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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I’m so excited to bring you this week’s guest blog, from a brand new guest blogger who has already submitted a second (excellent) post that’s coming up in January! He’s here to talk to you today about sex and disability, specifically fulfilling his hunger for kissing, skin-to-skin contact, and other forms of intimacy, and the ways in which his disability makes him focus more on the journey rather than the destination…

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This incredibly hot fantasy about getting fucked in a wedding veil is written and read by JM Seaborn of Written In Kink. Note that this story uses ‘Daddy’ as an honorific – everyone in this story is a consenting adult. 

I had a notion. A question. A daydream. A fantasy. What if we had known each other before? When we weren’t allowed to know each other – at least not in the way we know each other now. Would you notice me? Would you want me? Would the hidden sub in you be able to spot the dominance in the softly spoken giant in front of you?

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Some men have worried in the past that they’re not able to dispense exactly the kind of love that I crave – i.e. relentless praise, on an almost minute-by-minute basis, lest I wilt like a houseplant you’ve forgotten to water. To be honest, I often find myself worrying about this too. In an ideal world I’d be the recipient of an almost constant stream of written, physical and verbal encouragement – reminders that I’m sexy, fun, valid, wanted, loved. A good girl. I need this kind of thing so much that those I rely on to help me feel loved might think it borderline sarcastic to plough on even during the (frequent) periods when I’m not doing much to deserve it. I understand this. But there are other ways to make me feel loved, and one of the ways I practice love in return is by noticing and mentioning them…

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I’m such a sucker for anticipation and build-up, so when the fabulous SymTrkl (who has written here beautifully before about gender-affirming ways to fuck) pitched me a post combining aching anticipation with a hands-free orgasm I was absolutely over the moon. She writes with such warmth and affection, while also making this whole story exquisitely horny. Huge thanks to her for this gorgeous piece.

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