Yesterday I woke up with an F/m fiction story almost fully formed in my mind.
This has never happened. NEVER.
I don’t write fiction, I just don’t get story ideas like that, and long form isn’t my strength. When I’ve tried to force it (and I have tried), the result feels contrived, flat. I’m reluctant to say ‘I’m not good at it’ for fear of jinxing what I’m writing now, but I have thought that for a long time (and I’ve absolutely said it out loud before).
But I wrote some 20 pages of it yesterday, madly putting down what … [...Read More]
I take him by surprise, from sweetness to sprung energy, I grab him by the throat and shove him backwards, fast, sudden. He almost loses his balance, his eyes widen, he thuds into the wall just as he starts to flail.
I wonder if he will fight me. I want to see it. I watch the flash of defiance, maybe even anger: The injustice, the patronising cuntery of it.
“You know I can beat you,” he whispers, even as I hold him by the throat against the wall.
I take a millisecond to parse the sentence. Beat or BEAT. Doesn’t … [...Read More]
I’ve really been wanting to write more, and one of my ideas is a semi-autobiographical little femdom novella.
Semi-autobiographical because I have no imagination.
Little because long form narratives really aren’t my strength.
Femdom because ‘duh’.
I have settled on fleshing out a relationship from my younger days.
As a newbie dominant, I dated a beautiful younger submissive man who was a steel artist. He used to create his art in a kind of foundry with huge machines that would heat and shape steel, and men with hammers would pound away at them in a fug of noise and sweat. … [...Read More]
She felt feral when she was around him, reduced to some base animal that had to have him. She circled around him; wary, watching, distracted by others, curt nods soon sending them away. He knew she was there, of course he knew. But he never looked directly at her. Even hunters can be easily spooked.
Instead, he casually engaged with others, made chat, laughed appropriately at jokes, nodded with interest … [...Read More]
He opened his eyes slowly, lazy eyelashes fluttering as if they were weighted, as if it took all of his strength to manoeuvre them open. He managed a moment’s connection, catching her gaze briefly before they closed again.
“Hmmm?” It wasn’t a question, not really.
“Oh… baby,” she whispered again, her breath hot against his ear, all the desperate need for him floating in the air, … [...Read More]