There’s a reason she turned up to the club wearing no knickers, and it’s a very very good one. As she’s getting dressed, she briefly contemplates which ones to wear – silk, lace, maybe a tiny black thong that can be easily torn off. Eventually she settles for ‘none at all’ though, plus a skirt that’s easy to hike up round her waist. That option seems like the best one, to achieve the end goal on which she’s so utterly focused.

Note this story contains degradation, a gang bang, dicks going into all the holes, cum, etc etc etc. 

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A few months ago I wrote about what it feels like to have tits. I love and enjoy mine and I’m very grateful for every squishy, bouncy inch of them. But not everyone feels the same way, and when I published the audio on Patreon, the lovely Dr Phoenix Andrews shared his take on tits and I asked if he’d be up for expanding into a guest blog: “I couldn’t enjoy them until mine were gone, and now you can’t stop me playing with them.” If you don’t know him already, do follow @thatdocphoenix.com on BlueSky for insightful political takes and occasional sexy tattooed thirst traps. And dive in to his incredible guest blog about tits: why he’s definitely a tit man, but he had to get rid of his own before he could appreciate them…

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He’s alone in his office when she walks in. Shattered, trashed, spent, and covered in cum, when she nudges the door open she knows exactly how she looks. The dishevelled, post-fuck, ruined look on her face pairs well with the tattered remains of the shirt she once wore. The mess of her hair is a crowning glory of sluttery and shame. The bar, the beer, the men, the degradation… all of it happened as a prelude to this moment. She walks into his office, raises her eyes to meet his, and receives one simple instruction: “Confess.”

Note this story contains beating, punishment, consensual BDSM and humiliation. 

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I love it when someone gets in touch to pitch a very specific case: something that they feel incredibly strongly about, for which they’d like their message to get as big an audience as possible. Doubly so when I approve that message wholeheartedly, as I do with this one. Today’s guest blogger would like to address cisgender men who have apparently been taking sex advice from misogynist pickup artists from the early noughties. Please welcome the fabulous Synonymph – a polyamorous sex enthusiast with a firm message for the men she meets: please please stop putting her hand on your boner.

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I wish you were here.

With me.

Right now.

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