You still have time to vote on yesterday’s poll and enter the contest for the Amazon e-gift. I’ll close it on Thursday.
In the meantime, are you looking for a different kind of kink? Something you haven’t tasted before? Check out my friend Amanda’s new story!
Justine Crenshaw is accident-prone. On purpose. It’s the bruises…she can’t live without them, without the pleasure and pain that closely bind her sexuality to her secret obsession. She chooses men who accept her fetish, who seek it out for their own dark designs, even if they don’t understand it. She accepts that. Justine doesn’t need them for anything but a little bruise pressure during down-and-dirty sex.
Then she meets Nathan, and her heart starts demanding more than her compulsions provide. She can’t hide her body from him forever, can’t keep him in the dark, literally. But no “normal” guy could possibly understand her multi-colored kink…could he? It might be time for Justine to shine a light on her fetish and find out.
If they found my body tomorrow—cold and dead from some accidental food poisoning or bathtub slip—they’d suspect I was a battered wife or girlfriend for the mass of bruises, contusions and welts on my body.
They’d be wrong, whoever they are.
No one ever beats me, ties me up—or down. I never have to lie about falling accidentally, or running into door frames, or searing my forehead with a curling iron.
I’m not submissive to anyone, nor am I bound, gagged, throttled, spanked or any of those other violent verbs.
What I am is accident prone.
In the sense that I’m open to them. Accidents.
Ironically, my name is Justine, like the book.
If you don’t get the Marquis de Sade reference, don’t worry. It’s not necessary. This story is neither literary nor filled with obscure references. It’s a base little tale of private kink and Christmas.
So it’s festive, I suppose. But really not the point.
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