#KOTW “Inspection” :: Uniform Parade – STORY

I don’t often participate in themed weeks, but when I saw the current Kink Of The Week was “Inspection”, I knew I wanted to write a story for it. It’s one of my favourite kinks in r/l too, and maybe I’ll write a post about that later. But for now, from year’s beginning to year’s end, a tale of uniforms under inspection:

Lizzie took it in stride when Gordon told her he had a thing for women in uniforms. Just one more kink to add to their palette. He’d waited until they were both comfortable with each other, until her submission was no longer something she negotiated within herself each time between caution and arousal, but something she could slip into at a single word from him.

She hadn’t realised how important it would become. How central. How quickly it would take over and become her focus with pinpoint precision.

He first asked for her measurements in the run-up to Christmas. She thought at the time it was for a gift and, while he did send her a sexy lingerie set, the amount of detailed measurements he’d asked for didn’t justify such an off-the-peg gift. It wasn’t until that first Monday after New Year that the real reason arrived.

There was a card attached to the box. Inside, it said, “‘Corporal’ Elizabeth. Wear this when we meet on Saturday. I want you immaculate, with a perfect march, stand to attention, and salute. Mistakes will be corrected and punished. Your Commanding Officer, ‘Captain’ Gordon.”

Lizzie tingled with delight just reading it. The whole idea of a military discipline roleplay excited her fantasies.

Sure enough, the box contained a sexualised soldier’s uniform in what she guessed was dress greens – she didn’t really know enough about the military to be sure what that meant, but this didn’t look like something you’d wear to fight a battle. She tried it on that instant, feeling how closely it hugged her curves and contours, and noting just how short the pleated skirt was. She was fairly sure the heels on the boots were far from standard issue in the army, as were the stockings and suspenders. But it was unmistakably a uniform, a precisely observed uniform that had then been adapted and altered to suit the imagination and desire of her Dom.

She didn’t know exactly what Gordon wanted from her on Saturday, but she knew she would enjoy the repercussions of that, and she would end up being fucked one way or another, so it was all good.

* * *

On Sunday, she rubbed her sore behind ruefully. She’d got nearly everything wrong (of course) and had been made to suffer (how, how delightful at the time!) and denied her orgasm (until she got home and he couldn’t stop her wanking off to the memories, her cheeks burning with the dual shame of her disgraceful appearance in uniform, and his calm assessment and dissection of her failings – and how turned on she was by it.

On Monday, a new uniform arrived.

* * *

Every week from the first Monday of the new year to the last-but-one before Christmas. 50 weeks. 50 different, unique, uniforms. Every month, re-measuring herself so he could be sure the costumes he sent her were the perfect fit.

The definition of uniform was stretched as far as it could reasonably be stretched. Elizabeth (she knew now she was always Elizabeth, with or without a rank, when she was in uniform) had been on tenterhooks each Monday to know who she would be on Saturday. She’d been every branch of the armed forces (in every variety of uniform), every emergency services, a French maid, a Playboy bunnygirl, an air hostess, a pilot, a crew member on a pleasure cruise, various types of sportswoman, a shop worker, a bank cashier, and so many more. The final one was a Christmas elf for the festive season. She’d bought an extra wardrobe just for the uniforms to go in. Just glancing through them was enough to bring back so many hot, submissive memories. And each week, there was a new one to add to the collection.

But she realised, as the year went on, that the uniforms weren’t the point. Yes, Gordon loved fucking her with her skirt around her waist and his hands on her hips, or in her hair, or gripping her tits with the uniform’s lapels spread to expose them. Yes, he got off on having her bend over to take whichever implement he was using to mark off the infractions, or displaying her chest to feel the intensity of the clamps.

But the point, the thing that got him in the mood for all that, was her arrival. The inspection.

Every week, at the same time, knock on the garden gate, wait exactly three seconds, then enter. March, arms swinging but also heel in front of toe so her hips swayed for him, up the garden path to the conservatory, which, come rain or shine, was always open to receive her. Gordon watched every step, every wobble, every hesitation, with those cool, analytical blue eyes. Then she snapped her heels and thighs together, shoulders back, a slight bend to her elbows and her thumbs parallel to the side seam in her skirt. Her chin raised and her gaze directed straight ahead to the back of the house proper. After adopting the pose, she raised her right arm to offer a stiff salute, with her elbow at the exact angle that Gordon specified. She never knew how he could be quite so precise, but it was consistent and when she got it right, she knew it was right, and exactly the same as the other times. When it was wrong, she could generally understand what was different when he pointed it out.

After exactly 3 seconds in the salute, she returned her hand to her side and remained at attention, while Gordon languidly rose from his seat.

It wasn’t just his eyes as he circled her, though that was intimate and intense enough. It was his hands. They inspected her posture and her body in just as much detail. The first circuit was purely inspection, fingertips on her arms and breasts, the back of his hand down her back, a firm grip reaching up under her skirt. She’d flinched the first time, and paid for that with her squeals and (once gagged so it wouldn’t disturb his neighbours) screams later. From ankle to peak of her hat (if the uniform included one), he explored her tense muscles and tender flesh.

Then he started again, this time those hands much firmer, not assessing but correcting. He pulled her limbs into different shapes, tilted her head to the angle he expected, made her redo the salute and adjusted that, too. He picked out the slightest flaws in how she wore the uniform, any asymmetry, anything about how she’d done her hair if it didn’t match the spirit of the uniform’s usual context, and on occasion he had even drawn from his pockets or pouch a brush, hair clips, scrunchies, hair bands or whatever he needed in order to remake her hair in a style he approved of.

In another man, she might have found it presumptuous, overbearing or irritating, and given up on the game. But the absolute attention he gave her, the focus, the tender reshaping, made it clear it wasn’t about him. It was about her being at the centre of this, the focus, the core of the scene. The feeling of being worth this much care and detail was worth every scornful accusation of slovenliness.

She liked the words he used for her. She was never a slut or a slag to him. She was a slattern, slovenly, sloppy, slipshod. She was a disgrace, dirty, dishevelled. The care he put into his language was as arousing as the detail he expected with his eyes and enforced with his hands.

She always knew the inspection was over. His whole face softened, his voice changed, and then he would say, “You can relax now. Come inside and let’s see how badly you fucked up this time, Corporal/Able Seawoman/Constable/etc Elizabeth.”

He somehow knew if she slouched too much as she followed him indoors, but now it was time for punishments and fucks, as much as she could stand, with the ratio being determined by how satisfied he was with her. Either way, it left her sore somewhere on the Sunday morning.

* * *

Christmas was less than a week away.

Elizabeth’s email pinged. It was from Gordon. A video file attachment.

She’d never really thought about the security camera fixed over the back door, inside the conservatory. Never really registered that it was angled to capture her full length when she stood to attention on the exact spot, every week. Never registered it until now.

Ten sets of five Elizabeths in five diverse uniforms, marching up the path, standing to attention, and saluting. She watched herself in amazement as she saw finally what Gordon saw. Saw the shambles she’d been a year ago, the first set of five horribly out of sync with each other. Saw how she’d developed, become crisper, neater, more precise, with each passing month, until the last set (Santa’s sexy elf included) were so exactly in unison that she couldn’t quite believe she hadn’t been all there at the same time and following orders.

There was a link to a Zoom meeting, due to start in 5 minutes. The email ended, “Choose your favourite. Choose a toy. If you pass muster, maybe I’ll get you to use it for me.”

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D&D: The Soccer Of Tabletop RPGs

There is a kind of snobbish meme around the indie tabletop roleplaying community that I see every so often, in which people argue that Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) must be bad, because, “the biggest selling point you have for your game is that you can change all the rules.”

It comes across to me as quite sneery and dismissive of people who have a lot of fun playing D&D.

It also, to me, seems to fundamentally miss the point of how being able to change the rules is a strength.

Someone else, sadly I forget who said it and where, suggested that D&D is more like a Swiss Army knife of RPGs, because you could always find a tool to do what you wanted with it. This feels closer to what’s going on, but if you’ve read the title of this post, then you already know what analogy I want to draw instead.

Now, before I get into the whole football (soccer) thing, I want to point out that there is a good point underneath the snobbery and not everyone making that point extends it into the snobbish attitude that comes across with the meme I’m complaining about above.

I get that the motivation is to encourage people to broaden their horizons on what TTRPGs are, and maybe if D&D is all you know, then trying something else that leans more towards the style of play you’re super into, might lead to discovering way more fun experiences. If the only team sport you’d ever known was soccer, maybe experimenting with hockey, or cricket, or basketball, or one of the other forms of football (Rugby League, Rugby Union, American Football, Canadian Football, Aussie Rules, Gaelic, to name several recognised football sports) might mean you discover whole new ways of viewing and enjoying physical sports that you never considered!

And there are lots of creative and imaginative indie TTRPGs out there that are crazy-fun to play.

But back to D&D and football. In particular, back to why the fact hardly anyone plays D&D strictly to the rules-as-written is a feature, not a bug. A strength, not a gotcha.

It comes down to this: you can change a huge amount of the rules, and D&D remains recognisably D&D. That’s the core of its “Swiss-Army-knife-ness”. When you say “if you change all the rules, why not play something else?” you miss the fact that D&D hasn’t become something else by those rules being changed. When you watch a massively homebrewed D&D campaign unfold, you don’t mistake it for anything else: you recognise what game is being played.

Football (soccer) is similar. Whether you’re playing jumpers-for-goalposts in the municipal park or (in defiance of the notices) around the cul-de-sacs and closes of the housing estate, or five-a-side in the gym, or walking football with the old folks, it’s recognisably the same game as that played by professional clubs, and international teams, in front of thousands of cheering fans.

There are so many ways to homebrew the rules – for instance, a lot of youth leagues allow rolling substitutions. The length of a half might vary depending on the level.

If football is your game, there are so many ways to play it, so many ways to access a form of the game that works for you and your needs, that most of the time you will be able to get what you want. Soccer is a universal in much the same way as D&D is, and D&D’s ability to withstand all kinds of rule changes is what makes it so attractive.

If D&D is your game, you enjoy it and get what you want out of it, then what does it matter that you and your friends have your favourite homebrew rules?

I’m all in favour of people branching out from the all-encompassing reach of the Dungeons, and escaping the grasp of the Dragons, and maybe trying something new. After all, I’m trying to sell my own “somethings new” in the TTRPG realm. But equally, I understand and appreciate the comfortable and unadventurous attitude that says “this works for me, and I have it set up the way I like it, thanks.” In many aspects of my life, I embrace and embody that principle!

After all, whether we’re talking sports or TTRPGs, it is a game at its core, and it’s meant to be fun.

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FICTION: Personal / Impersonal

Content Note: Implied breathplay, rough sex, “Master”.

Two ways of being. Two approaches to the same idea. Two different rooms in the same sprawling mansion.

Sprawling not just to describe the size of the floorplan, though it is immense: but so many of the guests find themselves sprawled or sprawling. It is that kind of space. A world of decadence, hedonism, abandon and abandonment to pleasure, or providing it.

Ah, yes: providing pleasure. A calling to some as strong as the urges they satisfy in others. Let’s look at two – we hesitate to call them sisters, though they certainly are alike, they certainly know one another, or did when they arrived here to begin their calling. Friends, perhaps, or even comrades. Both with the same basic desire to serve, the same wish to be:

A cumbucket.

A receptacle for semen, an unfillable vat of jizz, the ultimate slagheap of a man’s orgiastic satiety. We say slagheap, because out of these walls words like slag, slut, trollop, would be used to disgrace and belittle the work they do.

The same words within these walls are only spoken with pride, awe and praise.

The one wears satin, wears gold, wears silk, wears pure white. She’s a princess on her knees, on her back, on all fours. Sometimes she’s allowed a tiara to show how special she is. Always showing far more than is concealed, and always those three holes that give her her purpose, she scurries daintily to her Master’s summons.

Barely a glance at the naked, throbbing, aching erection he wields, unless his gesture demands she kneel and take it in her mouth. Which orifice he desires varies, her role does not. He is aroused, and wishes it dealt with in the most convenient, straightforward way. He wants to dump his cum in her body and be done with it.

It’s everything she dreams of. She’s his personal cumbucket.

* * *

The other inhabits in a darkened room, a stranger to everyone and everyone a stranger to her. She’s on duty, clad in blackest latex, her hair tied into two bunches, handles either side of her head, poking through two out of the three holes in the plastic, clinging mask that conceals her identity and prevents her knowing the identities of the men who use her. When they want her mouth, they grab those handles and make her take them at their pace, so even her breathing is at their mercy.

The suit that wraps her body has four openings: for her breasts, her cunt, her arsehole. Like her comrade, the only things that matter for her role. Between her tits, on her back and on her belly, are sturdy handholds that can be used to lift her, flip her, place her on the crinkly plastic sheets that cover the bed, or force her to her knees, to make the man’s chosen hole easy to reach.

The mansion is a haven of decadence and hedonism, a world of pleasure. Consent is paramount for all its guests, which means some guests go unfucked, some guests find their partner changes their mind mid-fuck. This anonymous slut in the darkness is their relief, the guarantee that balls need never be blue for long. And some just enjoy the casual, even careless or callous, feel of using her.

It’s everything she wanted. She’s their impersonal cumbucket.

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Double-Barrelled Cockfun (Hot Octopuss JETT) REVIEW

It’s been a while since I last posted a sexytimes review here, but better late than never. In fact, the last review I wrote was for the inestimable GirlOnTheNet.

I’ve talked about my quest for sex toys designed for those with penises (or buttholes – which is pretty much everyone, give or take) that actually get me off rather than just getting me turned on. I mentioned a few times along the way that Iwas especially intrigued by the Hot Octopuss JETT dual vibration cocking toy, which I learned about at the Eroticon 2019 sex bloggers’convention. It was apparently designed as a way to reliably induce orgasm in the subject and Iwas curious to try it on myself.

Well, this year, a representative of Hot Octopuss in their marketing department sent me a sample of that toy on the back of some of my other reviews!

So, fair disclosure: I got this for free, and now I’m writing about it. And to be fair, it’s only been, like, 4 months, so it’s not THAT overdue, right? I was reminded that I really should be writing a review when they sent a message that their Black Friday sale is live, and that seemed like a perfect time to plug their stuff.

Shake, Rattle And Roll

The JETT is like a sort of cocking with two underslung holsters, into which you fit the twin vibrators, a “bass” and a “treble” unit, and then the handheld controller allows you to mix the intensities of the two vibrations independently of each other to produce different effects. You can also select different patterns of vibration, with continuous or pulsing patterns.

It’s the twin vibrations that is the real innovation here, and by fuck, they’re powerful, too. It’s a full-on turbo drive for your cock and the first time I tried it, it felt like I had an instantaneous erection. Experimenting with different combinations of intensity, I found so much potential for fun and games.

The biggest drawback for me was that it felt quite heavy – even fully erect, the weight was dragging my cock sideways and down, so I needed to keep one hand on it to hold it in place while the other fiddled with the buttons on the control pad.

The other drawback was – it didn’t make me come. Very few sex toys have actually done that, and the ones that have were pretty simple strokers – not much different than just using my hand. The quest for something where I can let the toy do more of the work, will continue.

On The Other (Pair Of) Hand(s)

It’s fair to say that I have not had quite as much spare time for wanking and playing with sexy gadgets like the JETT as I might have hoped for since I received this toy. So maybe with more experimentation, I might find the magic set-up and the mindset and time to let it do its thing, and produce the orgasm it’s designed for. Or maybe not.

But the thing I really felt would have helped immensely, and that II feel makes (for me, anyway) the best way to use this toy, is to have someone else on the controls. Using the buttons with one hand and stroking/stabilising the toy with the other, my mind was taken a little out of the sexiness of the stimulation and into the analytical space of keeping track of what the heck is going on.

So the hot scene I want you to picture, and that I want to try, is to be lying on my back, the JETT slipped over my semi-erect cock, blindfold over my face, legs spread wide, and a sultry presence of a Domme nearby – maybe her fingertips rest on my ankle, or her lips against my nipple, before she asks if I’m ready. I nod, of course. I’m excited and eager to let her determine what my cock feels for the next I don’t know how long. She activates the Treble first, tingling sensations, whirring audible, then the deeper growl and throb of the Bass mixes in. That’s when my fingertips curl into the bedding beneath me. I can’t see what’s going on – indeed, I don’t want to: this is the point, this is how it works. She can turn one up, then the other, turn them down again, cycle through the patterns, but she does it without me knowing what she’ll choose next.

I know enough – I know it will always be these two buzzing charges of erotic stimulation. But to feel the organic and unpredictably changing overlap, and to know that she’s watching every time my breath catches, every time my torso tenses, every time something she does affects the way my body responds.

That’s the scene. That’s how I would love to experience this toy.

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Conversation With A New Protagonist

It is always an immense pleasure when worldbuilding, when a character who inhabits the world just walks up to you out of the masses and the undergrowth, and introduces themselves to you almost fully-formed.

I’d been wondering how to make use of the map I made with Wonderdraft to practise using the tool, and was sure there was loads ofscope for a novel there. I’d already made some decisions about cultures and language especially to provide a basis for the place names I was putting into the map. Some of those names carry historical influences, or references to their significance to the culture I decided had produced this map. So I had some ideas about how the various cultures related to one another and had interacted in the past.

A lot of work, on something that had started as a throwaway “what can I do with this software?” experiment!

As I was putting together some of the language and alphabet ideas and looking at the geography associated with them, a young woman with a flat chest and noticable Adam’s apple attempted to pick the pocket of a sorceror from the far West, in the cosmopolitan streets of a town in a region that had history with all its neighbours. “History” here meaning, they’d been invaded by them at various points, and as a result there are still well-developed routes between them, and immigrants settled there, leading to their present-day cosmopolitan character.

This was my first introduction to the character who’s now called Premalatha.

Premalatha is a Hindi name meaning “love” (according to all the “what does this name mean?” websites I found when I searched for it), and the sound of it just absolutely suited my young underclass heroine, although the meaning is almost certainly different in her culture’s background (and I may very well be pronouncing it differently in her language than it would be in Hindi).

Speaking of pronunciation: I’d laid out a plan for which sounds each commonly-used language in this world used, so they could each have a distinctive character in the map names and anything else I made with them. None of them had all the sounds in the name Premalatha. This was partly because I’d forgotten to put hard or soft “TH” in my sound chart, but some of the other vowel or consonant sounds weren’t universal either. My character had a name no one could pronounce properly!

“Well,” she explained, “I chose this name for myself precisely because no one else can pronounce it. It is in the ancient tongue of my people, suppressed by invaders and occupiers but still surviving in the villages where I grew up. I chose my name as an act of rebellion and resistance, and pride in who I am.” She raised her chin defiantly to me, her Author.

She explained how her appearance made her seem obviously mixed-race though her parents were not so clearly distinctive among their community, had led to her being bullied and ostracised by her peers especially. After lashing out at one particularly cruel remark, she’d been punished with a public flogging, as they would a young man for her act of violence. After that she left home and ended upon the streets. She believes her mixed-race features come from genetics introduced to her bloodline during one of the occupations by foreign nations, so her name asserts her right to belong to the culture she grew up in, as well as an intrinsic rejection of the cultures who forced themselves on her people.

(She hasn’t told me her deadname. I don’t know if she ever will – the story as far as it goes so far doesn’t require it for any reason.)

I pointed out to her that actually, her introduction as a pickpocket wasn’t going to work: she’s far too distinctive in appearance,being both tall and willowy, as well as having a skin tone a shade or two lighter than most people around.

“Watch this!” she smirked, and took out flaming torches to juggle for me. The sound and spectacle drew some NPCs to marvel at her talents. After extinguishing each one with her mouth, she pulled out an heirloom – a jian-style sword with a slender blade shining bright in the sun – tilted her head back and on tiptoes performed a sword-swallowing act. Resting one hand on the blade to keep it steady, she bent forwards at the waist to show off that the blade was really going down her gullet.

I applauded. A few of the crowd threw coins, some of them copper, some silver. She straightened up and withdrew the sword, wiping it clean before returning it to its scabbard.

“Will that do instead?” she asked me.

“You’re a street performer, of course! I should have realised sooner.”

“I can play a few tunes on pipe or stringed instrument,” she added, “but I’m out of practice. I haven’t got an instrument of my own any more, and foreign tunes have their own tunings. I’d have to learn all over again to play anything people knew. Proper bards have a full set of different pipes.”

“Well, I think I know how I’m getting you to go on an adventure. That sorceror – well, sorceress, really – she’s an elf from the far West of the continent, and she’s interested in you after seeing your performance.”

“Sorceress, you say? Does she do, you know, proper magic? Can she give me tits and a vag?”

“I’ll let her explain the rules about that later, once we’re actually, you know, in the story. But I promise, before too long, you’ll get the body you deserve.”

“I can’t wait to discover what you have planned for me.”

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When the Queen is alive, doing the laundry & making dinner. After the Queen dies, doing the laundry & making dinner

Yesterday evening, it was announced that Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain had died. This was not a huge shock. From early afternoon, it had been trailed that a major announcement would be made about her health, and that her doctors were concerned. Add to that, that she was a 96 year old woman who had been in visibly declining health for the past year or so, and the idea she might depart this mortal coil sooner rather than later is pretty obvious.

Some public figures still treated it as a shock, a sudden and surprising event that caught them off-guard. Many more talked as if it was a massive, inexplicable shift in the fabric of reality. Something foundational had been removed from their lives.

In some ways, I can understand that. Many people lived and died knowing no other monarch. And those of us who are alive today, many were not born when she ascended the throne. The monarch has always been the Queen, Elizabeth II. A constant and stabilising figure at the heart of the nation, and a symbol both of the past and present. (Even when that past also means bad thing, such as colonialism.)

But here’s the thing that keeps coming back to me. As sad as it is when someone revered dies, and as great as their loved ones’ grief may be, for people who only knew them from afar, life goes on much as it did before.

Doing The Laundry And Making Dinner

It is a simple conviction that keeps me going not just in these times, but in situations of much more personal grief and loss. The basic needs of life and existence do not change, even when calamitous loss strikes us. The simple tasks and chores are the same, and they still need doing. Much like the Zen master for whom enlightenment does not change the need for firewood and fresh water, I find I still have to cook food, make sure I have clean clothes to wear, wash up the dishes and cutlery, take my meds and wash myself regularly.

The Queen dying has very little effect on anything in my life, or indeed, most people’s lives, I would suggest. The routines and chores of life remain much the same, with the same demands, and what else is there but to get on with them?

Cost Of Living

This death of an elderly woman takes place at a time where we have been through a period of many deaths due to a pandemic, which isn’t over (we just stopped doing anything about it); energy companies are charging extortionate prices for gas and electricity; inflation is rampant and many families are dependent on food banks to meet their nutritional requirements for life. The cost of housing is prohibitive and millions are facing extreme difficulty.

The basic needs do not change. The challenges people face do not change. The world has not changed, just because one monarch kicks the bucket, and another is instantly named in their place. The Queen is dead. Life remains the same.

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Seven Stories To Dirty Up Your Mind

Girl on the Net has challenged her sex blogger friends and acquaintances to pick out a selection of their hottest blog posts, because self-promotion is good for us all, and mutual poromotion also works wonders.

“Hottest” can be defined in various ways, but I followed the directive that this should be “off the top of your head” answers, so I went through everything in my Sex and Kink categories, and if I remembered the story and immediately got turned on by my recollection, I shortlisted it. Then a quick revisit to see if I remembered correctly, and trimmed it down to a final 7 of what I feel are my hottest blog posts.

6 of the 7 are fiction. The last is a response to a wonderful writing prompt from GotN herself.

The General’s Aide

Historical military kink, rank and (abuse of) hierarchy, anal fucking, and one variant has a woman dressed as a man and pinging all my enby delight. What’s not to love?

Karen Gets Her Spanking

An extract from my debut novel “Not To Choose”, available as an ebook from Smashwords (50% until 31st July 2022 – hurry and buy!) Karen, a closeted lesbian, is curious about spanking fetish and asks her friend, protagonist and BDSM submissive Jo, to give her her first.

War Fuck Shower

Even when it’s futuristic and interstellar, war is dirty. And the dirtiest part is what my squad of hardened troopers do when they shower off together after a long patrol… hard brutal BDSM fuck threesome story. CG art included!

Tam’s First Time

A non-binary uni student visits her much older, wealthier Dominant for the first time – but it’s at the height of Covid pandemic, so they can’t touch each other. Includes themes of gender dysphoria and acceptance. Content note for the former, and for the age difference theme.

Between The Cold And His Heat

One of those stories that gets inspired by a turn of the weather and my mind running wild. This one has themes around exhibitionism, embarassment, obedience and spanking.

She Knows I Hate Mornings

A tale of a naughty sub who’s determined to get what she wants when all her Dom wants is to get up, have a pee, and a shower. You can imagine how that ends up, but you don’t have to: you can read the story for yourself! Content note for: dubious consent, pee play, forced orgasm

Slippery Pole

In which I decribe in as much detail as possible, how I go about wanking to porn on my computer. Inspired by a sexy writing prompt from GotN, in which she asked me to “describe the exact sensations of that act in enough detail that someone who has never experienced it before has a precise description.” If you like descriptions of cocks and people touching them, this is for you!

* * *

So, now it’s your turn – write your own blog post about your hottest ever blog posts and link it here, or on GotN’s post, or both!

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A Sexy Dream, Of Being Pulled

It’s actually rare for me to dream while asleep, of anything sexual happening. So last night’s screening at the cinema of my subconscious mind was a pleasant surprise in many ways.

It started off fairly chastely, with dreaming about trans rights in sports (a very current topic) with the usual arguments being made for allowing trans athletes and sportspeople to play with their affirmed gender teams.

Then it was time for our women’s team to take to the field to play someone else, while we continued to rehearse the pro-trans sports arguments. I was on the women’s team, as a nonbinary person playing with the women’s squad, apparently. So someone pointed out that (in the dream world) I was an example of an AMAB nonbinary figure who was absolutely not demonstrating any advantage through gendered genetics/physique.

Then there was a free kick against my team in a dangerous position and both sides packed the penalty box with their players, which confused matters because no one was wearing football strips – everyone was just wearing their day-to-day clothes (apparently from the 1970s, going by the fashions).

And that’s when the dream turned all sexy, because a curvy, sturdy, light-skinned Black woman with frizzy hair and I were assigned to mark each other (I don’t know where her appearance came from, just that it’s a look I find very sexy). And so we got talking,and she definitely decided she wanted to pull me.

Dream-me was rather more alert to her come-ons that real-life me might have been, but it still took a little while for the penny to drop that she wasn’t just talking hypothetically about not liking sculpted muscular men but preferring her partners softer, with more than just meat. (In the dream, I didn’t notice being misgendered slightly by her remarks – hey, she was giving me a compliment!)

So I said, “Like me?” and she said,”YES!, Like you, dumbass!” which made dream-me blush.

She took my hand and suggested we leave the match and go somewhere else to get nekkid together. Like a numpty, I pointed out that we should see out the match first. Fortunately, the ref blew the whistle for full time just then, so it didn’t matter that we were planning to bunk off from the game after all.

The rest of the dream was nervous excitement as she and I got a lift with her team to her home,and obviously going off with a bunch of strangers was not the smartest thing dream-me could have done.

The dream never got to the actual fucking part of the dream, where Opponent Woman and I would have got nekkid and had sex. But I don’t think that was the point. The wish fulfilment at the heart of this was just to be desired sexually, not actually getting to have sex again. It’s been a while since I had a real-life partner for sexytimes or BDSM or BDSM sexytimes, with someone actually expressing that they want what I’ve got and getting it good and hard.

Not really sure if there’s any point to any of this story, but I enjoyed the dream and wanted to share. So here it is.

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Pivotal Destinies – a TTRPG by me!

It’s occurred to me I haven’t yet posted about my major TTRPG project that I finally released earlier this month, and which is now on sale with 25% off on Itch.

The game is called Pivotal Destinies and came about by two different intriguing routes and thought processes. On the one hand, I was wondering about whether you could use personality tests as attributes for a tabletop roleplaying game. On the other hand, a friend wanted me to run a solo campaign game for them and I didn’t know any good ones, so I had to come up with something that would be inherently quite balanced, on the spot.

By setting up multiple pairs of complementary attributes with a scale between them, and using a d12 to distinguish this from the “Lasers and Feelings” model (a single scale, and a d6), I got my friend to jot down 5 numbers between 3 and 10 – roll above the number to win on the first attribute of the pair, and below to succeed on the second attribute.

I think we were both surprised at how well it worked, and I started developing a much more full and rich fantasy TTRPG setting and structure for it, until I had a game that could fulfil the elevator pitch of “the midpoint between D&D and L&F”.

That friend moved away and we lost touch, but the growing idea of making this into a proper system and game was already blossoming. So I proposed my regular group could act as playtesters for the whole thing. The campaign I started with them has now been running for over 12 months.

I started adding spells, special skills, rules about equipment and how combat worked and how to handle varying difficulty levels,and then we got together online and started adventuring.

I’ve definitely improved as a GM through running the game, but the feedback was so positive, I eventually got around to writing a proper rulebook.

And if I was going to try selling this, I wanted a logo that would really stand out.

As it happened, I had spent nearly 6 months in a dayjob and had a bunch of money saved up so I could afford to hire someone, and along came Eden MW doing design and graphic work for queer, enby and transfolk. And they made:

So, awesome logo, a core rulebook, and all is ready to go!

* * *

Philosophically, the game’s system of binaries (even if they are scales between extremes rather than true binaries) feels at odds with my broader view of life. It’s a fun system, and I’m proud of the work I put into it (I’m even working on a System Reference Document to encourage others to use the ideas for their own games). It’s just that the idea that being good at x means you automatically are less good at y, is a struggle for me: a brash, loud person might actually also be capable of being extremely sneaky and subtle when called for, for example.

But equally, the way it lends itself to concepts of finding a balance, or of disrupting balance, is cool and I enjoy thinking about how that works.

So the philosophical thing just leads me to think of how many other ways there could be of making a balanced system but avoiding binaries. Suffice to say, there are ideas brewing for future game systems.

In the meantime, I am proud of this game, I think it’s well worth what I’m asking for it, and I hope you’ll think so too.

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My newest TTRPG is probably my most Queer game to date (and other updates)

A few creative and writing things have happened since my last post, but all of them are to do with tabletop roleplaying games. The most important in a global sense has to be that my first two published games – “Goals And Goals” and “Starship Bodge-up” – are included in the bundle TTRPGs For Reproductive Rights that has been set up in response to the leaked draft ruling by the Supreme Court of the United States about overturning the previous finding that access to abortion is a right covered by privacy and bodily autonomy. It’s encouraging to see how much has already been raised, and to see how many people have already downloaded one or both of the games. If you haven’t yet a) bought the bundle and b) downloaded my games, click the link and do it now, then come back and carry on reading!

~ * ~

As the heading of this post suggests, I have also released a new TTRPG, Finding Styles, and my feeling is that it is the most Queer game of the ones I have written or am writing. It’s inspired by An Abomination by kumada1, and attempts to mediate a combination of several different TTRPG styles into a single system or mechanic. It also does a thing I’ve been pondering for a while, which is to use tokens as a form of stats in their own right.


What I’m intrigued by is why it is that this game immediately felt more in tune to me with LGBTQ questions, compared to the other games.

While I have always taken effort to ensure that the text of my games allows or encourages people to play as whatever gender and orientation they want, the subject matter and style of the games really don’t to my mind have anything that leans away from the cultural norms. Pivotal Destinies is in many ways a traditional High Fantasy setting, with the same kinds of tropes. I’ve arranged the system in a different way than many, but in terms of the general feel, it is fairly normative. Goals And Goals is a game about sport, and again, while you can absolutely play as a gay or trans footballer, the core of the game doesn’t do anything to reflect that. It’s about playing a football match, and while you can make that gay, it is still a game with the standard “Here’s a GM, here’s a setting, here’s your character constraints, here’s your enemy. Have fun!” structure. And Starship Bodge-up is almost entirely about the situation the characters are in, and having fun making up solutions. The characters can be all manner of nonconforming Queerness, it’s just, they’re not likely to be focussed on any of that while they’re trying to mend a spaceship in danger of blowing up.

Finding Styles, on the other hand, handles everything through the other players and keeps the style of play shifting. There is no single focus. I leaned hard into the idea that it’s a combination of styles, so you build your characters collaboratively, using three of the different gameplay styles to choose the three dice-roll attributes. That in turn makes your characters a collaborative effort, as much as the gameplay will be. The pattern of opposed urges, or perhaps a cycle of steps, drawn out by the logo I made for it also feels like it lends itself far more to questions of relationships and social situations. “Testing or Trying” versus “Feeling or Expressing”, and “Learning or Discovering” versus “Knowing or Deciding”. Alternatively, a cycle from Trying something, leads to Discovering something, leads to a new Feeling, leads to a Decision, which can then be Tested, leading to a new discovery, and so on. (It can also work in reverse: Trying something leads to Deciding on a course of action, which will produce Feelings that lead to me Discovering something about myself, that I can Test in the real world…)

This is not, of course, a real suggestion of an approach to life or therapy or whatever. It was just the sort of vibe I got from the concepts as they laid out and played out in building the system from the influences. Please do NOT treat any of the ideas in the previous paragraph as a self-help guide, it is a game, nothing more!

The other part that felt to me intrinsically leaning in a Queer direction is that there is no way to increase your own power on your own. The tokens you have allow you to Decide things about the game world, but you cannot gain more tokens by your own gameplay decisions. Tokens are gained when someone else wants you to decide something about the game, and thus are determined by your fellow players. That sense of being united in supporting each other felt to me strongly like the vibe I get from Queer spaces online.

So when I came to thinking of scenario suggestions for the dice-roll lists I included, I ended up needing to work to find versions that weren’t necessarily about being Queer. I am sure LGBTQ players will have no trouble using the system and the suggestions to tell stories they find meaningful, if they choose to do so.

~ * ~

The last piece of news is that my first draft of the text for Pivotal Destinies is completed, and I have completed a cover design for the itch-funding release (I want to get the money for some proper illustrations). I am busy putting the text into a Desktop Publishing app to create a decent-looking layout, but I wanted to share the cover design I did in the DTP now.


Posted in Gender, Tabletop Games, Writing about writing | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment