Autumn is here, and with it the promise of Halloween. So I’m excited to bring you this week’s guest blog on the hotness of fear. Katie runs her own sex blog at NymphoStimToy (@NymphoStimToy on Mastodon), which you definitely need to check out because not only did her first post (‘when I’m better‘) absolutely annihilate me, she also has the best sex blog tagline I have ever seen, and I’m jealous. But as I say, today she’s here to talk about fear: the fact that arousal and terror sit so closely in our bodies, providing similar heart-pounding, gasping, adrenaline-fuelled reactions means they’re incredibly closely linked for many of us. And she wanted to talk about giving an eager submissive the gift of pure terror…

Note: Katie has written consent and the build-up to fear very beautifully in this piece, but it’s important to state clearly that you shouldn’t ever seek to frighten someone unless you know they have consented to that, and you’ve discussed things like safe words and other ways for them to withdraw consent at any time. As a general rule, the scarier the play, the more groundwork you need to have put in beforehand to understand your partner’s limits and the cues they will give you if they need the terror to stop. 

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Perhaps it’s my age, or I’m experiencing a sudden and temporary burst of self-confidence – maybe my therapy’s working? Whatever the reason, I’ve been feeling a lot more domme lately. As often as I used to yearn for powerful, toppy guys with wickedly menacing grins, now I dream about bratty subs who have a playfully cheeky, ‘what are you gonna do about it?’ energy.

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This fabulous (and clever!) piece that turns testing sex toys into a super horny erotic scene is written and read by The Barefoot Sub. 

The doorbell shrieked, cutting through the static of my empty head! I’d been staring at a blank screen for what felt like hours, the cursor blinking away on the screen as I wracked my brain, attempting to get the words out. Waiting for my local courier to drop off my sinful delivery, certain I was distracted by the pleasure to come. Surely this was it? Though the regular driver would usually leave it in my safe space. Jumping up, I went to see who it was.

“Sophie,” I beamed, “you decided to take me up on the offer of a cuppa? Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

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There are two levels on which I’m enjoying dinner. On the surface, the main conversation – catching up with friends I’ve not seen in years. Beneath the table, something even better – his thigh nudging against mine. The oh-so-casual initial pressure that could easily be written off as an accident conjures a flash of possibility as I realise that… yeah… this guy just might want to fuck me. A rush of teenage horn flushes across my skin as I decide that I’m gonna nudge him back to find out for sure. Meeting his pressure, thigh-against-thigh, I remind myself that this guy has a wife.

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This week’s guest blogger has a happy story. One of those stories which makes me want to hug myself because a stranger found their joy. I’m really delighted to welcome Eddie to the blog, as he tells you how a Twitter crush taught him that – despite the bollocks he’s been fed by society about what might count as ‘desirable’ – he isn’t lust-proof after all.

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