It’s Okay To Be Single

I don’t know how to begin such an opening so let me cut right to the chase. Christmas time, as much as it can be about joy and family and togetherness, can be alienating and depressing to the person who is single. Suddenly something so joyful becomes this gnawing absence and in the company of family, with couples of their own, it can be painfully lonely existence.

But it’s okay to be alone.

As a society, we’re so focused on coupling right? I mean, if you’re single chances are family or co workers are asking why that is or they’re saying how good it would be for you to find someone, to settle down – hell, so me might say even how parenthood can mature you so — have kids. Thanks Grandad!

But being single is a good thing. Learning how to be on your own is a good thing. With it comes independence and acceptance and time and patience and awareness of who you are and what you want.

Jumping into a relationship can be a dreadfully dangerous experience. Even more so if you’re a newcomer to BDSM and Dominance and submission and you’re looking for a partner for guidance. As a new Dominant, you can make mistakes and hurt a submissive and yourself. As a submissive, you could fall prey to an over-eager abusive false dominant.

Being alone means growth and reflection and time to yourself. Being alone means growing accustomed to silence. Being alone means finding what you want, in a partner, as a dominant or submissive, as a individual in so many different ways.

When my marriage broke down and I moved back to my folks, I was – for the first time in years, alone. I was sleeping by myself, cut off from talking daily to my ex wife. I had my parents to talk to, but that didn’t seem to help you know? It didn’t fill this uncomfortable void in me that was so used to sharing time with my partner.

It took a month of silence from her, a month of reflection and many soulful sessions where I’d write and record songs, red-eyed and desperate, about my existence. And I’ve already spoken about this sense of my life feeling as one complete story and thus I should commit suicide as being a total rational thought – it’s scary.

But. I did it. I became used to being by myself. I rebooted my life, the way I saw my life, and for the next few months I began a rebirth of sorts.

What I’m trying to say is this – you don’t need anyone to complete you. You don’t need a relationship to feel content or rewarded. There is nothing wrong with you for being single, despite what you feel or how your friends and family feel – and you certainly can take as much time as you want to figure things out.

And if you’re thinking ‘Well, I know I can be single, I just want someone’ – that’s fine too. Just remember to take time, remember to be patient and remember to look inside of yourself to find what you want, which is easier said than done – but it will come. Just don’t rush.

Some of us, we’re not used to being alone. But we can learn to be in time.

I wish you all a merry time if you’re celebrating Christmas, a merry time regardless if you’re not. Whatever festivities I’m unaware of, if you’re partaking it, I wish you a merry time, a safe time and a time of fine company, fine food and beautiful memories.

As always if you have any questions, feel a bit down or just want to chew a piece of my mind about one of my stories or this piece, you can reach me here or at darkanddominant@hotmail.com

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #9 – ‘The Interview’

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ELIZABETH ABIGAIL QUINN

PART ONE OF RECORDED INTERVIEW

Date: – 9/12/18

 Duration: – 14 Minutes

No. Of Pages: – 3

 

 

Detective Andrews: This interview is being tape recorded at 10am. My name is Detective Aaron Andrews. Miss, what’s your full name?

Elizabeth Quinn: Elizabeth Abigail Quinn.

Detective Andrews: Okay. Just start whenever you’d like to, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Uh…I’m not really sure where to start.

Detective Andrews: From the beginning – what do you remember? Or we can do this when you’re feeling up to it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I remember…I…I….It was late. I was…heading out to drinks. A get-together. Only…uh…someone….I mean, I don’t remember the next part…

Detective Andrews: That’s okay.

Elizabeth Quinn: I woke up in the room. Cold, I remember it being cold but it was like a bedroom. Uh. Unfurnished but with a bed… in the middle, the bed that I…uh…was tied to on. And there was this man…A santa, with a santa mask but with the full outfit, the red suit and…He would…He dressed me. Candy Cane socks and….green and red underwear and…this stupid elf hat. I was his Elf, he would say. His sweet elf. He’d..uh…he taught me things at first. How to, uh, kneel. To kneel with my back straight. If I was wrong he’d…

[Elizabeth turns around and lifts up her blouse, showing scars on her lower shoulder blade where she had been struck by the unknown assailant.]

Detective Andrews: He’d hit you.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes with his fist. Other times with his belt. Most times he’d…punish me by uh, forcing me to….orgasm by….by….[inaudible]. A candy cane…. [inaudible]. Other times he would rape me. As a gift each morning he would say, and uh, each night as a goodnight. Sometimes I would wake up and I couldn’t tell what day it was, except that I was…..soaked. And he’d tell me. He’d say it in his santa voice – he’d always use that Santa voice – he’d talk to me about hypnotic suggestion. That he could cause me to…..orgasm. To squirt. I didn’t know what to believe, but sometimes I’d feel…well, I’d feel out of my body. But watching. And I would feel there, and present but I was only watching. And I could see myself… touching myself and….enjoying it? And…orgasming and squirting on cue and on myself and on the bed… I don’t know what to believe now. What was a dream and what was not…I mean I could see myself doing things I…..

Elizabeth Quinn: Before all that…he’d sit and read to me, gently, like some sort of children’s television host. He’d teach me about kneeling, yeah, and behaving – about slave discipline. About obedience. About servitude. About….about….my….

Detective Andrews: When you were found this morning, er, nude in an alleyway off of the CBD, you were talking about….other Elves?

Elizabeth Quinn: Other helpers…willing helpers.

Detective Andrews: Willing? Could you describe them?

Elizabeth Quinn: I can’t…I…I mean, they had their own masks…

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give me.

Elizabeth Quinn: One was a woman…she’d love to…She sounded…foreign? Uh, English I think? The other was a man. I couldn’t tell where he was from.. The both of them would help train me to be…what they’d call obedient, in the name of Christmas cheer. They’d take turns. Sometimes she would come, and feed me breakfast…uh…sometimes fruit…sometimes not. She would force me to watch porn with her and if I didn’t, she would hit me with her…paddle. I would come, for her amusement. Sometimes with her too, alongside her. A double…

Elizabeth Quinn: Other times I would be chained beneath them sometimes, while they masturbated over me, watching me and each other. Sometimes I’d be forced to…perform oral while someone took me anally. It was like being in a nightmare. I never knew it would end. When they would decide to stop flogging me, both of them. Almost in time. Almost.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes…sometimes I could be above all four of us, watching. Like something out of a dream. Hovering and watching me, seeing how pink my….behind was. How raw my skin was, like I wasn’t me anymore. Like I WAS this elf….or that I no longer existed anymore. That I was viewing a dream of myself. Or that I was waking to reality.

Detective Andrews: This was the hypnotic suggestion?

Elizabeth Quinn: Yes. Or. So I think. I don’t know. Is this what you want?

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give us, about who these criminals were, about where you were for so long…Your family filed a missing persons report back in June…

Elizabeth Quinn: June….I can’t believe it’s been so long. This elf – I mean…I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to do that this whole time.

Detective Andrews: No, do not apologise.

Elizabeth Quinn: They called it speech protocol. If I got it right without missing a beat, I’d be fed. And if I didn’t…

Detective Andrews: We don’t have to talk about it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I’m sorry.

Detective Andrews: There’s really no need to apologise, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Please don’t [inaudible].

Detective Andrews: I would never. Er, we can stop this here for now.

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

 

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #8 – “The Gift”

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Thomas Jackson heard the crash of the collective shopping items, he heard the shriek of his wife Theodora, and turned from locking his Toyota to where his wife was standing in the doorway, unmoving.
The two had just come back from braving the unnervingly slow crowds to squeeze in their Christmas shopping and had found everything they needed to with relative ease.
“Tom…”
“What is it?”
Yet Tom saw as soon as he peered over the top of her, something their height difference allowed for.
Standing just a few metres from their front door, insidetheir own house was a completely nude woman; back straight, eyes blank forward, hands behind her back.
“The fuck?” Was all Tom could say.
“Who are you?” Theo was raising her voice, her dark brown eyes now seemingly black, filled with fury or confusion or both.
“How’d you get in here, huh?”
“She could be mentally ill, Theo.” Was all Tom could say.
Theo couldn’t hear him; she was talking over him, right in the face of this woman.
“Is this a prank? Whom do you work for?”
“Theo..”
Tom had moved from the open doorway, and then thought of any spectators from outside that might hear – and shuffled the shopping in and gently closed the door.
“Do you not speak, huh?”
Theo’s Italian heritage was starting to show. She had that way about her, Tom thought, where she could speak like her father, the most intimidating man Tom had ever met.

The nude woman did not flinch despite the ferocity of Theo’s tone. She simply stood, unblinking, eyes forward, posture perfect, hands behind her back.
Her eyes were grey..or blue…or green, Tom couldn’t tell, they seemed to shift as he moved slowly towards her.
She was slender, the slightest trace of her rib cage poking through her skin. Her skin itself was pale, with the ghost of colour, a light honeyed colour, ever so faint.
Against her pale skin, the dark patch of pubic hair that marked her landing strip was striking, drawing Tom’s eyes down to it. He instantly looked away, this time to Theo, who was nearing the silent woman.
“Honey…”
“Hold on…”
Theo was reaching out with her hand, towards the collar that was around the woman’s neck. The woman never looked down at Theo, her eyes didn’t register a single thought.
“What in the fuck…?” Was all Tom could say.
Attached to the thick leathery collar was a silver metal circle pendant, with writing etched into it – unreadable from where Tom was standing.
Theo slowly reached her hand out towards the metal pendant, her mind ready for a potential violent outburst in which it would have to react.
Yet she grabbed a hold of it and was able to lean in to read the writing, all the while the nude woman kept her eyes forward and her breathing relaxed.
“My name is Snow. I am a gift to you both. Please take good care of me.”
Theo read the words aloud slowly, confused, bewildered.
A pause, then:

“This is a fucking joke, right? It’s gotta be. Who would give us this..this…woman as a gift.”
Theo released her grip from the pendant, letting it fall back against the nude woman’s neck.
“We need to get her to the police, Theo.”
A pause.
Theo was looking into the eyes of the woman so named Snow. The woman was looking away from Theo. BeyondTheo.
“Can you talk?”
Keeping her eyes focused on a point beyond Theo, the woman spoke in a voice barely audible. It was soft and graceful to the ear.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, why didn’t you lead with that?”
Theo’s anger went into overdrive again, prompting Thomas to touch her gently on the arm. She shot him a glance with a flash of anger but deep down she knew what he was saying – lower your voice, this woman needs our help.
“Snow doesn’t speak unless directly spoken to, as instructed.”
“Instructed by whom?” Thomas beat Theo to this one. “Somebody sent you then?”
“He sent Snow. He instructed Snow. He said that you needed help, more now than ever.”
If you don’t want to go, don’t fucking go but you better start packing while I’m gone.
Theo was looking at Thomas now. “He? Do you have any idea-“
“He is the watcher of all. He sees all truths.”
The woman named snow had her eyes forward, focused and calm. There was no wide-eyed wonder there, no cult-like fanaticism, and just blank eyes telling facts.
“Maybe you ought to go to the police after all…” Theodora said. “I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine and have a bath.”
Thomas nodded, looked to the woman and sighed.
He went to grab his overcoat.

The woman named Snow stood in the reception area of the downtown precinct, wrapped up in Thomas’s overcoat. Her eyes were glassy, focusing on a distant point, somewhere behind the officer at the desk in front of them.
“And where did you say you found her?” Said the middle-aged officer with a five o’ clock shadow, his eyes blue and tired and sinking into his skull.
“My wife and I found her nude in our house and-“
“Any sign of forced entry?”
“I’m not sure…I came right here when she started mentioning a watcher of truths or something…”
The tired officer regarded the woman with his weary eyes then looked back to Thomas and let out a sigh.
“Alright, well we can take her in, call up the local hospitals, and see if we can find anything. You get home to your wife. It’s cold outside.”
The man was coming out from behind the desk and into the open area. He gently took the woman named Snow by the arm and escorted her down the corridor to the left and out of view.
The woman didn’t look back.

 

If you don’t want to go, don’t fucking go but you better start packing while I’m gone.
Theodora laid back in her bath, listening to the sound of rain falling from her phone resting on its charger on the bathroom sink.
The argument she had with Thomas on the drive home from shopping played over and over again in her mind.
It all started when Thomas brought up that he didn’t want to go to Theo’s family Christmas, for he felt uncomfortable at how her brothers spoke to him, and sometimes lack thereof.
She didn’t know why she had gotten so mad and yelled so fiercely. They certainly had been arguing more so than usual, the product of a looming Christmas perhaps, but was that really an excuse?
Sighing, Theo emptied her wine glass and stepped out of the bath.
“A towel, ma’am?”
Theo jumped, her instinctive reaction kicking in to cover her exposed body, and stumbled back to rest against the wall behind her.
The woman named Snow stood with her arms outstretched holding a towel, still completely nude.
Theo regarded her a moment with shock, then realisation kicked in.
“Ugh, Tom hasn’t left yet? Really? All this time and he hasn’t…?”
Theo grabbed the towel, wrapped it around her and went to open the door and exude all her fury on the man that, for some reason, had been loafing around.
Theo stopped, a thought emerging ahead of all the others – what if the woman had done something to Tom and all this time was luring her into a false sense of –
The woman named Snow rushed Theo, slamming her against the wall, holding her tightly in place. Theo struggled against the sharp pain squeezing against her wrists, her eyes darting around for something anything, to fight off the woman.
Theo tried leaning across to reach the empty wine bottle resting on the edges around the bath but the woman grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around so that Theo was facing the wall, her ass exposed now, and held her there.
“I have an idea what you want, Ma’am.”
“Who are you? What have you done with Tom?”
Theo looked to her side to try and catch a glimpse of the woman, just in time to see her reach to the bathroom railing and slide off Tom’s black belt that had been sitting there for months since the last party they went to in June.
Theo heard the leather slink off the railing and braced herself, bowing her head against the wall.
She didn’t realise she was panting until the first strike against her ass, the force of the act causing her body to jolt against the wall.
Her head throbbed with pain, her ass feeling like it was stung by a wasp – childhood memories came washing over, absurd and forgotten, of being bitten by a wasp as a six year old.

“Confess how you feel..”
“Wha…?”
“Confess.”
“You don’t know shit about ho-“
Another crack, another outburst of blinding pain. Her skin felt like it was on fire.
Theo went to move back, to knock the woman off guard but the woman held her in place, her force bizarre and disquieting.
Theo went to scream, it came wailing out of her lungs.
The woman struck her again; the scream warbled and fizzled to a low strangled whimper.
“Confess how you feel.”
“Listen, you little psycho bitch, you don’t know the first-“
The woman struck her again, this time across her cunt. Excruciating pain shot through her lips, zigzagging across her ribcage and to her skull.
Theo tried to catch her breath, to load another insult ready to fire.
The woman struck her again – and again – and again, each time repeating the same words to her – confess.
Each times the same words, each time the biting pain, all consuming, unyielding.
“Stop!” Theo screamed in an outburst, throwing her arms out with all her might to throw the woman off. The woman kept coming, raising the belt to strike upwards across Theo’s body – her back, left to right then right to left, down across her legs, each side of her ass, then back under to her cunt.
“Stop…” came Theo’s wavering voice.
“Confess!”
Another stab of searing pain hit Theo right across her lips, this time knocking her off balance and face first into the wall. Hitting her head felt like someone had taken a concrete slab to her temples.
Every inch of her body was searing with red-hot intensity, biting and pinching and on fire.
I’m not happy!”

Theo turned her head upwards to look at the woman, who held her hand in the air mid swing.
With that admission, everything began to crumple.
Theo fell to her knees, embracing the stiff coldness of the bathroom tiles and sinking into the pain coursing across her entire body.
The tears came fast then, building in her eyes, blinking away down her cheeks.
I haven’t been for a while I don’t really know why there just doesn’t seem to be any…any…”
Words ran freely from her lips but one caught in her throat, one she couldn’t get out.
The woman named Snow dropped the belt. It clattered to the floor.
She knelt down besides Theo, eventually sitting down on her folded legs.
The woman named Snow stretched out her arms and Theo crumbled into them, sobbing fiercely, her entire body heaving with every mighty sob.
In that moment, Theo felt guilty. It swirled in her gut at full steam.
Yet she felt child like, clinging to this stranger, her torturer, and their breasts brushing up against one another.
n that moment, her body still taking its relief from her latest choking sob, Theo looked into the eyes of this stranger. What met her was calming green eyes, relaxed, warm, understanding – accepting.
Something within Theo drove her to this woman’s lips.
It was an aggressive kiss – forceful and hungry – yet the woman met it with full force, finding a tuft of hair behind Theo’s hair and pulling sharply.
Theo panted, a tangled moan escaping, and allowed her to be led gently down to the cool bathroom tiles.
The woman fed upon every inch of Theo’s body.

***

Thomas stepped through the door and kicked off his shoes.
Now that the weirdness was sorted, it was time to get back to the regular weirdness that was dealing with Christmas – first step – wrapping presents.
When he rounded the corner into the living room, what he saw froze him still.
Theo was curled up, on her back, on their couch, completely naked. Her eyes were fixed above, her expression calm.
Such a sight wasn’t normally this strange – Theo was very upfront about her nudity, as was her family, but it was her calm expression that made him pause. It was something about this image, now, after everything, after their fight.
Theo regarded him coolly. “There you are. Where did you go? And why did you tell me you weren’t sending Snow to the police yet after all?”
The words slashed at his gut. He swallowed loudly.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, silly. I’m not mad. She’s upstairs having a nap. I…we….look, I have an idea.”
Thomas couldn’t find the words, he suddenly felt cold, very cold.
“Theo, are you alright?”
“Better than ever. Snow is a gift, Tom..”
Something didn’t feel right.
And I finally figured out what we need to do to solve everything”Snow is a gift, Tom.”
Theo’s face lit up in a smile.
“We need to fuck.”

 

 

 

 

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #6: ‘Through The Window’

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Michelle González, thirty eight, mother of two boys, wife to Sebastián González, stood in her loose black night dress in front of the open window in her bathroom.
The room around her was bathed in a mellow orange glow, light from the bedroom window directly opposite their bathroom.
It was His bedroom, Michelle knew, a teenager no older than eighteen. Every summer he and his family – his mum, a short grey haired woman with kind eyes, and his younger sister, mousy brown hair and a face younger than she appeared – would appear. A home away from home, the mother described once to Michelle, the two out the back seeing to their respective gardens.

Michelle never spoke to the daughter, their timelines never seemed to sync, but the son she saw at times through the open window. Sometimes she could see him curled up in his bed against the wall while she brushed her teeth in the morning. Other times, when she’d open the bathroom to let the steam out while she bathed her son Alejandro, she’d spot the son sitting on the aged wooden floor, watching from the television that must’ve been facing him from beneath the bedroom window. It was comforting in a way, listening to her child play while the background noise of voices drifted in through the window. She would sit and try to guess what he was watching, who was starring and what the plot was, while she washed her son’s hair. In a way it felt comforting, having this male presence, while Sebastián kept busy hours at the office.

Other times the son would still be watching television when Michelle came back to the bathroom for her own bath. She would close the bathroom window, of course, heart in throat, petrified of being seen, of her body being glimpsed by someone other than herself after motherhood has had its way with reshaping her figure, but the that orange glow was ever-present in the space. Sometimes, Michelle would even use the glow as her own candle in the darkness, enjoying having one foot in the dark and another in the glow.

Now Michelle González, thirty eight, mother of two boys, wife to Sebastián González, stood in her loose black night dress in front of the open window in her bathroom.
The room around her bathed in a mellow orange glow, light from the open bedroom window directly opposite their bathroom.
Michelle stood in front of the bathroom window – screen free and open, to get some of that sweet, sweet air through – washing her face, preparing to bathe. The children were in bed relatively early and she had time to soak in the tub before time got away from her.
As she turned off the faucet and dried her hands, she heard the bedroom door through the window open. He stepped in, dressed in black jeans and faint blue collared shirt, Michelle noted, unable to turn from instinct that was her curiosity.
As he closed the door behind him, the faint blue collared shirt was off and tossed in a corner in the room, revealing his pale torso and dark patches of body hair trailing down his stomach.
Senses kicking in, Michelle reached forward, fumbling for rubber handle on the window. By this point, the son was down to his boxers, grey with black stripes. Michelle’s hands slipped, knocking the handle and causing it to clack loudly.

Deathly silence followed.

He looked up to where the sound came from, his grey eyes alerted, and found Michelle standing still, no where to shrink away to and die of embarrassment.
His eyes met hers in silence.
They regarded each other a moment, both frozen, unsure whether to laugh it off or nod and apologise and close the window and be on the way and then feel cheeks burn with shame and fear and guilt, riding the residual wave of anxiety.
Michelle couldn’t explain what happened next. For days afterwards, she would ruminate, turning every moment over in her head, examining aspects she thought she knew all along, basically re-evaluating her own mind.
She couldn’t explain why she lifted her hands to the tied velvet knot around her waist, nor could she explain why she undid it, letting her loose nightgown fall to the floor. Was it an act of anxiety, seeking validation, attraction to this son or was the problem more insidious, a rotting root in her life, in her marriage that she never picked up on until after the fact?
Michelle from the future could never find the answer to these questions, instead boiling the act down to a lapse of judgement, a moment miscalculated.
Michelle of the present stood in front of the open window nude, conscious of her stretch marks around her waist, of her perceived misshaped breasts, of the fact her pubic hair was untouched and untamed – and yet, Michelle González, thirty eight, mother of two boys, wife to Sebastián González, stood defiant to her thoughts, stood exposed to this son, for reasons she would never quite fully understand.
There was a pressure forming in her chest as she stood in front of the window. It knotted its way around her organs, twisting and turning and burning. Any minute, Michelle thought, I could breathe and my ribcage could snap in half.
Her breasts, the only things she could find that she liked second to her eyes, only added to that pressure from where they rested.
Through the window, the teenager stood watching, his chest as still as the bed next to him.
In a heartbeat, he removed his shirt. Michelle cast her eyes to the bathroom, her breathing kicking into gear, her hands starting to tremble, something whispering into her ear to look up. She did.

He was unzipping his jeans and tossing them aside.
It had been quite some time since Michelle had seen another person’s penis.
It was semi-hard, still reaching its full length.
From where Michelle stood, she could see a faint fuzz of pubic hair.
Trimmed, she thought, unable to move her eyes from looking through the window at it.
As Michelle regarded the head – smooth, large, uncircumcised (she knew, as Sebastián’s was) – she found her mouth strangely salivating. She could feel a little bit of saliva pooling in her mouth and with that realisation, her cheeks burned as if blasted from the sun.
Yet despite the heat radiating outward from her cheeks, something was drawing Michelle along to touch herself. A maddening itch pulsating out across her body, screaming for help. An ache so distracting that Michelle stopped her travelling hands to pinch her stomach, where her stretch marks left reminders of an age long past, just to feel something.
A pinch of bite-sized pain didn’t help the ache; it only brought it to the forefront of her mind.
Before her, He had gripped his cock, finding rhythm.
Michelle found the pinpoint of her ache, her clit, and began to trace her fingers along gently. How long it had been since she masturbated, since she came, she had not known. Days? Weeks? It was without Sebastián though, that much she knew.

Her fingers slid down her slit while her thumb-applied pressure on her clit, just the way she liked it.
She had a toy, she thought in that moment, hidden in the second drawer beside the bed in the bedroom, but she couldn’t leave. She didn’t want to. Her body was frozen; her eyes glued to how He was massaging his cock, bringing his hands over the shaft upwards then back down.
His eyes were open, watchingher intently, scanning downwards over her exposed body to her hands.
One hand lifted instinctively to her right breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and index finger. This happened in almost of an unconscious state, as Michelle watched the hypnotic movements of the teenager’s hands across his cock.

Her mind caught up to her act when her nipple was stretched to her limits, her breast taking shape with the pull from her hand, stretching outwards the window.
Whatever possessed her to reach across to the bath beside her and pull up the hairpins she left for her own bath time, she did not know. But before she could find a reason, any reason, they were attached to both of her nipples, digging in tightly, like a fingernail pressing downwards into flesh.
This must’ve excited the teenager, for his rhythm quickened. His cock, now fully hard and held tightly, throbbed in his palm.

How long they watched each other, him teasing himself, massaging, pulling, stretching, her teasing, circling, pulling at her lips, Michelle did not know, nor did she care to know. She needed to come desperately, her body covered in a thick layer of sweat, the room boiling even in the soft glow.
The teenager tensed, his body coming to a screeching halt. Michelle could hear his stifled moans as his cock, jerking on its own upright, vein down the shaft throbbing, ejaculated.
At that precise moment, Michelle couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t tease any longer, she slid two fingers inside herself. Her body seized into a spasm, her orgasm crashing over her warm and dizzying and ferocious.
An image came to her in the throes of pleasure, crawling up to him on her knees to suck the come coated cock of his just to taste him, but the thought was soon washed away with another feeling. Guilt.

Shakily, she closed the bathroom window and pulled the blinds down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #2 – ‘Cult of Helen’

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Jodie came awake with a wheeze that rattled her entire body.
Her mouth was dry, her head dizzy and her vision was black.
Arms felling like jelly, she braced herself to push forward and sit up, but something strikingly cold tore at her wrists and sent her backwards.
A creeping sensation of cold began to sweep over her entire body, like her mind was only just catching up with processing. The same cool shackles tied her legs and her body….she was naked, completely naked.
Wherever she was, she felt the chill skirt up her thighs and across the curves of her breasts.

A strangled cry came tunnelling up her throat and out, wheezing into the space she seemed to be confined in.
“Sisters, lights please. She is awake.”
One by one by one lights flickered into existence – tiny blazing spots of orange all over the room.
Candles, Jodie thought, squinting, thankful she wasn’t blind. Candles illuminating women all around her. Women of all shapes and sizes and ethnicities. Each of them completely naked, bearing collars around their necks that linked a chain down to…
Jodie squinted…
Clamps attached to their nipples.

With the room fully lit, Jodie looked around, trying desperately to make sense of her surroundings. She was in a basement…no…an abandoned warehouse? Something dark and dank and dilapidated that smelt damp and stale.
Jodie looked to her left, found women, chained, nude, blank.
She looked to her right, found women, chained, nude, and blank.
Her mind fuzzy, she tried to get a hold of how she got there. It was the Christmas holidays and she had stayed behind at university instead of going home for Christmas because….
She racked her brain, what was it, what was it? Because she couldn’t afford it.
What else happened?
“Sister Melanie, would you like to begin?”
Melanie. Melanie was her dorm roommate. Melanie invited her to a party in the city. Melanie…drugged her?
“Thank you, Sister Tahnee.”

Jodie looked down her body at Melanie who stood at the end of the table Jodie was tied to.
The sight of Melanie, nude and chained like the rest, kicked her stomach into overdrive. She felt bile rising along with a wave of nausea.
Melanie was watching her and Jodie was looking back, unable to look away from her friend’s bare form.
Melanie was always pretty, came a thought to Jodie. Lightly tanned, piercing dark eyes. Her body seemed to match what Jodie saw before, her nipples and pubic hair as dark as her eyes and hair. Jodie felt a need to laugh, a terrible manic need, and silenced it.
“Sisters. We are gathered here in the name of-““
Melanie, what is this? A Prank?”
Melanie paused, looked at her, arms folded behind her back.
A beat – then she bowed her head.
“A-am I part of some haze?”
“She speaks” Said the woman named Tahnee impatiently.
“Mm, she has pluck” Said another voice, an older, weathered voice.
“She will do splendid then.” Came a third voice, low and flat.
“This isn’t f-funny, anymore.”
“Hera.” Tahnee commanded.
Footsteps approached, growing louder.
Before Jodie could find the words to object, her vision was snuffed out.
“Hey! No, Listen!”
Words tumbled out to grab someone, anyone’s attention, as her heart went into overdrive, but Jodie was left to the darkness, left silenced by the cloth now between her lips.
It was at that point, at the touch of the cloth on her lips, that panic sizzled hot and quick through her body, twisting and turning its way from the pit of her stomach out her lungs. She screamed.
It felt like a bomb going off in her head, shattering both sides of the mind, with all contents left to tumble out the hole in her head.
She felt tears in her eyes, there out of nowhere; as the sting from the object reverberated across her nipples, pain radiating outwards.

Somewhere Melanie continued to speak.
“…Sisters of Helen, we are gathered here….”
Jodie wriggled on the spot, feeling the chains carve into her wrists, burning. She could feel her drool pooling in her mouth, could feel the dampness of the room give it a cooling effect.
“….in celebration of the life of Helen of Sparta, Our one true Goddess…”
Jodie felt her legs start to buckle under the strain of moving out of the equipment that held her still.
Scathing, scalding, searing pain tore its way out from between her legs where the object, wooden it felt, wooden and coarse, had struck her.
Panic-fuelled pain tore through her body, the tail end of it being a tinge of pleasure – guilty, sickening pleasure.
“Before the feast commences, I would like to ask you all to bow your head in prayer.”
With that, Melanie fell quiet, leaving Jodie alone with the chilly silence.
She wanted to ask if they would kill her – and eat her – as part of this feastbut the pain across her tits and stinging lips held her in check. She didn’t want anymore.
A beat — then:
“Goddess, we give thanks for your wisdom, beauty and fertility.”
A murmur spread through the crowd, hushed and quickly.

“Sister Abigail. Begin. ” Came an older voice.
The one named Abigail cleared her throat. “Yes, Sister.”
Footsteps shuffled across the floor. Something unzipped, all the way around.
Jodie felt a whimper come out through her wet lips and suppressed it.
Silence followed, then: “We hope this soul appeases, O Goddess.”
They’re gunna kill me, Jodie whimpered. She struggled, tried to move, tried to kick her legs free. She could see it now in her minds – she could do it, she could run out of there, where ever there is. No matter of nudity.
That’s when she felt it – the cool metal object, slick and soft, ease into her ass, feeding into her, feeding off of her, filling her in a way that was uncomfortable yet came with an uneasiness that was exciting.
The toy in her ass seemed to lock her in a state of suspended animation. Jodie’s body stiffened, the pain across her body now giving way to the toy easing in and out of her ass, as gentle as could be.
The motion seemed to ignite the sting on her lips, coiling around her clit, snaking across every inch and setting it ablaze.
She was wet now, the breeze in the dank room solidified this fact.
How long the room was silent, how long this toy, handled by whoever, was slinking in and out of her ass with such gentle ease, she knew not. Time seemed to melt away, and her body and her worries melted with it.
Nothing existed but her and this toy – the toy that collapsed her mind, that spilled out both sides of her mind. The toy that locked her in place.

Jodie caught herself easing into the toy, savouring the feeling of drool pooling around her nipples, feeling…what? She didn’t know. No one had ever taken her ass before, Christ.
When her orgasm came, it sent jagged edges of pain mixed with pleasure across her glazed-with-sweat body. In her trembles, her anus squeezed shut around the toy, holding it in place, intensifying it, bringing wave after wave after wave of slithering shameful pleasure.
There was a click from around the room, but Jodie paid it no mind, she wrestled with the toy in her ass, wrestled with her mind.
When a second toy came to rest against her clit, sending vibrating pulse after pulse, Jodie let out a cry, wet, thick with phlegm. It travelled down her body in waves and in pools, sticky and sweet and relentless.
“Melanie, as the sister whose role it was to bring an offering this year, you may have first taste, praise Helen.”
“Praise Helen…”

Jodie had wrestled with breaking free of the pain and pleasure and orgasm, had wrestled with running free of this whackjob band of women, but when she felt Melanie’s mouth cover the entirety of her cunt, when she felt her tongue run across her slit and taste her, something within her broke, and she wasn’t Jodie anymore.

 

12 Days of Kinkmas Collection

In honour of the fourth annual 12 Days of Kinkmas (Formally 12 Days of BDSM Christmas but hoo boy, what a mouthful), I thought I would compile a list of the previous three years for anyone interested to catch up or newcomers or just people that enjoy my writing – it’s all there to binge. Or not! The choice is yours!

For anyone out of the loop, my12 Days of… series is back-to-back Christmas themed short erotica. Call it a gift from me to you!

12 Days of BDSM Christmas – 2015.

  1. Ignition’
  2. Mud’
  3. ‘Ornaments’
  4. ‘My Gift to You’
  5. ‘Worship’
  6. ‘Final Exam’
  7. ‘Monument’
  8. Obedient Little Girl’
  9. ‘Driving Home’
  10. ‘Reflections’
  11. ‘Q/A’
  12. ‘Giving Thanks’

 

12 Days of BDSM Christmas – 2016

  1. Elizabeth’
  2. ‘Snow Angel’
  3. ‘The Voice in the Darkness’
  4. ‘The Myth of Writing’
  5. ‘I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry’
  6. [An animal tore out this page]
  7. ‘The Dominant’s Growl’
  8. Christmas Fetish
  9. Christmas Guests
  10. Christmas Lights
  11. Terrible Mother!
  12. MERRY CHRISTMAS!’

 

12 Days of BDSM Christmas – 2017

  1. ‘The Little Drummer Boy’
  2. ‘Silent Night’
  3. ‘Interlude I – Elizabeth II’
  4. ‘Jingle Bells’
  5. ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’
  6. ‘Interlude II – The Cabin’
  7. O Holy Night’
  8. ‘Joy to the World’
  9. ‘Interlude III: Rite of Passage’
  10. Do You Hear What I hear?’
  11. ‘Candlelight Carol’
  12. ‘After’

 

 

 

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2016 – Day #3: The Voice In The Darkness

 

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The first thing she noticed about the blog was that it had a pull over her.
She had read many blogs lately, some came and went, others were very informative – but this….this was something else.
There was a pull about this one, something that made her feel as if she was gravitating towards something larger than her, larger than the world around her.
In an entire sitting, she devoured this blog. Devoured it while she sat in her room, alone and nude, propped up on one shoulder while stretching her right nipple slightly to dull the building ache.
She read the entire blog – every article, every story, everything from journals to little comments after the journals.
Spent, she collapsed into a deep sleep, leaving the real world behind in a blur.

She awoke in a daze. Something was knocking at her bedroom door. It came in three loud waves. One….two……three.
She climbed out of bed, dazed and confused, one arm shielding her breasts.
By the time she opened the door, she was wondering why she didn’t put pants on at least. What if it was an emergency? A break in? Why would the burglars knock? She was still sleep drunk.
When she opened the door, she flicked on the light of the bedroom. It lit up her apartment hallway. Nothing was there.
Maybe it was a dream, thought She, and she flicked the light off, closed the door and crawled back into bed. Back into the sea of dreams.

Dreams are funny things. How they shift and change, how the duration of one feels like it can last a lifetime.
She dreamt a man was chasing her, whose features she could not describe, for they were shielded in darkness.
Her dream would be normal, she’d be at her family for Christmas Dinner and she’d go to the toilet. But then the toilet window would open and elongated legs would slip through, revealing a tall gaunt man. Handsome and yet she couldn’t quite see all of him. All of his body or all of his face.
“Let me in” Came a voice, a growl, from somewhere around the toilet and she would panic and leave the toilet.

 For the duration of this dream, the scenery would change but the situation would end up the same. She was celebrating Christmas, she needed to go to the toilet but the man would appear. Sometimes through the window, sometimes before her, looking at her and how her panties lay twisted and crumpled at her feet while she tried to urinate.

“Let me in” would come the voice, hoarse, unrecognizable.

She came to in a start. Jerking, as if she fell through the bathroom floor.
The time on her clock read 3:09am.
Another twitch washed over her body and then she urinated. Her body muscles gave way, gave in to the relief, the deliciousness. She found herself paralysed with sleep, but also with relief, as she felt her sheets becoming warm and wet.
And that’s when she felt the bed sink, as something else carried its weight over to.
She sat up in fear but the dark shape that was forming at the foot of her bed held her down by her neck.
Her vision was forced to the ceiling as she felt something like smoke wash over thighs.
Then something formed, she felt cheeks. She felt a nose.
A tongue, hot and wet, slid up her urine soaked cunt, from her ass to the top of her slit. And she quivered.
A noise came out of her, a moan crossed with a scream, as the tongue left no corner of her cunt untouched.
Her head seemed to sink back into the pillow, beyond the material, and she fell between worlds.

It was Christmas all of a sudden. And she was upstairs, looking through her bag for photos of her recent holiday to Disneyland to show her family.
Except something had gone wrong. There was a man, somehow, that had convinced her that she should undress.
She lay with her bedroom door open, her breasts exposed, her dress hitched up and her Mickey Mouse panties pulled aside, as the man was sucking on her clit.
She knew she had to be quiet, because her father was up stairs as well, asleep.
She could hear the man rifling through her bag and suddenly she felt lace skim across her belly, across her arms and before she could compose her thoughts further, this man was stuffing her panties into her mouth.
She choked on her own scent, could taste it vividly.
“All you have to do is let me in” came the voice, hoarse and frightening.
Shame washed over her as pleasure built up in her cunt. She enjoyed the taste of herself, despite an uneasy fear in the back of her mind.
When her boyfriend stepped through the doorway, she couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop squirming her cunt into the man’s mouth. Every lick from his tongue felt ridiculous.

She awoke feeling like a weight was crushing her. Her hands were held down while something hot and wet slid her nipple into its mouth.
“You’ve started to open the door now, you can’t get rid of me.”
She tried to form words but just a gasp of ait came out, a squeak. She was utterly powerless.
“I can show you how to live deliciously…”

She was lying in a room of blinding light. She came to realise she was naked.
Cicadas were humming loudly outside and she realised she was back at her parents during Christmas.
“You slept a long while” came a voice she recognised instantly.
“Daddy?” She said, suddenly feeling the need to cover herself.
Except he was already beside her, pressed into her. She could feel his cock skimming against her ass as he lay behind her.
He stopped her from pulling the sheet over herself.
“Have you ever had a dream where you are fucking a family member?” He said, musing.
She shook her head, denying it. It was wrong.
“People don’t want to admit to that. But it comes out, you know. I always bring out what people want.”
As her Daddy said this, he tugged on her nipples.
It had been some time since someone stretched them to breaking point and now her Daddy was doing so.
She squeaked out a response, frozen in place.
“I trust you remember the time you peeped through the keyhole of the shower. Curiosity was it?”
She shook her head as she felt her Daddy’s cock stiffening.
“Was it?”
He tugged on her nipple harder, twisting it. The pain was immense.
“Kids are curious I suppose, but then you never lost it as an adult”
On the word ‘Adult’, he squeezed and she leapt out of bed.
Time seemed to stutter. Her Daddy’s cock was in her mouth, warm and salty, with the faintest taste of sweat. She felt like gagging but also the need to fulfil her daughterly duty. As if she could be herself in this…

 “What you don’t understand is that I see you for who you are”
The voice in the darkness was smooth, velvety.
It came out like a whisper. Maybe you know the sensation, when you swallow a piece of sweet dark chocolate, or a sip of your favourite alcohol. It goes down smooth, gentle, easing, like the voice. But there’s a promise of.
She was on her stomach, her ass propped up in the air.
“Now Let. Me. In.”

She had always wondered about her co-worker’s sexuality.
But when she invited her over for Christmas drinks, she knew, for certain.
When her co-worker took off her coat and revealed her low cut dress beneath, there was a vibe, resounding and strong.
When the two were sitting on the couch, her co-worker had asked her, “What is it you want? What else lies hidden deep in your mind?”
She felt her cunt tighten and contract, hoping against hope that she would undress.
The stutter of the dream world skipped and her co-worker was sitting on her lap, kissing her face, her neck.
She didn’t resist even though she had a boyfriend that took care of her every need. She was, after all, bisexual, and it had been sometime since she had felt that touch.
The woman made their way to the bedroom, tearing off their clothes.
Fuck, she had never seen a more beautiful woman. It’s like this dream made her realise just how hot for her, she really was.
Her co-worker knelt above her, her small breasts kissed by freckles all around.
She wrinkled her nose and smiled down at her, before lowering her mouth on her cunt.

 Her cunt tightened as she came, overwhelming emotion smacked her across the face, traveling down her thighs. The dark hand that had been rubbing her slit did not cease movement and she screamed, wondering if it made a difference at all to anyone outside of her house.
She came again. And again, the sensitivity building up within her until she was squirting across the bed in thick short bursts.
When the hand finally withdraws, she collapsed in her soaking sheets, panting and sobbing.
That’s when she felt hot breath over her ears.
“You invited me in, I came. Now…I own you. I live here.”
Something tugged on her hair and pain shot through her entire weakened body.
“I will call again, when you least expect it. And do not deny me”
And then the dark velvety voice was gone, leaving her to the silence.
She sobbed.

 

 

Author’s Notes

This story is part supernatural / part psychology of dreams. What are your dreams of a sexual nature like? What do they say about you? I mean, to a lesser extent that is what I am writing about.
This piece is primarily about how writing can infect your mind and your subconscious, mixed with my fascination with horror of course. The lead character is tormented by an entity, forced to urinate and undergo a series of too-real sensations involving perversions in her life, regarding her dad and co worker.
What I wanted to do with this piece was arouse first and foremost but I also hope I’ve had some dwell on their naughty dreams and the significance behind them. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a truth for you to discover that could very well lead to an epiphany!

-TD&D