Ever since she can remember. The longing. The desire. The ache.
A deep sexual yearning to lose control. To abandon her free will to the pleasure of another.
And in doing so find her own glorious, magical, delicious release.
Sometimes, in her private moments and when she allows herself, she has the scenarios in her head. Scripted and endlessly rehearsed, she plays them in a bold, burning, breathtaking loop. Fantasies and fetishes that leave her wasted and wet as she allows them to wash and lap over her.
Other times it is a jumble of words and images, of instruction and discipline, obedience and compliance.
Of being watched.
Of her body being used and pleasured. Stroked and caressed, kissed and pinched, slapped and whipped, licked and scratched, nibbled and teased.
And of being restrained.
And of fingers, and lips, and toy after toy. And his tongue and…
pewter stone rises craggy head cloaked in rainclouds; the last mountain looms
Freya Pickard finds fulfillment in writing about the mythical world of Nirunen in both poetry and fantasy novels. This is her 2nd feature on The Short of It. She is currently working on her epic fantasy, The Kaerling, and gets her inspiration for the villains from the people she meets in the hospitality industry.
Sailors confused her home with a bottle of their favorite drink, releasing her accidentally. They callously pitched her green housing to the sand upon discovering the error. She decided no wishes would be granted upon seeing the multitude of lecherous and treacherous men. It was wise to remain out of sight. They didn’t deserve her help, nor would she be a slave to them and their filthy, disgusting wishes.
Besides, thinking to herself – Why would I ever go back to that little space when I’m out here in paradise? No,the genie is not getting back in the bottle.
i felt your strength in those moments of my weakness the inescapable honesty shown me with your deeds and sumptuous lips
a day never ended without your hardest efforts fulfilling your ambitions and in support of mine all whilst wrapping me up in genuine romance
you understood how to divvy up the day to attend to your priorities while ensuring you communicated the necessary to my mind, body and soul in words and affection
your comedy left me heaving with unexpected joy and gasps for air your intense sex appeal and provision of ecstasy did me in the same way lasting just enough to never dull the desire for more
your swagger was a confidence absent arrogance sharing your intelligence and knowledge humbly and possessing such a keen eye for details my, oh my, you were assembled just right nature and nurture produced a prize one i was so lucky to have
in the space we’d hollowed out for ourselves a dimension of no holds or hesitation with jagged-edged personal truths seeing each other clearly loving each other anyway our gazes, a connection which couldn’t lie
in tune in touch in love i was nourished i was supported i was free
I know what you want Dark mysteries from beyond Chills the blood within Open your eyes to the void The curtain lifts on your doom
Cycle of the Witch
Child of earth Lives and learns Wisdom grow’s
Woman’s Life Grimoire’s verse Imparts love
Come of age Passed the test Old Crone rests
Thine own eyes see all She is of body and mind Her beauty revered
What do you want when you see me? Am I not good enough for thee? No more can I stay Now I must away Your goodbye I won’t cry
John’s a self-proclaimed poet and storyteller who writes for a hobby and professionally. He’s from the coastal city of Swansea in South Wales and has had a vivid imagination from a young age. A lover of mystery and conspiracy, little green men and things going bump in the night. You can read his work here – The Mush from the Hill