Check out part one of this story, about the man on the internet who gets off on giving me money. This is part 2, in which I get him to bankroll something bucket list that I could never have done on my own. Note that this piece contains a decision that is morally questionable at best.

It’s been a while since I spoke to my Paypig – sometimes when you’re in a relationship you have to give less energy to your sidequest sexual hobbies. He disappears for periods of time, and it’s been a few months since I asked him for any cash. He’s still there in a few shining bubbles of my memory, and an unfinished blog draft, but we haven’t really been in touch. However, as Julie Andrews wisely notes at the start of The Sound of Music: when the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. And one of the many windows that’s opened for me since I broke up with my boyfriend is the opportunity to chat to my Paypig once more, and see what mischief he might help me make.

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It took twelve journeys in the end. I only got fined on three of them, but still – three hundred quid is a pretty hefty blow. Worth it though, to find the guy. The one train guard who’d let me off a fare in exchange for a grope of my tits and a sloppy face-fuck.

This one’s erotic fiction, obviously. I wrote it while I was on a train, which is why that train line gets a mention, but I assure you the guard was incredibly polite and I slammed my laptop shut at light-speed when he came to check my (valid) ticket. Note that this story might contain elements of coercion, if it weren’t for the carefully-written thousand-word intro that I stuck on the front of it to make it a bit more consensual. Feel free to ignore it if you like the non-con/dub-con stuff, or revel in it if you like your stories more consensual and your heroines more gleefully slutty. 

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I don’t know how long it’s been since I was last properly belted. A year at least, maybe two. It’s not the end of the world. I love kink, and I adore being used and abused, but my desires are incredibly responsive, so I’m far less concerned about finding a relationship that ticks off all the spanky acts on my submissive wishlist than I am about building connection with someone I love. Still. One of the nice things about leaving a relationship is remembering all the opportunities that you once packed away with a shrug, which you can now dust off again. And as I rummage through a box marked ‘things I can do now I’m single’, getting belted just happens to lie on the top. Luckily for me, a mate made it her mission to drag me up off the floor from the pool of wine and tears in which I was lying, and force me outside to have fun. Let me tell you about my friend, the Queen of the Dungeon.

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There’s a man on the internet who gets off on giving me money. That’s a sentence I never tire of saying, and let me tell you I have said it to so many people! As I pick up the bill for various lunches and drinks, gleefully crowing as my friends and family make anxious faces and tell me I really shouldn’t. “Don’t worry,” I explain with a grin. “It’s not my money – this one’s on my Paypig.”

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I’m not gonna lie, I absolutely lost my mind at one key moment in this piece. Nearly slid right off my office chair and onto a crumpled, horny heap on the floor. Please welcome back the fabulous Komplicated Kitty, who some of you might remember from her red-hot piece ‘bring it, babe‘ back in November. She’s here today with an account of another intensely sexy BDSM scene, in which her Master orders her into her collar, and then to go clean the kitchen floor. Read on for humiliation, degradation and one very slutty Cinderella…

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