My Temple of Worship

This is much more than a collection of dirty stories and teasing photos. This is an act of devotion to my obsession. It’s an ecstatic expression giving life to a burning need that can be satiated no other way. This is my fetish given substance.

Some want the pleasure and pain that can be brought with a caress followed by a whip. Some want the denial of being bound by ropes and teased with the inability to act. I have explored this world of eccentric hedonism thinking I’d find something to satisfy my insatiable craving.

It was not enough.

I want sensation to reach deeper than flesh. I want it to sting my very soul. This is my particular breed of masochism – longing.

Through my stories, I can have without ever being allowed to touch. Through my photos, I can give myself without ever being taken.

The Stories

Without the written word I would have shriveled up and died inside long ago. I write journals about the mundane details of my life and scribble random notes on scraps of paper that find their way to the floor and are forgotten. I write down – in a leatherbound book that I treasure – beautiful things I read and hear. I write stories about magic and long exhausting love letters. I write my erotic fantasies and sad goodbyes to my dying house plants. Without the written word I fear I would suffocate; it is the only way my soul can escape the prison of my body and the snare of a reluctant voice.​
Here you’ll find words of passion, love, lust and the pain that comes with these delights. Through my stories, I can have anything and anyone I want. I explore the fantasies and private memories of my friends and readers, welcoming their confessions and weaving them into tales.

Welcome to my world. Here, you are mine.

The Photos
All photos on this site are unadulterated images of me.  I blossom under the camera, relish the careful caress of the lens, simmering under the lights and the rising heat of my blood. This too is our shared pleasure. I choose to remain faceless in my photos for many reasons. Most importantly, because the mystery is part of the magic. Maybe I’m the shy woman sitting at the end of the bar. Perhaps our eyes momentarily locked as I passed you on the street. It is entirely possible I was seated next to you on a flight, lost in my book. It could be that you’ve known me your whole life and never gave me a second glance, not knowing what secrets lay beneath the unseen veil. My readers can commission a photo shoot, allowing them to have me through the beauty of imagery. These photos can reflect one of my written stories or be your stand-alone indulgence. I am no one. I am everyone. I am anyone you want me to be.


​It is the kindness of strangers that keeps Alyssa Forelsket alive.   I exist solely by virtue of the Tinkerbell effect: only because you believe in me; only because you want me to be real.

There are many ways you can become a patron and make it possible for this private world of ours to flourish.