Rikki Wade

I write because I have to.
Because the stories echo in my head—sharp, relentless—until I set them free.

Domination. Submission. Sadism. Masochism.
Denial and release. Emotional blackmail. Orgasmic redemption.

These aren’t just fantasies. They’re confessions dressed in fiction.

I sit in the shadows, dragging these obsessions into the light—one breathless scene at a time.
Come closer. Let them take you apart.
Explore the darker side of desire—the kind that leaves you aching, ruined, and begging for release.

Not safe. Not soft. Not Sorry.