Prompt image by the fab Barefoot Sub


I have to say,most time I join in with Masturbation Monday I tend to have my piece written then I go look at what the photo is. This time though, I saw this photo on Twitter and my cogs started churning. If you’ve read any of my recent posts (Can you Die of excessive Horniness?, Painful Paradox) you might have noticed a little bit of a theme.

Good things are coming in April. Wicked, depraved, sexy things and I can’t wait. But I have to, so whilst I do, I write smut.



Left dangling.

Dirty, degraded,

beaten and bruised.

Restrained by their rope around my limbs, a vicious, binding hug.

Vision blocked by their scarf across my face, softly hiding their brutal beauty from my eyes.

Heart hammering with anticipation, reverberating with the power of unknown.

What will happen next?

Will anything?



How long can they leave me?

Naked, exposed, vulnerable?

How long can they hold back the lust that I saw burning in their eyes,

felt in the pull, push and spank of their hand,

transported between our lips as we kissed with such raw desire.

How long?

It’s been ages.

Seconds, minutes, hours? I don’t know. I can’t tell.

Too long.

It’s been too long.

I tense then wiggle, whimpering as the rope digs in and I am yet still unfreed.

I pout.

I can almost hear the sadistic smile spread across their gorgeous face.

A shiver shoots down my spine.

Was that a breath against my cheek?

I strain all my senses to tell.

Are they close? Was I imagining it?


Their lips skim across the vulnerable flesh of my exposed neck,

Their teeth dig in and the bite is a delight

That travels to my cunt,

to my soul.

Moans and screams escape as they take their time.

Licking, sucking, nibbling, biting.

Hands stroking, pinching, slapping and poking,

Fingers sliding alongside and under bonds,

As they check I’m okay even as they prod and punch

Hurting me

so good.

Then it stops.



All I can hear is our breath.

All I can feel is the cold air.

All I can do is want.

Left dangling.



But only for a moment.

Their lips are on mine,

then the ropes are untied,

and the scarf is pulled away from my eyes.

The restraints that replace them are their arms,

I’m held still by their body on top of mine.

I’m blinded by the weight of my eyelids,

as the pleasure mounts

and I can’t meet their gaze for a moment longer.

Heart hammering in time to our sublime dance

Pushed to

and over

the edge.

Again and again