My Beautiful Obsession, Chapter Ten, part two

  When I wake, the room is full of light and, when I look, Lark is still there in bed with me. I can’t help sighing at the sight. Her burnished hair tumbles across the pillow, and her face is softer, relaxed, like a child. Her rosy lips are parted, and her eyelashes make two…

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My Beautiful Obsession, Chapter Ten, part one

  Chapter Ten I’m not sure what wakes me, or what time it is, but it’s still dark. And I’m still in Lark’s bed. Holy smokes. She’s not here, though, I realize, as I stretch my aching body and reach, fumbling, for her in the dark. I blink, rubbing my eyes with my fists, and…

Rethinking Call Outs, part three

Okay, grab that bottle of whisky, and let’s settle in for another messy, emotional, disjointed post where we think about call-out culture some more, and if, when, and how it’s effective, because I’m in the throes of another round, and just… fuck. Post-Kavanaugh Hearings, I know millions of us are still feeling raw and flayed.…

No posts for a couple weeks

I know, I know, darlings, but I'm on my way back to the UK for three weeks, and between jet lag, official graduation, giving several lectures, and general academic things, the rest of November is a blur. I'm writing a lot, though, and have upcoming posts on call out culture, MSO chapters, and possibly even…

My Beautiful Obsession, Chapter Nine, part three

Her study, thankfully, has no slings or cages, no whips and paddles. There is still a lot of tasteful expensive leather, grays and taupes with high-tech steel accents. Lark gestures me to a sleek leather couch, and sits beside me, watching me carefully. At last she says, “Would you like anything? Something to eat, perhaps,…