#long ass post

kallie-den:

1. How long have you been into hypnosis?
2. Describe your first experience with hypnosis
3. Are there any TV shows/movies/books you liked when you were younger that you think got you into hypnosis?
4. Are you primarily a hypnotist or a subject?
5. Are you primarily a dom/me or a sub?
6. What do you love about being hypnotised?
7. What do you love about hypnotising people?
8. How do you feel when hypnotised?
9. How do you feel when you hypnotise someone else?
10. Are you a difficult subject?
11. What’s your ‘signature move’ as a hypnotist?
12. What’s your favourite kind of hypnotic induction?
13. Do you like visual fixation (on spirals, eyes, swinging objects etc.) for hypnosis?
14. What are your favourite kinds of hypnosis play?
15. What other kinks do you like to incorporate into your hypno play?
16. For you, is the appeal of hypnosis primarily sexual or not?
17. What are some post-hypnotic suggestions you particularly enjoy (for others or yourself)?
18. Describe your best experience involving hypnosis
19. Describe a bad experience you had involving hypnosis? Why was it bad? Why did it go wrong?
20. What’s one tip you have for other hypnotists/subjects?
21. Do you have any tips for how to negotiate hypnosis play?
22. Do you like your hypnosis to involve power exchange, or not?
23. For you, how does hypnosis fit into a relationship? Just in the bedroom, or as part of BDSM relationship?
24. Are you interested in a 24/7 hypnotic enslavement relationship?
25. Have you ever experienced strong, sudden feelings for a hypnotist/subject? How did you deal with that?
26. Are you interested in hypnotising/being hypnotised by people of a gender you are not attracted to?
27. What’s your favourite work of hypnosis erotica?
28. What’s your favourite spiral?
29. What’s your favourite hypno-themed image/caption/piece of art?
30. What’s your favourite audio file/audio file producer?
31. What’s your favourite book/movie/TV show that includes hypnosis?
32. Describe your biggest fantasy involving hypnosis?
33. Do you have any fantasies about non-consensual hypnosis? Describe them
34. What’s one fictional character you’ve fantasised about hypnotising/being hypnotised by?
35. Do you like intelligence loss/bimbofication hypnosis? Why?
36. Do you like amnesia play? Why?
37. Do you like freeze triggers? Why?
38. Do you like pleasure triggers? Why?
39. Do you like alternate personalities created through hypnosis? Why?
40. Do you like feminization hypnosis? Why?
41. Have you ever experienced a “hands-free” orgasm as a result of hypnosis?
42. Which famous person do you think has the most hypnotic voice?
43. If you make hypnosis content, what’s your favourite piece of content you’ve made?
44. Have you ever used hypnotic conditioning to help you or someone else with a part of your/their life?
45. Have you ever been to a hypnosis convention? Did you enjoy it, or not? Why?
46. How has being involved with hypnosis/the hypno community improved your life?
47. What is one thing about the hypnosis community you think could change for the better?
48. Who is one person in the hypno community you really admire?
49. What is your favourite hypnosis-themed blog on tumblr?
50. Tag someone you’d like to see do some of these asks

1. At least 9 years now, actually. I started as a dumb teen looking at crappy 240p spirals on YouTube. I dunno if that says more about me or those low-quality hypnosis videos from back in the day, but either way, it worked.
2. Well, yeah, crappy 240p YouTube video - the details are super-foggy, but I am fairly certain it was one of those boiler-plate predatory “u r my slave now” trances with plain text and no audio. Again, for whatever god-forsaken reason, it definitely worked, but it left me craving something more…substantial.
3. It was a real melting pot of different factors that played into it, but the deciding one was curiosity. If I had to pick something, it would have to be the obvious one: Totally Spies (fuck, that show was a hive of repressed kinks). I didn’t even realize it at the time; all I knew was that that one episode (or twelve) with the brainwashing made me feel a kind of way.
4. Mainly a subject. I _have_ dabbled into the role of hypnotist before, but exclusively with close friends that I know enough to know what makes them tick.
5. A switch, if you can believe it. Sub-leaning, sure, but I love to take control sometimes.
6. Probably the peace of mind; I’ve always been a kind of person to let life happen around me, and hypnosis is I suppose an extension of that methodology.
7. The control, honestly. While I certainly enjoy the thought that I’m giving the subject a positive experience, I can’t deny that I get a little drunk on power - one if the reasons that I don’t make a habit of being the hypnotist.
8. Absent-minded, pliable, a bit horny, maybe even nothing at all - it entirely depends on the trance and the hypnotist.
9. I guess I feel…strong; like I’m taking some degree of power back in my life in one way or another. It’s another reason I dont hypnotize others too often: I’ve yet to develop any self-restraint.
10. I dont think of myself as too challenging; the worst that could happen is either I don’t go under, which still happens from time to time, or my mind has managed to interpret the trance in a different way than the hypnotist intended, thus causing unintended side effects.
11. I haven’t done enough hypnosis to really develop a “signature” per se, but I do have a particular talent at weaving in a trigger word through casual discussion to throw the subject off-guard - I wouldn’t call that a specifically unique skill, though.
12. Rapid inductions. My mind is rather impatient, so quickly inducing trance through some blunt-force method is usually my preference. I can respect a slow-boil induction that relaxes the body and mind, but sometimes, you just gotta hit that off switch and drop them harder than a fucking hot plate.
13. Yes,god yes, especially high-speed visuals. Anything that can grip my vision and never let it go is enough to keep me hyper-focused.
14. Oh god, where do I start. I guess I’ll just list off my greatest hits: memory play, identity play, objectification, dehumanization, list goes on.
15. Sometimes, I like to toss in a physical element, either for myself to trance or my subjects. Bondage is the easiest thing to incorporate: you’re already entangling their mind, might as well tie down those arms and legs as well~
16. It is and it isn’t. It’s an extremely interwoven reaction to hypnosis, but it isn’t all that draws me to it.
17. My particular favorites for myself are the trance idly processing in the background of my thoughts (one of many reasons I love dronification). For my subject, a friend of mine, I use a trigger where I jab two fingers into the nape of her neck, and she percieves it as a “wire” that’s “plugging her in” to be “programmed.” Fun~
18. It involved a spiral program that a friend/Mistress made, with a thrumming background noise and pulsing visuals. I have a _bit_ of a furry streak to me, and the whole “shark drone” thing she had going on, alongside her well-designed scripts and hands-on approach, made for the most engrossing hypnosis experience I have ever had. That drone persona is still somewhere in the noggin, still going strong.
19. Oh boy, do I have a horror story or two there. I’ll settle with the absolute worst: I encountered a well-known hypnotist over the WMM Discord, and we hit off a good rapport. He seemed polite, well-spoken, and professional. Eventually, we reached a stage of talking hard-limits and expectations, and before I know it, he….sends me an audio file. Underwhelming, I thought, but no deal-breaker. I listened to it, and it was a subliminal audio file; there was a scratchy noise that I realized were words, sped up so quickly that I couldn’t consciously recognize them, but unconsciously, I felt a lot hazier and less focused. It was a bimbo file (something else I enjoy, but not as much as dronification and the like), and I was exhibiting all the usual bimbo traits: slow, dumb, horny, etc. This was around a time where I firmly believed that hypnosis cannot make you do something you don’t want, but never considered how skilled hypnotists can push those goalposts of what you want, eventually coercing you into doing something you could never have imagined doing yourself…well, I wouldn’t have called him skilled, but that was what he did. Iwill not explain what he convinced me to do. It’s hard even thinking about it. I feel disgusted. But the point is, he kept trying to gaslight me into telling me that I did that all on my own (sure, asshole, blame the entranced subject that YOU’RE RESPONSIBLE FOR). He even deleted the comment that explicitly instructed me to do it, then kept brute-forcing triggers at me despite me repeatedly saying that I no longer fucking consented to what he was doing. Eventually, he left me half-dazed and said he’d be right back. I never heard from the bastard again. HE LEFT A SUBJECT UNATTENDED, INDEFINITELY. Really fucking glad that I was already out of it by the time he fucked off. It was, hands-down, the worst experience I have had, or will ever have with hypnosis, and no, that isn’t a fucking challenge. Thankfully, that story does have a happy ending; I bawled my eyes out to a close friend of mine - she listened over the phone and even bought me a pizza. She’s awesome. I don’t deserve her.
20. Yes, you can be made to do things you don’t want to during hypnosis.It’s the act of predatory jackasses and fuckheads, but they are capable of coercing you into actions you wouldn’t otherwise be okay with. My advice to subjects: make your hard limits clear, and if they’re breaching, these limits, knowingly or not, call them out; if they don’t relent, drop them. As for advice for hypnotists, JUST DON’T FUCKING DO IT.Respect your subjects, for fuck sake.
21. I advocate for the simple approach: talk upfront about what the subject and hypnotist’s limits are - what they will and won’t do - and agree on the expectations of the session in advance. It doesn’t sound like much, but it helps immensely to prevent stepping on anyone’s toes, set clear boundaries, and search for warning signs of an abusive hyonotist or subject (yes, abusive subjects do exist!)
22. Simply put, yes, but I’ve learned my lesson; I only allow it with people I know and explicitly trust.
23. Hypnosis can be as formal or as casual as you want; I, for one, love to tease my friend with it in a mutual and casual fashion, and she and her spouse love to use hypnosis to spice up their interactions, or even help cut out the tedium of chores (i.e. commanding her to clean up the kitchen, etc.)
24. The thought has occurred to me, but the optics of how it would work still elude me. I now live with an ace dominant who views me as an equal, and it would be possible to adjust that dynamic to fit a permanent hypnotic enslavement, it would require a lot of caveats.
25. Once, this was when I encountered the server owner for a hypnosis Discord and we hit it off. she and I, admittedly, went way too quickly with it, and ultimately, we both realized the mess we made. While we tried our best to take a step back from that and be casual friends, it was obvious that she still wanted that, even as unhealthy as it was, and despite the fact it was taking a toll on my mental health and my very sense of self. We eventually drifted apart.
26. Well, I’m pansexual, so I don’t have that problem babyyyyyyyyyyyyyy-
27. Surprisingly, I haven’t read too many, so I don’t have a particular preference. Off the top of my head, though, the ‘Subroutine’ series was pretty engaging.
28. Probably the one from my friend/Mistress’ spiral program I mentioned; not strictly a spiral, per se, but the pulsing visuals are enrapturing.
29. Oh man; honestly, I can’t pick a favorite, because there are just so many amazing artworks out there. It’s like picking a favorite flavor of ice cream; all of them are delicious, and having to pick makes my head hurt.
30. Well, that’s easy: Dronespace by Kelly Ewer. It’s a mainstay that drone communities swear by for a good reason.
31. Not sure; I don’t really watch a lot of movies or TV these days, and I haven’t read many books. I guess I’ll just answer with Subroutine again; not a book, but close enough.
32. Mybiggestfantasy? Being led down a black, featureless hallway, my mind in a haze, but so peaceful that I don’t really care what’s happening around me or why. Eventually, I’m being instructed into a chamber, flanked by so many identical others; it has soft cushioning, comfortable enough to simply relax against, and let the metal restraints lock against my arms, legs, and neck. Eventually, the chamber closes, and the inside comes alive with lights and sounds, piercing my ears and dominating my vision. Time stops having meaning; there’s so much pleasure wracking my body that everything else fades away. My mind is slowly rewritten, my self being meticulously erased. No will, no self, just an object that follows instructions. And once the machine has done its work, the chamber opens, and another glistening, uniformly obedient thing steps out, no longer the person it was before, or really any person at all. Just one of many identical rubber playthings, a toy to use as you please.
33. Oh, fucking plenty. I just imagine going about my day as normal, or so I believe; in reality, my body is being used for so many depraved things, while my conscious mind is convinced that it’s all just my daily routine.
34. That’s a hard one. Eventually, I might find an answer for that question, but really, nobody in particular springs to mind.
35. As previously stated, yes, I do enjoy it. Would it be stereotypical to suggest the reason why I do might have something to do with escaping the stress of having been the “gifted” kid?
36. Yep. Remembering shit sucks.
37. Kind of. My body hates sitting still.
38. Fuck yes. For obvious reasons.
39. It depends. I only trust certain people to do something that intense with me, bevause the risks of a tulpa surfacing are self-evident.
40. Yep. I’m transitioning, so it really helps me get in the right mindset.
41. Kind of. It happened when my hands were off, but there was some physical stimulation with my hands prior.
42. Morgan Freeman. Unironically.
43. I don’t make anything, sadly. I’ve wanted to, though!
44. Yes, actually. A friend of mine (the one who got me that pizza) was really shy and anxious once upon a time. It was around this time that I had given her a series of collar triggers with different colors - one of them made her more “alert and aware,” which I realized I could use to give her more incentive to speak freely and socialize better. It actually made me cry when she told me that it helped her overcome her social anxiety; I truly felt like I had really helped someone through my actions.
45. No, but I’ve always wanted to go to one! Hopefully, Ill get the opportunity sometime in the future.
46. Well, that’s not hard to answer: I did a lot of self-discovery and met friends and people I’d consider as close as family. If it weren’t for pursuing hypnosis as a casual hobby, I’d probably still be stuck in a life I could never be happy with.
47. That pizza friend I mentioned a few dozen times now has lamented that she can’t really find a lot of quality femsub/maledom hypnosis that isn’t highly predatory or woven with “lmao women are cocksleeves” rhetoric. I want her to have more fun with the hypno community here and abroad, so that would be something I’d encourage more of.
48. Probably Miss_Praxis; her name probably isn’t that well-known around the hypnosphere, but she makes consistently safe, sane, quality content that hits multiple niches, as well as just being a totally cool and funny person in general (She also bought me a new microphone to upgrade from my old laptop’s shitty built-in mic; there was a running joke on the Praxis Memetics Discord that I was the server’s official Geiger Counter.)
49. It’s stiff competition, but I’d have to say it’s a tie between jamies-latex-lustandneotoymaker. They both make stuff I consistently rub to.
50. @hour1313 comes to mind! Hehe~

When I Skyped with MLAM a week or so ago, we were discussing what exactly the rules will be when I start up using the dildos to train my ass again. I gave heartfelt plea about the large dildo and the fact that it would take lots of time and effort, which got me mostly silence and “What did you think would come from this?” I’d hoped he might not make me use it, but I’d thought he’d at least change up something. He did, thankfully. I’ll get a week with the smaller one to start preparing myself. I then asked for clarification on when the timer starts and stops. He told me “It starts when you start trying to put it in, and it stops half an hour later.” I asked, “What if I take it out?” and he said “Well, if you stop to get mac n’ cheese and watch an episode of the wire….” and told me to “use [my] judgment.” I agreed that I could handle that, and he said “And you have very good judgment” in my decision making regarding my submission, which made me blush and look away. MLAM told me to write a post on my judgment and decision-making as part of my submission. This is that post.

As his toy, I don’t actually decide -if- I’m going to follow his instructions. However, I do have to make some decisions and use good judgment. There are four kinds of judgment- and decision-making I engage in as part of my submission to him. The first kind I use when I’m trying to determine what to do. The second comes into play as I attempt to comply with the orders I’ve been given. The third is needed when determining if it is appropriate or intelligent to ask for an exception or change in the orders I’ve been given. And the fourth I use when I decide to offer him something of my own volition, without explicit instructions.

Type I

I engage the first type when I have an order (or assignment or punishment), and run into a situation that wasn’t clearly covered in the initial wording, or that could change the overall impact of the order in a way he didn’t intend. Of course, my first instinct is always to ask him for clarification. I used to feel bad about asking for clarification too much, but now I know that it’s good for me to ask. He likes me to ask. And sometimes asking alleviates unnecessary guilt I have. For instance, when I was writing the first four hundred words of this post, which was the amount he told me to write every day until I finished, I got home late that night and then frittered away time masturbating and talking to friends. I realized it was almost midnight, and I hadn’t written any of this, aside from a few notes here and there. I considered whether or not he meant “per day” as in before midnight, or before sleep. I decided that he probably meant before sleep, since midnight doesn’t really set a good dividing line for a day, especially when you’re a night person. But I also decided that I wanted to finish before midnight. I thought, “If I finish before midnight, I know for sure I’m doing what he wanted, even if there is actually more flexibility than that.” Well, long story short, I got distracted doing another thing for him, and by midnight, I was two words short. Even though that was a deadline I’d set myself, and I was only two words away from what he wanted, I felt guilty. (Thanks, Catholic guilt. You’ve been bizarrely useful in this relationship.) The next day, I did ask for my clarification on what “day” meant. He confirmed my assumption, that it meant before I go to bed, which alleviated my guilt, although I still feel bad that I didn’t stick to what I’d decided to do for him.

When I ask for clarifications, I often can guess what the answer will be, because (I like to think) I have a good understanding of the way his mind works, especially in relation to the dynamic we’ve developed. Of course, I’m not always going to like his answer. When I’m deciding if I should ask for a clarification, I often consider how I will react if the answer is something I don’t like. For instance, when discussing the thirty minutes a day with a dildo anal training, I wondered if I would just have to sit there in silence and focus only on fucking my ass with the toy, or if I could watch Netflix while I worked on making myself a better anal slut. I hesitated, and then asked. I dreaded his answer. If I hadn’t asked, it would have been open-ended, and I could have watched something while doing it. By asking, I nearly guaranteed that I wouldn’t be allowed to watch something or listen to music while working on my ass. He may not have thought of that as part of the original assignment, but when I present an opportunity for him to make my life more difficult, or to focus me on my submission, expecting him not to take that opportunity would be stupid.

Of course I asked anyway. I consider how I would react to an undesirable clarification, and then I ask anyway. Even if the answer turns out to be what I’m dreading (and really, it usually is. Clarifications usually are neutral or make my life more difficult.), I should still ask. If there is a way to submit further by taking on an increasingly unpleasant assignment, I should be eager to do so, to prove my level of commitment and the depth of my submission to my owner. Having thought of a way to do those things, if I don’t ask for a clarification and give him a chance to make my life harder, I’m denying some level of control over me by taking advantage of him not having accounted for something, or not having thought of a given way I should be submitting.

Although asking for clarification is always acceptable, there are wrong ways and right ways to do that. One of the most regrettable instances of poor judgment I’ve had was while discussing the anal training with the dildo. I asked if I would be allowed to use lube, which would be a perfectly reasonable question. But I didn’t just ask. For some reason, I was sassy, and I said “You’re going to let me use lube, right? Because I’m going to use lube.” One of the dumbest things I’ve said in a long while. Because he’s wonderful and kind and generous, MLAM did allow me to use lube, but only sputum. I learned my lesson about how to ask things that day, and I think more carefully about how and what I ask now.

Of course, it isn’t always possible or reasonable for me to ask him for a clarification. Sometimes it’s late or he’s busy and there’s some sort of time component. In these instances, I have to use my judgment and make good choices. The first thing I consider is if there is something clear and obvious that will ensure I’m definitely following instructions. For example, when I was instructed to write 400 words of this post each day until I was done with it, that could mean that so long as I write 400 words that are supposed to be for this post, I’m complying with instructions, even if it’s rewriting things. However, it could also mean that I needed to write 400 new words, not just rewrite old ones. Instead of asking for a clarification here, I decided to take the second interpretation. Not all of the words may be used in this final product (especially not without some editing), as I intend to make sure it all flows together as much as possible, but I wanted to interpret the instructions in a way that would ensure that I definitely followed what he wanted.

If there isn’t something immediately obvious, I next consider if there is something I could do that would address the issue, while also making my life more difficult. One instance of this occurred when I was being punished and had to sleep naked on the floor and I got my period. I’m not a fan of tampons over night, and even if I were, tampons alone sometimes leak. My carpet is not a colour period blood stains would blend in with. The last time I’d been punished that way and had my period, MLAM had allowed me to wear panties. However, that was a couple weeks prior, and our dynamic had shifted even in that short amount of time, and I felt like I should ask him if I could wear them. However, by the time I realized I had my period, it was 4am. I didn’t expect to get a response. I wanted to avoid blood stains on the carpet, but also didn’t want to fuck up, both out of fear of punishment, and because every action I take related to MLAM has the singular goal of pleasing him. I decided that putting the panties on would not be a good way to go, even if the goal was avoiding bloodstains, not increasing my comfort. Instead, I chose to sleep on the kitchen floor, even though it is not as comfortable as my carpeted floor. I thought that would please him. Not only did I not put on clothes, I slept on the kitchen floor, and wore a tampon to bed, which I don’t like doing. I’m finally beginning to learn that, when in doubt, go with the option that makes my life more difficult.

I don’t always have good judgment of this type, however. The worst example I can think of occurred while I was using the new silver shoes to masturbate so that I could earn wearing them as part of my first date outfit. I initially told MLAM that I didn’t think I’d be able to get off with them, so I might not end up masturbating every day. He told me that I had to try at least three times a day to get off. Well, the first time I tried with the shoe, I managed to get of fairly easily. I texted MLAM and asked him if I still had to try to get off with the shoe at least three times a day, since I knew I could. He never got back to me, but I thought I’d understood his thought process that led to the instruction, so I made an independent decision. Big mistake. I shouldn’t have imagined I understood what he wanted, when he’d given an exact order. There was no need for me to try to figure out the right thing to do, since he’d already told me. But I thought I knew better. Of course, that got me a punishment. As he said, not responding to the text was an oversight on his part. And I would be punished for it.

I believe that I’ve improved in this kind of judgment and decision-making from earlier in our relationship. I still do ask for clarifications if something is unclear, of course. But if the vagueness is around a small aspect of an instruction, I do my best to figure out if there is a clear solution without bothering him. I like to think that I’ve gotten somewhat of a handle on the way he thinks about the dynamic we have within our relationship, plus, the dynamic has evolved and expanded into ever increasing aspects of my life, which gives me additional context to figure out what to do. Submission and being owned and doing my best to please him and do what he wants have gone from something fun that I do occasionally to something that I’ve accepted as my proper role in life. He’s my owner, and I belong to him. Being able to sink into that mindset allows me to think better about what to do, and encourages me to make decisions that will make my life harder while ensuring I’m living up to what he wants me to do.

Type II

I use the second kind of judgment while I’m trying to follow orders I’ve been given, whether rules on how to live day to day, a particular assignment, or the rules of a punishment. First of all, I have to make good life choices that will make it possible for me to follow his instructions. And then, when I’m following those instructions, I have to do the best I can to do exactly what he meant by them, and not play the rules lawyer. I’m not very good at the “making good life choices” part, yet. I tend to do what I was planning to do, and then fit assignments and punishments around that, which usually means I cut into my sleep. Cutting into my sleep means I’m not taking good care of his property. I should be more willing to cancel any plans I’ve made if I have something to accomplish for him. Like writing this, for example. There were a number of nights I intended to finish writing this once and for all, but then going out and doing other things, instead of prioritizing what he wanted from me. Writing this helped me realize that is a problem I have that I need to fix if I’m going to become the best little feminist toy for him that I possibly can be.

I can’t actually think of an illustrative example of a time I was good about making plans to incorporate his instructions, although I know I have done so a handful of times. If that’s not clear evidence that I need to work on that, I don’t know what is.

I’m somewhat better at the other aspect of this, which is doing what he wants me to do. I should be following the spirit of the instructions, not just the letter of the law. I have previously displayed horrible judgment for when trying to comply with punishments, on several occasions. The first that springs to mind was during the punishment I received where I had to sleep on the floor, naked, no pillow, no blanket. I did this one night and woke up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering. I made a poor decision and climbed into bed. I just wanted to be warm for a little while. I had every intention of getting up again and going back to the floor. Then I fell asleep, probably. It wasn’t for long, and I honestly I’m not 100% certain I did fell asleep. But I’d put myself into a situation where it was easy, entirely possible, and likely, that I fell asleep in bed with a blanket and pillow. My judgment was not at all sound in that case. Of course I felt guilty and texted him as soon as I woke up. I felt really awful, and couldn’t believe that I’d managed to fuck up so easily. The next night, I stayed at Legal Lolita’s place. She offered me a blanket to sleep on, and noted a couple ways I could rules lawyer myself into being warmer. Being a brat isn’t my bag, though. I took the blanket to sleep on, per her request to not sleep directly on her floor. Before going to sleep, I realized that sleeping on top of the blanket would be too tempting, so I decided not to use it. Legal Lolita’s apartment was super cold that night, and I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering. I took the blanket she’d intended me to sleep on top of and wrapped it around myself. Now, here I showed some evidence of the ability to make good judgments, because I stood up with the blanket around my body. I wasn’t going to repeat the same mistake two nights in a row. I swayed back and forth, unsteady on my feet, wanting to be asleep, but also wanting to be warm. I got tired of standing, but it was still too cold to take the blanket off, so I made a poor choice and sat down on a chair. I was just going to be “just a minute” again, and then I was shaking myself. Again, I can’t be sure if I just stopped myself from falling asleep with a blanket around me, or if I was waking up from being more asleep. Either way, I felt another wave of guilt and shame. I’d managed to fuck up again. I did manage to do the right thing for the last opportunity to do so, and texted MLAM as soon as I realized I could have fucked up. I was, of course, punished for failing to follow instructions for the second night in a row.
One example of me doing a good job with complying occurred when I was under instructions to masturbate only with the silver shoes for a week in order to earn the right to wear them on first dates. I wanted to comply with the spirit of that, so I tried not to just rub my clit through the shoes. I even initially started out not putting my fingers in the shoe, and instead simply gripped the outside and ground it into my cunt. By the end, I was close to not finishing an assignment Boy Genius had given me, so I did adjust and put my fingers in the shoe. I still didn’t simply rub my clit through the fabric, though. I used my fingers to move the toe back and forth. When I found it getting too easy, I’d curl my fingers up to make sure I wasn’t rubbing my clit with them. I didn’t want to make my life too easy, because I was getting a special privilege in getting to change the shoes I wear with my first date outfit.
Another instance in which I exhibited what I think is very good judgment while fulfilling a punishment was during a different “sleep on the floor” punishment. MLAM kindly allowed me to earn the right to a blanket so that I would have a chance to complete the punishment without fucking up, since we’d learned that when I’m cold, my judgment goes right out the window. My read on the situation was that he had given me this blanket for warmth, and that’s it. My carpet isn’t awful, but it’s slightly scratchy. If I’d wrapped the blanket around myself, I would have been very comfortable. Nothing he had said made me think there was a clear rule about if I could do this, but I chose to err on the side of over-complying with the rule. I did not wrap myself in the blanket, or sleep on top of it. I even went so far as to always move it out from under me if I found myself on top of it. Perhaps I was over-thinking it and being on top of the blanket would have been fine, but I’d much rather go to silly lengths to comply with what MLAM intended with a given instruction or rule, as opposed to doing things and then finding out that I’d violated what he’d meant for me to do. My aim is to follow his orders, always.

Type III

The third type of judgment- and decision-making involves me asking for exceptions or changes to instructions. Obviously, any time I am asking for an exception or change, I’d better hope he thinks I have a good reason, because objects don’t generally get a say in what happens to them. My personal discomfort does not normally count as a good reason, of course. Negatively impacting other people might be a legitimate reason to ask for an exception or change, as might impossible or very complicated logistics. For instance, when I had the instruction to train my ass with a dildo for 30 minutes every day, originally he told me that if I was sleeping at someone else’s place, I should just go do it in their bathroom. After thinking about this, I told him that I didn’t feel okay with disappearing for half an hour while hanging out with people, or staying up late to do it in their bathroom. He was nice enough to say that I didn’t have to do it while staying with other people, which I really appreciated. Not all of my friends are kinky (well, kinky in similar ways to me), and it seems inappropriate somehow to abandon them while spending time together, or to use their bathroom for my sex life, especially if I’d be taking it up for so long. I also got an exception for difficult logistics when I was driving from one friend’s place to another’s, an hour or so away. I might possibly have been able to go home in between and do it, but it would have made logistics very difficult and stressful. I asked for an exception in instances where it would be very difficult to get home and do the training, noting that I wouldn’t abuse that exception to make my life easier in situations where it wasn’t necessary, and that if I did, I’d feel guilty and confess. He agreed to this change, as well.

I like to think I’m improving in this area in that I’m asking for fewer changes or exceptions. I used to engage this more often, before I was as well trained as I am now. MLAM started out granting exceptions or changes not super frequently, exactly, but also not rarely. Then he started refusing more often, and now I ask much less often. For instance, when MLAM told me that I wouldn’t be having any more orgasms until he sees me, I noted to him that I had a playdate set up with someone. In the past, I might have asked for an exception, thinking that it could be seen as part of being useful to other men. This time, however, I made sure to be clear that I was just letting him know because I thought he would be interested/like knowing that he was messing with a play relationship. I did not ask for a change in the instruction, even when Crayola cancelled because of the orgasm restriction. I shouldn’t be needing to ask for exceptions, because I should plan to follow his orders. And if I do violate the orders, I know and accept that I deserve whatever punishment he decides on.

Type IV

Finally, there’s a fourth kind of decision making that I employ when I decide to do things for MLAM that he has only suggested, or maybe even hasn’t mentioned. I make the decision to behave in ways I think would please him, whether he will ever know that I did it or not. My primary goal in life is to please my owner. He may loan me out to any man he wants, but at the end of the day, everything I do with other men, I do because I know it pleases him to see me live as the little slut I am. Sometimes he’ll mention something he likes, but not give a command, sometimes he has preferences that aren’t orders, and sometimes I know there’s some little thing I could do that would make him happy. And I that’s the thing I should choose to do, even if he wont ever know.

The main instance of this in my life has been the change in the way I dress. Originally, MLAM had said he didn’t want to change my personal style, but not only was that earlier in the development of our relationship, before I understood that I’m just a toy for him to play with, but also, I’m eager to please and I want to do things that make me attractive to the most men as possible, since that’s the primary way I have value. I used to be a girl whose primary footwear was Birkenstocks and chucks with my tight miniskirts with pockets. MLAM chose more feminine attire for me when we were together. Flats and heels instead of chucks and Birkenstocks, and floofly skirts that can be blown up by a bit of wind. These days, whenever I’m making a decision about an outfit, I think “I should be more feminine” and “Would MLAM like this if I wore it for him?” Since that began, I’ve only worn my chucks a handful of times, and even fewer times to an actual outing. I want to dress in feminine clothes that he would like to see on me. Not because he dislikes my old personal style, which was a bit more andro, and much less feminine, but because he wants to feminize me, to control me, to change me.

Another example involves something a bit more difficult and a lot less socially acceptable. When MLAM had me give myself some bruises with a pen with a cap, I asked him if I could keep them until he gave me some himself. He seemed quite pleased with that request, and I’ve kept them up diligently. It’s not exactly easy to maintain bruises on oneself for more than a month, but I’ve been doing it. The past week or two, whenever I go to the bathroom at work, I take a pen with me and grind the cap into the three different bruises I’ve left on my upper right thigh. It makes me happy to have something I have to pay such attention to, and that is so visible and can be used by other men to hurt me.

I think the thing I’m most happy with in terms of this kind of judgment is that I decided to offer MLAM something to add to the fact that I’m not allowed to orgasm until he sees me. I was thinking about the restriction, and reading some posts about edging on tumblr, and got to thinking. Not masturbating isn’t a super difficult thing for me. I didn’t masturbate for a large chunk of my life, and even now, when I was super stressed during grad school, I could go weeks without getting off. It won’t leave me panting and desperate to not masturbate for a week, or even longer. I started thinking about edging, and decided that I would offer to him that I would edge for a while every day, which would actually leave me desperate by the time we’re together. I’d hoped this would be an offer he liked. It was. In fact, offering that, in combination with how well I’d reacted to him having an effect on a play relationship, led to him asking “Would you like something in particular for doing so well?” I don’t know that I’ve been offered a reward before. Of course I appreciated the offer, and did have a request, but really, the only reward I need is the knowledge that I’ve pleased him, and a “good girl” from him.

I want to improve my judgement and decision-making in all of these areas so that I can be better for MLAM. Pleasing him is my primary motivation, and my main purpose. I know that I need a lot of work in some of these areas, and I intend to put in the time and effort required to continue being entertaining for him, to continue being of use so that he keeps me around.

So, I was definitely not able to follow MLAM’s orders not to piss while on my date. I held out a really long time, through drinking a cider, Former President going to the bathroom, pressing on me, making out, and all the way up to him fingering me. That’s where I had to break. I felt like I almost pissed, and also his fingers were probably some of the biggest things I’ve had in me in a while, so I actually had to safeword out of fingering, which made me feel silly. Of course Former President told me not to, and we discussed why I redded. I actually started crying and I decided I had to go to the bathroom. I think I cried more than I would have just from the pain of being fingered while trying not to piss myself because I felt bad for being disappointing, which was interesting. Before I left Former President’s apartment, I texted MLAM and told him what had happened. I apologized and told him that I understood that I’d need to be punished.

As for the date, and Former President himself, I definitely had a good time and I’m glad we got together, and I’d like to do so again. To be completely honest, MLAM is way better at pain and fucking with my mind. But, you know, that’s to be expected, considering he has ruined me for other men. (50% joke, 50% truthfact) On the other hand, Former President and I got more sexual than MLAM and I had, which was fun in its own right. Gasp! It’s almost as if two different people might act like two different people and I should just fucking enjoy experiences for themselves!

(Long-ass post after the break)

Former President met me at the Metro station. I wore my First Date Outfit that MLAM picked for me to wear on first dates, since it was what I wore on our last date. It was a bit warm for the weather, but having him pick out clothes for me is hot, so I’m not really complaining. I thought of begging a sundress alternative if I ever have a date outside, but he doesn’t care about my comfort, and I suppose working around the outfit could be an interesting aspect of control. We hugged hello, and then walked over to a bar/restaurant that is part of his apartment complex. We each had a drink and split a Mediterranean plate, which was good. We talked about various things, from feminism, to our shared undergrad, to kink, and more. I did tell him about the fact that I wasn’t supposed to piss until I got home, and said that I doubted I’d be able to stick to it, and that I might feel bad about that. He was chill about all that, which was good.

When we finished, we went up to his apartment and sat on his couch. I took off my jacket, so I just had on leggings and a black bandeau (slut). We started doing negotiations and talked about limits, likes, dislikes, etc. Eventually we started making out, he was mean and pushed on my abdomen, and then picked me up and carried me to his bed.

We made out and grabbed at each other for a while, and then he told me to take my clothes off, and eventually his. I realized I actually hadn’t taken off another person’s clothes in a while, so I actually hesitated and he grabbed me and told me to hurry up. I did it and then explained that I’d hesitated because MLAM never really had me remove his clothes. Former President growled at me that he wasn’t MLAM and had his own expectations, which was a good reminder to me to stop being a stupid slut and treat the experience as its own thing.

After a bit, he started fingering me, and holy fuck did it hurt. That’s where I had to red out and go piss, violating MLAM’s instructions. After I came back, we relaxed a bit, and then started making out and stuff again. Somewhere along the way, he did spank me, which was good, but not hard enough, and in far too easy a position. Considering it was a first date, though, it was fine. He also did bite my bite, as requested. I said “harder” while he was biting, and immediately thought “Why the fuck do I even have that in my vocabulary anymore?” It was nice and painful. He’s also pretty into pressure to cause pain, so he got after spots on my sides a couple times, which did hurt a bit, so that was good.

I was kissing him and his neck and his nipples (which are super sensitive, which translates to super fun) and he told me to go lower, so I started licking and sucking his balls, and up the shaft a bit. He indicated that he wanted a blowjob and I looked up at him and said “Can I see those test results?” he reminded me they were from December, and did not press the issue, getting up and putting on a condom, instead. Responsible!LFB rules the day! So, I gave him a blowjob with the condom on. He actually has a smaller than average penis, which makes for enjoyable blowjob giving. Well, enjoyable if you’re given free reign. Less so when your head is being held down until you gag and choke. But of course, that’s enjoyable in its own way.

So, a little after that, we were about to have piv sex and for some reason I stopped him. I’m not entirely sure why. Part of it was actually wondering what Legal Lolita and MLAM would think, which is kind of fucking ridiculous of me because what? Then I was also getting some generalized societal slut shamey feelings, and a bit from myself. Former President backed off, except for continuing to tease me. He would grab me and move me like he would if we were fucking and uuuunf it was so rough and I wanted it and eventually I said, “Fuck it. Put on another condom.”

He fucked me nice and hard, slamming into me and moving my body and holding me and gods I needed that. The whole time he was saying/whispering/growling dirty things into my ear that I could only half understand, and I was saying things like “Fuck” and “Yes” and “Use me.” Well, at one point he was growling something and I was saying “Yes” at about the same time when I realized that he had said the word “Cum.” Whether that meant orgasm or ejaculate, I didn’t want to answer without being sure what the question was, so I said “What?” but then it was too late and he pulled out and and whipped the condom off and started cumming on me. It would have been fine, except that he got some on my vulva. I slapped my hand over my pussy and kind of froze and was thinking “Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” He finished and grabbed a towel and wiped me off but wasn’t exactly the most careful about that.

I was actually freaked out at that point, and when he came back to cuddle, I expressed that a little bit. He apologized but didn’t seem to be getting how upset I was. Then, I started to unfreeze and process and decided to just be open and honest and told him that it had been upsetting. He apologized again and seemed to actually realize what had happened and was super sorry. I took a deep breath and said “Don’t laugh, but I think I want EC.” He decidedly did not laugh, and was incredibly understanding. He acknowledged his fuck up, said he could understand if I was mad, and offered to pay half the cost, without any prompting. Best possible response.

We hopped in the shower and, while we were showering, did a bit of the relationship negotiation-type discussion that my friend, Sexy Librarian, had told me she did when she negotiated with MLAM, which is something he and I didn’t do at the time. Former President and I determined that we both are mostly looking for friends. Particularly friends with special interests.

When we went back into the bedroom, he noticed that he had bit out one of my earrings. I was a bit sad, but not actually upset. He, on the other hand, felt super bad for two unfortunate things happening at once, so he kept looking for it long past when I’d given up. We cuddled a bit more, and then I got tired of just cuddling, so I started playing with his nipples and licking his balls. Remembering something he had said online, I asked him, “You enjoy anal play, right?” and when he answered in the affirmative, I started playing with his ass. I decided to have some fun and tease him. I asked him questions and made him tell me things like about the best paper he wrote in undergrad, while I played with his balls, nipples, and ass. He kept interrupting himself to make all sorts of lovely sounds. I love teasing. It makes me feel powerful, but at the same time, it’s me serving my purpose, to provide pleasure to men.

While we were talking about pain, he offered me a back massage, and I gave him a skeptical “Are you actually being nice or are you going to be hurting me?” look, and he said he wouldn’t say. It did feel fantastic, but also hurt. He was straddling me while giving me the massage, and then he was on top of me, sort of grinding against me, and I told him I was thinking about him fucking me in the ass. He said, “Oh?” and I continued telling him what I was thinking. He grabbed some lube and fingered my ass while I kept talking. Then he got a condom and yeah, I gave up that third hole. Anal with him was not at all painful and was really enjoyable because of his cock size.

We cuddled a bit more and talked for a while. He likes how responsive I am, and how small I am. (They usually do.) I told him he should spank me more, and that I wanted more pain next time. We also discussed the fact that he does, indeed, smoke, and has a guy, so at least I don’t need to worry about not having a source. I haven’t been, and don’t, smoke very much, though, so what I have should last me quite a while. Then, before I left, we had piv sex again for a little while. After I asked, “You’re not gonna pull that trick with the condom again, are ya?” and he said “No.” in a way that meant he def still felt bad about things.

We left his apartment and walked back holding hands. I noticed he seemed to be in a bit of a negative place, so I asked how he was doing. He still felt bad about the semen spillage, and I told him that while I was glad he took responsibility and owned his mistake and everything, I definitely didn’t want him to beat himself up about it. He said he wasn’t really beating himself up, but that he did feel like he should have had more control. We also figured out that he had thought I understood his question. When he realized I hadn’t, I think he felt even a bit worse. We kept talking as we walked, and made vague plans to hang out the following Wednesday. Those did not pan out.

I think one big difference between MLAM and Former President is that, with MLAM, there is more of a power dynamic, which is partially him, and partially just something that takes time to develop. Also, while I certainly enjoyed the sex, maybe I’m not looking for something quite so sex heavy. One relationship like that is good, but I don’t really need or want more than a couple people I’m having piv with at a given time. I think in the future, it will be a good idea to meet and hang out with someone a couple times before playing or fucking. Definitely holding off on piv sex for a bit in the future. It’s too easy a way to be dominant over someone, and not my primary interest right now.

Pain and Mark Tally:
He spanked me, bit me nice and hard, and grabbed me hard.
I came away with some bruises on my shoulders and sides, and a couple on my inner thigh that neither Former President knew where they came from.

Last night I spent quite a while Skyping with The Super Sadist, a “nice” young man I met off tumblr. We talked for a long time, and he’s genuinely intelligent and interesting, which was fun. We talked about kink and sex and preferences and even feminism. Obviously we both think it’s stupid bullshit thought up by ridiculous cunts and I clearly need to work on wiping the last vestiges of it out of my system. I’m glad he’s on the same page as me on the feminism thing. I wouldn’t play with a man who wasn’t.

After a long conversation, I eventually asked “Do you want to play?” I guess he had enjoyed watching me get off on Friday night, when I first met him, and that he liked the look of me and was curious to see what I would look and sound like while suffering instead of cumming, because he said he did.

His first question was “What do you have around to stick in your butt?” I grabbed my bag of anal toys and showed him the four toys I have, which range from tiny buttplug to gigantic dildo I’ve only gotten in all the way one time. He seemed pleased to see the giant one and we decided I should clean up and call back.

When I came back, he told me I could work up to the big one if I wanted. I considered for a moment, since when I get fucked I don’t do much prep, but decided this time it would be a good life choice. It definitely was the right choice in this instance, because his nickname is The Super Sadist for a reason. I started putting lube on and then was a stupid, but properly behaved, bitch and threw myself under the bus by asking, “Can I use lube?” I didn’t have to say that. He gave no indication that he wasn’t going to let me use lube. There would have been nothing outwardly disobedient if I hadn’t asked. But I still did because I thought of it, and if I think of a clarification to ask for and the answer could make my life more difficult, I really should ask.

He thought for a bit as I sat there with fingers crossed. He told me that I could use lube on the smaller ones I was using to get myself ready for the big one. I sighed in relief because I’ve never actually had anything in my ass sans lube before. I used plenty of lube as I used my second biggest dildo to loosen myself up. When I felt ready, I grabbed the big one and, positioning myself so he could see what he wanted, I started to push it in. There was enough lube that it went in fairly easily, considering the fact that it has obnoxious ridges.

Finally, after a fair amount of groaning and grimacing, I’d pushed it in as far as it could go. It wasn’t entirely bottomed out, but it just wasn’t going anywhere. I told him it was in as far as it could go, and he said okay. I wanted to do my best, so I tried one last push and said “Yup. Definitely in as far as it can go.” and he told me “I believed you the first time.” I guess I don’t come across as a lazy sub who will lie to wiggle out of the last bit of dildo.

I looked at him to inquire what to do next and he said “Now take it out. Duh.” so I pulled the damn thing almost all the way out. He had me fuck my ass with it, pushing it in as far as I could, then pulling it almost out. After a little while he instructed me to pick up the pace, so I went faster. He seemed to be enjoying my expressions of pain and discomfort, and the trembling/shaking I was doing. It’s good to know that even at a distance I can still manage to provide entertainment via suffering.

Fucking my ass with the large dildo was difficult and uncomfortable, but eventually I got loose enough that it didn’t really hurt anymore. The Super Sadist noticed and asked if it hurt less. I was, of course, honest, and told him that it did. He told me to use a bigger dildo and I told him I was using the biggest one I have. He wanted me to use something else, but I said I didn’t have anything rated for anal penetration. Then I thought of a compromise that would achieve the goal of making it more difficult and painful, and I offered it right up to him. I said that I could wipe the thing off, since there was lube in my ass and on it from when I was loosening myself up with the smaller dildo. I knew it was going to be super unpleasant, but he wanted to watch me suffer more, so I also knew I had to do it.

After I wiped the dildo off, he had me push it back in. The first bit was still fairly easy since there was still lube in my ass, but after an inch or two, it was rough going. Still, I managed to get it in as far as it would go. I was wondering in what he’d have me do next, and I was worried he’d have me fuck myself with it more, now that they was little lube left. That’s not what he did. What he did sucked just as much, if not more.

“Hit it,” he ordered. I was a little out of it, it realized he wanted me to hit the dildo in, so it would slam up against me inside. I did so, but not as hard as I should have he told me “Again.” and I repeated my efforts, not improving much. We continued this for a while, him chastising me for hesitation and saying be didn’t want any of this self-preservation instinct bullshit. He’s right, of course. Having those instincts is fine, but when they’re interfering with a man’s pleasure, then they become a problem.

I kept up with the hitting, feeling it smacking against my insides, making me twitch and moan. Eventually, he had me pull it out most of the way, which sucked, since most of the lube was no longer slick. I wasn’t sure what he was going to have me do next, but I was worried he was going to have me shove it back in. He didn’t. He told me to hit the bottom of the dildo and to hammer it in. I started doing that, still with my ridiculous hesitation. I did start improving, though, especially when he told me that the timer between strikes started when he said “Again,” not when I actually hit the dildo. That motivated me to do better, to go faster. He started leaving less time between strikes, just long enough for me to catch my breath. That also helped, because I had to focus on the next thing I was going to do, not think of worry about the pain I was going to experience.

Next, he told me to slap my cunt after each strike. I took a deep breath and spread my legs a little wider. After in did this a few times, I thought back to Friday night with Marxman, and how he’d made me hit my cunt with the mean rubber paddle. Then I just dove head first under the bus like the over eager cunt I am and told him about the paddle. I said that I would probably be able to hit myself harder, or at least cause more pain if I used the paddle. Then I proceeded to give him all of the information about the damn tool, including the fact that one side is meaner than the other. Luckily, he must have been feeling generous, because he allowed me to use the less harsh side. I told him that telling him about the paddle was one of the dumbest things I’d done in terms of offering up data that would result in suffering for me. He laughed at me and agreed.

I started using my closed fist to hit the dildo, since that allowed me to hit harder. Each time, I would hammer it in, then strike my cunt with the paddle. I curled up a little and groaned in pain each time, but each time returned back to position as soon as I was able. I wasn’t doing that great with the paddle, so I said I should hit multiple times, since that would get rid of hesitation and I’d hit harder, or else I’d at least be hitting multiple times. I did this for a while, and then he increased the number of times I had to hit the dildo, and had me hitting my hole with the edge of the paddle. After doing this for a little, and after a particularly hard hit to the dildo, I felt lightheaded, whether from the pain or not breathing right, I wasn’t sure. He allowed me a moment to start breathing correctly. Then I kept hitting the dildo and smacking my cunt for a decent while. We did interrupt to talk a little and tell offensive jokes about women, but other than that, I kept hurting myself while he watched.

Finally, he told me to pull it out more. When I did, I managed to pull it all the way out like a dumbass. He started to tell me to push it all the way back in, but allowed me to avoid doing that this time, since I needed to go to sleep soon. He had me shown him how stretched I was by pulling my asshole open for him with two fingers. It was a humiliating thing to do, so of course I liked it. He told me I’d done a good job, which made me smile. I’m a sucker for praise like that from doms and tops. It motivates me. Makes me want to be good and push myself to do anything told.

Playing with The Super Sadist was an interesting experience. He’s younger than I am, whereas pretty much every one else I’ve played with is a year or two, or, more frequently, four or more years older than I am. I wasn’t sure I’d have the same urge to please him as I have with those older people. That was not the case. Although I did laugh at myself once or twice, looking in at what I was doing, I wanted to do a good job, to please him. Part of that was likely the fact that I want to be good when men want to use me, because that’s what my owner wants me to do. But part of it was my desire to submit and his attitude. He has a casual domination style, making me feel like he was amused, disdainful, uncaring, entertained at my expense, and maybe even mildly bored, all at the same time. I wanted to behave, to please him, to hold his attention. I wanted to do what he was telling me to do. Especially when he was saying “Again” over and over, rapidly, and when he was clearly enjoying my pain.

I enjoyed being useful to him, despite the suffering. It was a new kind of pain and discomfort than other people have given me, especially with the added challenge of having to do everything to myself. He was unmoved (at least unmoved to sympathy) by any of the reactions I had, and he clearly enjoyed watching my struggle, pain, and discomfort on a number of different levels. He’s a mean fucker, and I like it.

My date with Lioness was amazing and a little bit scary. I was doubly nervous. Nervous because she’s a woman, and nervous because she’s very toppy/dommy. I was right to be nervous.

She selected a ramen place for us to go to and picked me up at the train station. As we drove, we chatted about our days and various other topics. She told me she prefers driving manual, “because I like control,” as she smiled at me. She nodded and said that most girls are like that when I informed her I don’t have much experience with women. I told her about my first date rules. She wasn’t at all bothered, and when we got out of the car,by he said that she liked that I had those rules.

As we walked to the bank for her to get cash, she punched me in the arm and asked “Does that hurt?” I don’t think any of the men who use me would ever dare to do that in such a public setting. [It’s both useful, because I enjoy being hurt in public, and concerning, because abuse happens in same-sex couples (and to men from women) as well, and the idea of abuse as something men do to women can get in the way of victims seeking help.] I dutifully told her that it did hurt, but the other side hurt more. I also told her that my left calf still hurts when I walk. If someone wants to use me that way, I should tell them those sorts of thing so that they can either avoid them, or, more likely with the way I should be treated, focus in on them.

As we walked out of the bank, I told her that I like being hurt in public and having to pretend everything is normal. Throwing myself under the bus, per usual. She liked this, and soon started grabbing me and digging her nails into my skin. She pulled my hair some, and pushed me around, as well. In the middle of walking down a not exactly empty city street, in early evening. It was painful, unsettling, and fascinating. I was worried about what other people thought, and tried to make only quiet noises. She enjoyed hearing my little squeaks and whimpers as she pinched me, pushed me, grabbed me, and dug her nails in.

When we got to the ramen place, I walked up the stairs ahead of her, which allowed her to grab and squeeze my left calf, making me help and grab the railing to avoid tripping. She gave me a grin as we put our names in and, as she had warned me would probably happen, were told there would be an hour long wait. I would normally never wait that long, but they had a system and she gave them her number. We headed out to get a drink while we waited.

We went across the street for cocktails and sat at a table. She started doing the most upsetting thing she did all night: maintaining eye contact. Whenever I looked at her, she was looking right at me, her dark eyes watching my discomfort. I told her it made me uncomfortable, which got a “Good.” in response. We started talking about ourselves and kink, and at some point during the conversation, she told me “I’m like a big cat,” which made me grin, thinking about her nickname, “Lioness.” I told her about that, and she liked it. She told me that I was her prey, and I realized that exactly how I felt. I wanted to impress her and behave in order to appease her. The look in her eyes was the look of a hungry predator. None of the men in my life look at me like that, even the sadistic ones. She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me. When I said that, she smiled at me and said, “I do.”

At some point during the night she said I was like a “little mouse” and started calling me that in an affectionate and dangerous way.

We continued talking and discussed what she enjoys. She very much likes control of all kinds. She really likes to hurt people, both physically and mentally. She informed me that she likes crying, and bringing people to “Yellow.” Somewhat proudly, she told me that she had played with a woman who was known as a heavy bottom and she brought that woman to use her safeword. When I told her about the fact that I have to ask a man for permission to orgasm, she seemed mildly interested, but not at all bothered by it. That was a relief, since I was concerned how a dominant woman might react to something like that.

When the topic of limits came up, I told her I don’t so much have any anymore, especially with MLAM. I mentioned scat and vomit, which she said she was also not into and then I mentioned “other people’s blood.” That made her give me a smile and a look, and then she asked, “And what about your blood?” I looked away, as kept doing the whole night and looked at the wall as I told her that was something that I’m interested in, but that it scares me. She told me that she would tear my back up with scratching. Basically guaranteed. That’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with, as men, or at least the men I’ve played with, aren’t so much for the scratching. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it. Of course, as MLAM reminded me earlier today, what I can take isn’t the point. I’ll take what Lioness dishes out.

I was feeling antsy and a little overwhelmed, but she did reassure me of several things, which made me more comfortable, although actually being comfortable was not in the cards for a little mouse out on a date with a lioness. She said she definitely wants me to use my safewords when I need to, and that at least the first few times she checks in what some might consider “too much.” I don’t mind that at all. MLAM does similar things, and it makes me feel safe letting go and pushing myself. She also told me that if I ever wanted to just hang out and talk, or have sex without kink, that was fine, too. She gets “lots of play,” so if I’m not up for things some evening, we don’t have to do them.

When we finally returned to the restaurant for our ramen, we were seated at the bar, which was relaxing for me, since it meant way less eye contact. Relaxing at first, that is. Then she started hurting me. She put her hand on my lower back, under my shirt and dug her claws in, scratching up. It hurt in a stingy, long-lasting way. I squirmed a bit much and she did stop. She told me that was an example scratch and asked how I liked it. I told her it was a lot, and I wasn’t used to that sort of pain, and that I’d probably take it better out of public. She understood and switched to other ways of hurting me for the time being. At one point, she dug her nails in deep into my left thigh, lifted and pulled, shook it several times, lightened her grip so I thought it was over, and then she shook it again. It was all I could do to keep semi normal in appearance. That nail dig left marks. Luckily the ramen place was both loud and dark. 

Eventually we finished and walked back to her car. She started smoking a cigarette, and when we got to her car, she said, “You want to be my ashtray, huh?” and we discussed what that might look like. Tapping ash into my mouth, of course, and possibly leaving cigarette burns elsewhere on my body. She drove me back to the train station and, of course, hurt me along the way, including slapping my tit. She told me that she enjoyed our time together and wants to see me again. She informed me, in a matter of fact way, that she almost never asks for a second meeting. “Most people bore me,” she said. I don’t bore her. That’s both good and bad for me. It makes me feel special and eager to please, but of course, what she finds not boring about me is that I’m fun to hurt.

When we stopped at the station, I got my things and then shyly asked if she wanted a kiss. She said yes, and I leaned in, expecting a nice, soft girl kiss. Stupid little mouse. She bit my lip and my tongue and grabbed me hard. Eventually it stopped, but she kept a grip on me with her nails. I asked in a small voice, “Do you want me to get out of your car?” She responded, “Get out of my car” in a dismissive voice. Before I walked away, she told me to let her know when I got home safely. I boarded the train full of subby, happy, somewhat overwhelmed feelings

When I got home, I saw that MLAM had texted me, and I told him a bit about her and the date. He asked how she handled my first date rules, and I reported that nothing seemed to phase her, including the fact that I have to ask a man for permission to cum. I also told him that the Lioness is the person who I’d told him about who smokes and wants to use me as an ashtray. His response was to say “tell her I’d like to talk to her.” Gulp.

I asked if he could tell me what he wanted to talk to her about, or if it wasn’t for me to know. Of course he said, “None of your business, bitch. Let the adults talk.” I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I liked that. A lot. It worked well, considering they’re both older than I am by a decent number of years, and since she’s a woman, “Let the men talk” or something similar doesn’t work. Plus, calling me bitch and pointing out that I’m not a real adult was a good mix of name calling, condescension, and insulting both my intelligence and maturity. Being counted as not one of the adults and being condescended to reminds me of my physical and mental inferiority and makes me feel submissive.

I gave her his contact info this morning and she told me she would text him later today. She also called me “little mouse” again, and it’s just so perfect. Normally I’d say I’m “nervcited,” about two people collaborating in topping me, but with the these two beautiful, intelligent, and most concerning of all, sadistic, people, it’s more like scared and nervous and curious and anxious and feeling stupid that I’m excited. My life is going to get a lot more interesting, fun, difficult, and painful.

So, this post is about the happy hour before the most recent one. Oops.

I was feeling sort of eh about getting tied at happy hour. I’ve gotten lots of rope lately and I didn’t want to monopolize Boy Genius. Well, of course that changed when I got there.

Breastie and I got Chipotle before going to happy hour. Things were running late all along my way there, but I realized I’m no longer anxious about being late anymore. We’re getting to be regulars, and the person at the door remembered us. 

When we got in, people were all already talking, so Breastie and I did our thing of getting our vodka crans and sitting in the corner of a bench to talk. We chatted for a while, and I showed her some pictures of the rope I’d been in the day before. After not too long, Boy Genius came over and introduced us to a couple people. He’s very good at being leadery and outreachy. We talked a bit with them, and then more with Breastie.  She teased me about wanting to go upstairs as quickly as possible, which, you know, I did. But of course, she was doing that because she didn’t want to be the first one up there herself. Eventually Boy Genius started trying someone, and we went up to watch. And make ourselves available.

We watched for a while, and when he was done, he came over and said “I’m a planner, and I have three things.” It was pretty cute. The first of the things was that he wanted to do some rope dancing with Breastie. Then he said about her, “She needs to learn more. She’s clearly a prodigy.” and suggested that they both tie me, which I was more than okay with. Finally, he asked me if I’d done my homework. That week’s assignment had been to get off five times thinking about the things he did and said to me. I told him that yes, I had, through much difficulty. That piqued his interest and he sat down and asked about it. I told him that I’d had to use a shoe that week every time I masturbated and that I’d had to ruin five of my orgasms. He was pretty curious and asked “Who’s making you do these things?” I responded, “My friend, MLAM… My owner.”

Boy Genius took Breastie away and tied her, including some nice and tight things, and basically punching her tits, which was fun to watch without being able to hear the conversation they were having. While that was happening, I got to talk to a really pretty queer lady. Sigh.

Then Breastie was done and he went to tie other people. I wasnt concerned about not getting a chance to get tied because he already said he had plans. Plus, I’d gotten all kinds of rope play the day before. Breastie and I watched him tie and be super cute with this pretty lady. When he was done being totes adorbs and cuddling afterwards, he came over to us. I whipped off my sundress, and we got started.

He talked to both of us and did a bit of terminology about different ties, and then offered to teach a two column tie. I gave him my wrists, and as he showed us the basics, I joked, “Be meaner!” to which he responded that he would be mean later. He demonstrated the utility of the tie just wrapping and using tension and pulling and twisting and sigh. Then it was Breastie’ turn. He showed it to her, and after just a couple tries, she picked it right up.

We were off a little ways and two people came up to Boy Genius and asked if he would show them some things. He agreed and then turned to us and asked if it was okay if this “other couple” joined in. I almost corrected him, but really, we are basically a platonic kink couple. Breastie and I just started doing our own thing. She did me again, being meaner this time. When she was twisting, I told her, “Harder, bitch!” We were both giggling and grinning, and it was very nice and painful when she twisted and pulled tight.

Next, she offered to teach me the two column tie because she felt good enough about it. Now, I hate learning in public, which is probably pretty common. I also have a weird thing where I hate learning from people who know a lot more than me. I know, I know. That’s exactly who I should be learning from. I just…especially in public, and with physical things and things involving fine motor skills, I have a pretty steep learning curve, and I get flustered and embarrassed. She pointed out that we had some privacy, and we did. Boy Genius was focusing on teaching the other couple. Also, she is a quicker study than me, but not so much more advanced that I’m embarrassed to fuck up in front of her. So I agreed. Good choice!

I eventually got it, and then the fun part started. I wrapped her up and was pulling things tight and twisting. She hadn’t done things like that before, but hypothesizes that she has a high pain tolerance, so I pulled and twisted hard, like I like. Well, Breastie certainly enjoyed it and said that she gets why I like it. We played like that back and forth, giggling and tease each other with derogatory and sexist names, often going both directions. We were basically parodying the fucking with my feminism and consensual misogyny that I do with MLAM and Legolas.

Soon enough, I noticed that the bar was fuller than it had been in the past, and we’d drawn a bit of a crowd. I suppose two hot women, one in just panties, tying each other up and giggling and saying mean things to each other and having all kinds of fun is a pretty appealing site. It was fun to know people were watching, except when this “aggressively drunk” (Breastie’s very accurate description) man came up and said “Can I buy you two a drink?” She declined, saying she had to drive. I said “Sure! I’ll have a Diet Coke!” he said, “And?” “Diet Coke, ” I repeated. “And?” “Diet Coke.” “And?” “I just want Diet Coke!” I suppose that wasn’t the kind of drink he wanted to get me, because he wondered off.

Breastie spun me out of the last wrap I was in, which was totally adorable. I saw that Boy Genius was unoccupied, and I poked at her to hand me off to him. She did so wonderfully, saying, “I think this thing wants to be used by someone who knows what he’s doing.” I added that of course I only wanted him to do it if he wanted to, and he said something about doing chores. I objected somehow, and he responded, “If you’re a thing, it’s a chore to use you.” I suppose it can be, I suppose it can.

He said that since Breastie and I had been doing abstract things (which is an overly positive way to say we were just doing random shit), he would do something more structured. I’d been teasing him most of the night to be mean, and that was definitely a good choice. He put me in an arm binder, which was pretty uncomfortable, so I was a fan. Then he wrapped my chest very tight and I couldn’t breathe normally, which is a situation I very much enjoy being in. When the same aggressively drunk guy who had come over to Breastie and me approached Boy Genius and me with the offer to buy us a drink, Boy Genius promptly told him to step back, for which I was grateful. He muttered something about “looks like the locals are here” to me and continued tying. He flattened my tits a lot with the rope and then oops my left nipple started leaking.  He sent Breastie to get a bar napkin, and brought the rope down around my right thigh, looking to give me another bruise to match the one he’d left on my left. He also asked if I had a bruise there, and I did (the ones I give myself), to which he responded “Good” and pulled hard. He pulled everything tight and asked me if it was mean enough. “Yes, sir.” “What?” “Yes, sir." 

When he was untying me, I got saucy and said, "Could be a little meaner.” Those words just work wonders, because he took the ends of the rope and whipped my thighs with them. He’d done that before, but this time he actually hit me hard. It stung like fuck. He did it just enough times that it hurt a lot. I wanted to take as much as I could, but I might have safeworded if he’d done one or two more. Later, I was talking with Breastie about the whipping with the rope, saying I thought that didn’t bode well for my ability to take actual whipping, and commented that he stopped at just the right point. She noted that he’d been watching my face the whole time, and we talked about how important it is to be able to read people and their bodies. He’s pretty great at it. Breastie doesn’t want to get all huggy and close after, and he doesn’t try to initiate that, even though he clearly loves it, and he offers her rope that isn’t as intimate.

Before we left, Boy Genius said that he wasn’t going to give me any homework this time because, “It seems like you’ve got a lot up in the air.” He’s sweet. His homework is usually about me getting off, so it wouldn’t have been any hardship for me if he’d given me some, but I appreciated the sentiment. 

This little slut got treated the way she needs to be treated. Entirely unexpectedly, because I had somehow gotten the impression there was less chance of play at this happy hour. Boy was I wrong as fuck.

Legal Lolita and I walked in just a little while after the happy hour began, per the plan. The few people who were there greeted us, and the person who had messaged me on Fet and OkCupid (C4 now, for various reasons) came over and introduced himself. We chatted for a while, and he gave a good introductory spiel about the community and how no one should touch you without your permission, and that there are indeed predators within the community, etc. He and Legal Lolita got into a discussion about race fetishism, and I felt a bit left out for a while, as they were turned off to the side, but it was fascinating to listen to. At one point, C4 pulled out some rope and said that there would be rope going on in the back, and I was like “Is that open for anyone? Can I make an appointment for that?” because oops guess I went from somewhat interested in rope to rope slut in about three sessions of being tied.

Various other social interactions occurred and we met a few other people. Then C4 introduced us to Legolas, this hot redhead. He was introduced as an experienced rope top and all around good person. C4 made a point of saying that Legolas would like Legal Lolita. And as the rest of the evening played out, yes, yes he did.

After that introduction, Legal Lolita and I sat at the bar for a while and talked. We went to pee, and she got an upsetting message from a partner. We wandered into the room next door to talk about things. We weren’t there for more than a minute or two when C4 came over and started taking out his rope, and Legolas came over and did the same. C4 had me pick out a color, and at first I was mildly disappointed because he’d said that Legolas was meaner, but the disappointment was incredibly mild, and paled in comparison to my interest in how Legal Lolita would enjoy that sort of play, especially since it was her first time being tied. Excellent choices all around.

I honestly can’t tell you much about the scene that Legal Lolita and Legolas did (other than that she very much enjoyed it), because I became entirely engrossed in what was happening to me. In a similar vein, this may be slightly out of chronological order because I can never get even the order of things in vanilla sex down perfectly, much less kink.

First C4 just did a couple of cuffs and pulled me around a bit, getting a sense of my body and what I enjoyed and how I reacted to various interactions. I made sure to indicate that I enjoyed it when he pulled me closer, and he could tell, and did more of that. He untied those and then put some knots into a rope and threaded it through my legs, up and tied it into a harness. He asked if I wanted to have my arms tied behind me and I said “Yes please.” Once he’d gotten things how he wanted, he tightened it all up, and almost picked me up just with the rope, making it dig into my cunt in a painful and really lovely way.

He asked about putting a hand on my neck, which I enthusiastically agreed to. He said something about being the an artist with chokes and I asked what he meant. The answer was, obviously, that he’s good at it. I inquired further and he said he doesn’t do air chokes, just blood, and I expressed interest. Since my arms were behind my back, fluttering my eyelashes was mas safeword/signal.

Well, he did it for a little and I safeworded and slumped against him for a bit, before he pushed me back against the wall and did it again. This time, it was longer before I safeworded, and it was pretty intense. When he stopped, it was basically like coming to, like I’d been knocked out, but just shy of that. I took a moment to recover slightly, and asked him to do it again, and he did. The next thing I knew, I was slowly coming back from being completely out. Feeling myself regain awareness, the sounds of the bar slowly filtering back in, starting to feel my body again, to feel him supporting me…It was intoxicating.

We spoke briefly and he asked if I wanted to sit down, and yes, yes I did. He took the rope off me at that point, and then I sat in his lap and he held me. I honestly felt bad that I hadn’t warned him that I was interested in being completely out, although I didn’t get choked out on purpose at all, not that first time. I reassured him that although I hadn’t intended to be choked out, exactly, it was a result I was very happy with and that it was something I’d been wanting to try. He informed me that I’m easy to choke out (he hadn’t been intending to the first time, either), which is a good thing for me to know and be able to communicate to partners. I wonder how much of that ease might have been related to the fact that I’d had a couple drinks and had definitely not had enough water that day. I asked him for comments or suggestions for improvement, and he said he couldn’t really think of any way it could have gone better (unless he had been fucking me, of course), but did call me out for being dehydrated. I hadn’t realized play was really an option, so wasn’t as hydrated as I would have been if I’d realized that. Next time, water bottle is coming with me, and I’m sticking to one drink at most, maybe just pop.

After I’d come out of that state, he had me spin around so that I was straddling him and could grind on him. He also asked for a kiss. I agreed and hooo buddy. His kissing style matches mine well. Not super hard, didn’t open his mouth too wide, excellent. I told him normally I don’t like kissing, but that I liked his style, and he told me that he normally doesn’t kiss, but that he felt connected after choking me out. Very sweet.

Since I’d calmed down, he started playing with me again while we were sitting there. Various degrading things were said, hair was pulled, more conversation was had. At one point I was answering him and he told me that when I’m in his ropes or in his lap, “I think you should call me ‘sir.’” I thanked him. I like calling people sir, but I also don’t want to just do that, since some people may have a negative thing about it.

One particular thing he did was using the word “harlot” instead of “slut,” which was something that grew on me, especially when he grabbed my throat and squeezed and instructed me “Tell me you are one or I’ll choke it out of you.”

We played a bit more with the choking, and with him saying things to me and me grinding into him. One of the things he said a couple times was mentioning taking me into the other room and fucking me. Well, eventually he said something about the best part of me being reduced to a puddle of submission is how open to suggestion I was, and mentioned going into the other room again. I agreed again, but this time, he told me to go there. We went to the bathrooms (both single occupancy, yeah!)and when one opened up, he pushed me inside and locked the door behind him.

He did choke me out entirely once while we were in there, and I yellowed and asked him not to do it again. Mainly out of concern for my safety/mental state. I loved coming out of it though. The floaty feeling, the uncertainty, the slight amount of fear, especially given being somewhat alone with him, the feeling of coming to while being held.

He asked me about STIs and I told him I was free, although had had a small scare with someone whipping off a condom. (Reminds me, I ought to go get tested again sometime in the next couple weeks. Not actually worried about anything, but it’s about time.) I also noted to him that I wasn’t on hormonal birth control, and he said, “Well, that’s okay. I’ve had a vasectomy.” Now, this does interest me, because I’d like to see what unprotected piv is like. But, as I said to him, while I trust him to choke me out, I don’t actually feel comfortable trusting him so much that I’d have unprotected sex.

He sat down and had me sit in his lap, stuck his fingers in my mouth for spit, and then rubbed my clit and started to get me off. I told him it would take a while, and he said that then we’d be there for a while. I really wanted to, but it just wasn’t going to happen for a number of reasons. After enjoying the feeling for a while, I told him I was going to have to disappoint him because I wasn’t going to be able to get off. He said it wasn’t disappointing, that all our bodies are different and he was very sweetly understanding.

Then, of course, he pushed me down to the ground and had me take his cock out. I held it and looked up at him and asked if he had a condom or recent test results, and he asked me to just stroke it. I told him that I would lick him, just not put my mouth on the head/would avoid those various fluids.

So, there I was, on the floor of a bar men’s room, licking and kissing the cock of a man I’d never met before. It felt right. Even in the moment, I thought to myself that I was being a good slut, offering up as much of myself as I could, while keeping my bodily health/safety in mind. Not for my sake, mind, but to keep me usable for other people.

He eventually pulled me to my feet and said that he wasn’t going to cum since I hadn’t. I told him that was sweet, but not necessary. he looked around for my panties and found them around my ankles. He kneeled down and said he’d help, then licked his thumb and rubbed my clit for a bit, gave me a few licks, and I half-melted right there.

He asked if he could give me a bite, and I said yes. He bit me nice and hard where my neck and shoulder meet. Then, he gave me the instruction that next time I came, I was to grab that bite, and then I wasn’t allowed to cum again. I explained to him that would contradict instructions from other people, since I’m supposed to get off five times before I see Boy Genius again, per his instruction. C4 kindly changed it so that I just have to grab the bite my next orgasm.

I have to say, when I told C4 that I wasn’t going to cum, part of that had been out of concern that I might not be able to follow MLAM’s punishment to ruin my next five (now four) orgasms. If I run into truly contradictory instructions, MLAM’s instructions will always take precedence, since he’s the one who owns me, and graciously loans me out for use by others.

C4 told me to straighten myself up and that he was going to leave and I should lock the door behind him and come find him when I was done. I did so, and I’m pretty sure the group of people who were waiting outside the bathroom had asked someone to unlock it from the outside, because someone opened the door before I was able to. Everyone knew what I’d been doing. Of course, what I’d been doing was being a proper slut, like I ought to have been doing. Being used for C4’s pleasure, making his cock hard.

When I got back to where we’d four been hanging out, I sat with C4 for a while longer. I told him I felt bad for monopolizing his time, and he said that if I wanted to go, I could. I said that no, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to take up his time if he’d rather be doing something else. He grabbed my hair and pulled me back, bending me backwards away from him and said something like, “Do I look like the sort of person who stays somewhere they don’t want to be or does something they don’t want to do?” (Absurdly hot, that). Of course, the answer was “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

We cuddled a little while longer and then he went and talked to people. Legal Lolita was done with her scene, and we went and got water together. The sexy bartender chatted with her a bit and when she said she’d recently finished law school, he gave us free shots. I also made sure to drink water because oof. I was definitely dehydrated. We went back and chatted with C4 and Legolas some more, and discussed capitalization of “dom” (they don’t.) I asked C4 about when we might hang out one on one, and he pushed it to an undefined future date, but was clearly very interested. I’m so excited to get play!

As we were leaving the bar, Legolas was also leaving, and he gave each of us a hug, and I said to him “This one says you’re mean. Play next time?” and he said yes and eeeee! Because when we got back to Legal Lolita’s apartment, we looked at his okcupes and tumblr and holy crap. He’s all queer and feministy and also into consensual misogyny (very in line with what I call “playing with my feminism”), degradation, punishment, pain, and being a mean fucker. SO EXCITE!

I am SO VERY FUCKING glad that Legal Lolita came out with me and we were able to have those experiences and meet such lovely dommy friendly people.

Note: Below the break there is a lot of discussion of piss play. 
It’s fairly gross.

As I said in my earlier post, I was not able to follow MLAM’s instructions for my first date with Former President.  I was told that I was not to piss until I got home from my date, and I pissed well before that.

When I left Former President’s apartment, I texted MLAM and told him that I hadn’t kept to his instructions. I’d tried very hard, but failed.  I told him that I felt terrible for disappointing him and that I understood I’d need to be punished. To be honest, the instruction to drink water and then not piss until I got back from my date was pretty emotionally taxing within the context of the play.  I wanted so badly to do what he said and to not be a disappointment, but I also wanted to be able to enjoy my time with Former President and not to have to cut it short. 

MLAM did tell me that I was a good girl and had the perfect response, which made me feel slightly better.  I tried to accurately express how I felt, and to do so the best way possible, since I had already failed once. 

When we had a Skype date the Monday after my date, MLAM told me that he had been thinking of a punishment for me. (While he was giving a presentation. Because obviously. I envy that boy’s brain, I swear) He told me that I needed to find a shot glass, and asked if I had any double-sized ones. I said I might not and asked if I could just use a paper bathroom cup.  He said no, since he wanted there to be more violation than that. He didn’t give any more information than that. I said I’d get a shot glass from where they were packed away and let him know when I had one. 

MLAM also informed me that I am now to do the same thing on all future first dates, drink a bottle of water before I go, and to not piss until I get home.

I told Legal Lolita and Breastie about what he had said and guessed with them that this punishment was that it was going to be having to drink a shot of piss, or something like that.  I was ready and willing to do so.  Boy, did I underestimate MLAM.

On Wednesday, I found my shot glasses and brought them up to my room.  I texted MLAM to tell him, but noted that I was going to be staying in a hotel with my parents from Thursday through Sunday.  He responded, “I don’t mind where you are, pisswhore.” and told me that I needed to keep the shot glass with me and drink at least 5 bottles of water a day.  Each time I peed for two days, starting the next day, I was to drink a shot glass full of it.  He said, “This is to remind you that I have control over what goes in AND out of your body, cunt.”

I said “Yes, sir.  Of course.” and told him that I did not have a double shot glass. I asked if I should use an espresso cup or if a normal shot glass was acceptable. And I told him that I assumed I should pick a shot glass with emotional significance.

He told me that I could use a normal shot glass, but that I’d need to do two shots each time, and that yes, he wanted me to feel as violated as possible while doing the punishment.

I picked this shot glass:

It’s one of my first shot glasses, I’m pretty sure I bought it while with close friends from undergrad, I used it throughout undergrad, and it’s definitely my favorite.  And of course, the idea of using a glass that praises vaginas while being punished and treated like a filthy pisswhore.

I woke up groggy the next morning and completely fucked up my very first chance to follow the punishment.  I texted MLAM and told him, apologizing and saying that I intended to do four shots the next time, unless he had something else he wanted me to do.  He did.  Now the punishment would be four days, not just two. That’s the whole time I was going to be in New York with family, which is always stressful.  I felt bad for being a dumb bitch and forgetting, but also was happy to have the punishment extended, as a distraction.  I thanked him for extending it and told him I both deserved it and appreciated the distraction. MLAM noted that the point was to have me drinking piss while with my parents, since “if we’re going to make you into a little fuck toy, might as well take away the sanctity of everything.”

The first time I actually abided by the punishment was when my dad and I stopped to get food on the way to New York. Luckily the bathroom was an individual one, because it was supa gross. I did the first shot quickly, without thinking, because I was worried about doing all four before I was done pissing.  The temperature and the taste threw me, but I did the second one without too much difficulty.  The third and the fourth ones were hard, though. I felt nauseated and spit up after the fourth one. Unsurprisingly, hot, bad tasting, salty liquids aren’t pleasant to do shots of. I noticed afterwards that I had spilled piss on myself and on my clothes, which made me feel even more disgusting. After that, I made sure to take off at least my shirt, or my entire dress. Doing four shots instead of two was definitely a good punishment for fucking up the first time I pissed, because it was almost too much.

I started drinking even more water after that, since it had been so disgusting that I was worried about vomiting. I talked with Legal Lolita and Breastie about how gross it was, and Legal Lolita suggested I think of it as broth. That actually did help, in a way, since I put it in a different mental category, which made the temperature less disconcerting. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat/drink broth again, though. Breastie thought I’d adjust to it, and actually, I did.  Fun fact: When you drink water almost constantly, your urine gets super dilute and almost tasteless. I don’t think I’ve ever been as hydrated as I was the four days of the punishment.

At the end of the first day of punishment, MLAM and I Skyped for a little while, which turned incredibly hot when I said that I wouldn’t be so slutty on first dates anymore, because of the punishment for pissing on them. He responded by doing this mean/derisive/dismissive laugh and saying this really fucking sexy thing about me being a slut with giving up all three holes to Former President and how I pretend to think that I have value, that women are equal, that I use the word heteronormativity without giggling, etc. but just get me near a guy and I spread my legs and undo everything other bitches have tried to accomplish. I was sitting in a public area in the hotel and I was so incredibly turned on and hot and hoooo does he know how to turn on this little feminist bitch. Skyping was also nice and reassuring, because I was feeling a bit uncomfortable and unsettled after a day of the punishment.

I didn’t fuck up again during the four days, and ended up drinking my own piss in my aunt’s bathroom, the hotel bathroom I shared with my parents, a bathroom at the DMV, at a restaurant I was at with my Aunt, a couple other restaurants, and once in a crowded rest stop bathroom. I did the best I could to make sure the shots were large enough, and if I noticed that the first one hadn’t been, I’d do an additional half a shot or more to make up for it.

At one point during the four days, MLAM asked me how I was enjoying drinking my own piss. I told him that that was a strong word for how I felt about drinking it. What I did enjoy, however, was the extreme invasiveness of the punishment.  I was worried about pissing long enough to do both shots and about the taste, so I stayed ultra hydrated the entire time. That meant that I carried my water bottle everywhere, and pissed every few hours (or even more often than that). I even woke up once or twice per night. I wasn’t able to forget for even a moment that I’m a disgusting pisswhore, or that I brought the punishment on myself because I didn’t follow simple instructions and pissed on my date.

Now that it’s basically over, I’m glad I didn’t balk and that I accepted a fitting and well-deserved punishment. This isn’t something I’d do with most partners, or maybe even any other partners, but pushing myself that far for MLAM makes me feel like a good little bitch. I’ve learned my lesson, and I will be changing my behavior on first dates/first-date-like situations. They might be shorter, and they will definitely be less sexual. Although I don’t know if he originally had that result in mind when he gave me that order, this kind of behavior change is a pretty major instance of me altering my life for and giving up control to MLAM. I’m willing to have my interactions with other potential partners be different than they otherwise would be. In deference to an instruction he’s given me. Because of the control that I’ve given up to him. Out of respect for the power he has over me. In order to please him. To be good for him.

It makes me feel owned and possessed. It’s a wonderful feeling.

So, the Monday before last, Legal Lolita and I went to a private rope event at Legolas’ place. We got instructions on what to wear from C4, although really, I would have worn basically the same thing I ended up wearing.

When we got there, I immediately removed my heels because heels make me feel silly a lot of the time. We got introduced to a few people, and chatted a little bit. One of the guys there was introduced to us as “The best rigger in the city…when he’s in the city,” so, basically one of the very best around.

He said he was going to teach people how to do a TK, with a modification he’d made when his bottom had said it wasn’t hard enough. Legolas poked at me to come get tied for this one, and I got up and followed him. We’d texted a bit about what I was looking for, and I said I liked having it be difficult to breathe, painful ties, and being off balance. This fit the bill wonderfully. As he was getting me tied in to the hard point he asked me how it was and I said that it wasn’t too bad. The guy who was teaching commented that that sounded like a challenge. Nope. Not me. Not once, not ever. He had me on my toes, and then tied one of my legs up. I believe I said at that point “not mean enough,” and he pulled me up some more until mmph. It was difficult to breathe and I couldn’t stay stable, and it was not at all comfortable. Mean enough. :D

After Legolas was done with me, I sat around for a while, made an attempt at learning, and ate. After a while, C4 arrived, and asked if he could tie me up. I had to wait and play photographer for Legal Lolita, so we sat for a while talking and him petting me until I was able to snap some shots of her looking lovely in rope. They kept hanging out, and C4 and I went back to the couch. We were talking and he was being dommy and stuff and it was great fun. The only thing that rubbed me the wrong way was when he said something about my pleasure being a mere byproduct of men’s pleasure, and I responded in agreement, saying that my pleasure is an “emergent property” of men’s pleasure. That got me chastised. He’s real big on me not thinking while I’m subbing. Now, don’t get me wrong, part of why I like being in that role is that it lets me give up control and planning to someone else. However, a big part of the reason I like kink is that it makes me think. Not to mention, I’m quite intelligent and can be very entertaining. Intellectual pleasure is just as important as sexual and physical pleasure. If you’re going to use me, use my body AND mind, why dontcha? (Not to be all dualist. You know what I mean.)

C4 tied me and was suitably mean, tightening it around my chest when I said it could be tighter and passed it through my legs and made it fairly uncomfortable to sit. He said some lovely mean things to me, as well.

At some point, Legal Lolita and I swapped men. She and C4 were together on the couch, and I was sitting on the floor. Legolas grabbed my hair and pulled me over to him, which is a move I adore. We spent a little while talking about things, and about him fucking my ass later. After a little while, things started winding down, and when the last person left, Legal Lolita and I definitely give each other looks. I was very interested to see what was going to happen next.

We headed upstairs, to Legolas’ room and the guys discussed what to do with us. Eventually, it was decided, and they tied us back to back against the stripper pole, with our arms up above our heads. Each of them grabbed a Hitachi and went to work. I had Legolas at this point, and he started using the vibrator and his hands on me and being degrading and awful. It was going really well and then all of a sudden I heard Legal Lolita crying. I had no idea what had happened, and Legolas and I stopped for a minute. I could kind of hear them talking, but still wasn’t sure what had happened. Legolas took my arms down from being up over my head, and by the time I finally figured out that C4 had slapped Legal Lolita, I realized that she probably did not want him to be the one comforting her. I almost said something but was still kind of frozen. Finally, I went over to her and asked her if she wanted me. She did, and I put my still tied together wrists over her head and hugged her while she cried. She seemed to be coming out of being upset, and when she blew her nose and it was so very loud, we all laughed, which seemed to break the tension. We went back to playing, which I now know may not have been the best choice, because what had happened wasn’t just that she’d cried from a slap, but that she’d been triggered, and he hadn’t asked about slapping before doing it. It’s not my experience to wrire about, though.

Legal Lolita and I both got back into position, and I asked Legolas to be mean to me for a minute so that I could get back in the right headspace. He told me that he was going to use me and then toss me out into the street without my clothes. “It’s a rough street. You won’t last 20 minutes,” he said. Hhhng. So hot. That got me back in and he continued saying delightfully cruel things to me until I asked him for permission to cum. He gave it to me, and when it was over, he kept the wand on me and asked if I could go for another. I often can’t, and that was the first time I’d ever had an orgasm standing up. But then I realized that I was still crazy turned on, and he got me off a second time. Fuck. Thank you, mister.

We switched the guys again at that point, and C4 told me he wanted what he didn’t get in the bathroom. He started using a Hitachi on me at one point, and tried to force an orgasm out of me. I eventually had to tell him to stop because it was painful and wasn’t going to happen. He apparently hadn’t realized I’d already had two, and understood why I stopped him when I explained. He turned to Legolas and said something like “You took all the fun.” Legolas was all “wevs.”

But he hadn’t taken all the fun! Because then C4 started fucking my cunt, and his cock felt great. I had previously told him I didn’t want to get choked out, but while he was using my hole, I changed my mind and asked him to do it. That was something of a mistake on my part. See, I had a previous boyfriend decide to wake me up with piv when we’d only really discussed waking each other up with hands and mouths. At the time, I was okay, but afterwards, thinking about it, it made me fairly upset. Now I don’t like the idea of waking up to piv in progress. It doesn’t cause me to panic, but it leaves me with a dirty, off kilter feeling to think about it.

I didn’t think things through, but when I came to from being choked, it was akin to waking up to piv. I had to have C4 stop for a minute while I processed things. I think I might be done with being choked out for a while. Except for MLAM. I want him to choke me out, especially now that I know I like it a lot.

C4 and I kept playing, with the sounds of Legal Lolita getting off like whoa in the background. During the play, C4 told me not to apologize, which was a strange thing to me. If I fuck up while I’m in that place, I should apologize, right?.Plus, I apologize too much in real life. It would definitely be an interesting experience to try not to apologize, especially since my reaction to being told “Stop saying you’re sorry” is to say “Oops. I’m sorry!”

After a little while of C4 fucking me, I heard Legolas say something about dping “the stupid one.” (Thats me!) C4 agreed, and Legolas checked in with me and asked if I was up for it, and I somewhat nervously/hesitantly said I was up for trying. They both instantly reassured me that I could say red at any time, and they wouldn’t be grumps about it. C4 asked what Legal Lolita was going to do while this was happening. He suggested she put them in me, and she started to hesitantly agree when I jumped in. I couldn’t tell for sure how she felt about it, but I sure as hell knew how I felt. “No!” Legal Lolita said she’d watch, “for science.”

People shuffled around and I was on top of C4 with his cock in my pussy. Legolas asked if I I was ready, and I said yes. He paused and then asked “Is your ass ready, or are you stupid enough to have me fuck you dry?” I am not that stupid. C4 told me to ask nicely to have Legolas get me ready, and I did. I was all prepared to have two cocks in me, but it didn’t happen. My ass was too tight, and things were just not cooperating. C4 kept fucking me for a while, and at one point Legolas was using my mouth and C4 was using my cunt, which was an interesting experience.

Eventually, Legolas wanted my ass. He roughly pushed me around the bed, and had me lay sideways  and prepare myself. Goddamn. He always reminds me that I love anal. His cock felt great going in and in and this time, in this position, I did manage to take all of it. I’m pretty happy with myself for that. I still need work, though.

He fucked me hard and rough and it was fantastic. At one point, he pushed in and it was a bit much and his response to my reaction was, “Ask me to fuck you harder.” So I did. Jesus fuck that was hot. It did hurt somewhat towards the end, and although I made some sounds, when he asked if they were complaints, I said no. He responded that was good, because he doesn’t care. At one point be told me, “Shut. Up. This isn’t about you.” I fucking loved that. While he was using my hole, he was making some very sexy noises, too. When he was about to cum, he pulled out and gave me the promised facial.

While he was stroking his cock, he looked me in the eyes and told me that he hated me. That he didn’t respect me. That I was just a traitor to my gender. He said very mean, harsh things, and it turned me on so fucking much. I absolutely loved it. He came all over my face. A lot.

He got up and said, “How do you feel?” I could only respond “Used.” He told me, “Well, you look used.”  I was just completely spent from the rope and the orgasms and the piv and the anal and the things he’d said and I just laid there, used up.

Legolas tossed a towel at me, and I was going to ask C4 to cum on my face as well, since that’s what I’d offered MLAM. But then I wanted to make sure C4 knew why I was asking. I started to say something, but there was cum all over my face and getting in my nose and it bubbled on my lips when I tried to talk, and I just lost it. I buried my face in the towel and cracked the fuck up. It felt fan-fucking-tastic.

Earlier, after he was done using my hole, Legolas had said something along the lines of “Barely adequate.” Later, he came back over and was being nice, and told me I did great. I grinned at him and said, “Not just adequate?” He was supes adorbs and pretended to whisper that I’d done great so  the others wouldn’t hear. IIRC, he said I made him cum hard. What a good slut I can be.

C4 left, and Legal Lolita asked if I needed cuddles. I didn’t really need a lot of aftercare, exactly. Her presence didn’t ruin anything by any means, but it did keep me from getting super into the headspace for the most part. I was thinking about her and wanting her to be happy and feel good about what was happening, so I kept more of the intelligent, analyzing Little Feminist Bitch at the front of my mind than I usually do. As a result, I didn’t let the things that were said and done hit me as hard or as fully as usual. I did want cuddles, though, plus, I wasn’t sure if I might  get upset later, so having them preemptively seemed like a good idea.

I invited Legal Lolita to join us cuddling, as well, and we chatted and giggled and I felt great. We left after not too long, because Legolas usually goes to bed pretty early, and because I had plenty of driving still to do. I ended up getting home pretty damn late, but I really enjoyed the evening, excepting, of course,  the problems with poor consent practices, and Legal Lolita getting triggered. I’m looking forward to the next one, which will probably involve more getting tied up and learning, and less sex and bad things. 

I sit in my Ann Arbor apartment, waiting for you to text me and tell me you’re here. I’m excited, since I haven’t seen you in weeks, and nervous, for the same reason. I fiddle with the hem of my dress. It’s a red, clingy thing. The sleeveless cut, and tight fit make it suitable for going out to a club or a party, not for sitting around in my apartment, and I feel a bit silly. But I didn’t pick it out because it would make me comfortable. I picked it out because I think you’ll like it. At least I hope you will. Standing up, I walk to the bathroom, walking in heels I’ve finally mastered in order to wear them for you. They’re the black ones with the heels I say are ridiculously high, but I know you’ve said you liked my ass in them. I look in the mirror and make a face. I never wear makeup, but I am now. Not much, just some eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick, but to me it feels like a lot.

Finally, my phone buzzes. You’re here! Taking a deep breath, I walk out my door and up the stairs to let you in. I grin when I see you waiting in the entrance, and you smile back. I open the door and you put down your stuff to give me a big hug. We go downstairs and into my apartment, talking about things like my drive up to Ann Arbor and who we’re going to see the next day and all the vegan food I plan to eat. We sit on my couch, still talking, and when I finish what I’m saying, you look at me and say in that voice, “I do like that dress, the way it shows off your tits and your ass, but didn’t you offer me something, cunt? Something about not wearing any clothes while we’re in this apartment together?” I jump a little, feeling myself grow warm. “Oh, shit. Yes. Sorry, sir.” I stand up and start to take off the dress, but you tell me to stop and give me a push. “Bedroom. Now. Crawl.” I get down onto my hands and knees and crawl in my dress and heels to my room.

“Take the clothes off and sit on the bed.” I comply, pulling the dress over my head and slipping off the heels. I sit on the bed, arms up, hands behind my head, completely naked now. You can see that I’ve clearly shaved my armpits, and I open my legs wide, exposing my freshly shaved cunt. I look up at you, and lick my lips, waiting to see what you’re going to do next.

You run your hand up my smooth, hairless leg. “I see you’ve finally figured out how to groom yourself properly, fucktoy. To make yourself as appealing as possible to men, especially to the men you pretend to hate. The ones who know women are inferior, only good to pump cum into. The ones who think body hair on women is disgusting, and that all women are obligated to shave. Who think women’s bodies are disgusting. Even the useful holes.”

I lowered my head and looked down moments after you started talking. Now I’m staring at the floor, feeling a combination of arousal and shame. I know that what you’re saying is actually part of the play we do, and yet…I did shave. And doing that makes me more attractive to the very men I like least, just like you said. I’d always claimed I wouldn’t shave for any man, and now I’ve shaved for every man. So how much is really just pretend?

“How did you feel like you were shaving?” you ask. I take a deep breath. My answer here doesn’t require pretending “Turned on. And like a traitor to feminism. To my feminism.” “Oh?” you say. “Why is that, little feminist bitch?” “I was doing it because you told me to, yes. But deeper than that, I was doing it because I understand that my purpose is to please men. What I want, what I prefer? Those don’t matter. My personality and intelligence? Just emergent properties of a life support system for a set of holes.” You smile at my reference, “You’re clever, although I’ve heard that one before. That’s what so pathetic about this. You’re supposed to be this intelligent, strong, independent woman. You pretend that this is all about playing. About your pleasure. Like you’re doing this because of what you get out of it. But you know that’s just a front you put up to your friends. So they won’t think less of you. But you and I both know that you’re doing this because of what I get out of it. What other men get out of it. Because you’re a thing that belongs to me and you’ll do anything I say. Isn’t that right, stupid slut?”

My face is hot and my pussy is wet. Shifting uncomfortably, I say quietly, “Yes, sir.” You grab my chin and lift it to make me look at you. “What was that?” I take a breath and say “Yes, sir. I’m a toy you own and use for your pleasure. A toy you loan out for other men to use. That’s my purpose. It’s what I crave. To be used, degraded, and hurt by men, for their enjoyment. I belong to you and I’ll follow any instruction you give me, no matter the consequences to me.” “Good,” you respond, “Now that you’re done pretending to be a strong woman, a “feminist,” I’m going to use you exactly how I want. And you’re not going to stop me. Toys don’t get to tell their owners they don’t want to be used a certain way. In fact, they can’t tell their owners anything. I’m going to tie you face down on your bed, and then I’m going to cane you and whip you. I’m going to keep doing it until you safeword. And then I’m going to keep doing it. When I get tired of watching you react to that, I’m going to fuck your ass. I’m not going to use lube. I’m not even going to spit on you. Once we start, I’m not going to stop until I’m done with you. Nothing you say or do will stop me. Do you understand, cunt?”

I look up at you, then away, then back. “Yes,” I say, afraid but determined. ”I understand, sir.” “And why are we doing this” “To show the depth of my submission. How completely you own me, body and mind. I’m making a decision to allow you to do anything you want to my body, even if I can’t take it. Even if I’m sobbing, pleading with you to stop. I want to completely give myself over to you. Making the decision to remove the possibility of being able to stop what’s happening shows how fully I belong to you. In the middle of things, my body might force me to safeword, even if I was mentally willing. Now that can’t happen. Your ownership of me is complete.”

“Good.” You reach over, smiling when I flinch, and ruffle my hair briefly. Then you grab a fistful of hair and pull hard, forcing me onto my stomach. You tie my wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, and I’m left unable to move, completely at your mercy, or lack thereof. I hear you move over to your bag, and I try to relax my body and mind to prepare for what’s coming. I’m breathing fast and trembling, though, fear and arousal combined. I’m afraid to look at what you’ve decided to use on me first. I hear a noise and then feel the sting as the cane hits my ass. It isn’t hard, not yet. You get into a rhythm, striking my ass and the backs of my thighs, but just as I’m getting into it, you switch it up, not letting me get adjusted. You’re hitting harder now, and I struggle not to try to move out of the position I’m in.
I’m breathing faster now, trying to keep it slow and steady and starting to fail. Just before I would have safeworded, the painful hits cease. I’m not sure what you’re doing until I feel something way worse hit me where my ass and thighs meet. You’re whipping me now, which I can’t handle anywhere near as well as I can take the caning. You don’t start out hitting me softly with this, and it’s only a minute or two before I don’t think I can take any more. I take a breath to say, “Red,” not thinking clearly enough to know that won’t work, when again, you stop.

I think maybe you’ve changed your mind. Maybe you’re done now. Then you put your phone in front of my face, video recording. “Tell the camera what’s happening and why. You won’t be able to lie to yourself or to your friends anymore about what you are. If you don’t decide to tell them the truth, I’ll just show them this at some point.” You start with the cane again, landing a couple of blows hard enough that I start to cry. I look at myself in the screen, my makeup completely ruined, tears running down my face.

I start to speak, seeing my winces and grimaces as you continue caning me. “I’ve given myself completely over to MLAM. To my owner. He’s going to hit me with this cane and whip me until I say “Red” and then he’s not going to stop. When he’s bored of that, he’s going to fuck my ass without any lube, except maybe blood. I told you I was going to do this, but I don’t know if you really believed me. I don’t know if I really believed me, at least at first. You suggested having emergency safewords. I gave up all control. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to make this stop, and I don’t want there to be. I want…No. Need to be used like just a piece of fuckmeat. I told you, ‘He says he’s not going to use lube. But I’m going to talk to him for real and make him.’ I didn’t even try to change his mind. He’s going to use me with absolutely no regard for what I want, let alone my pleasure.” I’m crying harder now, but I continue, stopping to sob every so often, “This is happening because I asked for it. I literally asked to be treated this way. I pretend that it’s because I like it. That it’s about me enjoying myself, about me having fun. I tell you that the reason I like MLAM is because I know he doesn’t mean the things he says about me, about women, that we’re playing. None of that is true. He just showed me that those things he says, the ‘fucking with my feminism?’ It’s just the truth. I’m three holes and a heartbeat, and this is how I deserve to be treated. I crave the feeling of being used, degraded, and hurt by men. Anything else I say is the playing. This is my reality.”

As I say the last bit, you hit me with the whip, hard, and it’s the last straw. “Red,” I manage to squeak out. “What was that?” you ask, and I say more loudly, “Red. Red! Please stop!” You pause for a moment, then laugh derisively, “No.” and bring the whip down again, even harder this time. It hurts, and the fact that I can’t stop it really hits me now. “Please? MLAM, come on. Red!” I’m sobbing hard now, pleading, begging, and cajoling. You grab a handful of hair and pull my head up. “No. I’m not done. Shut up, pisswhore.” You let go of my hair and start caning me. I stop trying to say anything, and start to struggle, but I’m not going anywhere. I start to float up into my head, but you keep switching the rhythm, pattern, and tool you’re using, making it impossible to get away mentally. Finally, I try one last time. “Please, sir? I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just please, stop.” You stop hitting me long enough to say, “That’s cute. But no. We both know you’d do anything for me anyway. You’re just that eager to please. Dumb bitch.” You go back to hitting me, and I start to feel spots where the skin has opened up and I’m bleeding. I’m not crying anymore, mostly just breathing loudly and roughly.

I register that you’re not hitting me anymore, and I’m relieved until I feel you roughly push a finger into my ass, add another, and pump in and out a couple times. You move to start fucking me, and I manage to say “I thought you were going to use a condom. You said you didn’t want unprotected anal because of the risk of pregnancy.” You reply, “Oh, honey. No. I don’t give a fuck about what happens to your body. I’ll just make you take EC, or get an abortion, or just drop you. You start pushing your cock in, no lube, not even spit. Just like you said. Lately, I’ve been having my ass used more, and more roughly, than I ever have before, but this is uncomfortable, painful, even, in a way none of that has been. I try to relax, just let it happen, but my body is tense and tight, and I can’t get away from the feeling. Finally, I hear you groan and say into my ear, “Look at this, you slut. You took my whole cock in your ass. No lube. Good job. I guess you’re good for something.” I shudder at the combination of praise and degradation.

You fuck my hole for what can’t be more than a minute or two, but seems like much longer, and then I feel you pull out. “I know you think that the fact that I’m not using lube is a perfect illustration of the idea that this is all about you. I’d enjoy it more with lube, right?” I try to answer, but can’t really manage words or much complex thought. “Well, that’s true,” you say, and when you push back inside me, I can tell there’s lube on your cock. You grab my hair again, and pull my head back to look at you. “This isn’t about you. This is about my pleasure. So I’m going to use lube to get the best use from your ass as possible. Just remember, though. You are so fully owned, so fucking pathetic, so thoroughly desperate for male attention, for my approval, that you were willing to let me fuck that tight hole of yours without lube.” You fuck me hard and deep, and the lube doesn’t do much to stop it from hurting.

Despite, or because of, the cruel treatment, the pain from the rough anal, and the pain from everywhere I’ve been hit, I realize how hot and wet my cunt is. I moan softly and push back against you briefly, then freeze. “Not about you, fuckhole. Shut up.” you say, and as you slam into my ass, you push my head into the bed so I can’t speak and can barely breathe. I lay there, quiet and still, a sextoy, here for you to stick your cock in and fill with cum. I belong to you, all I want is to serve that purpose. After I don’t know how long, you thrust in deep and cum inside me, making me shiver happily, feeling like I’ve finally managed to be useful.

You collapse on me and lay there, collecting yourself. When you stand up, I expect to be untied and cuddled. Instead you put on some clothes and look at your phone. “I posted an ad on craigslist for you. I’ve gotten a couple texts from men who are going to come and use you, and I’m going to get 25 bucks a hole. One of them just got here, so I’ll go let him in.” You walk out of my room, leaving me dazed, used, frightened, uncertain, excited, and deeply satisfied.

This past week I fucked up quite a few times with orders and punishments from MLAM. When we talked yesterday (which made me feel better because he drove home his ownership of me in several ways), he said it was because I wasn’t sufficiently motivated because of the distance. Thinking about it more, I don’t know how true that is. The punishments are worse long-distance, and I do follow through on them and do report any mistakes or violations I make. Of course, then I need an alternate explanation for not being good. I think part of it may be that I was so busy and distracted and super exhausted last week that I lost that sense of belonging to him as an object and forgot my place as a fucktoy. Three holes and a heartbeat. That’s no real excuse, of course. It means I need to do a better job of internalizing what I am and what my purpose is so that I don’t forget even when I’m completely drained, physically and mentally. He gave me an assignment a little while ago that will help with that.

During our conversation, when I discussed that I felt bad that I’d fucked up so much (I at first said that I felt like I’d fucked up a lot that week, and he said “Do you feel that way or have you?” and I had to repeat it properly and mmmph. So hot.), one of the explanations/excuses I had was that I just do not do well with cold. I shut down, physically and mentally. I think that’s why I did such a bad job with the two days of sleeping naked with no pillow or blanket. Each time, I woke up in the middle of the night and got into bed, or sat with a blanket, intending to just be a moment. The first time, I swear to the metaphorical excuse for a goddess that I must have dreamt getting up and going back to the floor, because I really thought I did that. I didn’t, though, and I immediately felt very guilty and shameful when I woke up, and texted MLAM right away. The second night, I was at Legal Lolita’s apartment after the happy hour and it was so very cold and I sat up with the blanket for a minute and promptly did the same thing. I’d even tried to just stand there for a minute instead so it wouldn’t happen, but I fucked up. I woke up, again filled with guilt and shame, and I texted him immediately and told him that I’d fucked up again. I was pretty upset and actually didn’t go back to sleep again, even though I was super tired from the happy hour.

During our conversation, MLAM was very, very generous and told me that I could earn a blanket for the next punishment (a punishment for pissing while I was with Legolas) by coming up with three things to offer him. I have a hard time with things like that, and told him so. It’s partially because I don’t feel very creative, and also, with him, it’s because I’d give him anything he asked for. My body and mind belong to him, after all. He told me that the point of this was basically to see what I would offer, getting at where my mind is at with all of this. I did immediately offer him unprotected anal, but acknowledged the risks, and he appreciated the offer, but turned it down, since I’m not on hormonal BC and that’s just not worth it.

After our conversation, I called Legal Lolita, and during our conversation, I asked for her help brainstorming things to offer. We came up with several things, and when I got off the phone, I thought of more because I realized that collaborating with her may have missed the point of the exercise.

I offered him these three things and explained that the second two were the result of brainstorming with Legal Lolita.

1. A piece of writing of at least 1000 words, to be completed within a week. (He love love loves reading things I write, and is extraordinarily flattering about them. Made me giddy and blushing and sososo happy by saying that it makes me valuable and I have no competition in that area.)

2. I will ask C4 and Legolas to cum on my face together (Obviously I’ll tell them the reason I’m asking, besides, of course, that it would be degrading and that’s how I ought to be treated. If they aren’t comfortable being involved with my play with MLAM like that, I’ll find something else to offer him.)

3. He will pick a toy or impact tool from Amazon, and I will purchase it for him alone to use on me or to order me to use. That includes things with leather. (This is one that I was hesitant about and still have some uneasy feelings, now I think of it. Not about the first part, but about the leather. We’ve talked about messing with my veganism, and I think I’m going to have to put a hard limit on eating non-vegan things, but I’m willing to offer this. It’s very edgy, and if he picks something with leather, I’m not 100% sure how I’ll react.)

Then I said that I understood that it may have violated the reason for having me think of three things to have collaborated with Legal Lolita, and offered these two additional things:

4. When I visit A2, I will be naked whenever he and I are in my apartment, and I won’t wear panties the entire time. (This is something I like the idea of a lot, but also is something uncomfortable in a number of ways. He could make life -very- difficult for me with fans and inviting people over and short, short skirts and flippy skirts on windy days and going out to bars. Not to give him any ideas, or anything.)

5. I will shave or trim my pubic hair in any way he wants. (This may seem like an obvious and simple thing for a submissive little bitch to offer their owner, but for me, it’s not so much. I haven’t done anything to my pubic hair [except some minor side shrubbery trimming once or twice] in about a year, and I’m quite attached to it on several levels. MLAM and I have talked about him making me shave it, and my other hair, but he didn’t want me to do that before I moved so that I could present myself the way I wanted when I started meeting new people. I somewhat hesitated when I thought of this. I wasn’t sure if I should offer to shave all my hair or just this. I landed on just this because it’s not such a huuuuuge step in feminization/fucking with my feminism as the legs or armpit hair, which I haven’t shaved in something like three or four years. I think that makes it a better thing to offer, rather than for him to command. Of course, if he wants me to shave the legs and armpits, too, I will.)

I added that I understood if now that I offered all five, he’d want all five in trade for the blanket. I was fairly certain that he’d want them all, and I wanted to give them. I want to be good and properly submissive, to do things he tells me to do, to give him pleasure, to be degraded and used by men.

He texted back earlier. He said “You seem like such an eager cunt I’ll allow you to do all five to show the depth of your depravity and submission.” I’m very appreciative of that. I fucked up quite a bit lately, and I’m happy for a chance to try to make up for that. I know I’m still a disappointing cunt, but I can do my best to improve for the future.

In addition to having to sleep naked on the floor with no pillow (but with a blanket, thanks to his kindness), he told me “to try to drill into your mind how absolutely base you are, when at home, you’ll now be squatting and peeing in the tub. And no matter where you are, you are to be masturbating fast and hard while you pee. We’ll see if behaving like an animal will help you learn at least as easily as one, you dumb cunt.” He later added that “masturbating while peeing is to mix the basic urges of your body to remind you you’re only three holes and a heartbeat.”

He’s so deliciously creative and thoughtful, which makes him an especially fun and dangerous person to have as a dom/owner. I love every moment.

I’m really quite glad to have something to do frequently (every time I piss, in fact) because it will help me remember my place and that I’m here to be used by and to please men. I so want to become the perfect fucktoy for MLAM, and I want to be able to be that, even when I’m exhausted. As I wrote earlier, at the moment, when I’m super tired, or cold, or otherwise impaired, I misbehave and fuck up because I lose sight of the fact that really, I’m three holes and a heartbeat, and anything else is superfluous. Having a frequent task to perform that will remind me of that and will help me internalize it the way I need to in order to become a good little “”“”feminist”“”” bitch.

On Thursday, I got an all-caps-excited text from Legal Lolita that Legolas had texted her. She told me that she told him about our squeeing over his tumblr, and then he found hers because she’d reblogged something of his. I realized that I’d reblogged the same thing from her, and then she pointed out that I was linked in her cast of characters. OOPS. On the other hand, I wanted him to see this because it was an easy and low-stress way to communicate to him that we have compatible interests (Just because I’ll go to the bathroom with a man I met only hours before doesn’t mean I’m not shy.) So, I gave Little Lolita the go-ahead to inform him that my tumblr existed and she told him that I was in her cast of characters.

Didn’t take him long to figure that one out. At that point, Legal Lolita made it clear that she was not interested in being a sexy message go between, and told me to just message him. I told her I would, and firmly intended to, but got distracted by other things. Eventually, she gave him my number. We started talking a bit and bonded over our shared interest in fucking with feminism/misogyny. He told me that that night was the best day he’d have to get together until the next week and that Legal Lolita had said we were both busy. And then expressed disappointment “cause I want to say mean things to you and stuff.” Well, at that point I’d spent the entire day getting texts from tops and doms and looking through my dash and being horny, and honestly it was heady. The idea of getting to play with someone with such compatible-seeming kinks made me positively giddy. I actually was going to be free after abotu 7 (traffic mucked that timeline up, but it happens), so we started planning.

He told me he didn’t have any expectations and noted we hadn’t got much time to talk the night before, considering all the choking. He also said that I was “welcome to offer anything you want to have happen beforehand if you want me to have the liberty to take what you’re offering without asking.” My response to that was that “I’m very open to suggestions so anything you want, ask, but I’m definitely going to go ahead offer the removal of any and all clothes you want gone once I’m inside, permission to touch me anywhere with your hands, and to sit, stand, lay, straddle, kneel, etc. in any position you want in any location you want inside the house.” That got me a “very good, girl” in response. ALSO DKSLJFDKFLJ HE ASKED FOR CLARIFICATION ON MY PRONOUNS AND THAT IS ADORABLE AND AMAZING AND SUPER FUCKING SEXY

I asked MLAM if this was going to count as a first date, and of course it did. After a long and super stressful battle with traffic on the way back from seeing friends, I asked for leniency about the not pissing on first dates rule, and he was kind enough to allow me to piss half, with a punishment. I firmly intended to follow that, but that became impossible. Eventually, I made it home to shower and change into the appropriate outfit, drank the water, and made my way to Legolas’ place.

He met me at the front door and when we went in there were cats! I like cats. He led me up to his room and asked me to tell him about how I got involved with doing consensual misogyny. As I started telling him about how MLAM and I started playing with my feminism, Legolas stripped me. Since I’d offered that up as something he didn’t need to ask for, he expressed no interest in if I wanted it to happen, which was very hot. Once I was appropriately naked, he got out the rope and tied each of my legs bent at the knee and started saying objectifying things to me. He also asked what I wanted to do. That’s always a difficult one because I want to respond “Whatever you want to do.” but I also know that’s an annoying answer. Instead, I shared with him the things I didn’t want to do/my limits. Since he has access to my tumblr, he knew that any orgasm I had there would need to be ruined, and was kind enough to say he’d ruin it for me. That was greatly appreciated, since the orgasm ruining is a punishment for fucking up a punishment. I don’t want to know the punishment for fucking up a punishment for fucking up a punishment.

Legolas was mean and objectifying and put clothespins on my nipples, and then nipple clamps that felt fantastic/hurt quite a bit and I’m not exact on the timeline because holy hell was I exhausted and used up when I was making notes on what had happened so I could write this post. He did say that he likes anal and, IIRC, that he doesn’t get enough of it. So, he said he’d just fuck my ass, which is a nice humiliating thing to say/do, like my cunt isn’t worth it.

So, of course he has a poledancing pole in his room (he does do this thing as exercise and whatnot which is amazing), and he took some rope and the pole to lift the bottom half of my body off the bed, which was just unf so good. Next, he pulled out a hitatchi (*swoon*) and used that on my clit while his wonderfully adept fingers were in my pussy and damn. I almost always have to do quite a bit of additional mental work to get off, no matter how good or strong the sensations are, but with what he was doing to me, and the things he was saying, I had to do very minimal extra thinking. In fact, I think he could possibly force one out of me, especially if he said more lovely mean things while doing it. I could feel everything building and getting stronger and just as I started to cum hard, I told him I was going to, and he pulled everything away. He did a perfect job of ruining what was going to be a fucking fantastic orgasm.

I whined and collapsed as he let me down and started untying me. I asked him for pictures of the beautiful impressions, and he obliged. At one point, while he was getting something, I said “You’re really hot. You know that, right?” to him and he definitely deflected adorably, saying that it was a matter of opinion. Nonsense. He’s wicked hot.

He said he was going to fuck me in the ass then, and I asked (yes, asked) for him to hit me some afterwards, if there was time. He’d done a bit of caning earlier, and I wanted more. He said that he’d enjoy fucking my marked ass, and that marking it would get him hard, so I got caned before. :D

It was fantastic to get some nice impact in after not really getting anything for a few weeks (fuck I miss MLAM). Legolas warmed me up and then started hitting me pretty hard. He paused for basically the ideal amount of time between hard hits, especially since it’d been a while since I’d been hit. At one point, he asked if I was trying to impress him. That surprised me a bit, and I said “No.” He said, “Am I not worth impressing?” and I clarified that of course he was worth impressing, but I just didn’t think what I was taking was all that impressive. I really have no idea where I am in ability to take impact or pain on a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being “Can barely stand having her ass getting pink” to “Loves being kicked in the cunt and whipped until she’s bleeding.” The caning left lovely marks and Legolas said, “Let me guess, you want pictures?” I did indeed, and will be sharing that here, soon.

Well, then it was ass fucking time. He had me stroke his cock and put a condom on while I got my ass ready. He had me on my side and started pushing into me and unnnf. I had to ask him to pause a couple times to get used to the feeling of his cock stretching me, but it felt fantastic. Honestly, if I’d had a vibe on my clit, I could have cum. He put me in missionary and kept fucking my hole when I realized that I had to piss. I asked him if he’d be mad if I pissed on him and he said yes, that he didn’t want me to. So I went to the bathroom. I knew I had permission to piss half, but I was worried that if I didn’t completely empty my bladder, I’d end up pissing while I was getting fucked, so I decided to accept the punishment that would result. I did feel bad about it, but I had to weigh disappointing MLAM by breaking a rule against disappointing Legolas and not serving my purpose by not letting him continue using my hole. Which I imagine would also be disappointing to MLAM, because he loans me out for to be used just like that.

When I came back, he kept fucking my ass, fairly hard and rough, and there was a point at which I had to ask him not to go that deep again. I’ll need to work on that so I can be a better fucktoy. After a while, he decided he was going to use my cunt after all, which I greatly appreciate. His cock felt great and oh right I do like piv sex, although I couldn’t take enough of it, especially in certain positions. He said more mean things, including that he couldn’t believe he was fucking my disgusting, hairy hole, which I was somewhat surprised to find hot. At one point he stopped and basically pulled out, and I moved my hips trying to get his cock into me. He told me to beg, and I realized something. I’m nowhere near as good at begging as I ought to be. When asked to beg, my mind sort of kicks out of submissive mode and I overthink it and start to feel silly and can’t get the right desperate, pleading tone that I’m going for. I said something like “Please fuck me. I need your cock in me now. That’s the point of me. If you’re not going to fuck me, then why am I here?” but I think I ended up sounding more annoyed or frustrated than pleading.

He moved away, and I sat up and said “Should I leave?” He said there were other ways I could be useful, like by him hurting me. He also noted that I took more in my ass than in my cunt, so that’s good to know. He asked me if there was anything else. I said that if he was done, could we cuddle. After I went and cleaned up and regained some amount of composure, we cuddled up in bed.

He told me that I did well, and that he does indeed want to use me again. I’m very happy about that because not only does it mean I did my job well, I had so much fun. He also showed me his secret misogynist tumblr as a reward. It is wickedly hot. The man who writes the the things on there is a man who hates women and finds them disgusting and only goof for one thing, if that. I’d never even want to meet that man. And yet, I want him to use me. (Oh wait I kind of did)

Legolas had said that the evening was just about getting to know each other, which is true, and why he wasn’t the meanest. In fact, he told me I did a good job taking the caning, and I said he was nicer than MLAM. To which he reiterated that we were just getting to know each other. He told me actually doesn’t enjoy impact play all that much anymore, so maybe I can ask for him to hit me with things as a reward. I’m a bit different now than I was just a couple months ago, aren’t I?

At one point during the evening, he’d mentioned the idea of him and C4 co-topping me (they seem to have a bestie relationship going on, which I like a lot). This was an idea I very much liked, and while we were cuddling, I asked him if it was a real thing in the world that could happen. IIRC, he told me he didn’t see why not. He also went into some more detail and described a dp scenario that left me all hot and bothered. C4 on the bottom so he could choke me, Legolas behind. I’m seriously swooning about that. The mere idea of them topping me together makes me giddy and scared in a really nice way and if it happens (oh gods please let it happen), I would become a melted puddle of completely compliant and submissive little feminist bitch.

He also pointed out to me that I could have fucked C4 in the bar because duh people carry condoms. Jesus am I dumb cunt or what for not thinking to start carrying condoms when I go out. If I’m going to be the best little fucktoy I can be, I need to think of these things. I now have two protective condom holders in my purse (thank you pride events and Planned Parenthood), one with three different kinds of condoms, and one with some lube, in case whoever is fucking me wants to use it.

Earlier in the evening, he’d asked where he could cum, and I’d told him in my ass with the condom on, or above my stomach. During the cuddling, he asked about it again, asking if that meant above my stomack, and from the neck down. I informed him that no, it did not mean that. He approved. I imagine I’ll be getting a facial sometime soon.

Thank you one billion times to Legal Lolita for helping me connect with Legolas. Having multiple people in my life to use me and treat me like I need to be treated…that’s the dream, ain’t it?

This whole week with all the playing made me really really miss MLAM. I’ve had kink on the mind almost constantly, and he’s who I think of first when I think kink. For some reason (okay, I do know many of the reasons, but it’s still hard to believe sometimes), he’s willing to invest time and effort in a girl like me and help me explore and process and talk about the theory and be a safe place for me to push boundaries and try new things. Plus, I’m very grateful that he’s willing to loan me out so that I can be the slut I’m trying to be. I’m super excited about all the new people I’m meeting! Especially the people who are helping me slut it up.