Ancilla L

Garbage Bag Panties.

He looped the rope through the cuffs on my ankles and pulled it back, pushing my knees close to my chest before fastening the rope to the back frame of the bed. I don't know what's going on with me, but I cannot get enough of being tied down lately. I'm worried this is going to be like yoga. I spent a decade of my life dissing yoga, making fun of it as exercise, and then seven years ago, I trie...

Womb Of The Water.

No matter where I looked no god I could find,
not one that inspired faith of soul or mind,
but whenever I called out in love or pain,
I could always find the patter of the rain.
Like an immediate response to a call to prayer,
the absence of my devotion was so rare,
whenever the heavens cried and thundered,
my heart I offered joyously to be plundered.
Drenc...

Happy Women's Day.

They gave us free sanitary pads — winged and scented for our comfort — and taught us how to use them.

The room was coloured in hues of pink and power; the walls adorned with glittering prophecy.

*Who runs the world? Girls!*

In that room we sat, on red chairs, for corporate sponsors to teach us how it would be to be a woman one day.

We put our bags over our bar...

Washing off the dirt.

I love everything about being drenched in piss, except the part when it starts to dry and it starts to burn my skin a little. Burning might not be the perfect way to describe it; it's not a warm sensation but a prickly one. Either way, it's unpleasant and even though I never want his poss washed off me, I really wish he would hurry up and let me wash it off. The water is flowing over the ri...

Why the Hell Would you Want Scars on Your body?

Hello!

Is scarring a legitimate fetish? Is it always linked to self-harm and indicative of a mental health issue? How does it impact you in the long-term? Are nurses superior to doctors?

Find out in the latest edition of "Why The Hell Would You Like That?"

Helpless For Pussy.

She makes me stupid but to my advantage she couldn't know it. She wouldn't, especially since she has never expressed any interest in my brain or any manner of discourse that would suggest she was ascertaining my intelligence or displaying hers. I suspect there isn't much to display. 

"What do you want to drink?" She asks and I stare at her with my mouth open like a moron.&...

Between Brothers.

His fingers linger,
Over the purple imprints on my arm.
He doesn't say anything,
And I continue to gaze out of the window,
as if I don't notice that he's stroking the thumb prints with a compulsion that betrays him.

He shifts his grip an inch lower before he pulls me over his lap.
My shoulders lie against his knees,
and my head falls back over the edge. <...

When I See All Of You.

I love your extremities.

In tenderness, you are so soft.

Like your fingers are weightless when they stroke my cheek.

And your lips came straight from the oven when they meet my skin.

Like your fingers will fuse to mine before you let go.

And I'd have to grow more skin to find some you haven't kissed.

I've never actually known a man capable of such...

Two Daddies Are Meaner than One.

I keep biting into the rope in my mouth with my incisors, I am not doing it in an attempt to chew through it, in fact, there is no intent to it at all. The binds of the rope are cutting the sides of my mouth a little bit, and the more I bite into it, the harder I seem to pull at them, but I am not thinking about what I am doing at all. It's a compulsion, I cannot stop hurting my lips, some days...

Tell Me How To Hate It.

Whip bites.

Fists fall.

Leather meets skin.

I want to scream but it's stuck like the memory of a hair in my throat.

It's not really there.

But I remember it being there so well I can feel the outline still inside.

Inside, I can scream.

Outside, I just feel warm.

Purple warmth.

*'Scream. Just scream. Why can't you scream?...

Mistress.

I can only be taken out after the party is over.

When everyone is gone,

And the prying eyes have retreated for the day.

When only those remain,

the ones who are privy to the secret.

*Secret.*

I am the secret.

Hidden away in the day.

As invisible as the good servant

—or the faithful elf.

Toiling away in anonymity, <...

Podcast Episode 29: Am i Socially Infantile?

I've always had friends and lovers who were at least a decade older. I was always the "youth" or the "kid" in my social circles and now that I'm at a "respectable" age, I'm experiencing something strange. Or my friends are, anyway.

And I am realising, I don't understand people at all.

Disputed Property

I can be just yours. In that I can give everything I have right now to you. 

But along the way I gave little pieces of my heart to some people from whom I can't take it back. 

I try never to see them again. 

Once I'm gone, I try to be gone. 

Remain gone. 

Because every time I see them. ...

The Animal.

It's dark outside. It has to be because the clock says it's well past nine. It doesn't matter though. It doesn't matter that the sun comes up every morning and children scurry away to school with giant backpacks that seem to grow bigger each year. It doesn't matter because inside this house, it's always night. The thick black curtains are always drawn, every crevice and crack is carefully fille...

Home.

Around the corner from the rain gutter,
where good girls never wandered at night,
the men would pass by with a mutter,
at its unseemly and dilapidated sight.
Big letters in orange above the shutter,
and a cock-eyed man not quite right,
that's where we made our bread and butter,
till dawn when we disappeared into the light.

They came, they came, each n...

We Were Real Among The Clouds.

It was about to rain. I could smell it coming. We were at least ten kilometers away from our campsite and I had no idea how we had even gotten to this particular peak. As the clouds were descending and the white nothingness was flowing through us, I knew we had to start making our way back. I can never explain this to people who haven't been in the mountains. It's not fog but clouds that descen...

My Dark Little Thing.

We used to meet during lunch, in the library, on Wednesdays and Fridays. I don't know how we decided we would meet on those days, but I think it had to do with us having prep right after lunch, and that was held right next to the library. None of our other friends knew that we hung out twice a week, but neither one of us was deliberately keeping it from them either. Mostly because ne...

Secrets.

The creepers that once grew outside on a vine,
have now invaded where was once marble,
and wild flowers grow without support,
where the blue vase she so loved once stood.
The paint on the walls has long crumbled,
and lizards take the place of laughing children,
the moist wood impregnated hangs from hinges.
Shattered glass has been so long in the soil,
that even the...

One home To Another.

The chaos is constant. I've never lived in a place so disordered. I drive out into the streets and it feels like I may be the only person who knows about the existence of traffic violations, including those who are charged with enforcing them. There are cows, everywhere, even for a city in India, it's too many cows, I am constantly looking out for them when I drive past traffic lights that are ...

Show everyone your cunt.

It's all I can focus on, even though the sounds of them talking amongst themselves are coming through the curtain, I can't bring myself to shift focus long enough to listen. 

All I can think about is that I *feel* wet. 

I hate feeling wet. It's not the arousal that is the subject of my objection, it's the physical sensation of being slippery between m...

The Men Sound The Same.

All men sound the same to me when they are laughing at me. I like hearing it, the sound of ridicule bouncing off my shoulders, down my back and travelling slowly to the tips of my toes where it remains trapped along with the pooling blood. It feels good to be ridiculed by women too but the laughter of a man feels *different*. I believe a woman can reject me as laughable and still want me, but I...

Strike A Nerve.

"Take my shoes off," he said sitting down on the bed.

I pulled at the neat little knot and it unravelled instantly. As I looked at the criss-cross of the lace going through the tiny holes I had an important realisation, I had no idea how to loosen a proper shoe. Still, I pulled, I pulled at the crosses and it appeared I was only tightening them. The more I fumbled, the more exasperated ...

Purple.

For silken robes and jewels it was meant,
or so my young, hopeful teacher once felt.
For royalty and grand stature it was decreed,
that hues of purple would be freed.
A natural choice, it seemed for flowers,
and for witches with secret powers.
It sparkled in little vials of potent potions,
and as the sun set over vast oceans,
For scented candles and unnatural hai...

Podcast E27: Sexcel Sheets and Sanitary Kink.

Hi! 

Kink is complicated, but we seem intent on making it as socially acceptable as possible, and I wonder if that makes it less safe. 

Also my sister is making Sexcel Sheets. 

Ancilla's Dirty Diary: Too Tough Love.

Something strange happened this week. I was at my best friend's home, she's had a really rough two years. She had a baby, the adult daughter of her partner moved in with them six months into having the baby, then there was lockdown, she finished her PhD, she had many visa issues and her relationship with her partner suffered some serious setbacks coming dangerously close to the end. It's been t...

Humanoid Figure.

As I walk through the living room towards the bedroom, I notice his evidence of him on the dining table. We all leave it around, and the ones who know us best can look through our homes, and immediately determine where we last sat. He sat here, at this table. I sit down on the chair he left askew, without needing to pull out out because he would never push a chair back in place or close a c...

India's Other Daughter.

           We haven't moved in a while. India Gate is still on my right and the bold declaration of love to someone named Ritu that I had closed my eyes to is still looking at me from the rear-screen of the car in front of us.

"What's happening here?" I ask the auto-rickshaw driver, as if his eyes have access to more than mine.
...

The tragedy Of Obedience

Most of the night is a blur. That happens sometimes. It's hard to tell the beatings apart past a point; it's hard to place them even when I can see the marks on my body. I remember the night without chronology, I don't know where it began nor where it ended, but if I look around the room I can see where I lay. I remember it like a book I read a decade ago, the sentences I underlined ...

Darkness.

'Who knows I am here?' I often wonder aloud,
and sometimes I ask the lizard on the wall,
if she has it in her to gather for me a crowd,
lest I be carried out of here by a bearer of pall.
In a rounded spot of sunshine all day I sit,  
watching the yellow circle in the ceiling,
on my legs the red marks where he bit,
in the sunshine sparkling, but never healing.
...

Defector.

By giants I was taught strength,
and endurance to any length,
their lessons said to never cower,
and to covet the potion of power.
By the hand of the righteous knight,
I was taught to win and fight,
told to cut off my flowing hair,
before I wished away all despair.
The witches taught me to be a cynic,
never to chase what seems so idyllic,
and to never...