Ancilla L

In A Chamber of Ice.

In the dark you look like a robot as you move your arm from the elbow repeatedly in the exact same motion to bring the unfurling flogger down between my legs. It's old, we should get rid of it. I feel like I'm watching a stabbing-robot from one of those haunted, horror houses. Your silhouette moves so mechanically and consistently that it hypnotises me, you are saying words and I can hear the sounds, but I am not listening because I am not able to. Nor am I feeling pain but that doesn't h...

The Emerald Pendant.

My mother gave me a tiny emerald pendant when I was sixteen. It was beautiful, in the box, some things are like that. In the blue velvet-lined box it looked delicate and pretty, laid out in white gold and hanging from a very fine chain. I knew instantly how it would make me feel when I put it on; it would make me feel like a gunny sack tied in a rope made of diamonds. I didn't wear things like that, not when I was sixteen and not now, and my mother knew this as well then, as she does now. I t...

The Therapist.

Therapy is not my thing.
Twice I have tried it with two different people. The first one seemed more like a faith healer than a trained professional. The second one felt like she had a barrier around her. As hard as I tried, I could not connect with her.

After that I gave up, I chose the path of excising my demons on my own. That didn't work too well either. Six months into DIY mental health I had lost 10 kgs, I wasn't eating, I was sleeping no more than two hours a night and I coul...

A Note For My Patrons.

Hello my dear patrons!

The holiday season is upon us. Lol. I'm sorry, I know it's not international holiday season, but it is Indian holiday season since I'm given to understand Diwali is the big one for us. That thing that happens every year is happening again! Yay! I can't get anyone to respond to emails or commit to doing anything until it's over like every year. Yay for holidays. Personally, I have no holiday season because apparently I'm a festival-buzzkill but it's not my fault ...

Podcast E21: How to culturally appropriate Indianism.

I do know how it's done but on some level, I just do not understand where the line is between acceptance indulgence in a culture and its appropriation. Something that happened this week challenged me to think about it. Here are some thoughts. 

Not Wrong.

As she drove down the highway her mind began to wander; it was such a long drive after all and the lights that littered the highway were beginning to meld amidst the mostly unchanged scenery. She thought back over their time together.
He was so young and cheerful-looking when she had first met him. She was so naïve and optimistic.

“You have beautiful red hair,” he had said the first time they spoke and she had blushed as vibrantly as the mop atop her head. In her head she cou...

My Mother's Lovers.

The first time she introduced me to one of her *friends* I actually believed that was the extent of the relationship. Of course, at the time I was seven and understood not just friendship but much of the world in completely platonic terms.
He introduced himself as Mr. Kamal and insisted that I refer to him as such. It seemed like a dignified way to address people.

“How are you Mister Kamal?” I’d say.

“Fabulous, little one,” he’d respond grabbing my cheeks, “An...

The Vacation

We had been seeing each other for a few months when we decided to take a vacation together. Things between us were good. He was kind and attentive. And there was little conflict.
It was a departure from the kind of relationships I usually get into with emotionally abusive men who are unhappy until they have complete control over my life. He wasn’t like that. He never raised his voice, and he seemed to relish the fact that I am an independent woman and I don’t need a man to take my dec...

13 Letters I Never Wrote: Dear S, I cannot believe I forgot your name.

Dear S,

Honestly, I cannot believe I forgot your name. For days I have been searching the recesses of my brain and I cannot find it. I cannot find your name inside my mind. That seems so odd to me, darling, because I still remember, so well, what it is was like to love you.

I remember everything else. I remember putting on my little blue skirt and the shirt with the pierced baby on it, and coming by to the studio on Friday afternoons. You loved that shirt so much, you tried to...

The Wrong Thing To Feel.

I turned the stool so it was perpendicular to the bed, and I looked at my husband. I look better in candlelight, but his beauty is diminished by the darkness. I find that strange, especially since of the two of us, I'm the one who shines under a spotlight, and he's most powerful in the shadows. My screams are spectacular, and his silence is as spectacular.

"They didn't understand, the men that hurt you before me," he said to me, "You are just looking to see if there's enough of a mons...

Podcast E20: How do you live after trauma.

Alarmingly, what I say is my point, is actually my point this time. In a personal account of recovering from PTSD and an anxiety disorder, I discuss what makes trauma, and what could heal it. 

Please, if you are experiencing depression, suicidal ideation or self-harming, reach out, and get help. It does get better. 

Were You An Empowered Prostitute?

I remember telling my sister a few months after I first started working as an escort. She was visiting me, and I was taking her out to dinner. I told her in the cab. While I admitted it very casually, it was a moment of too much honesty and she was appropriately appalled, but not that surprised. She is my sister after all, and she knows me extremely well. She said many things, most of them supportive, and some of them concerned but the thing she said first, was the most memorable o...

Ancilla's Dirty Diary: "The humiliation is unrelenting" (17/10/21)

It's been a mess. I've been a mess. The humiliation is unrelenting, and to think all of this began because I didn't shave my cunt.

For one day.

I've been shaving instead of waxing because all of my waxing equipment is lying packed up in a box amidst the ten thousand boxes in our temporary garage. Why do we have so much stuff? I honestly can't remember what most of it is. Well, I know the five things that I miss. I know some of it is implements of pain and pleasure, and some of...

Ancilla's Dirty Diary: "I can be perfect for you."

13 October 2021

There is something I have been trying to explain to him for a few weeks, and I worry that each time I try, I fall short of being able to articulate it the way I feel it in my heart. Perhaps part of the problem is that I can barely explain it to myself, sometimes too much nuance, and too much context, challenge clarity as much as too little of those things. 

The truth is that perfection is not an expectation we are taught to place on anybody, we are ...

Weird Relationships Can Be Good.

I cried like a child yesterday.

I have a hair trigger when it comes to my husband being mad at me. Last night he was "a little" mad. We both had very long days. He didn't sleep very well, and I didn't sleep very long. I had a deadline but I also had to step out to run some urgent errands during the day. It was so sunny, and I still don't know all the places in this new city so finding the stores I needed was hard and took longer than I had planned. The child had a birthday party to at...

Podcast E19: The definition of Sex, and The Idea of Women Hating Women.

I fucked a strange man, who said a strange thing to me, and it made me think too much about sex and women hating women. 

Enjoy!

What the chastity?

I want to buy a chastity belt. I am not exactly sure what the allure is to me, especially since I never touch myself anyway, because I truly believe (and this has nothing necessarily to do with d/s) that pleasuring myself is not my job. It was meant to be outsourced, and I have always outsourced it. It has definitely been over a decade since I took care of my own business, and I have no intention of starting now. It just does absolutely nothing for me to get freaky with myself so either someo...

13 Letters I Never Wrote: Dear A, I expected better from you.

Dear A,

I expected better from you. Not for me, we both know there was already no hope for me when I showed up at your doorstep, but for everything and everyone that came after me, I expected better from you.

In all the years that you kept me, I didn't realise that I was keeping you as well.  I didn't realise I was keeping you from hurting other women. I couldn't imagine that you would fall so low, to trick a woman into marrying you and then explaining your abuse as a hab...

Thirteen Letters I Never Wrote: Dear P, I Could Have Loved You.

Dear P,

I truly believe I could have loved you. I truly believe you could have loved me as well. But how would have that ever worked when we cannot stand to see each other be human? Like right now, tell me you're thinking of anything other than the poor syntax of my previous sentence, and I'll walk to you barefoot in the sun.

It's not just you, I'll admit that my standards for you are also not just high, they're harsh, and they've been that way since the day we met at that deb...

Thirteen Letters I Never Wrote: Dear M, You Cannot Play With My Monster.

Dear M,

He was a pimp, and I was his whore, but you didn't know that did you? I bet you didn't expect to fuck a whore, while the man who owns the property watches.

You thought I was bringing you a cuckolded man, and I never led you to believe that, in fact, I told you it was the opposite. You didn't believe me. You saw me with my loud, decisive voice, and my brisk, confident walk, and you assumed, a fatal assumption, that I was a woman who enjoyed being in control. A dominant ...

What The Masochism?

Everyone around here has been talking masochism for a few days now, and I would be remiss not to step into the discussion. Like honestly, if this is not the moment for me to chime in, then I don't know if there even is a moment. I am not sure how this discussion started so I am not addressing anything specific, but I heard a lot of discussion around the the question — Why would anyone be a masochist?

Honestly, I don't know. It seems like it goes against the grain of human evolution. ...

Podcast E18: Entertainment and Offline Dating.

Hello! 

I say constantly that I will do anything for entertainment and it may be the primary reason I do anything. It's why I date! This is why that's so incredibly satisfying to me. 

I think. 

Have Mercy On Me.

I am so attracted to his lack of mercy. 

I think it will kill me. 

That's something only he can give me, really. I am the criminal who stole a loaf of bread to feed my family, and he is the court that could release me, but would rather condemn me for life. He can hold me liable and responsible for anything he wants, and he can pass a sentence on my life of whatever severity he chooses, and the only recourse I have is to appeal to mercy. To hope that there exists some com...

Ancilla's Dirty Diary: "How to break a person." (30/09/2021)

Last night I learnt how one could really break a person. It's been a week of endless cruelty, and that's okay, some weeks are like that. Whenever I say cruelty I think people understand something different than what I am really saying. I don't mean that him hurting me or restraining me or any of that is cruelty. That's just sadism. It's not that. Hurting me is the action, but cruelty is the the manner of his conduct. Sadism is when takes a belt and goes after me, cruelty is when he won't let ...

I Don't Know What Happens To Him When I Cry.

It's never a good sign when he fucks me before anything else. Well, when I say it's not a good sign, I mean it's ominous. It's like when we were children and our parents made sure we went to the bathroom and had a snack before we got in the car, it just meant it was going to be a long drive. When he fucks me first, it's going to be a long night. In some ways his cock is like a Hail Mary when he's torturing me and I know I cannot stop it by screaming or begging. I know the end will come becaus...

Put Me In The Corner.

I used to think corners were for errant girls who ran their mouths off a little too often. This doesn't feel like that. Whenever I saw a picture of someone in a corner, with their panties around their ankles, it gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach. I didn't want that, not at all, but it was nice to look at. This isn't nice to look at. I'm not standing in this corner, for one, I am sitting in it. My face isn't turned towards the wall, it's facing the room. My knees are bent and placed ...

Ancilla's Dirty Diary: "I am so fucking scared." (25/09/2021)

Note: Welcome to my journal. It's an unfiltered collection of my thoughts and relationship. It's an erotic journal so it's mostly dirty. It's more loose and unstructured than most of my writing, and much more blatant, something of an extension of my actual journal that I write with a pen. Some of these pieces will be short and others longer. It's a journal, I can't control how much I feel about my day. You can find all the pieces under the tag "2021-09-25 15:01:31 +0000 UTC View Post

The Good Slave.

"I'll tell you the first step of the road to exemplary," he whispers, turning my head so my ear is accessible to his lips, "When I suture your cunt shut tomorrow, I expect you to be wet. No, not expect. I demand it."

His breath is warm and I tremble as he pulls back. Partly because the draft from the air conditioning that he was blocking is released once again, and I am freezing, and partly because I find it unlikely, or at least, difficult to guarantee, that I'll be wet through t...

Podcast E17: Gender and The Experience of Pain

Hello!

I can talk about pain endlessly, and from every angle imaginable, but this discussion is not erotic. It's about certain genders and how their life experiences are defined by pain. 

Enjoy! 

Bloody Sand.

"Hurt me daddy," she whispered into my ear as I spread her legs. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and she was pushing her violet thong aside so I could plunge into her. I could hear the waves thrashing against the rocks on shore as clearly as I could hear her breath shortening with expectation.

"Hurt me, please," she said again, her nails digging into my shoulders; pulling me closer as if she releasing me would be too much for her to bear.

It was always...