23 July 2013


I’ve been meaning to post this for a while and just haven’t got to it!

I now host my site/blog on it’s own server space and so my updates are all just being posted on AlyssAbyss.com

Instead of the site just being about my blog, there’s also some other info there about my porn/modelling work.  If you’re just looking for my writing, be sure to click on the Blog tab!

21 June 2013

Filthy Friday

I promised you more smut and I wasn’t just teasing but you won’t find it posted on this blog! I’m sorry but you’ll have to head over to the Sh! Womenstore’s blog as I have been included in their Filthy Friday free erotica. Anyway…on to the smut! I give you Party Directions

29 May 2013


I want to be your pet

I want you to dress me up and made me feel special

I want to be at your every command, to be at your beck and call

I want to kneel at your feet and be stroked, looked after

I want to be yours to play with and abuse

I want to sleep curled on your bed

I want to be locked securely into a collar and protected

I want to be yours for that moment

19 May 2013

Some changes

I’m not sure how many of you will have noticed, especially as my blog was down for a few days just after I changed things, but I’ve been making a couple of changes around here and one of them is a very much adapted About Me section.  Take a look if you want to know what’s been going on in my head a bit more!

19 May 2013

Labour of Love

You’re waiting for me, kneeling on the floor, head bowed, patient.  I see you have everything prepared, lined up neatly beside you, ready for the task ahead of you.  I crack a smile, knowing your little perfectionist ways, happy with you being ready for me.  I stand over you, reaching down to stroke your hair, caress your cheek, gently raising your face so our eyes meet.  The look of eagerness and excitement makes me smile again.  I know you will enjoy this; my little treat for you.

We have our ritual, mainly unspoken, established through our mutual love and enjoyment.  You start at my waist, spraying the polish generously and working it into the latex with care and attention.  You pride yourself in the shine almost as much as I do, wanting to do a good job and please me as well.  Your hands sweep over the surface, caressing the material, working with a rhythm and flow.  I see the look in your eyes as your nose is filled with that delicious smell.  I see you pause for a second whilst you bring yourself back into the moment.

You work down my legs, your face almost touching them, both hands caressing and smoothing polish into my calves.  I see you inhaling, that look of glee.  I feel tension disappearing from my body, your touch amplified, feeling more intimate than if you were touching my naked skin.  Enclosed and yet so vulnerable, so exposed.  I try to stand steadily, stay focussed, but it becomes harder the longer you are working at the job in hand.

My arms are next and then onto my back.  As the time passes, the smell engulfs the room, making me take deeper, longer breathes.  You massage polish into my shoulders, working away knots whilst making sure my outfit shines.  I can feel your breath on my neck, as slow and careful as my own, taking pleasure in the proximity to the latex.

The final part of our ritual.  You move around to my front again and dedicate a significant time to polishing my chest.  Your attention to detail obvious as I watch you, every inch checked and double checked for shine, making sure there’s enough polish, no corners cut.  Your face a mix of concentration and joy, my body melting from your touch and my pride in you.

You finally decide that you are finished and look at me for approval, for praise, for confirmation that I am happy.  It takes all my strength not to grab you and pull you into my body, to let you into my secret, to take what I really desire.  Instead, I act in control and tell you how pleased I am with you, whilst desperate for the next time, for that touch again.

12 May 2013

The Brat

I’m still not quite sure if I like this piece but I’m posting it anyway. Maybe I shall write what happens next someday too.

It’s just another night, sitting at home and watching a film.  You ask me to get you a drink.

“Get it yourself!, I’m busy watching this.”

I sense the mistake the moment I catch the look in your eyes but I can’t help it.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” sticking my tongue out.

It’s stupid; I’m not even trying to egg you on.  You get up and head towards the kitchen and I shout after you, asking for my own.  I know I’m pushing my luck, but I don’t see the harm. I’m distracted by the film so I don’t notice you coming back into the room until you’re placing the bowl in front of me.

“What’s this?” disgust undisguised in my tone.

“Your drink”

I look up to you and you’re smirking.

“I’m not going to drink it.  You can’t make me.”

What am I saying?  Your hand is firm on the back of my head as I try to resist, locking my arms out, palms on the floor.  Your hand grips at my hair, disabling me as if you were scruffing a cat.  My face is in the bowl, mouth open from protesting, held down for as long as you dare, water filling my nose and mouth, making me struggle.  You pull me back, sitting me up and looking straight into my eyes.  A sensible girl whould be meek and apologetic but it seems that she’s not here today.  I stick my tongue out again and you react by pushing me straight back into the water.

When you let me back up, water is dripping from my hair and I splutter water straight out from my mouth and into your face,  You’re clearly not impressed.  You grab me roughly and pull me over your knee.  I’m not going easily though, kicking, scrabbling, wriggling.  My knickers are tugged down and I try to pull them back up.  Again, you pull my hair.  A moment of calm and my knickers are down again.  I’m about to protest when the strap comes down on my backside.  The pain is intense, burning, stinging, catching my breath.  Before I know it, the strap cracks down again and again.  You hesitate a moment and I start to wriggle again, trying to get up, to escape, but you have an iron grip on my back.  Another series of strokes from the strap and I can feel the heat rising from my bottom but, instead of feeling sorry, I just want to kick and scream.  You seem to know this and pull me up off your lap.

“Stand up straight, facing me”

I do it, looking sullen, apathetic.

“Get the cane from the hook and present it to me”

You’re trying to gain control, to get me to behave.  I amble over to the wall, grab the cane and hold it out to you, lazily.  You glare at me.  I know why; I’m not doing things the way I should, the way you have trained me.


I hold them out, palms down.  Instead of shouting at me, you roughly turn them over and place them one on top of the other.  Three strokes on each hand.  Three stripes on each palm.  It hurts and it’s hard not to let it show.

“Clothes off and pull up your kickers.”

I do as you tell me, leaving my discarded garments untidily strewn over the floor.  I stand, fidgeting, playing with my hair, looking bored.

You’re on me in a second, pulling me by my hair, dragging me to the cage, my feet barely keeping up with you, my body feeling out of control.  Bundled inside, cramped, body folded over, I hear you snap shut the padlock.

“You will stay here and contemplate your actions.  You will have all privileges removed.  No clothes, no attention, no acknowledgement,  no voice.  Food and drink will be limited.”

You don’t even look at me.

You walk off and I wait.  The minutes tick by and I sit, still bored, still fidgeting.  I shiver a little in my nakedness but try to control it, in case you come back.  I don’t want you to get pleasure from me struggling.  More time passes and I rearrange my body, trying to avoid stiffness and discomfort.  There’s enough space in here to move but never quite get comfortable. When you haven’t come back in what seems like hours, I finally realise that this is no joke.  I have disappointed you.  I have disappointed myself.  The tears start then, the second I realise that all I want is to be your good girl again.

7 May 2013

Longing for protection

Since I had major hip surgery 4 weeks ago, my kink life has taken a bit of a back seat as the pain I’m in and the breaks in my bones mean I really should be taking it pretty easy.  That doesn’t mean that my mind shuts up though and kink is frequently on the brain, on both sides of the switchy divide.  My cravings change on an almost daily basis, mainly because I know I can’t have any of it but it keeps coming back to something in particular that I haven’t had for a long time.

Although I was never formally collared during my time with S, I did wear one for her at times during play and when out together and I did form a psychological bond with it.  It made me feel protected and safe, looked after and secure.  There was something very comforting in being able to feel the leather against my skin, bound around my neck.  The smell is heavenly too ( I’ve got a bit of a thing for leather, can you tell?).  Recently, I have really wanted to feel that again, and extend it to leather cuffs too.

The thing is, this all got me thinking about D/s relationships in general.  I’ve never really had much of a formal arrangement, having fallen into D/s relationships before, but there are aspects that I would love to see if they would work for me with someone, as a submissive.  I did a lot of reading when I found myself as a submissive, as well as going to several workshops and I became rather interested in protocol and service.  I like the idea of ritual and rules regarding my behaviour and actions.  I am too stubborn and independent to ever want a 24/7 relationship, plus I always wonder how that would work in poly, especially as a switch but I do have a desire to explore this side of myself again in the future, with the right person, when I am well again.  The idea excites and interests me, as well as missing some of the things I had before that came with my submission.

3 May 2013

Things no one will tell fat girls…

…so I will

I don’t normally just link to other blogs but I love this post too much not to.  It’s really awesome and reaffirming for me.  Plus Jes is hot!

22 April 2013


I crave to feel its touch on my skin.
To smell the oil, the fibre, before it even comes near me.
To feel that connection, the closeness, the unique intimacy.
Desiring the restriction, the way it takes my breath away, the roughness on my bare skin.
Wanting the release of my mind, my thoughts only in that moment.
To see the marks cut into my flesh, the patterns on my body.
The come down in your arms, the flow of our energy, the passion of something so simple yet complex.

I shall leave you with a photo of the last partial I did before my operation. Taken at Rope Office Hours, April 2013 by Eddymonster. Rope by Ruby and Eddymonster. Models: myself and the girl


12 March 2013

Play, Desire and Intimacy

Things are very different in my life now than they were even just a few months ago. I have changed and adapted so much since I started going out on the ‘scene’ as I met amazing people who have nurtured my development and helped me to learn who I am that little bit more than I could before. I have grown.

One particular aspect of this would be how I approach play, sex and relationships. When I was younger, and probably more naive, I used to see sex as this sacred thing, only to be shared with those that I was devoted to, madly in love with, committed to. I also saw play as a very sexual thing and thought of it as an attachment of sex rather than a separate activity.  I didn’t necessarily feel that play was sexual, just often led there. The idea of doing it with someone apart from B was odd. Apart from rope bondage. That always seemed to have a separate entity in my brain, detachable from sex, able to do it with people I wasn’t in an intimate relationship with. Probably because it made me float into subspace. In hindsight, it was probably all a trust thing, as, weirdly, I felt other kinds of play made me more vulnerable. I was very all or nothing, with relationships too. I was young and fell fast and hard for people.

Move on several years later and I have forgotten who I am. I still had these ideas about intimacy and attraction but had few ideas about my own sexuality and arousal. The first time I played with new things with S, I was actually surprised at just how aroused I was, from nothing traditionally sexual in my mind. Pain wasn’t meant to turn me on like this. I loosened up. I tried to get my head around more casual relationships with sexual activities included, to accept my inner masochist, to distance being a demo bunny from full on intimate relationships. I envied those who had play partners who weren’t full on romantic lovers. I envied their ease with each other and their closeness.

It took a few small demonstrations and an operation to get my head around things. My kink drive and sex drive, although not mutually exclusive, have different levels. I craved kink but didn’t feel sexy or sexual, in an obvious way. A sought play that I thought would be less sexually arousing. Some needle play, some service play as a top. And maybe I got into it with the wrong idea but I could enjoy play without sex. This was with people I didn’t have that kind of relationship with.  In time, the relationships that started at that point in my life have changed to include more sexual intimacy but that developed rather than was expected.  They are both gorgeous individuals that I am very lucky to have that kind of relationship with.  I realised that sex is fun and doesn’t just have to be in long term, romantic, ‘normal’ relationships!  I also actually realised that topping someone and causing pain can get me as hot as having a knife to my throat but that doesn’t mean I have to have sex that instant!

Which gets me on to playing/demoing with people I am not having sex with, and quite possibly don’t even want to. I can’t turn off my body’s response to things that turn me on, if there is energy in the play/demo but I also know how to behave like a civilised human being and not bone someone just because I’m horny, regardless of what they have done! If there’s a connection in that instant and it makes me (or them) feel good, what’s the problem? Life’s too short sometimes.

I seem to have been rambling again! Brain vomit!  Basically, what I’m trying to say is, sex is fun, play is fun.  They can be independent of each other or very much intertwined.  I don’t have to have a sexual connection with someone to play, but I do need trust and to actually like them!

Tags: , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: