Erotic writing

I was reading erotic fiction long before I thought about writing it. Around the time I met S, I began to download erotica to my kindle. Before that I hadn’t read anything like it. I was unfamiliar with The Story of O. Looking at my kindle purchase history, I downloaded a lot of books over the next few months and read most of them. I also read a number of non fiction ‘how to’ type books.

Around the same time I began to read blogs, mainly those written by submissive women. I sucked up the information they provided. When I started to write my own blog, it really was a diary of events, along with a reflective journal of my thoughts and feelings. At the time I concentrated on non fiction blogs and read fiction on my kindle.

The first fiction piece to appear on my own blog wasn’t until March 2017 and was based on my Master’s fetish for women with very short hair. I think I’ve mentioned in the past (not entirely sure where), that I used to write fiction as a teenager and in my early 20’s. This was in long hand and was often pretty sexy. Somehow though I have a mental block about writing erotica on my blog.

My preference is always to write something that feels real. Therefore I struggle to let my imagination go wild and then, I feel I can’t be as good as others. Entering the Smut Marathon last year was a way of testing if I could do it. It turned out I was better than I thought. I made it to round 6 before being eliminated. In fact, I was packing up my house and suffered a urinary infection during that round. So perhaps I could have gone further. The experience was educational and pushed me to improve the quality of my writing. But it was also a stressful experience, hence sitting out this year’s competition. Since then, I have written some Flash Fiction and plan to write more, very soon.

My favourite round was round 5 – The fairest. A story told from the point of view of a ball gag

If you could speak clearly, so as to be understood, you would be reciting that fairy tale chant right now:

‘Mirror mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?’

Your glistening green eyes, chiselled, symmetrical cheeks and red pouty lips reflect back at you. That look of such self-devotion radiates from you, but also prevents you from seeing the beauty of others: people or objects. 
You barely gave me a glance as you slipped me out of the packaging. You failed to appreciate the smoothness of my rubber sphere, or the quality of my soft leather straps. But from the moment you slipped my hard ball past those kissable lips into your soft mouth there was a power shift. As you struggled to fasten the metal clasp, and needed to readjust my strap to the right length, I was already dominating your mouth. But also you were feeling the first erotic signs as your cock began to increase in size. 

Now, as you look in the mirror at your reflection you are yet to see that I am the source of your arousal. You haven’t yet realised the strength of submission building inside you, or that the erection growing within your shorts is thanks to my power.  My ball grinds your teeth as vibrations pulsate up your body as you jerk your hips forward, grinding yourself on the wood of the counter. More saliva flows from your mouth, and runs from your lips, your cheeks glow red. You want to swallow, but my ball stops you. If anything it feels as if it is growing, filling your mouth, controlling you. You know you can’t speak and instead you groan, embracing the humiliation that my presence is going to bring you. 

You are close to the climax of your arousal now, and know that only then will you acknowledge my supreme power and beauty. At last you free your cock from your shorts and wrap your hand around it. You glance down at the large, throbbing shaft and admire its size with the same appreciation you earlier gave to your face.  After just a few strokes, you are panting for breath, your eyes wide, you look in the mirror again. 

At last you acknowledge my achievement, you embrace your submission and as you come you see where the true beauty lies, in me.

The story above has appeared on the Smut Marathon website, but not here on my blog. I’m actually quite proud of it and so, when I was eliminated in the next round, I wasn’t significantly upset.