CN Breeding/Pregnancy Dear Huw Don’t start, I know I have your email address and I could text but fuck it, letters are romantic, and also…
2 CommentsLessons in Kate Posts
I said Huw was mine, that wasn’t strictly true. Not at first. Not through a degree and unfulfilling temp jobs and sharing a bathroom with…
6 CommentsCN – piss, degradation He was a boy and he was mine and he was soft and gentle and Welsh. Called Huw, physicist or physiotherapist,…
8 CommentsJust two grown women having a perfectly average night in, courtesy of Godemiche.
14 CommentsThey call me an offering. Past Every year, a Sister gets chosen. Last year we watched as the slip of paper with Amy’s name…
16 CommentsIt had been a dry summer. Unsettlingly arid, nights were a vacuum of dry mouths and drenched sheets – swallowed up in erotic charge but…
11 CommentsThis story entirely prompted by seeing half a browser tab out of the corner of my eye. Her wrists ache for want of chafing. Some…
3 CommentsI don’t keep underwear for best, just wear whatever takes my fancy. White, lace-trimmed thongs to the gym. Red french knickers under my unflattering work…
4 CommentsA love like this, where your words pierce heart-shaped wounds into my flesh, is the only love. Nature created us this way; perverse, animalistic, trapped…
8 CommentsThe Magician’s Assistant (Part 1)
The Magician’s Assistant (Part 2)
By some queer magic, smothered by his jacket, she became acutely visible as they almost ran back to the safety of the change room. Suddenly it became important for them to be as alone as they had spent every evening of that decade.
“Got a rabbit stuck somewhere?” called a stagehand from somewhere above their heads, to resounding titters in the rafters. Too elated to care, Miriam sped up, dragging her Master behind her until they arrived at the untidily inked notice on the door.
Rhydian Hart & Beatrice
A few paces ahead, Miriam ran her thumb over her name – the name he had given her, but which she had never truly loved. The ink was not quite dry, and the slightest pressure lifted the black marks from the page, leaving only a smudge behind. Then she felt Rhydian’s hand on her shoulder, and opened the door.
The room seemed hot as an oven – with the lamps glowing meanly, leaving the place mostly in shadow, and Miriam felt her bravado leave her as quickly as it had flooded her body. Steeling herself to face him, she found Rhydian’s face obscured by the fingers she had pressed so lewdly to her cunt.
“Am I a monster if I confess the thoughts I had of what you could taste of? Once I dreamt you permitted me between your thighs, lifted your skirts and you were sweet and damp like almond marzipan. As I knelt before you, the slightest brush of my tongue or lips made you gush, each river sweeter than the last and I drank you and drank you as a man who has wandered the desert for a month drains the oasis.”
He blushed. He was so beautiful in his modesty, laced with lasciviousness. She watched him inhale, lick the residue of her from his skin.
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