An almost half year dry spell marked my Divorce’s conclusion. For a variety of reasons I waited a long time to try all those basic aspects of the flesh. It was not without encouragement to the contrary, as friends and even Strong tried to coax me to find someone or something to fill the ah… breach. I […]
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Bones and Flesh and Pressure Points, Sex.
https://www.omisspearl.com/nonfiction/bones-and-flesh-and-pressure-points-sex/
Profanity from Pain
I’ve got a fetish, and it’s not for men who are super polite in the bedroom. I like it when they swear. There’s something particularly thrilling about a foul mouth when it hurts. Don’t get me wrong, the whole suppressed grunts and whimpering and carrying on has a special place in my heart too… but give me a man […]
https://www.omisspearl.com/fiction/profanity-from-pain/
Catamite Pt. 13
The ropes were a dirty dun colour, thin, but wound several times around his body in rippled bands so that the bite of one cord was negated by its sisters. Such comforts gave him the full ability to concentrate on the hanging weights and the cross linked cords that made each of the four men […]
https://www.omisspearl.com/fiction/catamite-pt-13/
Catamite Pt. 12
Annette sat just above his groin, her bodice in disarray and her skirt in crumpled folds to that her lace covered legs were fully exposed. She was pinching, all over his skin, where there weren’t freshly sealed cuts from his last misadventure. Her hands would grab a patch of skin and yank hard until he […]
https://www.omisspearl.com/fiction/catamite-pt-12/
Catamite Pt. 11
He looked down to undo the buttons on his vest, and loosen his tie, before buttons on his shirt. If he didn’t look anywhere but his hands, it made it less humiliating, though every woman in the room was watching as he revealed more of his naked skin. He followed Annette’s usual preference and folded […]
https://www.omisspearl.com/fiction/catamite-pt-11/
Catamite Pt. 7
The hood was padded cloth, and went over his head, lacing up tight so that light was blocked out and he was warmed by his own breath. Muffled claustrophobia made him struggle. “Why are you doing this!?” Masculine panic, with the tinge of a whine , tainted his voice as the ropes bit into his […]
https://www.omisspearl.com/fiction/catamite-pt-7/
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