Consent... what consent?

We were wandering the supermarket aisles chatting as we tried to remember what the hell it was that we actually needed.

Small note to self; shopping without a list when there is the second half of a cluster migraine trying to brew is foolish and doomed to failure... or at least a certain absence of key items.

You know one said, in response to some veiled threat...

 Actually it wasn't veiled at all. He was trying to lift up the edges of the stupidly short skirt one was wearing and expose naked flesh to all and sundry.

... consent could be withdrawn. According to some on Fet that is the correct thing to do.

Yes you can He said, without turning a whisker.

The tone made one look up from the soap that was being given a cursory glance at the time. Um... does that mean you would actually acknowledge that fact that consent had been withdrawn or that you would just ignore it?

What? Oh of course not He replied. You're mine He said, casually kissing the nape of the neck.

A gesture that would have been a lot more loving if He hadn't put his hand through the damn collar, thereby cutting off some of the air supply, as he did it.

Sighs you know sometimes one suspects that the information one brings home is like putting pearls before swine...