Today has been pretty terrible, and I’ve managed to write neither of the posts for my new ‘personal essays’ category that I’ve been planning. I did write something else, though, because I did remember today how nowadays my clothes feel like my armour, empowering me against the world.
“Bend over slut.” I obey, wetness seeping into knickers, but I peek up at him as he deftly ties my hands together. His fingers move quickly, and while I’m still swooning a little at his skill he’s moved behind me and is tugging my knickers down. Two sharp smacks land on my bottom. “Head down, slut, let me use my fuck toy.”
Today was a long day. A good one, certainly, one that has left my muscles aching in a very satisfying way, but it has been long. I got off the train into the pouring rain this evening, and by the time I got home all I wanted to do was take off my wet clothes and wrap myself in blankets.