Ancilla L

A Terrible Beauty.

Somewhere on the roof, there is a leak. Even underneath the music that plays on my speakers, I can hear it so clearly; the more I increase the volume on the soulful lamentation of Iqbal Bano, the louder I can hear the *drip, drip, drip* coming from the walls. There's a pea at the bottom of this stack of melodic emotions and for at least this moment, I might be a princess. I tap my index finger to the beat of the drip, while I mutter the words to the song that plays. Rhythm eludes me. I am...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 9

Read all the chapters at this tag. 

.......

Chapter 9
“The sexuality of a person is the fingerprint to their identity and the blueprint to their soul.”


I wave at My Only Friend as she enters through the glass doors and disappears into the airport. She’s going to visit The Boyfriend in his hometown, this ...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 8

Read all the chapters at this tag. 

......

Chapter 8
“Delusion always helps when you are trying to escape who you are.”


It’s a beautiful and clear morning, I pace around my room as I hear the morning trains come in. I’ve been up all night and I feel that special form of nausea that is reserved only for people who do stupi...

Podcast E38: 10 Kink Community Behaviours That Drive Me Up The Wall!

Hi! 

It's the day after Diwali and I am at my rantiest self! I am not a festive gal. I really enjoyed the last countdown episode I did, so here is another! 

Enjoy! 

Fantasy At The Door.

What I wear is one of those things that matters a lot more to me in fantasy than in reality. In the fantasy of that moment I've been in many outfits. I've opened the door in my little black dress with the racer back because I feel that dress most accurately depicts something horrendous, it most accurately depicts that you may be coming into my house to touch my partner but he is still exactly that, *mine*. I couldn't wear that because I don't want to encourage even the tiniest percentage of m...

Refugee: A Poem.

From the window of the old storage room,

leaning over the broken handle of the broom,

in their red robes, we watched them return,

our prying eyes hidden behind the fern.

From the blue bin beside the locked chest,

we stole unshelled pecans as a form of unrest,

as we wondered aloud with our tired jaws,

how they ended up there for their cause.

Oh but the endless questions we asked:

What is it with which they were tasked?
<...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 7

Read all the chapters at this tag. 

.......

Chapter 7

“Everything is better in the rain.”




“I have seen you before in that market near the old college,” The Child tells me from behind a rose-bush.


He startles me and I put my cigarette out so quickly it burns my wrist as I fumble. The Child and I hav...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 6.

Read all the chapters at this tag. 

......

Chapter 6

“You Cannot Help People Against Their Will.”

As I walk in through the gate to the office, already drenched from the unexpected showers, the guard stops me. He is a middle-aged fellow with an untreated cataract in one eye and often the only man on the premises.

2022-10-16 06:01:11 +0000 UTC View Post

Podcast E37: Cuckolding and Why Being A Secure Person May Be Vital To Its Success.

Hi! 

Let's talk about cuckolding? It's a bit gendered as a concept and a little bit rife with the potential for self-loathing. Why, eh? 

Enjoy! 

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 5.

Read all the chapters at this tag.  

....

Chapter 5
“If you wish to see the real truth of your marriage, end it.”


“Madam,” a khaki-clad man with a stick in one hand and a gun in his belt says to me as I sit typing on the computer on a concrete bench at the far end of the station, “Can I see your ticket?”

I do...

How Sexual Confidence Changed My Life.

His name was Mohit and he drove a blue car. Personally, I think colourful vehicles are distracting, cars should be black or white, but I wouldn't want to impose my very limited sense of aesthetics on other people. I met Mohit because I decided I was going to be a slut. I didn't know the terminology at the time, I just knew that I wanted to sleep with lots of people, but there was a problem. I didn't know how to do that. My very limited life-experience at the time included some non-consensual ...

Devastate Me In The Rain.

The rain has been relentless. For the past two days, there has been nothing but grey skies and constant downpour, I wish it would never stop, even as the people around me long for the dry, arid heat they were complaining about just a month ago. It creates an eldritch desire in me, it reminds me of a specific feeling. There was a man I used to love who liked to haunt me. Sometimes, when I was away or he was out, he would call or send me cryptic messages about terrible, non-descript occurrences...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 4

Read all the chapters in this series at this tag. 

........

Chapter 4
“You hold all the power when your rapist starts lying to protect your feelings.”



After I decided that I would be a whore when I grew up, I changed exactly one thing about myself and it changed everything about who I was, I let go of my self-consciousnes...

Count To Ten.

In the process of counting to ten, we've gotten to a hundred. I don't ever want to count anything, least of all this, it feels juvenile and even a little tactless, it robs something from me to turn my pain into numbers and recite it like prescribed penance for a venial sin, but today, he wants to count. The rarity of this occurrence turns my dislike of the activity into a sad but eager curiosity at the novelty of things. The kind of curiosity that tourists feel when we attempt to vaca...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 3

Access all the writing in this series by following this tag. 

........

Chapter 3
“If You Sell What They Want To Rob You Can Live Without Fear.”


Over the next few days, we spent almost all of our time managing the new cases that had come to us. Running a shelter is a lot like parenting in that you have to solve and deal with the issues once the creatur...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 2

To access all the writing in this series, follow this tag. 

.........

Chapter 2
“The easiest way to get a man to leave is to have sex with him.”



“They’re asking if we have space for four more people,” My Only Friend asks me as soon as I enter the office adjoining the women’s shelter that we run, “We...

13 Lessons From A Morally-Wounded Woman: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“The freedoms they dispense to you are meant to control you.”

.......

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.

"Protest, madam," he says turning to look at me, "I think it w...

Audio Story: The Destruction Of Dandelions

Text: 

I turn over to my other side, extend my arm and search for him with my fingers. The discovery that the bed is empty beside me causes a completely unnecessary, almost paroxysmal response, I go from deep slumber to sitting upright in a matter of seconds. I get out of bed, pick up my long, black T-shirt off the floor and pull it on over my throbbing head. I am so thirsty. I look around the room and find my bottle on his side of the bed, as I walk to it I notice, on the dressing...

A Girl Named Lila.

I pretend to be normal. Every day, on my way back home to the identical colonnades — where thousands of women like me live with their thousands of husbands exactly like mine, raising thousands of children exactly like ours — I stop at the Central Mall. I go to the gym, not to workout, but to shower and change into the sensible white shirt and trousers that I wore to my pretend-job as a marketing manager at a firm that has never heard of me. I don't know if I have to hide what I re...

Podcast E36: Ten Kink Things That Give Me The Ick.

Decided to be a little fun this time and do a countdown of ten kink things that feel icky and cringey to me! I tried to be funny but most of these are just depressing? Sorry guys. 

A Structure Of Pain.

They began construction on a tutoring centre behind the pottery shed, but for some reason or other, they abandoned the project. Maybe there was a dispute over the land. Maybe the land just wouldn't relent to more academia. The new tutoring centre was set up in the basement of one of the existing buildings instead and the half-built room was left standing — no windows, doors nor a ceiling — a forgotten structure that bore no mention on the map of the school. If it ever happens, once centur...

Riding Fear.

I woke up with a flinch, as he leaned over to kiss my cheek, my hand flew to cover my face even before my eyes were fully open. I don't know what he did to teach me to fear him even when I am asleep or if it was me at all that taught him that, but I am amazed by it.

I used to believe that I would never want to live in fear again, not after being with my previous partner. I used to dread being around him, and while there were parts of that dread that I longed for, there were other bits...

Thirteen Shades Of Masochism.

"Why are you sitting alone in this room and smiling?" He asks, walking into our bedroom, startling me out of my reverie.

"My thighs hurt from my workout," I tell him, still smiling, "They hurt so much I cannot form cogent sentences in my head."

A few years ago he would have lovingly ribbed me, called me a little freak and kissed me on the nose, giggling about my ever-so-lovable need for the pain, but the thing about addicts is that in time, you stop finding their behav...

Mommy's Girl.

"Mommy!" I heard her bellow from her room on the first floor, "Mommmmmmmmy!"

It made my pussy clench so hard each time she called me that, it was such a sweet sound even as she yelled it in what sounded like irritation and the constant spoilt displeasure that sat right underneath her nose through the day. I hurried up the stairs with a growing sense of panic in my tummy with her screams getting louder and louder as I approached the door and knocked.

"What is it, darling?" I as...

The Pornography Of Me.

"He made me come four times," she says, swinging her long legs over the edge of the couch and laying back.

I try not to respond, but I am sure she notices that I grip her hand tighter and the polish I am applying to her fingernails lands as a squiggly mass of liquid instead of the clean, shiny tips that she prefers. She pulls her hand from me and swats me across my mouth with the backs of her fingers. I can instantly smell and feel the wet polish she has deposited on my face. It dries...

The emotional binary.

There are words stuck in my heart. That doesn't happen to me. I don't even believe in writer's block, thanks to a professor who probably doesn't know how much of an impact his dismissive attitude towards blocks had on me.

"Excuses," he used to say, "Even on their worst day a doctor can and must diagnose a patient, if you want the same respect as any other professional, respect your own profession first, and then even on your worst day, you should be able to spit out copy."

I s...

Podcast E35: How do we represent ourselves?

After reading a particularly problematic representation of foot fetishism and bdsm in a newspaper article, I started thinking about how we represent ourselves and what we do, not just to the "outside world" but also to ourselves. 

Article: 

https://m.timesofindia.com/india/in-world-of-kink-men-pay-thousands-per-h...

Two Weeks.

Even though I was determined not to make a show of it, his hand resting on my thigh was making it impossible for me to focus on anything else. Touch is the most underrated sense, so easy to forget that you need it, so difficult to decipher it's what you have been missing yet once you have it, so overpowering it forces you to stop thinking.

“That’s my favourite part of town,” I told him, pointing towards the street on our left, as we came to a halt in front of the red light, “I ...

Poly is not just how I love, it is who I am.

I refrain from saying that I am polyamarous for a couple of reasons. The first, obviously, is that I have to be a punk-ass contrarian bitch who will wax poetic about the benefits of labels but then refuse to use one because it is so limiting. Okay, it's not really that. I just like to cuss myself out. It's not limiting as much as it carries meaning that is varied on a vast spectrum,  and if I have to explain everything anyway, I may as well explain instead of using a term. Instea...

A Magnificent Creature

"She was magnificent," I said,  "She wore a long, black gown and combat boots underneath. She had a pierced lip, nose, ears and eyebrow. Her hair were tied in two fat, black plats and she had crosses for eyes as if warning the world to stay away lest they wished to be decimated by what they found."

"You realise, you are describing yourself, right?" He asked, "Your eyes aren't crosses, of course, but they serve the same purpose. What was her name? What was the name of your doll?" <...