This gorgeous erotica about being in love with a sex robot that has… ahem… strict protocols is written by Jaimie of Jaimie’s Erotica, and read by Girl on the Net. 

I would prefer real flesh and blood. I mean, obviously.

It’s not as easy as it was in our grandparents’ generation, you know? Or even my parents. Back then, you could download an ‘app’ – that’s what they were called, I think – onto your PUI and swipe through potential matches in your area, picking out someone who looked like they had something about them.

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I don’t get to publish enough on this blog about breeding – until relatively recently, it wasn’t a kink that I shared. But as time goes on I collect more kinks (like Pokémon, one day I hope to catch ’em all) and the more I read about breeding the more I find myself drawn in. There’s something quite primal about pregnancy. I think so, at any rate. As does this week’s guest blogger, who is here with a fabulous explanation of why – despite being resolutely childfree – his vasectomy still gave him some feelings around abandoning the possibility of having sex with someone who’s pregnant…

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When she’s sat for long enough in the aftermath of her wanton behaviour – knickers down, bent over the desk in his office, palms smarting from the whipping that kicked off her punishment, he calls her through to the lounge.

Just one word, barked with force and anger:

“Come.”

Note: degradation/humiliation, consensual role play, beating, fucking-as-punishment, slut shaming. Catch up on part one (gang bang in a bar) and part two (tell me where you’ve been) then pop back here for the climax. 

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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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Regular readers will know that I am a sucker for kinky DIY. I once built my own spanking bench, and a (very shoddy) clamp/holder for a Fleshlight launch so I could fulfil my dreams of milking a man while he was restrained. I’ve also been delighted to host an incredible guest blog about a DIY glory hole. Don’t get me wrong, I am not encouraging you to do this kind of thing yourself. I have a penchant for DIY and a reckless disregard for my own safety, and occasionally I have partners who want to go all-in on these things with me. But if you’re planning on building your own kink devices, the sensible schoolteacher in me has to tell you ‘don’t try this at home.’ The eager pervert in me, though? That’s a very different matter. The eager pervert in me leapt up in joy when I got an email from the fabulous sex writer Starcross with today’s blog post. He built the kink devices you can see in the image above, and he’s here to explain exactly how – and why – he created kinky implements to fulfil his exacting requirements. Note that there are brief mentions of injury and blood in this story – during the ‘building’ phase, not the ‘kink toys in use’ phase. I am so impressed with his determination and creativity, and beyond delighted he’s up for sharing them here!

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