Kink of The Week #3 and February Photofest #13
A few months ago Malin James wrote a post called On Filth which got me thinking that maybe it would make an interesting topic for Kink of the Week. When I asked Malin if she would write the introduction for it she positively enthused on the subject and so here we are, Malin: On filth
Kink of the Week Feb 1-15: Filth
Ah, filth…. Even the word feels good. Filth. Filth. I love filth. I love saying it. I love thinking about it. Most of my fantasies are things that I’d qualify as filthy in the best possible way:
Public sex that leaves me sticky with him cum. Rough fucking in a bathroom or an alley, in a window or on a running trail – anywhere you could be seen. (Consensually) using him. (Consensually) using her. Pegging, begging, denying, teasing, tearing, exposure, sneaking, lots and lots (and lots) of cum. But that’s just me.
That’s the thing about filth – it’s inherently subjective. One person’s filth could be someone else’s wholesome night at home. After all, even the filthiest thing can be sweet. Cuckolding your honey with a stranger could be pretty filthy, which could also make it the perfect anniversary gift. Blowjob under a table at a posh restaurant? Risky? Sure. Filthy too. But it could also be a declaration of love. It all depends on a person’s definition of, and relationship to, filth.
Filth can be literal – golden showers, scuffed knees, carpet burns, marks and bites…. It can also be metaphoric – something that shames or humiliates you. Or something that makes you feel defiant, or just plain turns you on. Does being used feel horrible? Or does it feel horribly filthy and therefore hot?
For this Kink of the Week, I want to know how you define filth. And how to do you feel about it? Does it turn you on? Does it turn you off? It is something that might be widely thought of as filthy, or is it very specific to you? Do you love filth? Hate it? Want it? Avoid it? Why? Always why….
Tell me everything. I know what my kind of filth looks and feels like, and I love it. I want to know about yours.
I don’t even know where to begin with this topic, there has always so much filth running through my head! Ever since I started fantasising and masturbating I’ve thought about filth. My fantasies were always dirty and rough, lovey dovey romance just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve written a bit about it in different stories – the bondage, spankings, belt, fantasies, and just plain fucking. I read quite a lot of it too on various blogs. Almost everything about sex to me is filthy, I love filth, I love sex, I love the primal, animalistic rutting (there is no other word to describe it) when everything is just rough and hard. I love the filthy words – cunt, cock, slut, fuck, and all the rest, no euphemisms please.
I’m happy to finally be in a relationship where I can explore the darker corners of my mind. To have that is so empowering for me – that I feel safe enough to do it. Sir makes me feel safe. I love his hugs and the time we spend together, talking or just having a kiss and cuddle. And the times we just make love. I think the big thing for me is that for the first time in my life I can relax my own control enough to let someone else in. I spent so many years doing what I was ‘supposed’ to do. Being conventional, ‘normal’ (whatever that is) and it made me miserable. I was with someone who was controlling and abusive even though in public he was charm itself. There was no discussion, no communication and I just let it happen.
Growing up I wasn’t interested in finding a Happy Ever After, I didn’t know what I wanted but it wasn’t hearts and flowers. All that fairytale Disneyesque bullshit, my favourite character was always Maleficent. I liked dark and dangerous. Sir is my big, bad wolf. He looks out for me but at the same time he makes me feel small and vulnerable. In our relationship he can do what he wants when he wants (circumstances permitting – kids, noise, time). I don’t always meekly comply though, sometimes he has to make me. That’s another thing I love, that he will make me. Although I know I’m never going to win against him, he’s 6’2” FFS. And that’s another part of it, that it’s somehow wrong, women aren’t supposed to want this sort of thing and men aren’t supposed to do it, but because we’ve talked about things and he’s read my stories he knows exactly what I want. I want filth, I want dirty, raw and hard. I want the mindfucks when he whispers in my ear about all the filthy things he wants to do to me, what he wants to watch me do, what he wants to watch others do to me. To use me, hurt me. When he calls me his slut or his fucktoy, just something to be used for whatever he wants. When he wraps the rope around me and I wonder how helpless I’m going to be this time, what he’s going to do. That first moment after we’ve been apart and he slides inside me, the times he arrives at 2am and by the time I’m properly awake he’s already fucking me, or when I’m at his house and we don’t have to worry about being interrupted or the noise – so many more possibilities, more pain, more of everything – including waiting for me to go to sleep so he can drag me out of bed to the bathroom and piss on me. The marks, bruises, welts, rope marks, the ache of a weekend spent being used, tears from gagging on his cock as he fucks my throat, trying to stop him holding me down as he fucks my arse, his hand around my throat or covering my mouth or both as he fucks me, the smell and taste of us both, the wet patches on the sheets, when he tells me to touch myself and watches, when he makes me beg for his cock or his come, the sound of him taking his belt off, the feeling of that or his hand hitting my arse. All of these constitute filth to me and I love all of it. I want all of it, I need all of it. The thought of being used, of being made to do things, I find it so fucking hot that sometimes I can’t think about anything else.
Dammit! I just love being Sir’s filthy little fucktoy.
Find more Kink of the Week here.
And more February Photofest here.