• Kink of the Week,  Photos


    I have always been a biter. As a kid my fingernails were gnawed to bloody stumps, my pens and pencils were dented with tiny teeth marks, I am attracted to certain food not for their taste but strictly for texture. Freudians might say I’m stuck in the oral developmental stage because my mouth has certainly become a primary erogenous zone for me but Freudian theory is a dangerously narrow viewpoint and I prefer not to over think my mouth and biting pleasure and allow it to be just that: pleasure. Odaxelagnia is a paraphilia involving sexual arousal through biting, or being bitten and is considered a mild form of sadism.…

  • autobiographical,  Kink of the Week

    My Hand Fetish

    Fetish – noun A form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc. The term fetish gets bandied about quite loosely, I find. It’s often used in place of “preference” or “gee whiz I like (fill in the blank) a lot!” but the OED links it to gratification, implying that it is more necessity than preference. Using this definition, I will gladly admit that men’s hands are a true fetish of mine. I battled with the strength of my feelings about men’s hands for a long time, aware that it was an odd thing…

  • January Jump Start,  Kink of the Week,  Lingerie Is For Everyone,  Short Fiction

    Panty Thief

    Nate sat in the armchair in the corner of his room, naked, cross legged. His tablet was perched precariously on the arm of the chair, the same short video playing that he had been watching for weeks, ever since he’d moved in. Renting a room in a house with a woman was a new experience, one that he hadn’t expected would be so challenging, despite always having lived alone. Against his own better judgement, he had moved into this house with a woman that he found intoxicatingly beautiful and incredibly unattainable. In the beginning he had chalked it up to basic lust and being single for awhile, but now he…

  • femmedom,  Kink of the Week

    Those Green Eyes

    Just give me those green eyes Green eyes, turned up to catch the starlight Green eyes, smiling at the moon Smiling at me with their flecks of perfect gold, freckled and heavy with lashes too heavy to flutter Perfect feathers to flirt with, darting, don’t look away, not yet Hold me in your gaze and be held by mine, be still and sink into me, say it all with just a look; Tell me how you need it What you want How you need it How you’ll weep salty tears for my touch, craven and pale in the night. No need to cry, crying only makes your green eyes blue.

  • femmedom,  Kink of the Week,  Short Fiction


    His phone vibrated on the desk beside his laptop and he touched the screen to open her text. She often messaged him in the afternoons, leaving his mornings to him to be productive without her distracting words and images.  Those snippets of her fed the hunger in him, both a blessing and a curse, as they both worked from home. The message was just an image: a pristine white counter with a single bottle of red nail polish. His heart raced. She must have known what this picture would do to him, and if so, her hunch was correct.

  • Kink of the Week,  Short Fiction


    “I’m a man of science, Gale. My mind thrives on empirical truths and patterns.” His thumbs dug into my thighs as he stood between my knees, the polished wood of his desk warming against my skin through my stockings. Fishnets, as requested. We’d been talking, dancing this dance, touching for nearly an hour, the penultimate moments of months of flirtation. I leaned back on the heels of my hands, feet swinging languidly aside his legs as he looked at me, one red leather Mary Jane dangling delicately from my toe.

  • Kink of the Week,  Short Fiction

    All the way down

    I knew it was a thing for him. I knew it was a want, maybe even a need, a craving. We’d shared some kinks and proclivities and started to slowly explore each other’s secrets and inner monologues. We’d spent hours with careful touches, whispered questions and permissions, gradually gaining ground and building on our personal catalogue of shared experiences.