Back in the day when I was actively writing and publishing erotica on my other blog, I received many emails from various organizations who offered me something. Either it was an affiliate program, a gift of some sort requiring a review, or an opportunity to buy into their SEO packages in order to help me rank better on Google.
I read them all, and ignored 99% of them.
Every once in a while, I would take up conversations with the more eloquently written invitations. These few and rare people presented their case professionally, usually to join in a partnership or accept a free gift (as long as I write a genuine review on my blog). To date, I had not confirmed anything with anyone. I mean, yeah the free gifts “of my choice, just browse our website” was compelling, but there was that matter of non-existant privacy at my place to actually try the product and then write the review about it…
Point is, I still receive regular invites for business opportunities through that, mostly silent, blog.
Two days ago, I received an email of a different kind, one I had never seen before. Instead of free sex toys or similar props, I was invited to join something quite different.
First off, I love this blog. I love Cassandra and all she stands for. She is my alter ego and, until not that long ago, was my naughty little secret. When I wrote erotica as Cassandra I was thrilled, aroused, sexually explorative and, well, sometimes barely dressed. 😇
This story makes better sense if you read part 1 first. Previous consent was given to all activities described in this post.
Samantha laid on the bed, arms tied above her head and ankles tied apart, wondering what will happen to her next. Cesar was a man of few words, she knew, and asking him questions while he’s concentrating on bondage was futile. It would only frustrate him.
All her fidgeting earlier must have interrupted his rest, she realized. When he had left the room she thought he went to sleep someplace else, given how active her movements were, but she was wrong. He came back with rope, and tied her up just as she was drifting off to sleep.
Her skin felt flushed and prickly from the humidity even though she took a cool, soothing shower before bed.
To distract herself, she looked at the sky through a crack in the blinds. It was late; the pale light from the moon implied a time for stillness and slumber.
Samantha tried to fall asleep again. She turned this way and that, moved pillows into different locations, and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail on top of her head. Still, sleep remained elusive.
Maybe I should just get up, she contemplated before deciding to kick the bed-sheet off her body. Satisfied with her overt nudity exposed to the cool air of the air conditioning, she laid back down into her pillows.
She always went to bed naked; there was something very sensual about the softness of the bed-sheet and how it slid off her body each time she moved.
Samantha understood that nudity was expected here. She no longer had a choice; she gave this up willingly and with consent any time she was invited to sleep in this bed. Back at home, perhaps out of a newly formed habit, she chose to sleep the same.