i’ve written expanded captions for photos for a very long time. i even like to think i may hav

i’ve written expanded captions for photos for a very long time. i even like to think i may have contributed to the genesis of the genre way back when tumblr was cool. i always start with a picture first; the narratives come second. It still surprises me how some images conjure very specific and vivid themes, while with others i get absolutely nothing, no matter how appealing the pic may be.

i’m fully aware these narratives are more about the current state of my psyche  than anything. [Takes a deep breathe]

So all i can see here is a story where i beg this Man to hurt, degrade, and rape me. my little dick doesn’t get that hard anymore; i think i’ve internalized my submissive identity so deeply that my orgasms are now mental and psychological; my shrinking penis is just an external manifestation of an internal reality.

So when i think of worshiping this Man with my mouth as He belittles me and tells me in explicit detail what’s He’s going to do to me, yes - my cock still reacts. But what i feel inside is much more profound and incapacitating. i feel a shortness of breathe and an almost suffocating desire to suffer at His hand.

It’s instinctive. i’m not that impressive in the flesh. But to me, the greatest form of worship i could give Him is to be shamelessly transparent about my instincts: the self awareness that i am nothing compared to Him, and that if i deserve anything, it’s pain and humiliation.i want to hurt for Him. And i want Him to enjoy hurting me. Somehow, i think that if that were to happen, the physiological reaction i would likely experience would be the shameful expulsion of cum from my limp dick as my body rids itself of that vestige of my pitiful masculinity and virility.