It’s been a while since I had explored one of my fetishes through stories and experiences, so I looked into what I’ve already written about. Surprisingly, one of the most prominent part of my sexuality hasn’t been dove into in depth at all. I know I know, I’ve been keeping everyone including myself on suspense about a new chapter I’m turning with Sir Atticus, but it seems that the build-up is going to be long. Well, patience is a virtue right? So, while waiting, let’s take a look at the fetishes exhibitionism and voyerism.
Exhibitionism – The Need to Be Seen
Exhibitionism is the act of exposing in a public or semi-public context those parts of one’s body that are not normally exposed. The practice may arise from a desire or compulsion to expose themselves in such a manner to groups of friends or acquaintances, or to strangers for their amusement or sexual satisfaction or to shock the bystander. – Wikipedia
There are also different types of exposure, the most interesting ones and the boxes I would surely check are anasyrma, candaulism and martymachlia. Anasyrma is exposing one’s genitals by lifting one’s skirt with no underwear. Candaulism is being exposed by one’s partner in a sexual and provocative way. Martymachlia is experiencing arousal from having others watch the execution of a sexual act. I think that’s quite enough of terminology for this time around.
Continue reading “Is That A Thing? – Flirting With Shame”
Warning: Short story’s consist of graphic sexual content. Read part 1 and part 2 first.
I was obedient long enough to earn lights and TV to the little room, but the electricity would still be cut off whenever he brought me meals or just to visit. So no matter how close the man and I became by knowing each other’s bodies almost too well, I still didn’t know what he looked like. And the longer I was being imprisoned, the more I found myself fantasizing his mysterious face. Would he be ugly? He gotta be, right? Why else would he be doing this instead of getting women in the ‘normal’ way? Or was it all just for thrills? What color his eyes might be? Would he look cruel or friendly? Would it match his commanding and calm voice?
I found my musings so very pointless. If all went according to the plan, I would earn the ultimate reward and I would ask to be let go. And that would only work if I didn’t find out what he looked like, he would never take a risk to be caught by showing his face. But it was easier said than done. You try to not think what the man looked like, the man who became your whole world, with or without your consent. The truth was, my body was first to yield to him, and lately I’ve found my mind becoming more and more his. I wanted to get to know him, I wanted to see him… such dangerous thoughts. It must’ve been just Stockholm syndrome talking in my head.
Continue reading “Halloween Special Short Story, Part 3 – Choke”
Read part 1 here. Warning: the following short story fall under the category of erotic horror and it’s consist of graphic sexual content.
After that first night, my captor hasn’t touched me. In fact, he only came into the room he kept me three times a day, bringing me food and water. The room I was being kept wasn’t big, it has an old bed in the middle of the room and had an adjoining small bathroom and that was pretty much it. It didn’t have any windows, so I was pretty sure it was underground. The room was kept dark all the time, with small amount of light seeping through beneath the door from whatever was on the other side of the door. He took off the blindfold from my eyes but for me it was just the same, there was never enough light to see his face or much anything else. My ankle was shackled with chains to the steel frame bed that was bolted to the concrete wall, and it was just long enough for me to reach the bathroom but not quite reaching the door.
I lost track of time. The only reference was the meals, the day is over after the third meal. At first I tried to keep track of how many days I was kept prisoner, but finally I lost count after dozen or so. First few days, I completely freaked out whenever he entered the room, thinking that he came to do a repeat of the first night. Gradually, my uncontrollable fear towards him lessened. First, fear turned into rage, and I tried to attack him once when he brought me my food. With all my might, I attempted to punch him in the face, missing the center of his face and hurting my own wrist in the process. He didn’t retaliate, at least not physically. He just didn’t bring me any food or water for a long long time, so long that when he finally brought me a bottle of water, I hardly had the strength to lift the bottle. I gave up fighting, deciding that to survive, I needed to have my strength.
Continue reading “Halloween Special Short Story, Part 2 – Corrupt”