Sinful Sunday: Anonymous (March)

I’m typing this with a raging hangover after my hockey club’s annual dinner/dance, so I’m going to keep it brief! This month’s two anonymous submissions are very different in tone, but share a common theme of empowerment: both see the body as something to be enjoyed, and each – in her own way – is taking charge of how they do that with these photo posts.

FGM

No one ever suggested to me that I should get anything pierced.

But then about nine years ago, I went into a piercing studio in Camden.

It was my decision, my free will, to walk into that studio on that day and ask them to put a hole into me that I can put some jewellery through.

That day, I got a piercing.

It’s a piercing that I love.

A piercing that I will probably only take out when I’m old and wrinkly.

A piercing that I have enjoyed with different partners, a piercing that has enriched my sex life due to its position.

A piercing that is now making me a victim of crime.

A victim of FGM.

Even though it was entirely my own decision, the World Health Organisation will now see me as having suffered an act of FGM at the hands of the lovely young lady who I asked and paid to put some bling through my clit hood.

An act that if I ever do take my piercing out, you won’t know it has ever been done to me.

FGM is brutal. It’s degrading. It’s horrible. It’s something I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy! It’s something that should be banned and stopped.

Is it genital piercings though that women choose to have? I really don’t think so.

The Breakfast Club

The Breakfast Club met 30 years ago this week for detention. It’s one of my favourite films. I’ve re-created one moment from the movie for my Sinful Sunday picture.

For those who haven’t seen it: Molly Ringwald’s character applies her lip colour without using her hands by placing the lipstick in her cleavage. She does it sitting at her desk. I’ve done it lying in bed using the lipstick that I used recently to write “slut” and “fucktoy” on a guy that I dominated for the first time a few weeks ago. Every time I apply it to my lips I think of how it looked smeared on his cock after I teased him with my mouth.

At another point in the film Judd Nelson’s character ends up under her desk, between her legs, looking up at her panties. My sub ended up on his back and between my legs as I rode his face, rubbing my juices over his lips and tongue and only allowing him to breathe when his hand grabbed my thigh tightly.

At the end of the film the teenagers go home. After our dom/sub session the guy and I went out for a very civilised lunch. Will we meet again? Like the detention students, I’m uncertain but hopeful. What’s for sure is that, like Ringwald and co., me and the guy are changed forever now because of what we shared that day.