Sometimes, it's just a cigar

This is our truth, tell us yours

You’re not going out like that

CN this post discusses age play and consensual BDSM

Every so often I post pieces from my personal journal here, its partly a reminder that this began in another place as a sort of sex blog. Its also, perhaps more importantly, to challenge those who would put me in a box with a label as a single issue, a lack of nuance and complexity that is in itself a harmful microaggression. Happy to answer any comments/questions about age play but abusive ones will be deleted.

A too short skirt, and make up on my face

Marched to the bathroom to wash it off, a stream of His piss, seemingly unending cleaning it off me. And tension draining from me with this unholy baptism.

Daddy’s home, now strip and bend for me, my house, my rules and in this house fucksluts are naked and used in every hole

So many stories, so many mythologies, so many different places.

And a picture in my mind of being held in front of the mirror, told to watch, His arm around my neck, unable to breathe, unable to move, watching, thinking, this is me, just me, wholly me, me.

I worry sometimes (yes i over think and over analyse) that wandering  into sex work as I did, for what some would call all the wrong reasons, and staying for what are the left wing queer acceptable reasons (as in I need the money) has caused unexpected and unwished for issues for my Master. Today a thought occurs, the bored housewife might have been simpler, but my He likes a challenge.

Bent over, being fisted, begging for more, to be stretched, to be made bigger, looser wider, after man after man has used those holes. Wanting, needing to be fucked after being sick of being fucked.

Forced against the wall and face fucked, mouth and throat opened, open wide, after using every trick to avoid deep throating, and coming, coming and coming until I could come no more. Then foolishly saying that so the orgasms were ripped from me.

Lying on his chest, knowing he saw me, and wanted me, and would hit, beat, fuck, strangle, use, and kiss me because I am his.

What is more of a challenge than turning a weary whore into a begging, needful, desperate, demanding, needing fuckslut?

There is a whole post in rimming, it may be written tomorrow, how some clients think its dirty, others naughty, and how He uses it as a rare gift, an honour bestowed, and today, went even further, allowing me to touch him as i never have before.

Gifts a bored housewife would never comprehend. Gifts the world would never comprehend

What do you give the woman who can earn the money for anything she wants? A sense of timeless ecstasy, a dream, a morning of pure pleasure, a transportation to times and places that money can never buy.

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2 comments on “You’re not going out like that

  1. Pingback: Performance versus Performative. | Sometimes, it's just a cigar

  2. Pingback: No, sex work is not “just like therapy” | Sometimes, it's just a cigar

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This entry was posted on July 3, 2015 by in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , .

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