Author: vicioustriangle

Boxes Part 1 [bdsm] [MMFF] [Fsub] [Mdom] [voy]

She looked around the room again and took in the scene. People bustling around her, snippets of piped in jazz, waiters and waitresses navigating the crowded tables, drinks piled precariously high on silver platters. Suits and sparkling dresses. She adjusted her own dress. The fit was right, which had been a surprise to her, but she was not used to the cut: hem resting just above the knee, black chiffon obscuring the plunging neckline. She felt exposed, as if everyone in the room was looking at her. And they all knew why she was there.

A box had come with the dress. The box contained a tag and a card. The tag was a simple piece of copper, not much bigger than a coin. On it was engraved her name. Her new name. The one that she had been given by him. The one she had earned after he had tested her to see whether she was worth naming. She had done everything he asked, until she was gasping for air, until her face was burning, until the tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Until she ached to be filled, pleaded to be hurt. Until the lack of release made her half-mad. Read more »

An Arrangement [MFF] [Bi] [Bd]

The question I always come back to is this: what do I want from our arrangement? Is it enough just to dissolve? When I was younger I remember going to visit some friends of friends who lived in the backend of nowhere. We sat around at night, listened as we tried to impress each other, drank some local paint stripper because of course we had to try what the area had to offer. We’d built a fire out of a few broken chairs that lay discarded in the barn. I threw match after match at those damn chairs but in the end it took a gleeful slosh of petrol and a forever lost zippo to get it started. The paint turned into latex and peeled back to show the grain of the wood before it all turned black. And when no-one was looking I held my hands as close to the fire for as long as I could stand it, and then for a little longer still. I had fucked someone that night, but it had been a clumsy thing motivated by obligation, and I ended up back in my own room where I fell asleep. At some point I remember waking and when I opened my eyes there was nothing. The darkness was so complete that it started to take on a hue that I had no name for. And surrounded by that tinted absence it was as if all that was left was the fire in my hands, like the rest of my body had dissolved, and all I had to remind me that I was a person was the residual tingling heat emanating from my palms. But the more I concentrated on the feeling in my hands, the more insubstantial I felt myself becoming, until I was sure that the fire was all there was left. And the feeling was wonderful. Read more »