one word remains lodged in my psyche and no amount of mind bleach can remove it.
This story is about much nicer neighbours.
Title chosen under duress because it was number one the day I was born. Yuck.
Another entry in the accidental series of photos referencing our habit of matching, this one sees M tenderly redoing my toenails to match his own (red for LFC)
I can’t stop looking at this image and smiling. My M looking after me.
See who else is being sinful this Sunday by clicking below