Poly Introverts: “Having the capacity, the inclination and the desire to build deep, intimate, loving connections with multiple people does not automatically equate to that extroverted desire to be with people all the time.” (Alice Digitalis)

Teller Reveals His Secrets: “Magic is an art, as capable of beauty as music, painting or poetry. But the core of every trick is a cold, cognitive experiment in perception: Does the trick fool the audience?” (Teller / Smithsonian)

Some Thoughts on Radical Honesty: “Honesty without compassion is rubbish. The question should not be framed as “Which is better, honesty or dishonesty?” but rather “How can we strive for absolute honesty in a framework of respect, compassion, kindness, and sincerity?”" (Franklin Veaux)

[TW for fatphobia] Don’t use the f-word!: “A while ago, some jerks took the word ‘fat’ and glued nasty connotations to it, so people would only use it when they wanted to kick it at someone to make them feel bad. It’s up to us to pick it up and shake the nasty connotations off and see it for what it is – a word to describe something heavy, squishy, wobbly, rolly and jiggly. Fat means fat.” (Rachel / fatandslutty)

Beyond the Biary: Self Doubt: “Self doubt doesn’t mean you fail at gender. It just means you’re human, and being human isn’t such a bad thing, overall. It’s what humans do to each other that can be a problem, and it is here that self doubt can come into play, because some people may try to use it to erode your identity and sense of self.” (s.e. smith)

A powerful image from Anna at the Seeing Red Project.

SugarHips Lebeau has been doing incredible self-portraits for quite some time now. This one is, I feel, an excellent summation of herself as both model and photographer.

Doesn’t Penny look amazing with her beads?

Cara Sutra is clothed in kink – and looking very saucy indeed!

This is a monthly feature. Please look for the next photo favourites post in the first week of April.

There is no obvious rhyme or reason why some guests are invited week after week; while others only sporadically. Why some come through the doors once in a very great while and yet others visit once and then never again.

Only the owner knows the answer. And they’re not telling.

**

“So, my pet. Care to tell me what you managed to see with your eyes closed?”

Caroline’s eyes shot open, startled out of her reverie. “Sir! I … I …”

“Stammering does not become you, Caroline.” Linus let go of her chin, and watched her reaction. As he expected, she was flustered, and colour rose in her cheeks as she took in his tone along with his unimpressed look. “So tell me,” he continued. “Who was it conversing with you just now? Were they polite enough to introduce themselves before they smacked your arse without asking my permission?”

Whatever answer he might have been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the one he got. Caroline dropped her head, looking at the floor of the cage, and that smile again teased the corners of her mouth.

“I … well …. they said this was their club, Sir.”

**

Jake watched everything from behind the bar. He was ideally placed to see occurrences on the main floor – the bar was situated just that way for a reason, with good line of sight for the cage, sofa and chairs, and the stocks. So when Linus had moved swiftly across to the cage, unhappiness marring his features, Jake had murmured a message through the discreet headset to Theodore out on the main floor, giving him a quiet heads-up on the situation.

Now, it looked like that wasn’t needed. If anything, Linus looked like he could do with another one of those Coronas. But he was looking to his partner first – Jake watched as the padlock was removed from the cage, and Caroline given instructions and feedback as she slowly shuffled backwards out of the cage, her steel buttplug winking in the light. Linus helped her to find her feet on the ground, and to stand safely. And then – yes, he was right – they were both heading toward the bar.

“Another drink?” he enquired when they were close enough for him to be heard.

**

Linus placed the padlock, with the key in the lock, back on the bar. “This comes back to you, I believe?” He looked somewhat shaken. “And yes, another Corona would be lovely. Let me just get my drink ticket out.” He fished in his trouser pocket.

Caroline stood beside him, head turned towards Linus. “Sir. May I have one of my tickets please? And my glasses?”

He paused in his fishing expedition, then resumed, and pulled out two tickets. ”Make that a Corona, and … ” His eyes cut over to Caroline. “A gin and tonic for my pet. No ice.” Linus then lifted her glasses out of his shirt pocket, and, opening them, settled them on her upturned face.  As he took these small measures of control, he seemed more comfortable, his stance relaxing.

Jake busied himself, getting the Corona from the fridges below the counter, placing the wedge of lime in the lip on the bottle; pouring the gin and the tonic into the short glass and then putting their drinks in front of them, swapping them for the proferred tickets.  He noted that Theodore had managed to wander casually over to this side of the floor, but a quick tilt of the head was all that was needed to reassure him that everything was fine.

He questioned his judgement when, a minute of silent sipping later, Linus quietly asked, “So, Jake. Was it the owner of Sodom who slapped my Caroline, then?”

**

Jake was wiping the counter when Linus asked that question. He looked up, startled. It was a question that could be taken quite the wrong way – but the look on Linus’ face wasn’t one of anger. No, there was curiosity there. And that made sense, Jake thought. While this was Caroline’s first visit, Linus was an ‘irregular regular’: one who’d been invited a good thirty or so times over the last two years. Certainly not an every week guest, but one who was invited at least monthly, if not more often.

A favoured guest, if not a weekly one. And all guests were curious about the owner of Sodom. Very few knew had seen them, met them, or knew anything about them.  Caroline – as one who’d been spoken to – was greatly favoured. Whether she realised it or not.

Jake made a decision. Not one made lightly – but one that was, in all probability, the right one. After all, Linus was Caroline’s partner. She had been invited, probably, because of him. Why introduce yourself to Caroline, and then leave Linus out of the loop?

“Yes,” he said, speaking to both of them. “Caroline has met the owner. She was greeted, personally, by the Doyenne.”

**

Previous chapter: Work of Art

More Sodom

After my naughty flash at the bakery, it was time to visit Readings – a fantastic bookstore (that, yes, also has music and film – but I was going for the books!).  I left my camera in the capable hands of Belladonna, because she was having so much fun taking photos anyhow, and m’Lady and I both had a good browse at what was on offer. We weren’t the only ones though – the place was packed!

Still, I really wanted to get some naughty pics for the Scavenger Hunt, and Bella was happy to help.  Bending over really far to look at books on the floor …

…was a fail. You’d think my short dress would ride up farther!

So there was some more browsing, we met Bella’s partner, and our must-have book piles slowly grew.

It was time for a seat on the step. And then I had a brain-wave!

I really can’t think of a more appropriate book to be holding when flashing my cunt, can you?

Amazingly enough, no one saw us, we didn’t get thrown out, and we were able to continue browsing before making our eventual purchases. I’d call that a win!

**

m’Lady may be visiting me in May. Fingers crossed…

So … we have been spending a considerable amount of time doing so. Kissing on the couch. Kissing on the balcony. Kissing at the club. Kissing in bed.  Kissing while we fuck. Yesterday, kissing in the shade of a big tree in the park, near my work.

If there weren’t other things I have to do in life – pee, sleep, write my blog posts – I’d happily do nothing but kiss him for hours. The kissing is that good.

I kiss those lips. Lucky me!

All of which left me baffled when he told me that his previous partner thought he was a terrible kisser. Funnily enough, that gave him quite the complex (no wonder I had to take the initiative with the kissing to start with …).  Being told that you slobber, in that tone of voice, isn’t exactly going to make you feel great.

So it was Dee to the rescue! Aside from showing him that’s he a good kisser (by making out a whole heck of a lot), I’ve also told him. And in telling him, I’ve also given him the reasons why I’m worth listening to on this topic. I’ve kissed a whole lot of people. I really like to kiss.* I like to make new kissing friends.  And I like to find out how different people kiss differently. I know, in my experienced opinion, what makes a good kiss, and what makes a not-so-good kiss.  And in my opinion? His were excellent right from the start!

*Not everyone does, you know. Hylas? Not a big fan of kissing. Which is just fine – although he’ll often catch me off-guard and liiiiiiiick the hell out my face. Guess why he’s my pet?

Kissing with Ailuros has a lot of give and take. I’m not just kissing him; he’s not just kissing me – we’re kissing together. It’s wide open-mouthed, with exploring tongues, and nipping of teeth. Suckling on lips, devolving into sucking and biting (that can be a battle, bearing down while the other whimpers in pleasure). Tongues doing a very dirty dance together.  Our kissing isn’t neat and polite and tidy. We are messy, aroused, lost in each other.  I’ll capture that luscious lower lip and suckle it; he’ll steal it back and then take my own bottom lip in turn. My tongue will tease its way around his teeth while his chases after, and then they’ll dance in the space our mouths create together.

Okay, now I’m distracted…

  Fucking hot mouth.

 I may not see Ailuros all that often – sometimes a few times in a week; sometimes not for a fortnight. But when we do, there’s always kissing. It’s very, very hot, and always extremely good.

And well worth capturing in words.

Notes from a Unicorn: “A friend said she thought bi people didn’t exist. I said, “I’m sitting right here,” because that was my answer, but I was starting to believe her. I stopped telling people what I was. I let people think what they wanted, which was usually that I was like them.” (Seth Fischer / The Rumpus)

Consent, and Shades of Gray: “I’m a big proponent of enthusiastic consent, but also I’m very aware that we simply don’t live in that world yet, where everything is black and white, and lack of a ‘yes’ always actually means no.” (Emma Hart / The Lady Garden)

Vagina in the Wild – Adventures in Pantslessness: “Unfortunately once those knickers come off, this moist and tacky zone becomes a magnet for all things fluffy. If you have a cat, this will be a problem. If you have a long haired cat, this will be the incentive you need to run around the house with your super dooper cat hair removing device and de-fluff every surface you can find. You’ll want to do this clothed because, as it turns out, vaginas are also wonderful mid-air hunters. ” (Annabelle / Lust and Confused)

Paypal, Pitbulls, and the Purge: “If this isn’t stopped now, we are only a mere hop, skip and a jump away from George R.R. Martin being banned – two of his characters actively engage in incest throughout the series. From classics such as To Kill A Mockingbird, disappearing from our shelves. Ironically, it’s all happening under the under the guise of good Christian values. The very foundation of which is a book that includes incest, bestiality and rape.” (Gillian Colbert)

Shilo McCabe

Instead, here are just a few of the images that have been inspiring for previous chapters. I hope you appreciate them as much as I have!

I think Caroline’s arse looks much like this.  I wonder if there’s a caning in her future?

Change the colour from cream to tawny, and this is the sofa that Otto and Saul are playing on in the club. Comfy!

I feel that Nadica would take – and choose – a photograph like this to go on the walls of Sodom.

The large comfy chair that Ayn and Yvonne love to fist upon is used for many other acts as well …

**

Don’t forget you can see all the chapters to date, as well as character descriptions and more, on the Sodom main page!

So he came up to visit again this month, and I introduced him to the Karada tie.  I’ve been tied in karada quite a few times before – Dionysos was partial to it, and Kiana has done some lovely ones on me. My friend picked up how to do it very quickly!

This was his very first try. As such, we practised it over the clothes.

He did extremely well! There was a lot of back and forthing to the instructions, and it was useful that I’d been tied in it before – I knew how loose to keep it at the back of my neck, and was able to hold various pieces of rope out of the way while he tied things.

He was delighted with how it all came together. So was I! And so, after some photos in the sunny garden, we proceeded to undo it all, take my clothes off … and do it all over again, only better

But those pictures are for another post.

**

Given my rope friend will be a regular addition, I’m working on a cast name for him!

We brush past the racks of clothes, heading toward the back of the store. My scalp aches from where, earlier, he had pulled my hair fiercely, and I know that the persistent customers have frustrated him as much as me.

Now, with the shop emptied, it’s just him and me – and the knowledge of what happens next.

He pulls aside the curtain to the dressing room, and I step inside. A mirror, a shelf, a chair. Him. “Show me your breasts,” he tells me, and I slide down the straps of my top, and free myself from my bra. He looks satisfied, and hefts them, twists them, tugs on my nipples.

Taking me by the shoulders he turns me away from him, facing the wall, then grasps my hair and pulls my head back hard. My throat is exposed, my eyes wide, and pulse leaping. He growls in my ear, calling me a whore, a whore for liking this, a whore for wanting this. He’s right, too.

I can feel my cunt welling over, full and hot and wanting. He can feel it too, as he slides his hand beneath my trousers, and under my knickers. He fondles my arse, making me tell him all the slutty things I like to do, and want to do.

Removing his hand, he pushes my upper back, leaning me down until I am holding the back of the chair. Without warning, he yanks down my trousers, and they slither to rest at my ankles. My knickers he pulls down until they rest below my arse.

I know that if someone pulled aside the curtain they’d have a grand view indeed. A view that would undoubtedly only be improved as his hand connects hard with my right cheek. I yelp, and rise on my toes. He repeats it, but on my left this time. Back and forth, solid weighty smacks against my flesh.

It feels wonderful.

“Stay there.” He opens the curtain, steps outside. I wait. I wish there was someone watching us.

Shortly, he returns, and pulls the curtain again. Something makes a swishing sound, and there’s an intense crack against my arse. I bellow – no mere yelp this time – and stand abruptly. My mouth remains open in a silent wail as all I can focus on is the narrow line of fire along my buttocks.

“Do you know what that was?” he asks me. I shake my head. The sound it made was like a wooden ruler, but the sensation was entirely different.

“Have a look,” he offers. I turn my head, and see what he’s wielding – a black plastic coat hanger. I remembered that he had indeed promised to spank me with it, and, remembering, I grin at him and bite my lip.

“Oh, yes.” My response is rather faint, but my eyes are sparkling and I can still feel the line across my flesh. I don’t object as he pushes me back down over the chair, and I hear the swish before a new line of fire erupts across my cheeks. And another.

Too soon – although I have no idea how long it has been – he suddenly stops. “Put your clothes on,” he says, and pushes out through the curtain. I hear his keys jingle, and the door open and close. Then nothing.

Slowly, gingerly, I slide my knickers over my arse – hissing. Then my trousers. I clip my bra back on, although my fingers are trembling, and then slide my top back over it. Lastly, I find my glasses and put them on again.

It’s still quiet, and I open the curtain. The shop is empty, the door locked. So I sit on the chair, in the dressing room, and wait.

Originally posted October 2009.

I have quite the oral fixation. I’ve known this for a long time. Handily, every partner I’ve ever had has been happy to indulge me in this …

Certainly Hylas didn’t complain when I told him what I was planning to do to his cock – and that I wanted him to photograph it. Little did he realise that I actually had an evil plan in mind. Pleasure, but also a wicked, mean twist as well.

And yet I look totally innocent, don’t I?

Here’s the thing, though. Hylas had to keep taking photographs. My job was to lick and suck, to fill my throat and tease with my tongue, and slide my mouth up and down on his cock (what a wonderful job I had set myself!). His job was much harder (heh). He had to keep the camera in about the same place, and fairly steady, and take photos of my job. Consistently.

I am a mean Boss!

But I am also very good at what I do. Because I love what I am doing, and focus entirely on that, to the exclusion of anything else.

For once, purely for you – my dear perverted readers – I didn’t swallow every drop (just most of it). What a lovely mess my pet made!

**

Hylas took 35 photos! These six were the best. Amazing how much derp-face the camera captured …