I feel like I’ve been really personal with the most recent handful of filth I’ve shared: I’m not only writing about things that I find desperately hot, but about what I’m desperate for my play partners to do to me right now. This week’s intimate craving is very specific, and I hope I’ve captured how tense my body is with hunger right now. A hunger for you to fuck me with your words and make me work for your cock.
I’m still figuring out whether I can balance work and my mental health while maintaining my blogging schedule. However, if I had posted this “on time” (according to my meticulous calendar that ensures I get round to writing all the filth) it would be a very different piece of erotica. This one is inspired by an impact play scene I did where I surprised myself by actually asking the sadist caning me for more horrible, stingy cane strokes.
The current Kink of the Week topic is humiliation, which delighted me but also presented me with a slight conundrum. This is because I write a lot of light degradation and squirmy embarrassment – and I haven’t totally figured out the subtle differences between these, so please excuse me if I use them without nuance – in my filth. How could I chose just one aspect of humiliation to write about? Instead of one big, coherent post, I’m offering four short vignettes about humiliating orgasms.
I’m currently playing with my vaginal dilators, which is in general a painful but super fascinating adventure. I definitely plan to blog about it more in the future – after all, what’s the point of having a sex blog if you can’t share your tentative steps into putting things into your cunt? Today, however, you get a stream of filthy thoughts directly from my
cuntmind, because my current desire is to feel come dripping out of my cunt.
I knew I wanted to write something about knife play this week, but today it was too hot to fuck – or indeed to think about fucking. But is it ever too hot for a mind fuck from a cruel dominant? What I wanted was a mean girl who would grin sadistically as she held my wrists against cold stone until I shivered, and whose pocket-knife would feel cool against my skin…