I am straddling his chest, he is writhing underneath me, his body in constant motion, seeking something more, reaching, searching, his movements limited by my weight on him, by the cuffs joining his hands above his head. He is not fighting me, but he can’t keep still, he makes small sounds into the room.

I reach down to position his head and I slap him, hard, across his cheek, the sting of it tight and harsh.

All of his movement stops in the aftermath of the strike. Suddenly he is still, like a switch has been flicked. He is shocked. … Continue Reading

We are watching television. He sits on the ground beside the couch, at my feet, a cushion I bought for ten cents at the school fete under his arse to keep him off the cold tiles. The ‘butt cushion’ I have dubbed it. I can feel his energy as he sits there quietly, it emanates from him in waves, invisible threads drawing me in. I feel the pull in my fingertips, in the pit of my stomach and I know if I reach out and touch him, he will lean into it and silently vibrate with pleasure, not asking for … Continue Reading

It is in the way you surrender, a quiet, unspoken, gentle offering of yourself, inevitable, unquestioning. It is in the way you bow your head and wait, even without experience, you know, like you have seen inside my head, you understand exactly how to elicit that aggressive response from me, to raise that hunger that you love. It is in the way you look sideways at me, find the courage to be cocky, checking, checking that you haven’t gone too far (‘too far? am I still ok? is this ok?’). It is in the way you care for me, call … Continue Reading