Real World Power

You’re going to spread your legs for me, slut.

Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

I don’t write a lot of non-fiction, because I find truth easier to explore through the medium of fantasy.

In my smut writing, I’ve done roughly half the things I’ve written about, and I want to try maybe half the things I haven’t. That leaves a quarter which are things I feel no desire to do. I write about them anyway, mostly to find out why they scare me, or repulse me, or simply leave me cold… and partly, perhaps, to change my mind. That’s the real world power of the writer’s pencil.

I’m working on a short story when he comes into the bedroom.

He tugs gently on the end of the sheet. “Will it distract you if I pull this off, darling?”

It probably wouldn’t, but my nudity would distract him, and then he’d definitely distract me. He’d push on my heels, I’d dutifully spread my legs a little, he’d slowly run his fingertips up my inner thigh, and by the time he got to the top his lips would join in and I wouldn’t be in the mood for writing any more. I’d need to fuck.

But I don’t want him to fuck me, so I edit the story.

His voice is lower, harder. “I’m going to rip this sheet off, and you’re going to spread your legs for me, slut.”