“Don’t let him.”
“I warned you. Didn’t you think I’d keep my word?”
Above her head, the restraints bit into the flesh at her wrists where the bone was close to the skin. Her muscles twitched, her arms flexed, she tugged and winced. At her ankles, the sting was worse and the hard edges of the table legs dug into her shins.
He’d been so fucking sly about romancing her into that position. Just another game. Another whim. I want to fuck you, all tied up on the kitchen table, Daniel had said. And the idea had turned her on so deeply, she’d draped herself naked across it all on her own. Wanting him, wet for him, her cunt throbbing as he spread and bound her legs. The last thing she’d seen before he put the blindfold on was what she now knew to be the frighteningly well-feigned lust in his eyes.
Then reality had swiveled on a dime.
“I always follow through on my threats. You know that. If I didn’t, what would they be worth?”
A large, warm hand slid along the underside of her bare thigh and up, over one buttock. Sylvia tried to raise her head up off the table and look back in vain. Even with the blindfold on, she couldn’t stop herself. It wasn’t his touch down there. She knew it wasn’t. And a thick black panic surged up from her belly to her throat and brought the words up in a shrill squeak.
“No! Please. Please. Don’t.”
“Sh-h. Calm down.” Daniel’s hand was on her head, stroking it, pressing her face back down onto the cool, smooth tabletop. “What did I tell you I was going to do if you ever came near me with that strap-on?”
“Jesus, I was only joking!” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
“What did I tell you?” His voice was soft, closer than before. The warmth of his breath spread across her ear, over her jaw. He gave her hand a sharp squeeze.
“That you’d tie me up.”
“What else?”
“And blindfold me.”
There was another touch of her ass cheek, a caress, and then the sound of someone lowering a zipper. Her whole body jerked. Every nerve ending screamed.
“No. Fuck! Please. Don’t!” she whimpered.
“And what else, Sylvia?”
She heard the more distant rustling of clothing and could not fight back the panic. “Don’t you dare do this. God. I’ll never forgive you. Never. This isn’t a game. Stop it!”
His voice growled low and cold against her ear. His lips pressed to it. “And what else?”
She was silent for a moment. As if keeping back the words would stop it from happening. As if there must surely be some way to make him understand that this was a threat he didn’t have to follow through with. That she got it. She absolutely understood. “I promise,” she wailed. “I’ll never, ever, ever even look at a strap-on again. I’ll throw it out. I’ll burn it. I swear!” The last of her words were pushed out between sobs.
The other hand. His other hand. The hand that had stroked her hair back off her face grabbed a fistful and jerked it hard. “What else?”
The tears began to stream, soaking the blindfold. She swallowed and then spoke the words. They came out in pins and needles. “You’d get someone else to fuck me.”
He released her hair. “Indeed.”
She felt him pull away. His fingers slid from her hers, the weight of his hand lifted from her head. The air was full of whispering she strained to decipher. Then a bright stinging slap on her ass.
“She’s all yours, buddy.”
Again, Sylvia lifted her head off the table and screamed, “Don’t you DARE! Don’t you leave! You motherfucker!”
Because her mind, which had been so busy calculating ways to make him relent on his threat now cleared enough to remember all of it. “Or don’t you keep your word after all?” she demanded with angry desperation.
For seconds silence reigned. Then crinkling packaging. Then a whisper wet sound it took her a moment to identify, and her gut froze. A condom.
Okay, she thought. I can do this. He thinks I’m so fucking weak. Sylvia sniffed and clenched her teeth. “You said that, while he did, you’d stay and kiss me, and call me a whore. Don’t you remember?”
Even though it wasn’t, it felt like she’d spoken the words to an empty room. There was no reply.
“So… I can take this. But you can’t? Is that it?”
In less than the time it took her to draw back the breath she’d just expended, he was back, pressing her blind face with his lips. But it wasn’t a warm kiss. It had that chill to it that always embodied him when he felt some inner conflict.
“You don’t have to do this just to prove you meant it,” she whispered.
His fingers wormed their way into her clenched, secured fist. “Yes I do.”
She felt the other man settle one hand on her canted hip. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. “I’m scared.”
“He won’t hurt you. He’s just going to fuck you.”
“Did you pay him?”
“I didn’t have to. So, there’s really nothing to be scared of.”
“I’m scared that when it’s over you won’t love me. You’ll remember this and you’ll feel I betrayed you.” She was speaking as softly as she could, as if doing so would render the other man in the room inert, unreal.
“No. This isn’t your choice.”
“It won’t matter. You’ll still think it was.”
The slightly chill, wet sensation of a cockhead nudging at her cunt lips made her body jerk again.
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes. You will. And we’ll never be the same a…”
Her whole body lurched as the unknown cock pushed into her. It wasn’t pain, exactly. The condom was either very well lubricated, or else the man who had just embedded himself into her cunt had used extra.
“Christ! Daniel!” she gasped.
But his hand was in her hair again, stroking it. And his lips grazed her forehead. “Shush. Show me you can take it. Show me what a tough little whore you can be.”
That’s when the thrusting began. And the pair of hands at her hips dug their fingers into her flesh to hold her still. It wasn’t Daniel’s cock. Nothing and no one felt like him, fit her like he did.
“I’m not going to come,” she said through clenched teeth.
Daniel gave a bitter chuckle. “Sure you will. You always do. You come like clockwork.”
For a while there was only the sound of unknown flesh meeting hers, the soft squeak of the table as it shook, and the regular, ragged breathing of the man behind her. Each thrust pushed her groin into the table’s edge. And she knew that Daniel was right; if the man didn’t finish soon, she was indeed going to orgasm.
“Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“Take the blindfold off. Please.”
He laughed, but it was icy. “Why?”
“You need to see my eyes, Daniel. You need to look in my eyes while you’re doing this to me.”
“I’m not doing anything, slut. You’re the one who’s getting fucked by a total stranger. Or is that it? You want to see who’s pounding your filthy wet pussy, baby?”
He never called her baby. The word froze her. In it, she could sense with absolute surety his disengagement.
“DANIEL!” she screamed. “Take it off. Now! Take it off!” To the man behind her, it must have sounded like some strange wail of pleasure, but Sylvia knew that Daniel wouldn’t mistake it for that. He couldn’t. He mustn’t.
Sylvia clenched her muscles, waiting, praying. The man behind her groaned in response and began to fuck her harder. The dull warmth of pleasure that presaged her orgasm built inexorably at the base of her spine.
Slowly, she felt Daniel tug at the blindfold and there was light. Light and his blurry face very close to hers. “Look at me, please.” A thin little whisper.
At first, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She saw the angry, betrayed child in the man. Then his eyes met hers and she nodded. “See?”
“See what?” he sneered. “I see a slut getting it hard. And I can tell you’re loving it.”
But she stared at him, willing him to see. “Look at me, Daniel. I love you.”
Such awful confusion there. Twin hurricanes. One in each iris.
“You said you’d kiss me. Kiss me and call me a whore. Come on, then. Do it.”
She saw him hesitate. She twitched and the first languid shudder rolled up her body. “Kiss me. You keep your word.”
Daniel bent down and pressed his lips to hers. They were taut and ungiving at first. But she sighed and sucked at his bottom lip and craned her neck as far as she could, pressing her mouth into his, just in time for the rushing storm of the orgasm to envelope her.
And she knew, absolutely, that he would know this, and know her. Because he’d kissed her a thousand times as he broke her into pleasure. And she’d groaned and keened a thousand times into his mouth. He’d know it for what it was. Surely, he would know.
She didn’t feel the man inside her come. She hardly noticed as he pulled himself from her contracting cunt. All she could feel was the hand that cupped her head and pressed her deeper into the kiss.
* * *
For weeks after, Sylvia waited for signs of what she feared most. But Daniel was simply Daniel. Sometimes moody, sometimes silly, sometimes passionate and willful, just Daniel. He kissed her as he always had. When he reached for her between the covers of their bed and poured himself into her body, it was the same Daniel as before.
For Sylvia, though, something had changed. Beyond the serious and almost ceremonial disposal of the strap-on. Because another awful fear began to gnaw at her insides.
She could meet neither the gardener’s eyes, nor the chauffeur’s gaze. She didn’t answer the door to the mailman or greet the housekeeper’s husband when he picked his wife up at the end of the workday. She made excuses not to attend dinners with their mutual friends so often the invitations finally stopped altogether. The fear of meeting the man who had done her husband’s bidding all but devoured her.
One year to the day, on the anniversary of her ordeal at the kitchen table, she seduced and fucked a complete stranger in the parking lot of her favorite supermarket, with her eyes, of course, firmly shut.
This made me a little uncomfortable, I must admit. This scene wasn’t consensual (not that I disapprove of writing about that), so it seems to go beyond my own boundaries of what I think of as erotic literature. That’s probably naive, though. Anyway, it’s no bad thing to be disturbed by literature; on the contrary, it’s part of the function of any art-form, I believe. The final words are an interesting coda.
Hi Jim, Thanks for taking the time to read it and comment. No, it’s definitely not consensual and that makes a lot of people uncomfortable. I have written quite a lot of non-consensual erotica and it’s one of the reasons a lot of publishers won’t touch me with a ten foot pole. If it doesn’t turn you on, definitely avoid ‘Gaijin’. Also, Breach of Contract, The Voice, and Click… there are probably a number of others too. In my defense, I do have a warning posted on the top right of every page about this.
But the issue of nonconsenuality is of interest to me because, like a fair number of women, reading about non-consensual fictional sex is a big turn on for me. At the same time, if you venture into my non-consensual stories, you’ll notice that the perpetrator never fares that well in the end, so clearly, although it turns me on, I still bring some vestige of my real world morality into the story at some point.
The other thing you may notice about a lot of my stories, is that they are really not writing for comfort, or to accompany a happy wank. You could say that I’m not a very sex-positive sort of erotic writer. I tend to use sex as a framework on which to discuss a lot of other issues. Fear and the roots of psychological fear – especially of identity – is a recurrent theme.
I love your style…what a gift. Thank you so much for sharing!
Really like the dynamics of this and the logic of the twist in the tail.
WHy thank you!
great story. The intriguing part is how you play with the consequences.
I don’t find rape exciting and that was a deeply uncomfortable read but I do think you write exceptionally well about men.
Hi Moobs, Yup, I sometimes do write these sorts of stories and I’m sorry you found it deeply uncomfortable.
As this is a continuation I can’t help but compare Sylvia to the way she was in the previous story. We see the strength she had then to rope the lion, and now to face him again as he took revenge. But in the end of the story we see her breaking. Not because of the act, but because she can’t face any men she might recognize now. This is a truly dangerous path for her, and could undo her. I, as a reader am left much less sure of her safety at the end of this story than the first.
Will she withdraw more and more from contact with any/every other male? And will David, with his potential for callousness and vengeance, let her (and let himself let her)? Or will she find the strength that she found twice already, in another form, to save herself? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for resolution – I love a good unresolved story. Those are the just questions that this story leaves with me.
Ack! Now I start to understand! See? This is what happens when I run out of female names. This isn’t a continuation of anything. It’s not related to any other story. Different people. Different characters. Eeek! I’m sorry for confusing you.
Have you used the name Olivia yet? I havenāt noticed it beforeā¦ what about Madison?
This is absolutely beautiful writing, RG! Jeez, it’s twisted, compelling — you want to look away but can’t. I’m not officially scared of you! Haha! Thanks for this.
P50
I thought it was a continuation of a stroy too. Even if not intentional, it gave a backstory and context within which to read this story. It made me think that this is some of the peril that might be faced as poeople keep uping the stakes in an effort to play their games of dominance without defining clear roles for themselves and their partners.
Taken out of the context of the original story I was thinking of, this is even more chilling for me. Because it is then ambiguous as to whether she even used the strap on or had merely tried to introduce it into the bedroom in fun. Did they have a dominance thing going back and forth building to this moment or was did he just jump to this as an extreme punishment that she could have never thought possible?
Good read either way!
You are asking good questions, and it tells me that there are probably some things that need tightening up a bit in the story – including changing names, so people don’t think it’s a continuation of another story. I thought that the fact that he tells her he wants to tie her up and fuck her over the kitchen table would be enough of a clue that they had something of a kinky thing going. But obviously everyone has their limits. His was the strap-on. And I was also hoping that the implication was that she’d sort of teased him with it a number of times, and got warned not to with the specific threat he made, and the consequences.
I guess, most of all, what I was trying to get at was that the cascade of consequences that come from the exertion of power. That lines in the sand are sort of dangerous. They seem straightforward and fair, until it comes time to make good on the threat, and then everything starts to fall apart.
RG, you don’t need to write about non-consensual sex. As you say, your site carries a warning, and if people ignore the Here Be Dragons message and then complain about dragons, well that’s not your issue!
My own issue with the story is that a couple who clearly engage in kinky sex are unlikely to be monogamous in general. And therefore why would the introduction of a third person be a problem? Myself (and maybe I’m even more kinky than you – though I doubt it!), I’d have made the punishment fit the (possibly only threatened) crime ie she was going to get it in the arse from a stranger, not just get fucked.
I agree with you that the psychological fallout of this sort of brinkmanship relationship is potentially wide ranging and unpredictable.
Hi Morag, Yes, I got that you weren’t apologize for me writing about non-consensual sex. I don’t apologize for it, but I do want people to be free to express their opinions about how a story struck them. I don’t think any of the people who commented said I SHOULDN’T write about it. They said they found it disturbing. Hell, I found Debbie Does Dallas disturbing. Everyone has a right to their reactions.
I’m thinking it would be a real mistake to believe that most couples who play kinky aren’t monogamous. Certainly a lot of kinky couples aren’t monogamous, but my gut says that a LOT are. Having a kink in one regard doesn’t by necessity mean you have a kink in another, or that you have found a way to control jealousy. That is really almost a different matter, based on the structure of a relationship – not the sex they have.
I like the idea of the punishment fitting the crime. This story came from a flirty threat someone once made to me, so I thought I’d stay faithful to it, so to speak.
And you’re probably MUCH more kinky than I am. š I’m just a writer.
RG,
Another wonderful and accurate story.
As a sadist myself, I would say that not letting her see was exactly what I would do in that situation. However, the aftercare to help her deal with this experience and facing all those men without knowing would be extensive and long-term. As a sadist I would relish that reduction of her illusions about her animal nature. But your story reflects the awarenesses and communication abilities of the subjects of the story quite well. From my perspective it shows a case of someone playing beyond the depths that they can handle. (I make these comments not in criticism of your story which I think is beautiful and internally consistent, but only because so many here have commented on the real world aspects. I understand that you are a writer.)
However, to your other point, in this comment I must agree that not all kinky couples are non-monogamous. That is the case in our long-standing and rather extreme relationship. I often feel that poly is one of those externally imposed standards from the public players “community” rather than an expression of folks deeply in touch with their own natures.
In great admiration of your talents and your unrivaled ability to write what is truly erotic.
I was bored and me and my husband had hours alone with no possible entertainment while staying with a friend. I found his dvd copy of “Debbie Does Dallas” and yeah for the record, it was disturbing, who puts bleach in lube as payback?! that is insanely cruel punishment and made me cringe when i saw it.
also, dont be deterred by all the comments regarding to non=con making people uncomfortable. One of the things i like most about your non con stories is the fact that you can deliver the non con in a way that doesnt make me question myself, you push limits in exactly the right way to make it alright and give a strong foundation for unspoken fantasies. No matter what you do, there will always be those who appreciate it
I like this story and I like the consequences. Sylvia suffers the most in all aspects even though she was strong at the start. The physical is easier to overcome than the lasting psychological effects. I also like this type of erotica too. Your writing is always something to aspire to, RG! Thanks.
The perfect dessert for lunch. Thanks RG
RG,
Interesting how Sylvia couldn’t engage people after the scene. It would have been pleasing to have read more of her deeper emotional struggles about that. As a reader it left me wanting more, one of your best pieces of work.
Thank you,
-TFP
Sorry, I meant you don’t need to apologise for writing about non-consensual sex!
WOW! A wonderful mix of sexuality, forbidden pleasure, and the morning after realization that we, too, may go slightly over the line when consumed by passion and base deisre.
You touch the dangerous parts of life so skillfully …
RG,
The aspect of this story that disturbs me the most isn’t the non-consensual sex. It’s that he doesn’t let her see who’s fucking her. That’s what sows the seed for what is ultimately a tragedy. I find it much more upsetting than “Gaijin”, though the non-consensual elements in that were more violent. This was a story of people being undone by their own flaws.
I love the way, when people read a story, different aspects of it are magnified for different people. I think it is a sign that reading fiction is as much an act of self-reflection as it is the taking in of external information.
Oddly enough, reading this piece myself, what distresses me most is the perils of pushing limits. When someone else pushes your limits, you can at least be angry at them, and blame them for the consequences. When you push your own, you are so wholly responsible for the fallout.
But I can see your point clearly and why the anonymity of the person fucking her would be so disturbing – of course I can, or the ending would have made no sense.
I just came across this: “As a rule, what is out of sight disturbs men’s minds more seriously than what they see.” Caesar, Gallic Wars, Book VII
Wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it. I love the way your stories deal with non-consensual themes.
I can relate to all the posters that commented how uncomfortable this story made them. I stuck with it until I realized what made it so uncomfortable for me was the way that morals and honor played into the situation. She was warned, and he kept his word. On that level, you might say that he was in the right, or at least on the moral hi-ground. But in this situation, I would think that nearly every person would allow the transgression to slide— clearly, your word is still worth something, even if you don’t punish transgressions to the fullest extent of your ability. Justice is unemotional, and what Daniel did was punitive.
Anyway, it was very interesting to see the interplay of morals, justice and honour at work, no matter how uncomfortable i found it. Keep up the good work!
I have to agree this story made me uncomfortable even as it made me look deeper at why…
I think the why is the same two things that seemed to bother Sylvia which was the NOT KNOWING WHO & THINKING DANIEL WOULD CHANGE when in reality he took her past HER line in the sand which resulted in the fall out. I say seem because I am no literary genius & there will always be depths, plot twists and such that I don’t grasp. The fall out could be laid on both their plates I suppose, Daniel for not grasping his partners breaking point when she laid it out there & Sylvia for pushing him into doing his threat.
Well either way this is fantastically done & my quirks are my own to deal with š
Hmm. Interesting. Some other commenters mentioned that they felt uncomfortable reading this, and I agree. It was uncomfortable. But I think that was sort of the point, and I think it was well-written.
One thing that continues to stand out for me in your work is the emotional pain in your stories. I hate to admit it, but love doesn’t seem real to me without that pain, and so the non-consent is necessary at times. For me the distinction in your work that allows me to enjoy the story is that I never get the sense, as I have with other writers, of your identifying with the anonymous rapist, but with the tormented.
Well, never having been an anonymous rapist, it would be hard for me to identify with him. š
I’m scared… I’m so, so scared…
I’m scared because I can see him doing this… because he might actually take our games that far…
I’m going to go hide now…
It’s fiction, e_woman. *hands you the popcorn*
Well, 30 comments too late I’m jumping on the same bandwagon, but jump I do. Your story took me to a dangerous place that I could not have gone otherwise — this is just a place I don’t go — and I thank you for it. Sure, it’s uncomfortable. That’s what happens when we see things. In matters of the heart, and of lust, and especially power, it behooves us to take trips to the nether regions. I have no experience in non-consensuality and yet I’ve sensed something of that fantasy from women I’ve been with, even if it’s lurking way below ground. Once in a while, to just be “taken” — to fight against and finally submit to a will that wells with the desire of her — I get the erotic of that. But in the politics of the modern bedroom, christ! How fraught is that? A man can’t go there without permission, and yet — isn’t that the point, sort of? It takes incredible honesty and courage to work that through in some way. So — oops — I’ve stopped commenting on your story, I see. Well — the churning you created within me IS my comment, I guess… thanks again!
No, don’t apologies. This is really what I write the stories for. To make myself and my readers look into those uncomfortable places – to know the landscape of them. Because they are there, in the world and in our lives, and stories are a safe place to ask the questions most of us seldom ask and almost never answer in real life. I think a good story should take you back into your own experience and prompt you to re-examine it. So, no apologies for the comment. It means, I think, I’ve done my job as a writer adequately.
Oh my gosh,Your and amazing writer…If I even had a portion of the talent you have for scenes like this. The fear gripping you at ever touch, every moment, pushing and pulling at you. Demanding you to continue on in both fear for the charcter as well…so so much more..Amazing I can only say this is the best I’ve read yet.
I have only skimmed the previous comments, so apologies for repetition, but I really enjoyed this one–it works on several levels. One of the things I appreciate about your writing is how easy it is to empathize with your characters even in the short stories.
Fantastic! Loved every letter, every word, every sentence. If my husband did this to me, of what a mind fuck! Consensual nonconsensual if that makes any sense? *fans self*
In my opinion, what makes this story hot is that many people’s fantasies are based on having sex with someone new (outside of a monogamous relationship), and being raped is a way to remove responsibility and still enjoy the sex through an uncontrolled orgasm. I think you’re very clever and tuned into people’s sexual psychology. I’ve never been much for these types of scenarios, but I do believe you just opened a new door. Thank you, Remittance Girl.
very wonderfully constructed. I love so many of the ideas in this story–trust, love, consequences, revenge, a line in the sand…. Sylvia may be physically helpless, but that does not prevent her from using her mind to turn the tables on what is happening to her….and yet again, in the parking lot. You reap what you sew, yet by the detail of everything going back to normal, he does not realize this… Very powerful.
i loved this story. i love stories involving rape. i usually prefer women doing the raping ,of other women, however this story really got to me on an emotional level. good job
Wonderful writing as always. And the little touch at the end really drove home your goal to make the reader think and explore the underlying physiological issue. It really gets you emotionally involved.
I cannot express how much I adore your stories. everything is so masterfully woven and eloquently described. I am in awe.
I don’t find your stories uncomfortable at all. It clearly states at the beginning of each one, some if what us about to happen. If you think it is going to make you uncomfortable to the point that you feel impelled to complain about it, please don’t read, that simple. Yet people read and say, it made me uncomfortable, but I loved it. I can’t see how doing something uncomfortable comes with loving it. I don’t love sleeping on an uncomfortable bed. I love non-con stories. I look for them but to read, not to be uncomfortable, but maybe because I have the fetish of just taking someone against their will. I said fetish, because it is something that I don’t think I could act on. I have tried, legally. My wife keeps telling me she wants me to just come up to her and take her, no questions, no warnings. I gave tried it a few times but every time I have tried she always says, not NOW! I don’t understand her thinking, if she wants me to do it, then it’s supposed to be now. I do hg Ave to agree that it upsets me when she tells me that, but also I’m a very sensitive guy. If we are making love and I see a tear or she says ouch, I stop right there and can’t continue. So me taking someone and them crying or saying ouch or ow, I would probably stop. Therefore it will always be e a fantasy of mine that I will never be able to fulfill except by reading about it. Therefire, thank you for writing about it and sharing it with us.
I think we’re living through a time where there is a pressure to ‘authenticate’ our desires by acting on them. But to me, this seems irresponsible and downplays the value of having a life of the mind.
Hey Todd, a nonverbal signal is a good way to explore that kind of play with your wife. Some piece of jewelry like a certain earing or hair tie that she can put on when she is amenable and easily take off if she changes her mind before you ravish her. Have a negotiation long beforehand and always remember to be safe, sane, and consensual. Especial when you are pretending to be non-con.
This is thought provoking and wonderfully written. Keep up the great work!
Disturbingly erotic… a fantasy that I would not want to take any part in but which excites and enthralls. What should repel is made attractive. Wonderful writing.
That’s what fiction is for, right? š
Very well written. Very enjoyable, exciting read with clenching plot twists. I appreciate your warnings. I’m a rape survivor myself, but that history is not allowed to take away from my, “having a life of the mind,” as you put it. (Maybe it helps that the assault was 30 years ago.)
You give personal details about the characters that help me connect to what’s happening in the story, but you don’t drown us in details, thereby killing some of the mystery.
Such a beautiful exploration, I love it because of how uncomfortable it makes me.
I must say that this really turned me on. I wouldn’t want to be in her situation ever, but it’s interesting to read. Thank you!
Heheh. Me neither. I guess that’s the beauty of fiction.
Love it. Absolutely hilarious. The girl sounds like a bitch and the guy is a total asshole. They make a somewhat decent pair.
Talk about transgression, and negotiation, and somehow letting it all happen in a way that confirms, that does not deny, the relationship of the couple. And then the shyness, timidity around every man that comes in contact with the household, and then, blindly….oh so blind with need…gives herself to a stranger at the end. Very psychologically acute! And very hot!
Wow this was so emotionally complex for such a short story! I loved it! I also love that Danielās reason for punishing her was for coming near him (āagaināālmao) with a strap on. I know itās not intended to be humorous, but I couldnāt help myself. Itās funny!
Well written, why use the word cunt (I believe no word would be better, It’s become a meaningless word).