Some context: For a while now, he’s been giving me money regularly. Sometimes for permission to come, sometimes to earn the right to get me off, and sometimes just as tribute to his lovely dom. I’ve even used his wallet to provide myself some extrinsic motivation to accomplish tasks that I can’t manage to find any intrinsic motivation to do.

I spent time with my boy, The Anarchist Economist, earlier this week. Some of my favorite moments came out of the findom we did and intense d/s we talked about.

When he came over on Tuesday night, we had dinner, and then he did work for school, and I tidied up my apartment. I had a list of tasks and for each one I completed, he sent me a dollar. After a few hours, we took a break. We cuddled, I teased him, he licked my cunt and told me stories while I used a vibrator, I came and he didn’t. You know, the usual. Then we went back to work.

At some point during our conversations, I asked him how much money would be the max he would give me for a blowjob and permission to cum. He said, “It depends on my budget. Right now? $500.” and said that once he has a job, it would go up to something like $3,000. I was surprised at how high the number for the present was, but figured I would never actually take that much from him.

Once it was time for bed, I wanted to get off more. I was having a more difficult time than usual, unfortunately, and I started to get frustrated. We hit on just the right fantasy (one of his close friends fucking me in the ass and then TAE using that guy’s cum as lube) and I managed to get the orgasm I had been chasing.

When I recovered, we started up with some intense future-focused d/s dirty talk with a findom theme. We talked about if we were to get married, and he brought up the doctrine of coverture, where once a woman gets married, her legal identity is subsumed under her husband’s. My boy suggested a reversal of that idea, so that once we got married, he would basically give up his identity, his paycheck, and his life to me.

I started teasing and touching him while describing how thoroughly I would own and control him then. How his salary would go directly into my account and he would have to take on extra work to earn money if he wanted a privilege, like being allowed to come or having time out of a cockcage.

I switched to masturbating as we exchanged fantasies about this version of the future, told him to stroke himself, and reminded him not to come. He talked about the power I would have over him and I said that I would make recordings of him talking about various fantasies as insurance that he wouldn’t try to leave. It was some of the most intense d/s talk we’ve had, and it was such a turn on.

He had to stop touching himself several times to avoid going over the edge and getting off. Unfortunately, one of these times, while he was barely touching himself, if he was at all, he came untouched. It. Was. So. Hot. He was worried I would be mad, but it just turned me on and made me feel quite accomplished with my dirty talk.

I told him I was getting another orgasm, though, and we went back to our co-fantasizing. He started stroking himself again, and I guess the partially ruined orgasm from minutes before hadn’t been enough for my hopelessly horny boytoy. He was so desperate that he finally begged, “May I please pay you $600 to come, sir?”

I was surprised (especially since that’s a full $100 over what he said was the most he would give), but I was also quite turned on, so I gave him permission. He jumped up and went over to his phone. I heard the cha-ching from the notification, and felt myself getting close to orgasm.

I moaned and asked him what the note said. He got in bed and told me “permission to come.” I gasped out an order to tell me what he’d just done. “I paid you $600 for permission to come,” he said. I told him to say it again, and then again, and as he did, I came without needing to fantasize about anything else. A moment later he came all over himself for the second time in five minutes.

As we cuddled and did aftercare, we talked and joked about what happened. There were some econ jokes and I told him it was good to know he doesn’t actually have a max he’ll pay me just to be able to get off.

Honestly, I never thought I’d be into findom and definitely never thought that I would get off on it. Apparently I just needed a perfect little paypig to come along.

Haha

I wanted to have The Anarchist Economist help me get off over the phone, but a friend of his is visiting and sleeping in the room next to him, so he (reasonably) didn’t want to have phone sex.

I figure out a workaround by having him talk econ to me while I masturbated. At the end he was like “Thanks for letting me go over what I learned today with you.”

This weekend I learned that I like being called daddy so that’s fun

I was watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine with The Anarchist Economist is and we were agreeing that Captain Holt is sexy as fuck. The Anarchist Economist had previously told me he wasn’t interested in daddy kink or incest play, and I obviously respect that. But I did comment that Holt is a “total daddy.”

My boy thought for a moment and then agreed. He didn’t seem put off by the idea, which pleased me. We laughed a bit and went back to watching, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him calling medaddy. I wasn’t necessarily going to say anything, though, since he’d told me he didn’t like that kind of thing.

A few minutes later, he turned to me and said he thought he would like to call me daddy. I got super excited clapped my hands and told him that I thought that would be really hot. I checked in, though, to make sure he wanted to, and he said, “Apparently I just needed to associate it with Captain Holt. And you.”

He called me daddy several times over the course of the weekend and it was ridiculously hot and I fucking loved it. Especially when he said shit like, “I can’t wait for you to fuck my ass, daddy.” Goddamn I enjoy this boy.

lfbstoy:

I am a desperate little whore

I haven’t cum in a week. My last orgasm was a ruined orgasm I accidentally had last Friday, when I got too zealous edging for my dom’s amusement. She offered to let me cum this Tuesday, but I was feeling subby and begged her to keep me teased and denied longer.

I adore her and I am so lucky she teases me so well. Serving and submitting to @littlefeministbitch feels so amazing and makes me feel so lucky.

Look at this adorable, pathetically desperate boy.

He didn’t get to cum all weekend because he came without my permission last Friday. He’s a good boy, so at least he ruined it.

On Tuesday I asked him if he’d rather cum or be denied longer. He chose denial.

I cannot wait to see him again so I can tease him for hours, getting him oh so close to the edge, then backing off over and over again until he’s a delicious desperately begging mess.

Once I’ve wrecked him so he’s whimpering and barely coherent, that’s when I’ll let him cum.

Not A Tumblr Dom just left after a fantastic date. We got pizza, watched Zoo, and then, while we were still cuddling on the couch, he started punching the fronts of my thighs.

He hit both of them at first, and then switched to primarily focusing on the right thigh, which was at a better angle for him. He punched me hard and really pushed me. At one point he told me, “I’m not holding back.” He wasn’t using his whole body, of course, since we were sitting, but he was hitting me with a lot of force.

He had me tense my muscle and punched that, which was even more painful, and then he had me stand up while he punched, which meant my leg couldn’t be relaxed. I had to hold onto his shoulder while he hit me, since there were several times I definitely would have fallen over from the impact if I hadn’t been supported by him.

We moved to the bed and he hit my thigh with the bike tire jack I have, and then said he could hit me win the sweet spot. So I flipped over and he started hitting right where my ass and thighs meet. With a good rhythm and the right angle and strength, that jiggles all the right bits and it’s super sexy and it’s the sort of thing that I could maybe cum from, if I got my mind and the sensations all lined up right (and maybe with a little clit action, too).

I asked if he wanted to hit my cunt from the front, and he did, so I hopped on the bed and turned over. He started hitting, and told me I could tell him if he should hit harder or softer, so I did. I think sometime maybe I could cum from that, too.

He switched back to hitting my thigh, and also used the knife straightening steel I bought for that purpose. It’s thuddy! He hit me with that, switched to the jack, and then went to punching again. The impact on the already reddened and raised area was a lot to handle, but I held out and took more than I thought I could.

We cuddled for a while after I couldn’t take any more, and then he headed home. My right thigh is super messed up. Where he was punching is red and really raised and engorged with blood. It hurts quite a bit to move my leg, and it’s even more painful to bend my knee or walk on it. I’m really pleased with that, especially since I’ll be doing quite a bit of walking over the next few days. He’s so much fun!

Also! During the really intense punching on the couch, Not A Tumblr Dom told me he was proud of me for taking so much for him! That made me grin and do a happy little butt wiggle. I’m proud of me, too. I took a lot of pain and I was such a fucking champ about it!

On Saturday I got my pap smear results and I’m clear to do all the kinds of sex I want! 

The Anarchist Economist was here and I’ll write up a real post about it at some point but long story short he went down on me and gave me two orgasms and then before bed he was all “May I eat you out?” and gave me another orgasm.

I spent time with The Anarchist Economist last Monday. We spent hours cuddling and talking and touching each other. I teased him mercilessly, of course. Lightly running my fingers up and down his thighs and then his tiny cock. Rubbing my palm against his dicklet. Stroking him for a minute and then stopping.

I decided I wanted his cock in my mouth, so I looked at him and told him, “Don’t cum.” After the expected, “Yes, [LFB]” response, I started licking and sucking him, using one hand to play with his balls and stroke his cock, and putting the other around his throat.

By this point he was whimpering that he was getting close, so close. I continued the blowjob, enjoying the sounds he was making and his struggle not to cum. I knew he would let me know if he was about to get off, so I wouldn’t push him over the edge. All of a sudden, he he had me stop, and in an anxious tone told me that he thought he’d disobeyed and had an orgasm.

I knew he hadn’t, so I reassured him by swirling my tongue around the head of his little dick and telling him I couldn’t taste any cum. Of course, that just made him twitch more. He managed to tell me, “I’m so fucking desperate.” It was obvious, of course, but I enjoy hearing him say it aloud.

I continued teasing him on and off until we fell asleep, and then continued it in the morning. I also continued denying him. Before he left, I told him he couldn’t cum until he saw me. Honestly, it was partially a joke. He was going to work and then coming back to my place again that evening.

I didn’t think he would be so desperate that he would jerk off at the office. Then I got a text from him only half way through the day telling me, “I got really turned on reading your blog in the bathroom but then remembered I am not allowed to cum until I see you.”

What a needy little slut, barely able to keep his hands off his pathetic little cock for even four hours. He was a good boy, though, so I finally did let him cum. Not that night, though. No, I decided to make him wait longer, so he had to wait until the next evening, when I sucked his dicklet until he came.

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.

[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.

Anderson Cooper’s collar was giving him some issues, and I offered to give him some of my black duct tape to make it less itchy. We didn’t have a chance to do it the first night of the con, so when I saw him the morning of the second day, I offered to bring him up to my room to do that, since I needed to head up anyway. He agreed and we headed up.

I took off my skirt to change it, and Anderson Cooper said, “Gorgeous ass.” I grinned at him and and he came up behind me for a minute. I leaned back and considered turning to kiss him. Although it was totally the signal (HIMYM reference!), I didn’t, maybe because I wasn’t sure about doing something in the room I was sharing with Reaction Junkie, instead saying that we should fix up his collar with the duct tape.

We sat down on the bed and he fixed his collar. I thought about if I wanted to do something with him, and if it would bother Reaction Junkie to do it on our bed. I decided that since he’d literally offered Anderson Cooper to me, he’d be more than okay with it. I felt silly for not going for a kiss earlier, and decided if things headed in that direction again, I’d go for it.

When we were done fixing the collar, I lay back on the bed. His arm went around me and he leaned down. We started kissing. We made out for a while and then his hand snaked up under my shirt. We both sat up and took our shirts off. We continued touching each other and kissing, and then he started teasing around my pussy.

I whimpered, and he eventually started to take off my panties. We both ended up naked, his fingers on my clit. We continue making out for a while and then changed position so that I was laying back, the position that works best for me. He continued rubbing me, making me moan and tremble. I relaxed into it and started fantasizing.

He kept touching me, and I felt the pressure building. I started to shake and moan more loudly. Finally, I came hard. When I came down from the orgasm a little, his fingers were inside me, and I felt like I was on the way to cumming again. I asked him if he wanted to fuck me, and he said he didn’t at that moment. I did an internal shrug (Oh no how terrible I’ll just get off. Such briar patch.) and relaxed back into it.

I was on my way to an orgasm when I heard a click from the door. We both froze and I had a moment of panic thinking it might be Reaction Junkie. There’s a distinct difference between not being bothered by your partner doing something with someone else and actually seeing it or walking in on it unexpectedly. I relaxed again when I heard Reaction Junkie and my roommate for the con’s (known as “B” from here on) voice say, “Is it safe?” Anderson Cooper and I laughed a bit, threw some clothes on, and let B in.

Anderson Cooper and I had been cuddling and doing some super light play for a while now. Once or twice we almost did more, but the timing or location wasn’t right. I’m glad we managed to find a time to actually make out and have some naked fun.

Interesting side note: That was the most vanilla thing I’ve done in months. Of course it happened while I was at a kink convention. And of course the way he ended up in my room was that I offered to give him some duct tape for his collar. And of course it was with someone I met because Reaction Junkie literally offered him to me as a bottom. Of course. Oh, my life.

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!

I’m at a weekend long kink event and there’s a workshop for navigating the scene for the introverted and shy. The description is all welcoming and basically like, “You don’t even need to talk! You can totes just come sit and listen in the back, y’all” and I’m like “Dude. I can’t go to an event for people with social anxiety all by myself. I’m too socially anxious!”

Just had a very good first date with someone I met on tumblr. He commented on and/or liked one of my posts, and I liked his username, so I went to his page. He indicates the general location, and his about me mentioned that he was a feminist. I was in a particularly social mood, so I went ahead and sent him an ask.

He responded and we talked for a bit. He sent me a link to his okcupid profile. I liked it, we’re a 99% match, and he’d already sent me a message (that mentioned Tamora Pierce!) I had on my list of messages I wanted to respond to, but just hadn’t yet. We messaged back and forth and decided to meet tonight.

We had a fun first date with delicious food, excellent (and comfortable/easy to have) conversation, walking while holding hands, and making out/hair pulling/light choking in front of a local tourist attraction. We’re getting together for more fun sometime soon. And none of this would be possible without you, tumblr. So, thank you!

PS. I’m still workshopping nicknames for him. I’m thinking “Good Guy Tumblr Dom”, since he’s a d-type from tumblr, but he’s not a “tumblr dom” in the usual sense. Also possible: a variation on that, like “Not-A-Tumblr Dom” (actually I like this one a lot).Or “The Programmer” (I used that for someone already, but that didn’t go anywhere, so I could reappropriate it). Thoughts?

Also I’m the best at logistics and maps and headed to an address. An address that was wrong on multiple levels. Not only was the street wrong, but we were meeting at the train stop anyway.

Ten points from LFB!

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.

When making ramen, try to avoid mistakenly turning on the back burner instead of the front one and then accidentally knocking over the plastic container full of plastic bags. That way, when you walk away for a couple minutes, waiting for water to boil, you’ll end up with delicious noodle soup!

Instead of ending up with the smoke alarm going off, you rushing to the kitchen and seeing the reflection of flames in the glass door by the stove, having a moment of sheer panic where you think the apartment will burn down, then seeing that it’s “only” a small fire started by burning plastic. And you won’t have to throw water on your stove until it’s all over, wash burnt plastic off the burner and stove top, and then shut the kittens in the bathroom while you turn on all the fans, open the doors to both balconies and set a fan in front of one, take a quick break to cry, put bowls of vinegar out, and then spend even more time removing burnt plastic from kitchen surfaces.

But that’s just a suggestion. You can make ramen however you’d like.

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 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.

The Violinist tied me up and made me talk about my feelings tonight. I cried and shared how I feel like I’m not interesting, how I feel inadequate because I’m not interested in or into big showy scenes that involve a lot of roleplaying or acting. I want to be scared and be in pain and beg and apologize for something even though I don’t know what it is, yes. But I want all of that to come from a real place. For example, I want to do a scene where I get beaten and treated cruelly and told to admit wrong doing, or apologize for something, or any number of things that might happen in a more roleplay-y type scene, but I want to be sobbing and saying “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m no good at roleplaying. This isn’t the scene I wanted. This isn’t what I expected.” and then I want to get so desperate to make it stop that I beg and plead and say I’m sorry and admit guilt and so on.

He listened and engaged with me, and when I finished speaking, acknowledged my feelings as legitimate, while also pointing out that it’s perfectly fine for me not to want those more performative type scenes. He reassured me that I’m plenty of fun and that nobody complains about people not being up for certain things. We talked about it for a while longer, and then had a lovely rope and d/s-y scene. We finished up with a mini-rope lesson.

It was just what I needed. It helped me feel a lot better and was hella fun.

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.

Yesterday I saw The Violinist. I went over to his place with the invitation to come over and “talk about things.” I correctly interpreted that as a desire to DTR, which I wanted to do, as well. When I got there, I stripped, per his rules for me, and we lay in bed for a while. Before we could talk, however, we needed to do a few things. He’d been out of town for a couple weeks, so we had to give each other a proper hello.

He hit me, bit me, scratched me and hurt me. I yelped, whimpered, squeaked, and made other delightful pain noises. He’s totally a sadist, which makes me eager to suffer for his pleasure. When he pushed his cock into me, the pain didn’t stop. He continued to hurt me as he fucked me hard. He pushed his fingers hard into my armpits, and the uncomfortable and painful sensation eventually caused me to struggle away. I took a few breaths and turned over onto my knees, which is a position I know he enjoys. He fucked me from behind until he came, slamming into my cunt and making me wince.

He collapsed onto my back, and I collapsed onto the bed. When we recovered enough to cuddle, I asked him if I could get off. He agreed, and I rubbed my clit and fantasized while he hurt and choked me. I came, shuddering and gasping, and lay back, spent. He instructed me that the next time, I was to ask permission right before I got off, and I smiled at the addition of another rule. We showered and headed back to bed to cuddle.

We talked about what our relationship is and what words we’re comfortable using (we’re dating and “partners” works). We made plans to spend more time together outside of kink events and happy hours and talked about what kind of kink relationship we want to develop. Both of us love d/s, and I’m excited to see where that dynamic goes. I asked about honorifics, and he had an interesting response. He likes having his name used. I was somewhat put out at first (I really like the term “Sir”), but when he explained his reasoning, I got into the idea. It’s something you can use in any context and around any people. Besides that, using someone’s name lets them know that you are thinking specifically about them. We also talked about jealousy and discussed how very important we both consider communication to be.

I left his place feeling de-stressed, happy, and ready for bed. Today I had to wear a high necked shirt and put makeup on my neck because he left a bite mark there. I also can’t take off my sweatshirt at work because he darkened the bruises that were there already and left me new scratch marks. DTRing can be fun!

Part 8

We all moved to Reaction Junkie’s room when his roommate came home. Cunt Destroyer accidentally left her phone in the living room, and she and I made Reaction Junkie go fetch it, even though his ankles and hands were still cuffed, making it difficult. A little while later, Cunt Destroyer’s partner arrived, and we all talked and oohed and awww-ed over the kitten. At one point during the conversation, Cunt Destroyer’s partner pulled a knife out of his pocket and started playing with it a bit, really just turning it around in his hands. It turned me on in a big way and I had a very difficult time not staring at him. There aren’t many things much sexier than a guy playing with knife. I need to ask some partners to pull knives on me and threaten me with them sometime soon.

One of the things that is equally, or possibly more, sexy happened while I was on the bed with Reaction Junkie, my head resting on his legs. I said something sassy and he moved one leg to the other side of my neck and started squeezing, choking me with his legs. It was super effective and I got fuzzy and calm. And turned on, of course. He did it a couple of times, and I really enjoyed it. There’s another thing I want more of and will definitely need to ask for.

While we were all hanging out in the bedroom, I found myself amused/turned on by being a lil’ bit dommy towards Reaction Junkie. When he would say something I didn’t like, found annoying, or was pretending to dislike or find annoying, I’d give him a nice, firm hair grab. He makes a lovely little sound, like a combination of a sigh, a gasp and a whimper. In addition, when I flipped the script from what he’d been doing earlier in the weekend and told him, “Kiss me,” he started responding, “Yes, sir.” Although it might have been a bit of a joke initially, I’m pretty fucking into it.

The Unknown Quantity showed up partway through the afternoon, which I was excited about. He’s a lot of fun, and I was happy to get a chance to spend more time getting to know him. I’d been feeling pretty gross most of the day, so I told Reaction Junkie that I wanted to take a shower. He told me that I had to get undressed there in his room, with everyone around, not in the shower. It didn’t bother me, since half the people there had already seen most of my body, but it did turn me on a bit to be made to strip in front of everyone. Both because of the exhibitionism, but also because everyone saw Reaction Junkie order me to do something. I like when my d/s-y dynamics are on display for everyone to see, especially when I’m being a good little cunt and obeying. I got naked, causing  The Unknown Quantity to comment that he hadn’t expected this within five minutes of showing up, but that he probably should have. I giggled and headed to the shower.

When I got out of the shower, I dried off and went back into the bedroom. I lounged naked on the bed with The Unknown Quantity for a while. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for a little more play that weekend. And, well, LFB gets what LFB wants. In fact, I got more than I bargained for, with a bit of co-toppiness from The Unknown Quantity and Reaction Junkie.

While I was just innocently lying in bed, The Unknown Quantity started hurting my thighs. I was still sensitive from the day before, so I started squirming around. Reaction Junkie came over and helped, both by holding me down so that I couldn’t try to push The Unknown Quantity off or cover myself, and by getting me to behave, since I’ve got extra motivation to follow his instructions, given that he’s my owner.

Reaction Junkie had a “”“fun”“” idea and grabbed some buckyballs. For some reason, I was really freaked out by the idea of having the magnets used on me, and I got really whiny and started struggling more earnestly.  Reaction Junkie had to use a voice with me, which was controlling and hot. “Put your hands on top of your head.” When I didn’t comply, The Unknown Quantity grabbed my thigh and dug in hard with his nails. I yelped and, shaking, placed my hands where I’d been told to place them. Reaction Junkie leaned over and put the buckyballs on my ear. I was relieved, since I thought he’d been going for the nipple, and I realized they didn’t hurt anywhere as much as I thought they would.

I was just relaxing into the slight feeling of pressure when Reaction Junkie moved to do my nipple. I started making noise and moving around more, and he had to use a voice with me again. He said, “[LFB], shut up.” and I got quiet. And turned on. I like being told to shut up like that, with that tone. He put the magnets on me, and it hurt less than I thought it would. He added more, increasing the pressure and the pain until he finally took them off, which made me wince.

I wasn’t done yet, though. The Unknown Quantity grabbed the kitten and put her on my thigh. Her little kitten claws dug into my bruised skin and hurt, but I had to stay still so I wouldn’t scare her or hurt her. I’d been using one of those head scratcher massager things earlier, and The Unknown Quantity grabbed it. He played with the kitten with it for a little while, and then started running it along my inner thigh. I tried not to move too much, as the thing scratched and poked. Finally, the kitten ran off to do something else, and I thought I might escape. To the contrary, The Unknown Quantity turned the head scratcher around and dug the pointy tip of the handle into my sensitive bruises. It hurt like fuck. He pushed it in hard, and it was all I could do not to cry out. He continued hurting me until it was time to head out to dinner.

Part 7

Sunday morning started slowly. Reaction Junkie and I had planned to have anal in the morning, but we’d gotten in very late, stayed up late to play with the kitten, and been woken up during the night by her antics, so there was no anal, sadly. We woke up and played with the kitten for a while. I was supposed to go to Boy Genius’ birthday party that day, and I’d originally planned to leave right after I got up so that I could go home, but I was having such a good time, especially once his friend, Cunt Destroyer (hey, that’s the name she put in my phone when I got her number) got there, that I decided to stay for a while longer before leaving.

While we waited for Cunt Destroyer to get there, Reaction Junkie and I sat in the living room and played with the kitten. Cunt Destroyer arrived and we got introduced to each other. Someone mentioned Starbucks, and I got a craving. There’s a Starbucks right across the way from Reaction Junkie’s apartment building, so I said I was going to get some. Reaction Junkie asked me to get him something, as well, and of course I said I would. I grabbed the keys and headed out the door. Before I left, Reaction Junkie told me, “When you get back, I’m going to be tied up!” I grinned and headed out.

Reaction Junkie had asked me to get him a baked good, and I decided that I deserved one as well. I walked around the grocery store and decided to check the Oreos, hoping, but not expecting, that they would have Mega Stuf Oreos. Much to my surprise and delight, they did! I bought them and headed back to the apartment. When I walked in, Cunt Destroyer had Reaction Junkie in cuffs, of course. I enjoyed getting a chance to watch someone being casually toppy towards him, since that was something I’d been wanting. It was helpful to see how she handled complaints of things being too hard or too painful.

I especially enjoyed it because she’s fucking awesome. She’s into consensual misogyny/has a misogyny kink, and I always like meeting people who share that kink. Also, she’s Jewish, so she has a Nazi fetish, obviously. In addition, she works two interesting jobs: stripper and EMT. We definitely share a sense of humor, and like similar things, kink-wise. For instance, when Reaction Junkie told her about the play I’m not allowed to talk about, she was totally into it and proclaimed it “sweet” of him. Which I totally agree with, despite the fact that other people would call it “disturbing” or “fucked up.”

After a little while, another one of Reaction Junkie’s friends came by. We all talked and played with the kitten, and the three of us were kinda toppy/dommy towards him. At one point, Reaction Junkie was laying on the floor with his hands cuffed in front of him. He commented to me, “You could cuff my arms behind my back.” I gave him a look and said, “You’re right. I could.” I sighed at him in faux-annoyance and told him he should probably ask for things he wants instead of being coy. Then I obviously grabbed a key and cuffed his hands behind his back. When I went to sit back down, I stepped on him and heard him make a little noise, which made me smile. I sat down and put my feet on him, using him as a footstool. I enjoyed that. He’s a comfortable person.

By this point, it was a little past when I would have needed to leave to go to Boy Genius’ birthday. I was having such a good time, didn’t really feel up to driving or being with a big group, and wanted to get to know these people better. I’m a bit sad I missed it, especially because there was laser tag and I would have gotten to see The Violinist, but I’m even more happy that I stayed because I had a fantastic day with Reaction Junkie and everyone else.

Part 6

When I woke up from my nap, I felt less tired, but still kind of down. I looked around the room and saw Reaction Junkie. I decided I should go join the group he was talking to and cuddle up to him, thinking that was likely to make me feel better. I walked up and leaned into him. We greeted each other and he returned to what he had been saying while I sleepily cuddled him. As I listened to the conversation, I started to feel better.

When there was a break in the conversation, I told Reaction Junkie about my scene, which he’d already heard about from The Unknown Quantity. I also shared how I’d started to feel super tired and kind of down afterwards. He seemed concerned and asked if I needed to leave. I definitely didn’t, but it was nice to feel cared for like that. I was feeling a bit better after I talked about it, and I started to get more involved with the conversation.

While we were talking, Reaction Junkie grabbed me somewhere, and I saucily told him, “That’s not where it hurts.” The Unknown Quantity had clearly told him about the intense thigh slapping and how sensitive I was, because he grabbed my left inner thigh. I yelped and he picked up my leg, throwing me off balance. I grabbed onto him with both hands to avoid falling. He pulled my left leg up far enough that the position forced me to stand on tiptoe on my left foot. The pain and the control he was exerting over me started bringing me out of my low mood, and as we continued to play, I came out of it completely.

As we played and he hurt me, we talked. I brought up something I’d been thinking about for a few days. I’d had some feelings (read: twinges of jealousy) when I watched him playing with Legal Lolita on Wednesday. Part of the reason was that I wasn’t doing my normal logic-based countering of those feelings, but when I thought about them some more, I realized I had felt the most bothered when they were kissing. I’m not big on kissing with the majority of people, for a number of reasons, but I very much like kissing Reaction Junkie. For example, the other weekend, just as I got out of my car to head to his vanilla friends’ party, he pushed me up against the side of the car and kissed me enthusiastically. It was dominant and passionate and I just about melted.

I’d realized most of what had made me uncomfortable about watching the scene he had with Legal Lolita was the kissing part, and that those feelings stemmed from the fact that I feel like he and I don’t kiss enough. Instead of bottling it up or trying to subtly encourage him to kiss me more, like I might have once done, I decided to just tell him I wanted to kiss more. So, while he was grabbing my bruised inner thigh, I said, “I like kissing you and we should do it more.” I was nervous when I said that, so when he responded that he also like kissing me and that “we don’t kiss enough,” I was relieved. “Kiss me,” he ordered. I smiled at him and obeyed. He repeated this command throughout the night, which was incredibly sexy for multiple reasons, and made me feel warm and fuzzy in all the best ways.

The group decided to sit down and Reaction Junkie chose a high chair. He pulled me to him so that I was between his legs and continued squeezing my thigh and hurting me. Eventually he said, “Get a coil of rope out of my bag.” I did as I was told and handed it to him. He tied it tight around my upper left thigh and pulled it taught around the arm of the chair. I enjoyed the pain this caused, but what I didn’t realize was that he had more than one reason for doing it. Not only did it make it easy for him to hurt me, it left him with his hands more free to do other things.

He started punching and slapping my tits, focusing on the right one. I’d told The Unknown Quantity that I didn’t want him to punch my tits, but Reaction Junkie owns me, so he obviously has no restrictions on what he does to me. My body and mind belong to him, so he can do whatever he likes to me. He punched and punched, and I winced and yelped, fighting the urge to pull away. I lost that fight a couple of times, and because my left leg was still in the air, as I leaned back, I almost fell over. Reaction Junkie saved me each time, although it wasn’t entirely out of concern for me, since he grabbed my tit to pull me back towards him. At the same time he was pummeling my tit, he was pulling the leg rope tight, hurting me multiple ways at once. As he watched my pained and pleasured reaction to the treatment, he grinned at me and said, “Oh, I like you.”

Eventually, as the breath was knocked out of me with a punch, I felt like I was getting close to a limit of what I could take from being punched. I asked him if he would please switch to only slapping. He opened his hand and brought it down super hard on my tit. “Like this?” he asked. I said yes, because, although it hurt, the pain was much less concentrated than with the fist, and I felt like I could handle much more of it. Reaction Junkie slapped and grabbed and squeezed and pulled my breast tissue away from by body, and I trembled with the effort it took to handle the pain, and because my cunt was soaking. I was happy and smiling and, at the same time, grimacing, moaning, and groaning at the suffering Reaction Junkie was causing.

When I felt my tits, the right one (the one he was hitting) felt full of blood. I thought it was pretty likely that I would get a nice big bruise, à la MLAM. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Next time, I’ll have to be a brave little cunt and be better at handling more. I want to be black and blue and red all over from Reaction Junkie. I love the reminders of who my body belongs to and what it’s for.

The party ended and a group of us, including Reaction Junkie, The Unknown Quantity, and me, left the play space and headed to get food at a diner. There were actually some decent vegan options, and I ate my mac ‘n cheese and chicken fried seitan while chatting with people. We were all happy and laughing, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Reaction Junkie and I got dropped off back at his place, and we headed inside. We had to play with the kitten for a while (poor us, tossed right in that briar patch), since she was full of energy and needed to be tired out. Eventually he and I both fell asleep. I woke up several times in the night with the kitten running around the bed or climbing on me, her little claws digging into sensitive skin, including my tits. Finally she tired out and fell asleep, purring, in the crook of my arm. I finished a lovely day by cuddling up and sleeping with two adorable, wonderful creatures.

I had a ridiculously good time at the party tonight.

My first scene (with The Unknown Quantity) ended because I was laughing too hard and couldn’t stop, just from the endorphins, and the main result was an incredibly sensitive right inner thigh. Then I got incredibly sleepy and down, so I napped to the sounds of screaming, moans, and all kinds of impact.

When I woke up, I tottered over to Reaction Junkie and glommed onto him and listened to the conversation. During a break in the talking, he asked me how I was doing. I told him about being sleepy and down and a short while later, he was grabbing and squeezing my right inner thigh, making me cry out in extreme pain.

I’m at a play party and I just had an unexpectedly excellent scene with someone I hadn’t played with before, The Unknown Quantity. I’d seen him around happy hour, and he’d seen me. I’d observed that he’d been improving with his rope. He’d been observing with others. And it showed.

He tied me up with my arms harshly pulled behind my back, my hands pulled in front of me and rope tied between a crotchrope, and rope tight around my legs. It left me unable to take deep breaths without causing myself some pretty excellent discomfort.

He picked me up by the crotchrope, pushed me around, tied my legs in a crossed position and put his weight on them, grabbed me and squeezed hard, dug his nails into me, and then the tickling started. He made me tell him how pretty I am and complimented my smile as he held me down with his weight and made me squirm. His fingers ran along my sides, around my hips, to my feet. I actually felt ticklish with him, which doesn’t always happen. He took a letter opener and dug the tip into my side, the sharp spring surprising and frightening me.

The pain, fear and uncertainty, and the restrictions on my movement put me in a pretty decent subspace and made me lightheaded. It was entirely unexpected, since I don’t normally enter subspace at events, and haven’t been going into it that much in general, lately. Fantastic! I’m really happy with how that scene went, and he was, too. My squirming, whimpers, gasps, and struggling made him smile and pleased him.

Time to head back in, hopefully for some more fun!

Last night I went over to Legolas’ place. He was sore from a bike ride over the weekend, so I planned on it being a low key night. I offered to make butternut squash mac ‘n cheese and some kale, and he made us baked potatoes. We chatted while we cooked, he groped me a few times, and it was all very pleasant. Eventually, we were just waiting on the pasta to cook. Legolas asked me if that was all that was left, and when I said it was, he said “Get on your knees.” I smiled and complied immediately. He took out his cock and I got to work, wrapping my lips around it and taking it into my mouth. He allowed me to control the pace at first, but then he grabbed my head and used my mouth like the fuckhole it is. I tried not to pull away and be a good hole for him, even when there was spit all over my face and I wanted to wipe it away. Shortly before the pasta was done, he stopped and pulled his cock out of my mouth. He seemed pretty pleased with himself. I know I was happy to get a chance to be doubly useful in the kitchen.

We took the food up to his room and watched a documentary about atheism on Netflix while we ate because obviously. When we finished, he asked if I had to go. I told him I could stay if he wanted, and he asked, “If I fuck your cunt, are you going going to be a whiny little bitch about it?” I smiled, because I love having him hurt my cunt, and told him that no, I would not be. He grabbed me and dragged me by the hair over to the bed and threw me down on it. Before I really knew what was happening, his cock was in my mouth and he was fucking my face. I did my best to just take the abuse as his cock hit the back of my throat with force. He stopped at one point and as I gasped for air, he asked me “Do you want more of that?” I took a breath and told him that I did want more, which he gladly gave me.

When he stopped fucking my face, I didn’t get more than a few seconds before he pulled me by my hair over to the side of the bed. I knew what was coming, but it’s always a little bit of a shock when his cock slips all the way in when he starts throatfucking me. It hurts and I can’t breathe and it’s scary. I always end up crying at least a little bit from the violence and from having my airway blocked. And I love it when he uses me that way.

Tonight was no different, and he pushed his cock all the way in, making me grip the sheets, struggling not to panic and, more importantly, not to jerk away from him. He used my throat hard, pushing almost until I couldn’t handle any more before letting me up to cough and breathe for a moment before pulling my head back down and sliding his cock back into my throat. He did this repeatedly, slapping me and pulling my hair when I wasn’t taking his cock. When I gagged and half-vomited in my mouth a couple times, he just laughed at me. My face was covered in my own sputum, which is one of my least favorite substances to be covered in. Partway through, he opened his bathroom door so I could watch my hole being violated. As he fucked my throat hard, he commented that I’d improved since he’d started doing this to me. I would have smiled at the compliment if I hadn’t been busy fighting my own body’s natural reaction to pull away when something big is shoved down my throat.

Finally, he stopped abusing my throat and pulled me over to the side of the bed. He lay down in the middle of the bed and said we could take a break. I like to think I earned it. Of course, I wasn’t going to get to just sit back and relax. No, I was to continue using my mouth on his cock. He told me, “If you do it good enough this way, we don’t have to go back to the other way.” I took as much of him as I could, pushing myself and using my tongue at the same time. I was focused on what I was doing, so when he asked, “Have you been giving a lot of blowjobs lately?” it surprised me. I told him I hadn’t been and he said, “You’re better at it.” I appreciated the compliment and went back to servicing him with my mouth.

Either I didn’t do quite good enough a job, despite my improvement, or he just felt like fucking my throat again, because Legolas grabbed my hair and pulled me back over the side of the bed. I shied away once or twice, instinct overtaking my brain for a moment, but then gripped the bed. He held my arms down and slid his cock all the way into my throat. I did my best to just accept the violation, wanting to be good for him. He stopped for a moment and told me, “I’m going to do this for a while longer, then I’m going to fuck your cunt, and then I’m going to cum on your face.” I liked the sound of that plan. Not that it mattered, since he wasn’t asking if I was okay with him doing those things, he was telling me what was going to happen.

He fucked my throat for a while longer, and when he finally finished, I coughed and caught my breath for a moment. I took out my tampon and sat back on the bed. “Spread your legs for me.” I opened my legs, hesitating only a little, both looking forward to and dreading the pain I would be getting. “Look how wet you are,” he told me. And I was. I was wet enough for him to get his cock in, just from having my mouth and throat abused. He pushed in, making me wince, and started fucking me hard. He looked down at me, alternating between moaning with pleasure and grimacing from pain and discomfort. “Do you feel like a third wave feminist now?” he asked me. I said “yes,” and I did. I felt like a silly woman who gives men whatever they want under the guise of being “empowered.” In reality, I know I’m just fulfilling my role as a woman, having my holes used for the entertainment and pleasure of men.

In the middle of hurting me with his cock, he slowed and started thrusting less deeply. “See?” he said, “I can make it feel really good.” He pushed a finger in my mouth and started rubbing my clit while he was fucking me. Now I was just getting pleasure, and I started moaning a little, although I was still jumpy, sure that he was going slap me in the face at any moment. He asked me if I was going to get off, and I told him I didn’t have permission. He pointed out that I can always ask him and see what the answer might be. I asked if I could please have permission, and he asked if I was going to get off. I responded that I thought maybe I could, but that I didn’t want to take time from him doing something else. He told me that he was doing exactly what he wanted with me and I shouldn’t worry about it. “Just sit there and look pretty,” he said, making me laugh, “And laugh at my jokes.”

Well, even a dumb cunt like me can do that, so I relaxed as he started working on my clit. “Let’s bring in some help,” he said, and grabbed his Hitachi and put a condom on it. (Ladies, try not to date men who don’t own their own Hitachis.) He pressed the Hitachi against me and started fucking me again. He was giving me the D and the Hitachi. I did get close, and normally I would have been able to get off without much difficulty with treatment like that, but I’ve been having some depression-caused sex drive issues that are accompanied by orgasm difficulties. Eventually, I stopped him and explained that I didn’t think I was going to be able to get off. He was very understanding and told me I had nothing to worry about. “I was going to ruin it anyway,” he told me. What a sweet guy. How did I get so lucky?

He said he’d been getting close and started fucking me again. Looking at me, he asked, “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve given me whatever I want from you. Why?” “Because you give me a little attention,” I responded. That’s the truth. I’m desperate, and I’ll do pretty much anything a man asks of me, just for a bit of the male attention and approval I crave. Legolas commented that getting fucked hurts more when he does it from behind, and made me flip over. He pushed back into me and started fucking me, making it hurt. From behind it’s less of a mix of pleasure and pain, and more just plain suffering. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head up, his cock slamming into my cunt and making me cry out in pain.

He pulled out and tossed me a towel to put under my head. Kneeling over me, he stroked his cock while I licked his balls and rubbed my cunt. He had me stop and instructed, “Beg me not to cum on your face.” I don’t feel like I’m very good at begging, but I wasn’t about to refuse. “Please don’t cum on my face. I don’t want you to. It’s going to be a mess. Please don’t. No, please! Don’t cum on my face!” I pleaded. Legolas grabbed my head and covered my face in his cum as I begged him not to. It was incredibly hot to have him want me to ask him not to do something and then, of course, do it anyway. I really like having my desires ignored and even actively violated.

“I almost believed you didn’t want me to do it,” he said as he wiped himself off. I’m glad my begging was satisfactory, if not prizewinning. We cleaned off ourselves and I got dressed. We took the food downstairs and I did the dishes, like a woman should do. Legolas told me a couple times that he really enjoyed the evening. I did as well. I’d been feeling depressed and mopey and antisocial, and my sex drive has been mostly dead. Obviously I’m not completely fixed, but I feel rejuvenated and more like my old self. Happier.

Sometimes you just need a night of delicious vegan food, being treated like a set of holes, and getting fucked. Hard.

I’ve given Reaction Junkie control over my bladder whenever we’re together/in the same physical space. So when we went to his friend’s birthday party on Saturday afternoon, I knew I was going to have to ask his permission to pee. We got to the party and I foolishly drank a pop, then a couple glasses of wine. I could feel myself starting to have to go, and I figured I’d ask before it got too urgent, since I had a feeling the initial answer would be “No.”

And of course, I was correct. Not only did he say “No,” he also told me, “Ask again in an hour.” I briefly whined, but the pressure wasn’t too bad, so I went back to my conversation. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I started actually needing to go, but I knew it wasn’t an hour. By this point, quite a few more people had arrived at the party, including Anderson Cooper and the lady dom I’d gone to the spa with. I sidled up to Reaction Junkie, who was talking to Anderson Cooper, and asked permission.

“No,” he responded, and then added “Jump up and down."  "Noooo,” I whined. “Is she talking back?” asked Anderson Cooper, being mischievous/an ass. “No…” I said, although, yes, I was. But I didn’t want to misbehave, especially not in front of a group of people. So when Reaction Junkie told me, “Do ten jumping jacks,"  I complied. "How do you feel now?” he asked when I was done. “Better, thanks,” I replied. That wasn’t a complete lie, and I returned to my conversation suitably distracted for a while.

I asked again not too long after, and this time Reaction Junkie said I could go if I went outside. He thought that was a hilarious option, and even asked the woman whose house we were at if that was okay. I pouted and continued talking with people, but I was starting to really need to go. Finally, I turned to Reaction Junkie and said, “I can go if I go outside?” He confirmed that I could, but when he double-checked with the people who lived there, we got a no go on me pissing in their backyard.

I bounced and asked, “Has it been an hour?” It had, but he wanted to make me wait longer. “It’s 5:23,” he told me. “Can you wait until 6:00?” I told him that no, I could not. “How about 5:30?” I started to say that I couldn’t wait that long, but that wasn’t true, so I told him I could. He told me I could go. Before he let me, though, he was going to have some more fun with me. He started pressing on my bladder, which not only made my need to piss worse, but it turned me on. I moaned softly and whimpered at him, enjoying the pain/pleasure of having my full bladder compressed. It’s one of the most arousing things someone can do to me.

He was talking to other people, and told them “I don’t know why she gave me this power, but she did!” Obviously, I gave him that power because I knew it would result in lots of fun for me and for him. And, of course, I was right. He finally let me get up to go to the bathroom, but before he did, he grabbed me around the midsection and squeezed hard one last time, making me groan and shiver a little before I said, “You’re gonna need to stop.” He nearly made me piss myself. He stopped and told me to go, and I skipped off to the bathroom, super pleased to have had one of my favorite kinks satisfied.

The Saturday before last, I slept over at Reaction Junkie’s place, and I had a wonderful waking up experience. We both woke up too early a couple of times and during one such awakening, he was the big spoon. I came out of my sleep, and cuddled into him. He grabbed me and started playing with my cunt, then choked me a little before covering my nose and mouth so that I couldn’t breathe. I struggled, unable to take in oxygen, and when he did let go, I trembled and gasped for air. Somehow we both fell asleep again after that.

When we finally woke up for real a few hours later, he reached back and grabbed my tits, playing with them. Eventually, he turned over, but before I could say anything, he was on top of me, punching me in the tits. I made a couple feeble attempts to stop him and then grabbed a pillow behind me with both hands to avoid putting them in harm’s way.

When he grew tired of just punching my tits, put his weight on me, placing his arms under my tits and pressing up, pushing my breast tissue away from my body. It hurt like hell. I can handle tit slaps pretty well, do okay with tit punching, but I hate compression and fucking with the tissue like that. I take it, but definitely in a “suffering for your pleasure” and taking pain for someone kind of way, not a painpleasure masochistic kind of way.

As he leaned on my chest, he started slapping me in the face. He hit me a bunch of times. The combination of the two made me whimper, and, eventually, those whimpers turned to tears. Reaction Junkie removed his weight from me, and I turned over onto my side to cry. As I did so, he whispered in my ear, “Good morning.” and I tearfully responded, “Good morning. Thank you.” It was the perfect way to wake up.