#reaction junkie

I made him one a million years ago, and tonight I finally got him to at least log in.

reaction-junkie

Y'all should follow him! And send him nice messages/messages encouraging him to actually start using tumblr.

(Also, I followed some people for him. If he unfollows you or doesn’t follow you back, don’t take it personally. He’s persnickety about what he sees.)

I just got off the phone with Reaction Junkie. As the conversation ended, he told me that he was going to put a craigslist ad up for no strings attached sex and post my address. Then he paused and said, “Actually, I’m going to put up a no strings rape fantasy ad.” He continued, saying that he would post the ad with a photoshopped picture of me holding a sign that said “I’m [LFB] and I fully consent to this.” and that the ad would tell men to just climb up to my third floor apartment, come in, and fuck me no matter what I said. Then he added, “Leave your balcony door unlocked the next few nights.”

As he talked, I got more and more turned on. My cunt twitched and my head went fuzzy with arousal and subby feelings as I thought about someone coming into my apartment to fuck me even as I fought back, screamed, and tried to get away. And it would all be at Reaction Junkie’s behest. The uncertainty about how serious he was only made everything that much more intense.

I asked in a little voice, “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” His response was to laugh in amusement and say, “Just try me.” I let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper and felt my cunt clench in response. My mind was buzzing softly. I was incredibly turned on and half in subspace. Reaction Junkie chuckled and said, “That was a great noise,” and I breathlessly  told him that his response was the correct one. It was perfect.

He wasn’t done, yet. He told me, “When they come in, you have to lope up to them on your hands and knees.” He told me I was to wag my tail and to do so while “panting and smiling.” Then he mused, “I wonder if they’ll be into petplay or if they’ll just fuck your face for showing your mouth to them?” By now, my hand was in my panties and I was rubbing my clit, gasping and moaning as he spoke.

I could all but hear his grin when he said, “You better hope it’s me who comes through that door.” He told me I could get off  after I do some work. I told him that I would definitely do that while fantasizing about the things he’d just said to me. When he said, “I’ll look forward to reading your tumblr post,” I laughed and told him, “I was just composing it in my mind.” We said goodbye and got off the phone.

Just writing about this has me turned on and subby again. I’m hot and wet and horny. I love how wonderfully he pushes my buttons. Rape fantasies, uncertainty, degrading petplay, ordering me around, fucking with my mind. Leaving me not knowing what or if he’ll post online, but enjoying the back and forth in my mind about it. I don’t want to know. He’ll do what he wants and I’ll accept it. He owns me.  I’m his property, his pet, his toy. I’m whatever he wants me to be. Anything he chooses to do to me is a thing I want done to me. I’ll be home the next three nights, alone and with the balcony door unlocked.

Taking out and cleaning off a buttplug while tipsy.

Reaction Junkie said I couldn’t take out my princess plug until I got to happy hour, since I change at work and I have to wear it while I’m at work. So I just took it off after two drinks. It was kinda easier to take out, but it was harder to clean because I was afraid I was going to drop it in the toilet.

Now I gotta sober up so I can play!

[10.24.2014]

“Drink five of those in the next ten minutes.” When Reaction Junkie pointed at my cup and ordered me to start having lots of water, I smiled. We were at the house party he was hosting for a bunch of kinky friends. I’d had a rough week, so I appreciated what I thought was Reaction Junkie engaging in the regular (and always enjoyable) bladder control and desperation that is part of our dynamic. I drank the water, and not long after, I felt the pressure building in my abdomen. I sat on the ground, and began rocking back and forth a little, attempting to distract myself from the feeling.

Reaction Junkie noticed my distress and started teasing me, “What’s wrong? Do you need to peeee?” I was a little embarrassed he was doing this in front of the party, even though I knew most of the people there fairly well. I pouted at him and said that of course I had to pee. He laughed, refused my request, and continued the teasing. At one point, he ordered me, “Go get a towel and one of your favorite shirts.” When I heard that, I realized this might not just be the normal bladder play I thought it was; he had something special in mind.

“Is he going to make me piss myself on the floor, in front of everyone?”, I thought. “No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Nah. It’d be too much of a mess. Right?” I refused his order to fetch the towel and shirt. Reaction Junkie gave me a look, and I managed to refuse again, but my will was weakening. He walked over to me, and I flinched, expecting to be hit for my disobedience. Instead, he started stepping on me, pressing down on my bladder. I was happy that he’d dropped the idea of making me get the towel and favorite shirt. Until he put more of his weight onto me, compressing my bladder further. I pleaded with him, “Please stop! I’m going to pee.”

Taking his foot off me, Reaction Junkie said, “Go sit on the toilet.” I was relieved for a moment until he added, “But don’t pee.” I whined, but got up and headed to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and waited. Reaction Junkie came in after a moment and told me I’d better not piss. I nodded and said, “I’m not.” He went back into the living room and I tried to distract myself from the need to pee. I was determined to be a good girl for him, especially since he’d left the bathroom door open, so if I started to pee, everyone would be able to hear.

When Reaction Junkie returned a minute later and saw me rocking back and forth, focusing on not pissing, he grinned, amused by my distress. “Do you think we should invite other people to come see?” he asked. My eyes opened wide in horror, and I shook my head and said, “No!” He smirked at me and said, “Don’t pretend like you don’t want this.” Turning towards the open door, he called out, “Who wants to see [LFB] piss herself?” I felt my face growing hot as a group of people gathered around the door. A few I knew fairly well, like The Unknown Quantity, Anderson Cooper, and Cute Thing (one of Reaction Junkie’s other partners). Two others, I didn’t know at all. And one of them, Pretty Girl, was a lovely woman who bought me a drink a couple happy hours ago, and who I’m shyly interested in.

As the group of partners, friends, and acquaintances looked on, Reaction Junkie began pressing on me, cruelly compressing my full bladder, all the while telling me not to piss and making comments to the crowd. I held strong, but it was increasingly difficult. All of a sudden, he punched my abdomen. It wasn’t the hardest I’ve been punched, but neither was it gentle. I managed not to piss, but only just. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes and my words. He reassured the crowd that even though it seemed like he was being mean to me, he was actually fulfilling a fantasy. I felt embarrassed to have this fantasy revealed. Then I saw something in his face that told me what was going to happen next. He was going to read from my tumblr post about the fantasy he was currently fulfilling.

I didn’t want the additional humiliation of having him read out my fantasy to the group. Not only would they know that he really was fulfilling a fantasy, that this was something I wanted to happen, I knew I’d be uncomfortable having my writing read aloud, and, of course, there was the fear that they would find my tumblr and I’d be entirely exposed as a disgusting, fucked up little bitch. Reaction Junkie took out his phone and I said, “No, don’t read it. You can’t!” He turned to face me, his expression making me cower. *SMACK* He slapped me hard across the face. “Did you just try to tell me what I can and can’t do?” he asked. Suitably chastened and feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, I shook my head and responded in a small voice, “No, dear.”

He pulled up my post and began reading, “”No, you may not use the bathroom.” He ignores my desperate pleas as the 5 bottles of water he made me drink before the party quickly catch up with me…” I looked at the floor as he read, embarrassed on multiple levels. Reaction Junkie noticed. “Look everyone in the eye,” he ordered. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to look up and see the faces staring back at me. Feeling humiliated, I complied with his instructions, making eye contact with each person in turn. My thoughts were racing as I searched their expressions for what they were thinking. I saw mostly amusement and interest, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

When Reaction Junkie got to a part of my fantasy where the character representing me speaks, he imitated me teasingly, “Please let me pee? It’s starting to hurt and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” These “cute” imitations are something that he and I have discussed repeatedly. He is not supposed to do them, and when he does, he gets punished. So, in the middle of him dominating, embarrassing, degrading, and humiliating me, I made him stop reading and lean his head down. I licked his face, which is something he finds very unpleasant and has been a common punishment for behavior such as this. “Sorry, sir.” he said in his little subby boy voice. The gathered crowed laughed and someone said, “Your dynamic is so hot.”

Of course, immediately after his punishment was over, Reaction Junkie continued reading. And I continued being uncomfortable. Now, instead of imitating me when he got to my parts of the dialogue, Reaction Junkie did something worse. He made me read my lines, all while continuing to look this crowd of friends, acquaintances, and near strangers in the eyes. He read the entire story, with me on the toilet next to him, squirming and uncomfortable for so many reasons. I had to pee, of course, but I was also turned on and embarrassed about what he was reading and that he was reading something I’d written to this group of people.

When he finally finished, reading out the last line of the fantasy, “Happy birthday, pisswhore,” I was looking down, almost distracted from the urge to piss. then he said, “I wonder if we could all fit in here. I wanted to make her piss in the tub.” I shook my head, not wanting the further humiliation of everyone filling the bathroom and watching me piss, with the added embarrassment of not being allowed to piss in the toilet like a person. The Unknown Quantity decided to chime in, “Yeah. I think we can all fit.” Reaction Junkie grinned and told me, “Sit on the edge of the tub.” I was reluctant, but didn’t want another slap or additional punishment, so I moved over to the bathtub.

The crowd filed in and someone shut the door. Now I was sitting on the rim of the tub, holding onto the sink to position myself to sit into it. And everyone was looking right at me. Reaction Junkie slid his hand between my legs and teased my cunt with his fingers. “Look how turned on she is, ” he said to the crowd. Turning back to me, he put his hand in my face, “You’re soaked. Smell this.” I obeyed, but looked down, thoroughly embarrassed and a little ashamed. Reaction Junkie said, “Look at everyone.” I did, my face growing hot as I looked at the people who now knew just how wet I was from the treatment I was receiving.

Reaction Junkie gave me another instruction, adding to my discomfort, “Spread your legs so everyone can see.” Slowly, reluctantly, I opened myself up. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and even half-closed them a few times. Each time, however, I spread them apart again when I saw Reaction Junkie’s face. He considered for a moment, and then asked, “Should I go get a vibrator?” I shook my head, actually upset. I didn’t think I’d be able to get off like this, or, if I could, I worried it would take so long that people would get bored. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that in addition to the stress of the situation. He saw the expression on my face and recognized what I needed. “Nah, that will take too long,” he said. “Now piss.”

I started to try and let go, to start peeing in the tub. I kept my eyes focused on him alone, not wanting to look anyone else in the eye while I pissed in the tub. “Don’t look at me. Look at Pretty Girl,” Reaction Junkie said, ordering me to look the girl I like right in the eyes. The first time we’d hung out outside of happy hour, and she was about to see me piss myself. I looked at her, complying with his instructions. Reaction Junkie ordered me to pee again. I tried, but just couldn’t let go. “I don’t know. I can’t.” I said to him. “Oh, you better,” he responded, “You better piss yourself in front of all these people.”

I was worried about what people would thing, how they’d see me differently. Finally, the need to pee overcame my desire not to do so like this, in front of all these people. The piss streamed out of me, splashing into the tub as I emptied my bladder, a group of people watching my degradation and humiliation. Finally, the stream slowed to a trickle, then drops, and finally, it stopped. Reaction Junkie asked if I needed toilet paper. I said, “Yes, please.” When he handed it to me, I looked at it and said, “Not the one ply! Red!” making everyone laugh. Then I wiped, adding one final embarrassment to the day. Everyone filed out, leaving Reaction Junkie and I alone together. I was filled with a mix of emotions. Arousal, shame, amusement, embarrassment, gratitude, and, of course, happiness. How could I not be happy? Reaction Junkie had just literally made one of my fantasies come true.

I can’t wait to see what he’ll do for my actual birthday.

Last night on Skype, Reaction Junkie asked me how hard it is for me to carry on conversation when I have something in my holes. Thinking that he wanted me to fuck myself with a dildo while we talked, I thought back to all the times I’d Skyped with The Super Sadist and Marxman while fucking myself. I told him that having something in me wasn’t very distracting.

“Good,” he said. Then he asked, “How long can you wear a plug for? Can you wear a buttplug for eight hours?” I hemmed and hawed until he finally said, “Can. You. Wear. A. Plug. For. Eight. Hours?” “Yes, dear,” I responded, looking down. He smiled at me and informed me, “You’ll be wearing your plug for eight hours at work tomorrow.”

I was happy to do so, and said that it might even be helpful, since I’m seeing Legolas today and plan to be prepared for anal. Reaction Junkie thought for a moment and said, “Well, maybe you should have something in your cunt, too.” I wasn’t sure and said, “I don’t know if I have anything that will stay in.” “That depends how tight your underwear is, doesn’t it?” he responded. I agreed, and he informed me that I would keep my small dildo in my pussy during work, and when I leave for happy hour tonight, I’m to switch it to a larger one.

I smiled, despite knowing it could get uncomfortable. He hasn’t given me many, if any orders like this, that last for an extended time and provide a constant reminder of my place, and I really enjoy them. I lovelovelove our switchy dynamic, and wouldn’t change it. However, it does lend itself to a reduction in the time I spend feeling properly subby, since I feel as though I could take control at any moment. Of course, realistically I know that he owns me, that he’s in charge, that he enjoys bottoming and the feel of submitting so he allows me to play at that role, but I don’t always feel that truth on a deeper level. Sometimes I miss falling into submission like I used to, that heady feeling of being controlled, the fuzzy warmth of being owned.

With this instruction, to have two of my holes filled all day, I can feel a bit of that old subby headspace coming back, especially as I write this. It’s intoxicating and makes me want to think more subby thoughts. I want to be obedient and fulfill the orders given to me. The large dildo may be uncomfortable, but I’m not going to ask for him to change his orders. I risk public humiliation if someone notices or if the dildo slips out. That doesn’t matter. I’m going to do what he told me to do. Because I don’t have a choice. When he says to do something, I do it. Property doesn’t get to refuse, doesn’t get to haggle or negotiate.

So, I’m going to sit all day at my desk, my cunt soaked from being filled. Not only from that, of course, I’m also wet from the knowledge that two of my holes are stuffed at the direction of my owner and that I’m willing to obey him at all times, even at work. And I’m happy to do it. I’m grateful that he is willing to spend the time and attention on me to give an order like this. I’m glad for the reminder of my real place as owned property.

I can pretend to be an independent person. Can say that I have my own job, my own apartment, my own life. But coming to work with a dildo in my cunt and a plug in my ass proves that in actuality, I’m an obedient, eager to please, desperate girl who craves giving up that independence in order to submit and be controlled. To give up ownership of myself to be owned by someone else.

This weekend was complicated and difficult and fun. I learned a lot about myself, picked up a couple new tricks, and cried a lot, not all for fun reasons.

I discovered that yep, poly is hard, and apparently I have some hangups about sex that I wasn’t fully aware of. I feel better about things than I did, but I’m not over it by any means. I have jealousy to work on, and, according to one thing Reaction Junkie lobbed at me, I’m codependent. He didn’t mean it in a cute way, either. He’s probably right. I do tend to get attached and needy. I thought he was somewhat similar, and he may be, but not to the same extent. Or something. I don’t know. I’m going to talk to him about it, but since I’m vomiting feelings here anyway, I thought I’d write that down before I forgot.

I have a rule that I want to put in place, but Reaction Junkie most likely isn’t okay with it. We set up a modified version, but I’m not sure it’s enough. We’ve talked a lot about it, and the accute upset feelings are gone, but I’ve still got lots of feelings bubbling under the surface. They’re coming out as I write this, as in I’m starting to cry after finally goring for more than an hour or so without doing so and I am concerned about getting passive aggressive in what I’m writing, so I’m going to stop.

I had some fun scenes with Reaction Junkie, had some one on one time with Anderson Cooper, and got to actually meet nankingdecade and had an awesome scene with him, but it’s going on take a while to fully process all the emotional stuff so I don’t know when, or even, to be honest, if I’ll be able to write up much.

I just dommed Reaction Junkie in a way that really worked for me. It’s not the first time I’ve tried, but the way it went this time was just…something entirely new and exciting and wonderful. I wasn’t intending for it to happen, but it just sort of did.

I assertively asked him to beat the shit out of me, thinking it would be a normal scene with him topping/domming.

Then I started saying things like “When are you going to start? Huh?” at the beginning of him hitting me. He beat me with his hands, his elbows, his feet, his knees. Slapping, punching, elbowing, kicking, kneeing. I groaned, moaned, and screamed.

When I’d had enough, I fought back and stopped him. I started hitting him, and he got subby. I was dominant and aggressive and we ended the scene with me straddling him and grinding against him and making out like crazy. He was subbing out and I was feeling in control, getting what I wanted. It was ridiculously hot. He said he loved the new energy I’d brought and I loved the entire thing, from the beating to the switch to the making out.

I’m so excited for tomorrow!

Reaction Junkie and I haven’t fucked in far too long (more than a month), for various reasons. We’ve been meaning to fix that for the last few days, but just haven’t gotten to it.

Well, a little while ago, I said I didn’t understand something, and then made fun of myself. He played along and called me stupid. My cunt clenched and I gasped a little. Reaction Junkie got a look in his eyes and told me, “Get on the floor.” I immediately complied, kneeling at his feet.

“Head down, “he commanded, and leaned forward, putting my head on the floor. He straddled me, pressing me into the ground. He continued to insult my intelligence, saying, “You’re so stupid. You’re an idiot. Retard. Fucktard. Republican. Christian.” I moaned and trembled under him, making him chuckle and say, “You’re getting turned on by me calling you all these synonyms for stupid.”

He stood up and flipped me over onto my back. I looked up at him, afraid and uncertain what would happen next. He climbed on top of me, leaning in for a kiss. Then he continued degrading me as I whimpered and gasped, telling me he would rent me out, tell me how stupid I am, calling me out for being turned on by it all.

I felt him get hard, which just made me hotter and more desperate, which was obvious to him. I moaned and started to grind against him, hoping that he would want to fuck. He said something about having other guys fuck me, and I said, “I want you to fuck me.” “I know,” he replied and, to my relief and excitement, he continued, “go get a condom.”

I tried to head to the bedroom, but he had me pinned. I couldn’t move. I struggled, making him grin, “Why haven’t you gotten a condom yet? If you don’t get a condom in the next five seconds, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

The threat made me redouble my efforts, but or course I couldn’t get free. He counted down, “Five…four…three…two…one.” when he got to “one,” I braced myself for impact. He looked around, grabbed one of my squeaky toys off a nearby shelf, and shoved it into my mouth. I bit down as he grabbed my tits and started squeezing. I groaned as it started to hurt, and then he slapped me several times in the face.

He asked me why I wasn’t squeaking, and then turned the toy around in my mouth. I squeaked it a few more times, and he smiled and hit me in the face again. Then he told me to go get a condom, and let me up. I ran to the bedroom and came out. He told me to put it on him, which I did as fast as possible.

Reaction Junkie ordered me to take my pants off, and as I complied, pushed me back into the bedroom and down onto the bed. I spread my legs wide and he got between them, commenting on my action and telling me what a desperate slut I was. He wasn’t wrong. I whimpered and begged him to fuck me.

Then, finally, at long last, he pushed his cock into me. “Oh god,” I moaned, appreciating the feeling I’d missed got so long. He fucked me, telling me about renting me out, talking about things he done to me in the past, calling me names, and turning me on more and more. I wrapped my arms around him and pushed up into his thrusts.

I don’t normally get off during piv sex. In fact, I don’t normally even get on the road to orgasm, but this time I could actually feel myself getting close. I focused on the sensations, savoring them. I felt a change in the way Reaction Junkie was fucking me, and I could tell he was about to cum, which only turned me in even more and made me moan.

He came, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I love you.” I smiled and told him I loved him, too. He pulled out, and I whimpered. “Oh, do you want me to touch you until you cum?” he teased. I nodded vigorously and he started rubbing my clit. I whined and told him, “I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” He happily did so, pushing them into me and making me moan. I started rubbing my clit, and then grabbed a vibrator.

I thought about him fucking me, about him having people fuck me while I was in stocks, and came hard, tensing and moaning. When I came down from my orgasm, we got up to go about our day, and the godfamn fucking fantastic sex left me grinning and skipping. I needed that.

Right now I’m working from home because SNOW DAY!

Meanwhile, Reaction Junkie is doing the dishes, vacuuming, and doing lots of other cleaning around the apartment.

I’m bringing home the (vegan) bacon, and Reaction Junkie is washing the pan.

Reaction Junkie and I went to a party at Pretty Girl’s place (the girl I have a big ol’ crush on) on Friday. It was surprising for a number of reasons, and hella fun. I drank lots of booze, but managed to avoid getting sloppy. 

We made it back to Reaction Junkie’s place fairly late, and the last thing I remember is googling something on his phone and mumbling a response when he asked me a question. The rest of this post is from what he told me in the morning. I woke up and asked about what happened when we went to bed. He told me that I passed out. Then he added, “I fucked you.” I was surprised and mildly uncomfortable until I heard the story. After that, I was turned n.

Reaction Junkie tried to get me to wake up, but I was passed out. He started kissing me, but I mumbled unhappily and turned away. Not to be deterred, he put his hand between my legs. I moaned, which he took as encouragement. He continued rubbing and started kissing me again.

I was clearly into it. So he put a finger inside me. Then another. I was enjoying myself, so he added a third. He fucked me with three fingers while I was passed out, making me moan and turning me on even while unconscious. Just like you would expect from a horny little slut like me.

This is something we’d talked about doing, him taking advantage of me while I’m drunk. He took it just the right amount beyond that by fingering me while I was passed out. The fact that I was passed out is irrelevant. He owns me. I’m here for his pleasure and entertainment.

I love thinking about him using my body like that, enjoying my responses to his touches, knowing that I won’t remember it, but that hearing about it will make my cunt clench.

In fact, writing this got me wet just thinking about it.

Reaction Junkie is moving in with me!

We’ve already started moving his stuff into my place, and the weekend after New Year’s, we’re renting a truck and moving the furniture that doesn’t fit in my car (With help from The Unknown Quantity, who, according to Reaction Junkie, asked to ravish me as payment. Hee.)

I’m so excited! The place he’s living right now is fine, but they won’t let him have overnight guests more than three times a week, which is reasonable but cramps our style. He’s moving in because we want to spend more time together. It’s the first time either of us has lived with a partner, so it’s somewhat scary/intimidating, but I’m ready to take this nervcited-making step towards commitment with him.

We’re having such fun looking forward to little scenes of domestic bliss. Sitting on the couch doing work together, me getting to receive beatings more frequently and consistently, me cooking for him, practicing rope while we relax after a day at work, sharing parts of a commute, me getting drowned in the shower until I’m thrashing and sobbing, taking bike rides together, making each other exercise and eat right, watching TV together on the couch with him bound and gagged, going grocery shopping as a couple.

I can’t wait!

Now I’m waiting outside for Reaction Junkie with the car and I’m so cold. But still tipsy so it’s kinda okay? But also it’s so cold. :(

Reaction Junkie pulled the duffel bag out from under his bed. “Get in,” came the not entirely unexpected command. He dropped it on the floor. “I don’t think I’ll fit,” I said, going over to and starting to get in anyway. “Oh, you’ll fit,” came the response.

He was right. I bent my knees back, scrunched down, and straightened my arms in front of me. I closed my eyes as he zipped up the bag. I hesitated a bit before the bag was closed, maybe even protested weakly. But when the last bit of the opening disappeared, I grew calm. I wasn’t struggling, just breathing in the dark, waiting and wondering what he would do. Underneath the calm, however, I could feel something lurking, ready to come out if I started to struggle or think too much about my situation, or if anything else happened to highlight how very trapped I was. I continued to focus on the calm part of my mind, keeping the panic at bay.

I took deep breaths as two conflicting thoughts raced through my mind. One was that I was zipped in a bag with little chance of escape, a dangerous and frightening predicament. The other was that I need to relax and maintain my composure. These two needs battled for control and I barely registered that Reaction Junkie had walked away until I heard something jingling. I felt his hands on the bag, and then he happily told me the padlock fit around the zippers on the bag. “Nonononono, ” I said. I didn’t really mean it, though. I knew he’d take me out if I needed him to. Almost certainly. Eventually.

*CLICK* He secured the padlock. Escape was now impossible. Reaction Junkie taunted and teased me. He picked up the bag, shaking me and highlighting the fact that he could do anything he wanted, take me anywhere he wanted. I would be entirely unable to resist, incapable of even trying to fight back. Although I still felt that undercurrent of fear, I enjoyed what he was doing, and mostly found it fun. Then he said he’d take me out.

I heard him messing with the padlock. After a moment, he said, “Shit. I don’t have the key. These aren’t the right keys.” At first, I didn’t believe him, but he insisted he was telling the truth. Concerned, but unconvinced, I said in a sharp tone, “Are you serious? [Reaction Junkie], don’t do that,” He replied, “Yes. It’s okay. Even if I can’t find them, we can cut you out.” It wasn’t all fun and games anymore, and I started to get worried. A bit of the panic that had been bubbling under the surface throughout this ordeal started to rise up.

That’s when he laughed, undid the padlock, and the bag zipped open. I blinked up at him and said, “Fuck you!” “I love you,” he responded, an impish grin on his face.

littlefeministbitch:

Reaction Junkie: Who’s Daddy’s little feminist bitch?
Me: *raises hand because my mouth is full of dildo*
Reaction Junkie: That’s right!

He just saw this and said “I’m literally quivering in discomfort.”

hehehe

So, in case it hasn’t been clear from various posts I made, I’ve been having a rough time lately. In addition to work getting increasingly busy and stressful, my depression has kicked up a notch, and it’s made everything more difficult. Reaction Junkie helped me get into therapy with a kink- and poly-aware therapist.* I’m seeing him for the first time this coming Thursday, and have an appointment with my psychiatrist this Monday where I’ll talk about adjusting my medication.

As a result, I’ve been having a more difficult time with dealing with feels, had increased social anxiety problems, been updating tumblr less, and I’ve been simply awful at responding to people. There’s a lot of people (on tumblr and off) I want to talk to and/or was talking to but stopped in the middle. I’m sorry for that, and I’m hoping to start being better at responding soon, in addition to starting to write again. You’re all lovely. I miss you, and I miss tumbling.

*As in, I wanted to get one and he asked around on FetLife, found some, I selected one I liked, and then Reaction Junkie called the guy and left a message with my info, since I just couldn’t. I love this guy.

As I mentioned before, while he was gone on his trip, Reaction Junkie was supposed to be making healthy eating choices. He failed to do this, disappointing me in the process. As a result, he must face the consequences of his poor choices. Consequences that I’ve determined.

On Sunday, when we were laying in bed together, I asked him how many times he made an unhealthy choice instead of a healthy one. He couldn’t remember, so he gave me an estimate of twenty five. I informed him that means I will forbid him from having something unhealthy twenty five times. He was a fan of this, until I added the next part. I’m not without mercy, so if he really, really wants something, he can have it. But he has to take a penalty/alternative punishment. I’ll take the number of calories in the food he wants, divide it by 100, and that’s the number of times I’ll do something to him.

When I said that, he considered for a moment and then asked, “Is it something you can do in public?” Imagining him thinking about and dreading having his face licked, and how he would prefer many things to that, I smiled ever so sweetly at him and replied, “It depends on how I feel.” If I’m feeling magnanimous, perhaps I’ll simply slap him in the face. Of course, he’s a sick, perverted boy and enjoys that sort of treatment, so it would be more funishment than punishment, and, therefore, not as effective as a deterrent to future poor behavior.

I’m looking forward to the first time I refuse him some treat he wants. I’m curious how he’ll react. Because this is a punishment, I expect little argument from him, but I can also see him whining and trying to get me to give in without the penalty. If he does, there will be consequences for that, as well.

sexandnonsense replied to your post “Reaction Junkie finally started using tumblr!”

I went and followed him but there’s no way to send him messages!! Tell him I’ve been reading about him for too long not to be super duper excited about seeing him on tumblr finally!!!

Eep! I forgot to turn on asks. I fixed it. Thanks for letting me know! :D

onelonelycock replied to your post “I’ve made a terrible mistake in getting on tumblr. l have not been…”

Make that pussy cum girl❤️❤️

Thank you!

I got off twice. Once fantasizing about cuffing Reaction Junkie to the bed, blindfolding him, gagging him, pulling down his pants and underwear and riding him with a vibe pressed against my clit until I came, while telling him how much I enjoy having his cock in me and how I’d been fantasizing about doing all of that. Then I got off a second time thinking about having someone hold me down, fuck my cunt hard and then switch to my ass while I whimpered and protested and begged, “Please, Daddy. It’s going to hurt.” as they slowly pushed their cock into me, stretching my hole and making me groan and moan, telling me that I needed to be brave for them and how good my tight ass felt around their cock.

Time to do work!

Reaction Junkie is sitting like right over there playing with a knife and I just can’t even.