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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It’s delightful when someone pitches me a guest blog idea that has never been covered on the blog before, so when today’s anonymous contributor (who has written beautifully before about butt plugs and prostate orgasms) offered to write about intimate jewellery, I leapt at the chance. The subtle hotness of jewellery that is hidden somewhere no one else can see is incredible, especially when that jewellery has extra-special significance…

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This intensely hot story about a bridesmaid degrading herself is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net, and it contains themes of degradation.

“He’ll never love you,” she said weakly to her reflection – a vision with puffy red eyes and crumbs of mascara peppered around them like funereal glitter. Her flushed chest matched the crimson hue of her eyelids. The bridesmaid’s dress, which had once held her like a lover and accentuated the curve of the arse that the groom had fucked the night before his engagement party, now hung a little less naughtily, gaping where her hunched shoulders diminished the volume of her breasts, threatening to be exposed by the dress, that was now sizes too big.

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It’s not every day that a guest blog gets me right in the heart as well as the knickers, but today’s amazing post by Emilia Romero did exactly that. It’s about freedom and loss and finding yourself, the end of a marriage and the beginning of a love of BDSM. It’s beautiful and hot and painful in all the best ways, and I’m honoured that she’s chosen to share it here.

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Do me a favour, yeah? Next time a straight couple tells you they’re getting married, would you mind turning to the gentleman in the pairing and asking him: “So… are you planning to keep your surname?” Go on, I dare you. I double-dare you. Ask him, in a cheery tone, whether he plans to take his wife’s name. Watch his reaction, then pop back here and let me know in the comments how that went.

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