We went away for the night and I took the opportunity to test out some striped hold-ups. They were a let down (literally!) but we also had some kinky fun. I love how this photo shows so many different stripes: the hold-ups, the bedding, the cane strikes across my bottom and even the vague hint of stretch marks.
Content warning: as the title suggests, there is (fairly heavy) mention of abuse in this article, plus mention of self harm. A quote of mine was featured in Metro this week and for editorial reasons, it was cut down. However, it did get me thinking about how my past has affected every aspect of my sexual, and indeed other, behaviours.
It was late and dark and we were both restless. We orbited round in our own small circles, our limbs occasionally entwining, both of us unable to sleep. TSH spooned up behind me and very gently and deliberately bit into the top of my shoulder. It was a long slow burn as he increased the pressure. Sensation registering as pain and blooming into hard pleasure, spreading through my body.
Continue reading “A Sweaty, Sticky Night”
“Stand up. Take off your jeans and knickers and get back down over my knee.”
There’s a microsecond pause whilst I process, my fingers already moving of their own accord to my zip.
Continue reading “Obeying”
To get to our tiny Greek island hideaway (after spending a night on a different island), we’d had to take a ferry and a taxi, and combined with carrying heavy rucksacks, I sweltered in the unfaltering heat. The first thing I did when we hit the room was to turn on the fan and strip down…