Tag Archives: struggling

Guest blog: Rescue me – I have a damsel in distress kink!
Have you ever fantasised about being rescued by a hero? Wanted to be the damsel in distress? Sidenote: there is apparently no gender-neutral term for ‘damsel’ and I would love to create one, because I bet this kink is shared by people of other genders too! Today’s guest blogger is Lex (@LexusRanger), and she is here to talk to you about the appeal and complexity of having a damsel in distress kink…
Note that this piece talks about struggling/fighting – it’s all within the boundaries of consensual role play.

I want to be a brat
This post talks about fucking-like-it’s-fighting, so if you’re not into BDSM/role play/violence it might not be your thing, please don’t read on. I hope those of you who do like this sort of thing will understand why it was so fun for me to write.
I wanna fucking fight you. Want to spit in your mouth and bite and scratch and kick. I want to pummel your chest with my fists while you hold me down. Call you names so hurtful that you wonder if this is still play. I want to be an evil little brat.

The tighter you hold me, the harder I struggle
Is there any advice you could give your partner(s) that applies equally to your sexual life and your romantic life? As a general rule, my answer would be ‘no’, because in bed I want to be used and degraded but outside it I want support and kindness and equality. However, recently I realised there’s one broad rule that might apply to almost every aspect of interacting with me: the tighter you hold me, the harder I struggle.
This post features discussion of anxiety and also a real-life scene with elements of consensual non-consent. I know, right? I contain multitudes. If you like the idea of struggle-fucking as described in this post, know you’re gonna need to put the work in first: talk to your partner in detail about what you both want, and how you can withdraw consent if you want to.

Struggle-fucking: hold me tighter
When I was young, my best friend used to come and hug me from behind. He’d wrap his arms around my stomach, with his skinny forearms nestling just under my breasts. Ridiculously in love with him, I’d seize the opportunity to breathe in the smell of him, lean backwards into his chest and wonder: if I struggled, just a little … would he hold me tighter?