Sometimes I think I need to remember this in serving. Currently i am being ‘forced’ to serve. Yes I am unhappy about it. But then again if I were happy to do it then … well what the caption says I guess.
So there’s a girl I met on tumblr and we’re become close in a very short time. Recently I happened to fly over her part of the world. It was late night and as I sat by the airplane window looking down at the dazzling cities and tiny flickering towns slowly roll by, I found my thoughts drifting to her as they do all too often… Did one of the tiny dots of light down below belong to her window? Did she grow up in a big city or a tiny nondescript down? How was her family life? What school did she attend? Was she a popular girl growing up or mostly kept to herself? Was her childhood happy? As I was thinking about all these things, a sadness filled my heart at the realization of the distance between our worlds… Even if I was right over her home in that moment, we will always be physically separated even if we share our time and a close bond.
I’m generally a positive person who sees life as ‘glass half full’. I’m thankful for getting to know this incredible, smart, kind, beautiful, sexy woman, someone I would have never even known existed had it not been for tumblr. I am thankful for the time we spend talking, getting to know each other. I am thankful for the way she makes me feel every time I see her message pop up… but I will never know her little quirks that she herself doesn’t realize. I will never know if she runs her fingers through her hair a certain way or what her laughter sound like. I will never know the warmth of her touch, the taste of her lips or the intimacy of her scent. I will never get to touch her, feel her heat against my body, or her fingers curl into my hair… I will never physically feel her passion, embrace her to celebrate her success, share her sorrows or bask in the warm fuzzy glow of her affection. I will never know the feeling of her wrapped around me at night or how her lips might feel on my forehead… such is the blessing and the curse of the internet.
I didn’t know how long I was thinking of her or how long I had been crying. At one point I became aware of hot tears rolling down my cheeks but I made no effort to stop them… I just felt a profound sense of loss for something I never had in the first place. Looking back, I think this special someone deserved my tears as much as she deserves my thoughts and fantasies.
At the end of the day, I just want her to know that somewhere far away is a silly girl who is thinking of her, cares about her and roots for her. I think she is just perfect and I love her.
This is really touching! Thanks for sharing it with us all ☺️
I know a few of you have been asking me about me and my coworkers, asking me if I’m domming any of them and what fun experiences I have with them.
Well consider this a first update.
So there’s this new girl, working in HR just got out of college and is working full-time just a few desks away from me. The last week I’ve caught her stealing glances at me and blushing whenever she saw me noticing her looking at me. So a couple days ago I casually asked her out on a date and we where finally able to go out yesterday. I told her it was going to be semi fancy and that I’d love to see her in a pretty dress and that I’d pick her up at 8. So yesterday was there, I picked her up wearing my thigh high black boots, a leather jacket and a short dress. When I saw her I was pleased to see she did what I asked and wore a pretty red dress with some pumps. So at dinner we chatted a lot and I noticed her being a little intimidated and edging towards the submissive side as I already assumed just by the few conversations we had throughout the weeks. When it became time to get the check I said be a dear and go get that for us, will you? And the cutie just got up, stumbled a bit, got bright red and went to pay for us. I then proceeded to take her back to her home, gave her a big kiss, slapt her ass and told her I’d see her the next week.
Maybe not what you all expected but I’m sure I’ll have some amazing times ahead of me together with her.
I love taking a tramp to a party with vanilla friends and seeing how far I can push her. Tonight I got my pussy serviced on a friend’s bed, used a hairbrush in the bathroom to spank her, and refused to let her sit, speak without being spoken too, or leave my side the whole night. I would just hand her my glass when my drink needed refreshed, and trash for her to throw away. I have fun friends so they did try to talk to her, but I made sure she knew she was mostly just eye candy. Yes indeed. Afterwards we came to my place and she made me a veggie sandwich, and did a striptease while I ate it. I’m a generous Domme so I let her eat my asshole AND my pussy. I reminded her about how humiliating it was not to be dealt into card games, to be little more than my servant. Than I grabbed the nearest belt and beat her fat tits with it. Then I took a double ended dildo, pleasure myself with one end and made her suck the other end. I tossed it on the floor, slapped her in the face and told her to get out, I was done using her. She begged to get off, but I told her to clean up the mess I’d made since coming home and I’d consider it. I let her eat me out again, then told her she could caress my breasts. She melted with joy, and I humiliated her by pinching hers, slapping them, mocking the difference the whole time. I could smell how wet she was, so I stuck two fingers in there and one in her ass, rubbing her clit with my thumb. I spanked her with my other hand-if I was going to let her get off, it was going to be painful :)
Making a slut a prisoner in her own bedroom. Tieing her up, slapping her tits, sitting on her face WHILE slapping her tits, forcing her to lick my pussy, my asshole, my feet. Releasing her only to freshen up my drink or find something new to abuse her with. I even poured a little hot sauce on a cunt’s nipple the other night. The reaction was fantastic :)
Last night I slapped a slut’s tits so hard and for so long that she was sobbing and groveling and offering to sell of her belongings to tribute the money to me. So I flipped her over and whipped her ass with a cat o’ nine tails and grabbed all of the cash, and a few gift cards, out of her wallet.
But this time I got a fat slut to come over after work, giving me enough cash as tribute that I can call in tomorrow and still buy myself something pretty. I think all women are beautiful but for the sake of the hot humiliation, I like making the ones insecure about their bodies strip for me while I make fun of them. “Those aren’t even tits” I told her. “Just sacks of fat.” I made her jump up and down, laughed at how the cellulite had a mind of it’s own, crawl around and moo while I whipped her udders. Made her cook me dinner. “Looks like you already ate though, slut.” I remarked, so she licked my ass and perenium while I ate. Much better night then day ;) I also made her stand beside the t.v. after dinner, ignored her until the commercials and then made her dance, laughing at her fat jiggling. She was so wet from knowing she was not only entertainment-but not even my priority entertainment.
I think one of my major problems with media that deals heavily in themes of good and evil is that my formative years contained Terry Pratchett’s work which just blew my head clean off and put it back on my shoulders a little more firmly and then told me “there are no heroes, no legends, no miracles, just you. It’s you against the darkness and the metaphorical wolves at the door…better bloody do something about that then, hadn’t we”.
And don’t put your faith in revolutions - they always come around again.
And being good isn’t an innate quality - it’s an action that requires doing good for other people even and especially if you don’t like them, it’s hard work and you don’t want to. Bad impulses, bad thoughts don’t matter if you recognize them for what they are and turn them into positive action.
And the duty of the police should be to protect the people, not the power structure.
And we, as people, make our own gods, our own stories, our own creeds, not the other way around, which means we can change those stories and thus change our world, because nothing is more powerful than a story.
I had n episode at work yesterday and as often as I’ve explained before what can happen when a low blood sugar is concerned I feel like most people just don’t get it.
I didn’t bring lunch and would have bought something but when a group order was going around for lunch I realized my wallet was at home. No one offered to help out and have me payback later and that just kicked me into an emotional response. I knew if I went all day with nothing but the protein drink I found in the workplace fridge it could be bad—-but hey if done it before when we were busy and was fine.
Wrong.
I could tell I was getting shaky and more aggravated which sometimes makes me slam things around, curse and be a totally different person. I’d just been cutting up with jokes and laughing earlier and still no one took notice to ask what was wrong even as my usual lunchtime went by and I didn’t leave to go. I just got angrier and then when a customer came in with a big order took it because all those feelings of uselessness and annoyance and everyone was pissed at me because I was snappy pushed me to just keep busy and ignore them. When you’re in that mood, it’s so hard to snap out of it or tell anyone “Hey something is wrong.” The more they tried to take over the order when my friend States away that I had been texting had lunch delivered to me (God was looking out for me there) the more annoyed I became. Cause once again when you’re in that mode you can refuse to eat, refuse to be reasonable. I finished the order, ate the lunch she got me and just broke down in sobbing cries for ten minutes when I was alone. Of course when I got back no one would talk to me or ask still what had happened, in fact they ignored me, so I stayed quiet until the end of my shift. But it reaffirms how little people really understand of when your sugar is LOW, what actually happens. Close friends and family know, but since I was fifteen countless boyfriends, friends, teachers, managers and work place colleagues have felt it was in my head or done for attention. Unless someone has experienced it with me and could pick up that hey this behavior isn’t normal (it’s not always the shakes, clammy skin, almost fainting, etc). I will go into work today and wonder what it is to tell them because they’re not likely to believe me. But I read up last night and this is the kind of thing people need to understand. It’s not just in my head.
“Hypoglycemia causes the brain to lack the sugar it needs to operate at 100% which can lead to diminished inhibitions.
Hypoglycemia may greatly increase your emotional response which can make you exceptionally happy, silly, worried, frightened, paranoid or angry. The effect can be strikingly similar to a person who is drunk.
Even people who are widely considered to be pleasant and peaceful can experience dramatic changes of character as a result of hypoglycemia. It is relatively common for people suffering from particularly low blood sugar to become violent and people who know you may be very surprised by such a Jekyll and Hyde-like behaviour.”
I think I’ve got impostor syndrome. It clicked earlier this week when I tried to reach out and talk to a few people on a personal level. The past several years, I’ve only ever communicated on an author-audience level. I’ve been wondering why I’ve been struggling to accept praise, and why I go through some radical highs and lows both during and between update cycles.
This sounds like it might be a common thing, but I wasn’t acutely aware of it and how it correlates to my behaviour until now. I need to figure out how to deal with it.
Jacob is an animator who has managed to capture the essence of 90s cartoons and put it in a bottle. Not just the animation, but the writing, humor, design… All of it. He got a group of artists together and has developed his own episodic cartoon series called Loose Ends! It’s currently in the middle of its run and can be seen from his YouTube channel.
Bensley
Bensley is a musician who I first heard on the Liquicity YouTube channel a couple years back. His music sticks out to me and follows a different type of flow than what I’m accustomed to.
Here are three songs of Bensley’s that I’ve been listening to:
I’m not particularly well-equipped to comment on musical styles, but a lot of his tracks have this sort of “climax” towards the end, and I can say that a lot of his songs have inspired me with a lot of animation ideas - I sincerely wish I could use one of his songs in an animation (for Waterworks or otherwise), but they’re not licensed for that purpose. Instead, I take my idea and try to find a song somewhere else that I could use, but it just isn’t the same… I need to work on my networking skills and find a musician I can work with long-term. I also need to give more thought into how I work with music in Waterworks.
Happy New Years, I suppose. I’ve got a lot on my mind that I need to say, but I’ve been reluctant to do so. I’ll ramble off-the-cuff for a little bit (a LOT) down below if anyone can be bothered to listen. Just some random unedited and unformatted thoughts about what I’m doing with myself and trying to figure out how life works.
…Seriously, it’s a massive post. Don’t strain yourself if you’d rather not.
I don’t like to speak often, or give excuses. I prefer to let my work do the talking. Actions speak louder than words, right?
It’s funny, I did a search through my blog and found a post where I had celebrated hitting 200 followers two years ago. Curious, I checked my follower count now… And it’s at 206. I think it’s more than safe to say that I’m beyond stagnation. Still, I’m here to see this adventure through to the end, one way or another, regardless of how long it takes.
Actions speak louder than words… I’m sure my inaction is speaking volumes. I’ve always made it a point not to apologize when an update is missed or when I make a mistake. I have a bad habit of holding myself to unrealistic standards, and not only would I be apologizing with every update I make, I would draw attention to issues that few people would have noticed in the first place (such as me forgetting to draw Phobia’s hair in one of the panels from earlier this month). The LuFa from ten years ago would have dropped everything to fix it, and then would have combed through every other panel, worrying about every other possible thing that could have gone wrong. At this point the LuFa from today is just glad that there’s an update to post.
When I made the post last week about not being able to update, it was because just as my Christmas holidays were starting, I hurt my back. I’m not sure how (I’m guessing in my sleep or something), but I’m not able to sit at my computer for more than an hour without taking many breaks. I had intended to continue updating all the way through the holidays, but I ended up spending more time than usual resting in bed and attempting to stretch, walk, exercise, or try anything to lessen the pain. This has killed any creative drive that I had, and rather than power through it, I thought it would be better to stop trying to grind myself against it and take it easy so that I can hit the ground running. I’m starting to feel better now and hope I will be able to get back to the updates as early as next week.
This raises the question of my update schedule. Why the long pauses, and why the sudden rush of updates in December? The pauses are simple, I keep trying to outdo myself with each update. Even though I’m trying to step away from full Flash animations, I still catch myself leaning towards them. It’s not the animations themselves - I’ve caught myself designing overelaborate gifs when just a couple static images would do fine. I let myself get stuck in this spiral where I would constantly build myself up and then tear myself back down. I would get caught up in it and let entire years pass me in the blink of an eye…
I’m not old, but I feel old. I still have most of my life ahead of me, but it frankly isn’t much longer until I hit middle-age and that is no longer the case. As a child, my parents pushed me to try as hard as I can. They’re the type who want their kid to go to university, become a doctor, and make a boatload of money. I gave them a hard no on the doctor path, so they sent me to university to become an engineer instead. I went through it and got the sheet of paper, but never really figured out what to do with it. I ended up moving across the country and settling for a job that by all metrics I should be overqualified for, but I’m not too sure that I really care. I’m making enough money to live quite comfortably, but I’m still living alone, and don’t really have anything else to my name. It was always hammered into me to be successful, but I never really understood what being successful meant. Looking at other people from the outside, I can make a few guesses that success generally means owning your own place, having a family, and lots of money to make sure you’re still able to support it all. I don’t really know about all of that. I just wanted to be left alone. Mission accomplished, but I still have to figure out what I’m supposed to do with myself…
I used to run forum adventures even before I was aware of MSPA or Problem Sleuth. I remember how happy I made my peers, and how much joy they got from engaging. I started Waterworks in my second year of university, when I had moved into student housing and finally had that loneliness that I had been craving for most of my life. It was strange, but that first year of Waterworks… I don’t think I had ever felt more fulfilled. The act of telling a story to anyone who was willing to listen; it truly felt like this could be something that I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. Not as a career, but purely because of its ability to engage people and make them feel things out of the ordinary. I truly want to keep doing this, even after Waterworks is finished. I can never give a straight answer when people ask me if I’m happy, but to be frank, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier after posting an update, engaging with readers, and furthering the story. It’s a little unorthodox for a life path, but the more time I spend on this planet leaves me even more uncertain of everything. I’m going to stick to what I know.
So, aside from getting stuck in a self-esteem spiral, what prompted the surge of updates this month? Well, I had a little bit of a reality check. The company that I work for was acquired by another company. Normally I wouldn’t have cared, but this has happened several times now. In my short tenure at this company, I’ve seen it grow from a small local operation to become part of a massive conglomerate, and this latest acquisition really had me questioning what I was doing with my life and what I should truly value. My job technically requires me to help people, so I go about my day believing that I’m doing just that - It’s not about the money, or the benefits… I work because it helps others. Meanwhile, board members and investors who I’ve never met - people who control the entire direction of the company and its employee’s livelihoods - are passing it and other companies amongst themselves as if they were trading cards. This forced me to stop and take a look at what I was really doing. I thought I was helping people, but really I’m just making numbers go up and down for the people upstairs. My coworkers are only doing it to take the paycheck and feed their families. I’ve been placing a disproportionate amount of value into my day job, a place where people who I’ve never met could cut me loose in the blink of an eye just because I didn’t make the right numbers go high enough.
I’m not quitting or anything, it’s a great place to work, but it got me thinking about what it means for someone to value something. Bizarrely, my thoughts turned back to MSPA, and what happened to Homestuck. I’m not clear who owns which rights to the adventure, and I’m not saying that you shouldn’t profit off your own creation… but I DO remember when the MSPA forums were taken down, seemingly without reason, and we were all cut loose by someone upstairs, be it knowingly or not. The forums were down for many months, and now a bare bones version of the site that it used to be is up, managed by a publishing company. Thinking about all those posts that were lost still hurts a little bit.
The company I work for being acquired had some eerie parallels to not just Homestuck’s forum situation, but a couple of other projects and franchises that have grown too big and have had their creators cast their fans to the wayside… If I ever manage to rebuild my reputation, I don’t ever want to let anything like that ever happen to anything I make. If Waterworks truly matters to me, then I need to act like it.
In case anyone wants to become chaos, here’s a quick guide:
Do what society can’t make sense of. Aka be yourself
Done, you’re chaos
“normal” is basically what you’re used to, what everyone understands. However, going outside the cage, that is chaos.
Be so full of knowledge that it makes people uneasy, be so kind that you’re out of this world, be so entitled to show the world how you are that everyone is intimidated.
It is a cold winter Sunday. The world outside is peacefully muffled under a layer of freshly fallen snow.
Indoors, hot steam clouds the windows and delicate bubbles envelope our naked bodies as we lower ourselves into the warm bath facing each other.
Naturally, my feet find their way into your lap, then higher, onto your chest and finally into your mouth. It is like a gravitational pull, an attraction we can neither rationalise nor fight. And why would we, when my soles fit onto your face so beautifully, when my foot fits into your mouth so neatly.
A tender kiss on my toes, that is how it usually starts. Playful sucking on my toe ring. Passionate licking of my soles from heel to toes again and again, before, eventually and inevitably, my foot pushes between your lips. It doesn’t stop there, for I push harder, deeper into your mouth, the other foot hooked behind your neck, pulling you closer, inescapably wedged between my feet. Your eyes are wide open, your breath is laboured, choking. My voice coaxing “Can you feel my toes in your throat?” you nod. “Gag for me, because I won’t stop!”
When I eventually let go, my feet are wet not from the bath but instead dripping with your saliva that you immediately clean off with your tongue before we both sink back into the warm water, our eyes locked. For a while, we enjoy the comfort our bath offers in silence, my feet now resting in your lap.
But of course neither of us can help ourselves. Not long, and you start gently rolling your hips against my feet while I shift my weight onto them, and thus into you, squashing the hardness of your arousal. Rather than avoiding the pressure, you lean into it, desperately rocking against me, caught in limbo between pleasure and pain while sliding lower into the water.
Before we know it, I sit on your legs, one foot on your windpipe, the other on your face. And yet, it’s not enough, for I am so intoxicated by the power I have over you, all I want is more of it.
“Do you trust me?” I ask. Your eyes speak volumes even before the words “Yes, my Queen, yes, I trust You” reach my ears.
You did not expect what happens next.
You did not expect my toes to cover your nose, water tight, air tight.
You did not expect to be submerged and held under water for longer than a few seconds.
And least of all you expected the experience to send you spinning into subspace through wave after wave of arousal.
I can see your inner fight, your conflict.
I can see how you clench your fists and tense your body before consciously deciding to give in.
I know you cannot make out the words I’m saying, but I tell you you are safe with me regardless.
You relax. You lean back into the water, into me. You surrender. And boy, do I love my control over you!
I watch your every reaction and when you start tensing again, I whisper, more for my own benefit “Just a while longer”, slowly counting to five before releasing my grip on you. You emerge, heaving, and yet the first words you utter are “Thank You”.
I know enough about the laws of physics to understand water and electricity don’t go together, and yet the air is so charged I would not be surprised to see sparks fly.
“Again!” I manage to say and you immediately take a deep breath before we repeat, me still sitting on your legs, my feet pushing your head under water. Only this time, our fingers entwine and I catch myself rolling my hips against you.
This is not a game of how long you can hold your breath. This is you trusting me to take care of you. This is our intimacy of me controlling even the most basic of your physical needs. This is our division of power: my total control, your total surrender.
A third time follows, before I shift position and lift your head out of the water, my face mere inches from yours.
“Who owns the air you breathe?” I whisper.
“You do, my Queen” you reply, panting.
Tenderly yet seriously I continue “And who decides whether or not you get to breathe?”
