Good advice…

July 30, 2017

Powerful tool…

July 30, 2017

You are like a war novel, entirely lacking
female characters, except for an occasional 
letter that makes one of the men cry. 

        I am like a table 
        that eats its own legs off
        because it’s fallen 
        in love with the floor.

My frantic hand can’t find where my leg
went. You can play the tourniquet. A tree
with white limbs will grow here someday.

        Or maybe a pup tent
        that’s collapsed in on itself, 
        it so loves the sleep
        of men sleeping beneath it.

The reason why women dislike war movies 
may have something to do with why men hate 
romantic comedies: they are both about war.

        Perhaps I should
        live in a pig’s trough.
        There, I’d be wanted.
        There, I’d be tasted.

When the mail bag drops from the sky
and lands heavy on the jungle floor, its letters 
are prepared to swim away with your tears.

        One letter reads: 
        I can barely feel
        furtive. The other: 
        I am diminishing.


Cate Marvin

I undressed him and put him on his knees.

Once in bed he was told to remove my bra and I laid down. I didn’t feel as nervous as I thought I might, so I asked him to worship my tits…. At first he attacked the nipples with feverish sucking. I smiled and made him slow down…there wasn’t any shyness as I told him what I wanted and how I liked to be kissed. I liked making him take his time around the nipples with gentle kissing and licking. I even asked him to bite them and pulled his head off when I’d had enough.

It felt good to be greedy.

After awhile I held out my hand, palm up, and he filled it with lube. I let him fuck my hand with his desperate hips as he continued his licking and sucking job. As his humping got a bit more intense he lost focus on my breasts and I guided him back with soothing words and giggles.

Eventually, I let him climb on top of me. His treat was humping my leg with my lubed hand holding his cock tight against my bare thigh. It was like we were fucking. He said his body was confused. He needed to feel my cunt. His hips worked against my body. My hips involuntarily moved up. Wanting to meet his too.

He asked defeatedly for penetration knowing the “no” was coming before the question left his mouth. I made him ask again and again. I savoured each sweet, “no.” I can’t describe having that much power escape my lips. I love owning my boundaries and knowing they’ll be utterly respected…even adored.

Eventually, frustrated, he asked if he could get back on his side again and I let him. He fucked my hand a bit more and we talked fantasies. I teased him for needing me to talk dirty. He wanted my thoughts and I kept them all to myself like a greedy little girl. My head felt empty and swimmy with power. My denial made him a little soft so I turned on my belly and let him stroke my ass. He wanted to kiss it, but instead he was told ‘Rub yourself’. I wanted him hard.

With that revelation I remembered something we had discussed earlier in the week. I got up and put him on his back. That week while I was doing my hair and texting him I had teased him that the hair clips would make excellent torture devices. He replied with how much he’d like to experience that, so while I had him waiting and stroking himself, I pulled the bowl from my vanity and placed it on his thighs.

“Remember these?” I giggled before placing clothespins on his nipples and hair clips on his cock and balls. He continued to rub where he could. He was getting harder and harder. His cock was swollen and thick.

That’s when I pulled out a particularly nasty clip. One that looks like little plastic jaws. I asked if he thought he could take it. He said he’d like to try so it went on the head of his cock (his suggestion, of course).

He kept rubbing. I smiled and watched him flinch as I flicked and pinched randomly.

Eventually he asked for the nasty clip to be removed so I bent over, my mouth hovering over him, and placed my lips on it. He moaned in what sounded like half fear. I giggled and bit the clip off (safely so it didn’t pull or clamp back down on him, but enough to torture the fuck out of him).

That’s when he was told his cock would never be inside me. That I didn’t need it. That I’d never need it…

I love his sad, wimpy whines.

To drive my point home, I held out my tongue close to his cock as he rubbed and told him that under no circumstances was my tongue ever to touch his dick. I asked if he remembered one of our first conversations when he had asked if I’d ever had my throat fucked. That was when our roles had yet to be so concretely defined.

I got closer with my tongue causing him to squirm and move it away from my face as he rubbed.

“It’s never touching my tongue.“

More whines.

I continued toying with him in that way. With my mouth hovering over him. I made him watch. I made him keep his eyes open and watch my face achingly close to his hard dick.

He asked to cum and I told him he could cum if he barked for me again. Like a puppy. My puppy. I made him practice. I wanted it to be a loud bark. We worked on it until it was satisfactory, and I started the countdown for his release.

Kitty Casey


July 30, 2017

Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide –

John Milton
Paradise Lost (Book IV)

Convincing my shadow

July 30, 2017

30th July

In a pub crowd yesterday, good people with one exception: Mr gob-on-a-stick, who has all the charisma of a potato chip – and an IQ to match. He’s off to live on Elba (thank goodness for small mercies). More money than sense, most of it inherited. A young magistrate who believes in elitism. The poor are a necessary evil, here to serve their betters –

‘It’s okay to burn bridges,’ I tell him, ‘because they’ll help light your way. ’ And ensure you don’t return –

We live in a society where money is the only source of true virtue. Mr gob-on-a-stick and his kind are the inevitable product of such a society.


One time I spent a month or more trying to convince my shadow I was someone else. It was a complete waste of my time. My shadow, so I learned from this futile exercise, has no feckin’ imagination whatsoever –


At least we’ve finished sending out party invites. The ‘Erotic World of Faery’ event will be the last week in August. Fingers crossed for some good weather. It’s all down to Robin Goodfellow now. I just love fancy dress parties. And it’s not just Faeries that’ll be putting in an appearance, either. No, there’ll be hobgoblins, witches, elves and a rich variety of wicked supernatural beings.

What do you tongue on Sunday morning…?

I like going down on a woman because:

The sounds: the way she whimpers; the way she brings it up back to my mouth when I stop licking. The broken moans. Hearing her breathing get harder & feeling her legs shaking, when she looks down at me as I look up at her, and she bites her lip, my gosh. The way her back arches. The way she grinds her clit on my tongue. The death grip on my head right before she cums and her legs give out. The way she pulls me back up & tastes herself on my lips.

Angela Bell
Lipstick Lesbian