Tag Archives: photograph
Daddy brought me rock from the seaside; I purchased polka dot panties; I re-dyed my hair bright red; I have a new chair in my dressing room; what exactly was I supposed to do if not play pin-up?
Daddy took me to the churchyard to kiss me. His lips took mine as they aren’t supposed to; devoured my mouth. Pulled my head back, and dipped into me. Shook me with the shame. It wasn’t enough. In the dappled … Continue reading
For four years exactly – from March 2009 to March 2013 – I identified, almost unquestioningly, with the term ‘submissive’, as a noun. ‘A submissive’. That was me. It sat right, it turned me on, it gave me what I … Continue reading
Disposable. (Since people seem concerned, I’ll say that I did not cut myself.)
There are times when I meet people – generally face-to-face – and the conversation somehow comes round to the fact that I am submissive, and being me, I brush it off casually, without really getting into the ins and outs … Continue reading