I love receiving sexy threats – we’ve discussed this before. “If you don’t hold that position and I can’t come, I’m gonna beat you so hard.” But there’s one sexy threat that I enjoy above all others: anal as punishment.

Note: I actually don’t think this counts as ‘consensual non-consent’. I think there’s enough thirst from me as the receiver of this to move it out of any hinted ‘non-consent’ territory. However, I appreciate that the tone of it does play into a number of those tropes, so it would probably be irresponsible of me not to label it ‘CNC’ in some way – if that isn’t your thing, you might not want to read this one.

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We’re making out. It’s smoking hot. We started off with me folded in his lap, feeling soft and small. Delicate. Unequivocally his. Then, after some firm kisses that resonated deep in my cunt, I got a little yearning to switch. To make him mine in return.

CN: smoking weed, breath play

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I’m so honoured to bring you this guest blog today – a powerfully intimate account of a D/s couple’s private collaring ceremony. It’s written by the fabulous Komplicated Kitty, who’s contributed some amazing guest blogs before about pet play, being a Slutty Cinderella, and being pushed to the edge of your kinky limits. Today she’s here to give an insight into how she and her husband chose to formalise their 24/7 dynamic, and the rituals they came up with to seal their commitment.

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Fucking doesn’t usually work by just ticking off your desires in order, like crossing items from your shopping list once you’ve put them in your basket. But talking about ideas in the downtime, or the afterglow of the previous shag, can help plant seeds for the future. We don’t have enough time together, me and this guy. Not nearly enough. And because we are acutely aware of this fact, it turns out that both of us have been making mental lists of possibilities. Lying on the bed after our first cunt-ruining fuck of this 24 hour hangout, he reveals that he’s even made notes on his phone. Scattered ideas from flash-frame images he’s wanked on since the last time we hung out.

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The second I walk in the door, he’s all over me. Soft lips and firm hands. Rummaging under my clothes and kissing me passionately, before I’ve even had the chance to take off my boots or unclip the panniers from my bike. It’s hurried, urgent, eager. Exactly as I’d seen it in my idle daydreams. I’ve been thinking on this for the last two days, ever since the possibility of it was first floated. A tentative ‘if you’re in the mood for sexy ideas…’ followed by a fantasy of such powerful dominance and laser-targeted kink accuracy it had me squirming in wet knickers at my desk. You bet I’m in the mood. How are you fixed for Sunday? 

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