Does anyone else get non-verbal when they get into sub/little/animal/etc.-space?

emofairyprincessofarkansas:

multifandomfanfiction:

Skin Care Routine

TITLE: Skin Care Routine
PAIRING: Frank/OC
RATING: M (FOR BDSM ELEMENTS ONLY)
CHAPTER: One-shot
SUMMARY: Frank’s Little Cleo introduces him to some self-care.

[A/N - This is for my girl @babybugwrites based on an ask she got. CONTAINS DDLG. DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.]

Cleo had the softest skin Frank had ever felt. It almost felt wrong to touch her with his rough and blood-soaked hands. He loved running his fingers along her arm and neck while they sat on the couch.

“How’d you get such soft skin, Babydoll?” Frank asked.

“I use facemasks and lotions, Daddy!”

Frank looked at her confused. “What in the world is a facemask?”

Cleo got up and bounced into her bathroom to grab her favorite tub of liquid facemask. She came back into the living room and straddled Frank’s lap. She opened the tub and carefully covered his face in a thin layer of sparkly facemask.

As she applied it to her own face, Frank brought up the camera on his phone and looked at himself. “Babydoll, I look silly.”

Cleo shook her head. “No you don’t, Daddy. This’ll remove any impurities in your skin and make it soft like mine.”

Keep reading

@babybugwrites, I finally wrote it!

i’m so soft this was so lovely to read after such a long day, obsessed with it!!! <3

playfully–sadistic:

When their mind is buried so deep in subspace that they forget your title when they start begging to be allowed to cum and instead of correcting themselves when you ask them “Pleasewhat, darling?”, they start babbling more incoherent sounds, getting impatient, confused, until they end with a teary-eyed and whiney “I don’t know, just please, please, please”.

It’s such a beautiful opportunity to lean in, make them nervous, more confused, needier, more impatient. Wiggling beneath you, trying to get more friction themselves.

“You stupid little thing. It’s Sir when you’re addressing me. Try again now.”

Nothing to demonstrate more power over them than simple, hushed words like these. No matter if it’s quick reminders, orders, blissful promises.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

Part 5

The Unknown Quantity and I found a space and started a brief negotiation. We’d done a fuller one the previous day. I told him where my new bruises were so he could hurt me, and told him I didn’t want my arms tied that day. Then he grabbed me and basically tossed me to the floor. As the scene started, I added a few more things that I didn’t want, including that I didn’t want my tits punched, only slapped. He listened and acknowledged what I was saying as he tied my legs.

When I was done talking, he started with the hitting. He didn’t think he was much of a sadist, but I can tell you that he very much enjoyed my pain reactions throughout the weekend. My poor inner thighs were already bruised from The Violinist, so when The Unknown Quantity started hitting me, it hurt more than it normally would have. I started struggling, and he grabbed my hands to hold me down. I squeezed his his thumb so that I could take more and move less. When I told him that’s what I was doing, he nodded and allowed me to keep holding his hand while he hit me.

Eventually, he needed both hands (the better to hurt me with, of course). When he returned to the grabbing and beating, I tried to be good and stay still, but I started thrashing. Reaching out in desperation for something to hold, I managed to grab the edge of the mat with my left hand, but my right hand grasped at nothing. I was trying not to kick, so I made a fist with the right hand and slammed it into the mat. The Unknown Quantity saw my half-failed attempts to control myself and stopped hurting me for a moment. I caught my breath while he stood up and grabbed a bundle of rope. He put it on my chest and said, “Hold this right there.” I clenched the rope in my hands and channeled my desire to struggle into squeezing it tightly.

He moved back to my legs and held them down. After he slapped my thighs a few times, the next thing he did challenged my desire to take as much as possible, physically and psychologically. I felt something digging into my leg. Something sharp. He was using the same thing he’d used the night before, but now my legs were even more sensitive. It felt like he was going to push the point right through my skin each time he jabbed it into my thigh. I was shaking with the effort it took not to move from the pain and the mental anguish. A bolt of fear shot through me each time I felt the sharp object pressed into my flesh. I trembled, part of my brain in a half-panic, part of it trying to be logical. He wouldn’t break the skin. We haven’t talked about it. We didn’t negotiate that. But what if he just pressed too hard? No, he must know how to use whatever it is he’s using. He definitely wouldn’t break the skin…Right?

When he put the thing away, I was relieved for a moment. Then he started using his hands again. At first he was just punching my thighs, maybe throwing in some smacks. Then he grabbed both of my legs, holding me down. He knew I’d react strongly to what he was about to do, and he didn’t want to get kicked. He started slapping my upper left inner thigh. He did this rapidly and repeatedly, the pain building as he brought his hand down on me. I writhed around, clenching the rope in my hands as tight as I could, trying to take the pain. I attempted to kick my legs, to no avail. He’s stronger than me, had a good grip on me, and I was beneath him. As he continued slapping, my pain noises started getting louder and louder until I screamed. Each strike hurt worse than the last and each strike ensured that the next one would hurt even more. Finally, I couldn’t handle anymore, so I managed to get out a “Yellow! Yellow!”

He stopped slapping and switched to lightly, very lightly running his fingers along my reddened inner thigh. I twitched. He’d made my thigh so sensitive, that the lightest touch hurt. The Unknown Quantity seemed delighted at this discovery, and increased the force he was using until I asked, “May I please have some water?” I was thirsty, but I also needed a break from the torture he was inflicting on my body. He stood up and told me to stay put. When he came back with my water, he instructed me that I was still not to move my hands or the rope from where he’d put it initially. He helped me drink some water, and I took a breather for a minute or so.

When I indicated I was ready to start again, he pushed me back down. I was still holding the rope, but now he wanted to hurt my tits. He reached for the rope and I slowly let go, loathe to lose it. The Unknown Quantity considered for a moment and then told me, “Put your hands on top of your head, and keep your elbows on the ground.” I did as I was told, assuming a position that left my breasts completely exposed and vulnerable. It was also a position that was impossible for me to hold properly as he slapped my tits, hit my battered thighs, and grabbed them to dig his nails in. Every so often, a strike or a squeeze would be so hard that I would lift my hands off my head for a moment. Each time, I returned them, wanting to follow instructions. I cried out and thrashed around, trying and failing to keep my elbows on the ground. Any time I lifted them up, The Unknown Quantity would give me a look and tell me to return them.

At some point, in the midst of the pain and the fight to keep position, something happened. I started laughing. He continued to hurt me, and I kept laughing. Reaction Junkie had pointed out that laughing is sometimes my response to getting hurt. This was different, though. I couldn’t stop laughing. I was cracking up. Holding position was a lost cause as I gave in to the uncontrollable laughter. I wasn’t able to tell The Unknown Quantity that I needed to stop, but by the time I managed to choke out, “I think I’m done,” he was already taking the rope off. “I know,” he replied, which gave me a nice little shiver and cemented my subby feelings. We cuddled and talked for a while as I finally managed to get my laughter under control. I felt warm and giddy and very contented. When we stood up, he said, “This time you’re going to do something for me.” “Clean the mat!?” I said in an excited tone. He replied that yes, that was what he meant, and I ran off to grab some wipes.

That was a fantastic scene, and I really enjoyed the feeling of being pushed until just cracked up, laughing too hard to continue. The Unknown Quantity is hella fun, and, just as importantly, I feel super comfortable communicating to him what I need, before, during, and after scenes. I told him what kind of rope I didn’t want that day and that I was okay with my tits being slapped but not punched during this scene. I let him know when I needed breaks, and that I wanted to grab something so I could take more pain. He’s also observant and perceptive, which is important and sexy.

After The Unknown Quantity and I hugged and went off to enjoy the party, I went to find a place to sit down and recover from the scene. I got sidetracked by talking to people, and wandered between a couple of groups. Then I started feeling very tired, so I found a chair and sat down. I almost fell asleep sitting up, so I got up and went over to another group of people I knew. The drop expanded from tiredness to me feeling sort of sad and down, and I decided to go be by myself for a little while to recover. I nabbed a spot on the couch, curled up, and took a nap. The sounds, of impact, groans, screams, moans, and background conversation were the perfect lullaby.

subbieblackgrl:

I love when I’m referred to in the possessive form.

I like when he says, “You’re mine,” or “I want my girl,” or “What’s my slut up to today?”

I love feeling like I *belong* to him. I get the most amazing subbie girl rush.

This is one of my favorite things to be called. Better than “Slut.” Better than “Cunt.” I’d say it’s even better than “Good girl.”

Being reminded that I belong to the person using the word “mine,” that I’m owned by him, that I’m here for his pleasure and entertainment, and, most of all, that he wants me. The warm, happy, subby buzz I get in my head is an amazing feeling.

I was in need of a good weekend. The week before last I’d had a depressive episode that left me feeling down, unlike myself, and with a mostly dead sex drive. Seeing Legolas on Monday helped me come most of the way out of it, spending the night with Reaction Junkie and hanging out with Legal Lolita on Wednesday helped even more, and so did not being home alone and awake for more than a couple hours a day during the week. But I still wasn’t completely out of it, especially with regards to my sex drive and ability to get off. I was hoping the weekend might help, since I was planning to go to at least one, probably two, parties. Little did I know, I’d have a fucking fantastic weekend where I’d get to spend lots of time with Reaction Junkie, have some excellent play with someone new, and make awesome new friends.

On Friday, I got to the play space a little later than I’d intended, but decided not to let myself stress about it. I payed and went inside. I actually saw a couple people I know talking, so instead of doing my customary overwhelmed thing where I go to the bathroom and chill for a minute upon entering the space, I just walked over to this group. Anti-Feminist Libertarian Boy was there, and he and I had a pleasant conversation. Also, despite finding his worldview abhorrent, I have to admit that he looked pretty good in jeans and a black tanktop. He claimed that he took his button down off because it was hot inside, and I asked, “Is that the oooonly reason?” He admitted it was also because he knew his arms looked good and owned up to being a complete douche because he’d switched his arm leg days at the gym so he could do arm day just a few hours before. As soon as he said “leg day,” I had trouble not laughing, so I went to go get water.

When I came back out, I started talking with The Unknown Quantity. We’d talked at happy hour a few times and seen each other around. We were talking about plans for the evening, and I asked him if he wanted to do a scene. He agreed and we started negotiating. He said he was more sensual than sadistic, but I tend to bring out the sadism in people, and this time was no different.

After all the pain and discomfort and wiggling and pain noises, he ended the scene when I said “red” to him using two fingers to press in really hard on my left nipple. I maybe should have yellowed instead, but it was probably about time for the scene to be done anyway. I actually did need aftercare, which is pretty impressive considering I don’t usually “need” it. I enjoy it with certain people, and sometimes want it, but I definitely went into subspace and got lightheaded with The Unknown Quantity. I was feeling better after we cuddled, and I got sassy and said “Somebody should wipe down this mat. Not me!” He indulged me and said he would do it if I went and got wipes. When I came back, the guy who wanted to use the mat next said that he would wipe things down, so I handed the wipes to him.

I looked over and noticed that Reaction Junkie was standing nearby, so I bounced over to him, still feeling headspacey and giddy. He told me that the scene was very hot, which made me happy to hear. Then I noticed that he looked not okay and saw something in his face that concerned me. I asked how he was doing. Not well. He’d been having a rough time over the last week, which I’d known from seeing him on Wednesday, but it hadn’t gotten better. In fact, he’d decided it would be best for him not to be alone that weekend. I was glad that on Thursday I’d offered to drive him to the Saturday party and that I would be staying with him that night.

We separated and I saw some more people I recognized. I said hello to the lady tops I’d met a few happy hours ago. When I told them I was doing very well because I’d just had a good scene, they laughed and said I seemed bubbly. It was good to see them. Especially because The Queene, who had offered to teach me CBT, again made me very happy by this time offering to teach me how to do sounding. I need to set up a time to learn, but I’m pretty excited!

When I left that group, I started feeling a little overwhelmed by the night, especially because I didn’t really see anyone to talk to. Since I wanted to write up the scene I’d just had while it was still fresh, I put on shorts and my hoodie (no shirt, obvs) and went outside. I started typing up my post about the scene and was almost done when Anti-Feminist Libertarian Boy came out. He was decompressing from a somewhat unsuccessful scene, and we talked for a minute before he read my signals and left me alone to finish my post. When I went back in, he was still sitting in the lobby, but got up and came back in to the party with me.

When Reaction Junkie and I reached the party, he suggested we go up to a private room. I was a little unsure, but I decided to go along with it. We went upstairs and picked a room. Reaction Junkie unzipped his bag and began showing off his handcuffs. He’s a bit of a fan. (That’s an understatement. He almost always has like 5 or more sets of cuffs in his kink bag, even if he’s just going to happy hour. And of course, I have to carry the damn thing.) He showed me how to use a couple sets and I set to work putting them on him.

I secured his hands behind his back and cuffed his ankles together. Then I started hitting him a bit. Not very hard, but hard enough. As we played, we chatted. I don’t remember much of what was said, although I’m sure the regular conversation was intermixed with me saying condescending and/or insulting things to Reaction Junkie. I told him I wasn’t sure about having sex, but noted that, I really should since he is a man, after all. At the time, MLAM and I were playing with a fairly intense and all-encompassing context of fucking with my feminism/consensual misogyny, which meant I was supposed to offer myself to any and all men for their pleasure and entertainment.

I also informed Reaction Junkie that he couldn’t give me permission to get off, though, since he was choosing to let me dominate him, thus forfeiting the control over my orgasms he would otherwise have as a man. I enjoyed saying that to him, even if it meant I wasn’t going to get off. At his request, I uncuffed his hands and recuffed them in front of him. I straddled Reaction Junkie and started grinding against him. I continued messing with him, and I was really getting into it.

I told Reaction Junkie to say nice things about me, and he immediately started complimenting me. He said wonderful things about parts of my body, my personality, my intellect, etc. I loved it. I should make him do that sort of thing more often. I uncuffed his hands and he started using them on me. He’s got game in the “hand stuff” department, but I wasn’t quite getting there. I knew what I needed. I needed degradation, consensual misogyny, name-calling, and to feel subby. I felt a bit bad, but decided that it was best to just ask for what I wanted. I asked Reaction Junkie, “Would it ruin it for you if I asked you to say terrible things to me?” Without missing a beat, he slapped me across the face and said, “Shut up, whore.”*

I swooned. Reaction Junkie saw how positively I responded to his words and the slap. He took over and continued this treatment, degrading me and hurting me. I clearly remember thinking “What a clever boy” as he got a handle on the consensual misogyny quite quickly, calling me names, insulting women as a class, saying the kinds of terrible things that get me soaking wet. He hit me, hurt me, and choked me, treating me the way I crave being treated. His words and actions combined to put me in a lovely little subby headspace. When he started playing with my cunt again, I got into it, gasping and moaning. Reaction Junkie said, “Oh? Can I give you permission now?”, calling back to when I told him he couldn’t give me permission to orgasm because he hadn’t been taking his rightful place over me. He continued using his hands on me as I whimpered that of course he could give me permission. He continued rubbing my clit and fucking my cunt with his fingers, gave me permission, and managed to get me close to orgasm.**

By this point, I was both super turned on and super into Reaction Junkie. I said*** that we could have piv sex (whether by saying “Fuck me!” or asking more demurely, I can’t recall), and he took me up on that offer. I grabbed one of the condoms supplied by the space, gave it to Reaction Junkie, and he fucked me. Now, I had mentioned to him earlier that I was into forced impregnation/nonconsensual unprotected sex fantasies. Not one to let a chance to press someone’s buttons pass him by, after he came, Reaction Junkie leaned close and whispered into my ear, “Our baby is going to be beautiful.”

We chatted while we cleaned up the room, and then sat on a nearby couch for a while to cuddle and talk more. Eventually, we went off to do our own thing with other people at the party. Whenever we ran into each other, Reaction Junkie took a dominant attitude with the way he spoke and acted towards me. I had already been hoping to see more of him because of the fun we’d had the previous night, but seeing him in that new light made me even more eager to spend time with him. At one point, he even threatened to choke me out. Then, as I was leaving, I went over to him and was delighted when he grabbed my hair firmly to say goodbye. I smiled to myself as I walked to my car and drove home.

The next day, I texted him, “I had a great time last night! It hurts when I press on my sternum, which is the best. We should definitely hang out again sometime soon.” He responded, “I had a fantastic time too. Glad you enjoyed yourself. Let me know when you want to get together again soon.” “Soon” turned out to be the following Wednesday. And then again the very day I got back from my San Francisco/Colorado trip. We started to see each other most days out of the week. That became spending most nights together. Before I knew it, I had fallen for him, and he had fallen for me.

*Reaction Junkie likes to say this is when I fell in love with him. That’s not actually true. But it did flip a switch in the way I thought about him. I decided, “I need to spend a lot more time with this guy.”

**Reaction Junkie thinks I did get off, although my notes on the night say I got close. Either way, I know I was impressed with his hand stuff game.

***To be honest, I actually can’t remember who offered/suggested the piv sex. Either way, the important point is that I was more than ready to have him fuck me.

Lest you been concerned that, after a date with Boy Genius where he was super nice to me and then a date with sub-leaning switch Puppy, I might be getting silly ideas about being equal to men or think that what I want matters, I thought I’d share the story of the orgasm after I had my first date with Puppy.

Due to…partner issues, Marxman and I hadn’t been playing for a little while. We’ve still been talking, though, and on Friday night after my date with Puppy, we started Skyping. I told him about my night and cleaned up my living room. When I finished cleaning, we started just talking. I was being obnoxious/annoying in a way that, had we been playing, I would have described as “bratty.” Normally I don’t do that, since I like being a good girl and don’t want punishments, but I figured there wasn’t anything he could do, so I kept going, talking negatively about men, even though they’re clearly my superiors, being stubborn with him, disagreeing in silly ways, teasing him about me being obedient, etc.

At one point, I was emptying my suitcase from when I visited my owner, and I took out a paddle. I think I was teasing hitting myself with it, and he told me, with a bit of that voice, to hit myself on the ass with it. I balked and danced around for a bit, but I’d wanted to do it in the first place (hence the showing it to him), so I whacked myself a few times. It had seemed a bit like playing, but I wasn’t going to tell him what he could and couldn’t do, especially since he’d been able to do more and more things after conversations with his partner.

I went into the bathroom and we started talking about the punishment The Fascist had threatened, which was to lick the inside of the toilet while masturbating. I commented that it was super gross and I definitely didn’t want to do it. Marxman said he’d like to see it if I did, and I jokingly offered to lick the outside for him, since I had no intention of getting punished. He took me up on it, and I licked the outside of my toilet, in a headspace of being amused, not submissive. Then he told me to lick the seat. I laughed and said, “Dude. You can’t play and I’m not in subspace.” “Do you want to be in subspace?,” he asked. My response was immediate, “Always.”

His voice changed and there was a noticeable shift in the dynamic between us. “Lick the seat all the way around three times,” he commanded. I whimpered, but complied. Once, twice, three times I ran my tongue around the toilet seat. When I was done, I sat back on my heels and looked at him, feeling fuzzy and subby, my cunt hot. I waited to see what he would say next. He looked at me and said calmly, “In case you couldn’t tell, [my partner] texted.”

I shivered in a combination of arousal and nervousness. I’m very happy to have him back and able to play. He knows how to treat me, we have pretty compatible kinks, and he’s got an awesome voice and enjoys using it to help me get off. That night, despite my bratty behavior, he was kind enough to use it that way.

I spread my legs and moved the camera so he could see me holding the vibe on my clit. He started to talk to me about an ongoing shared fantasy in which he holds me down and fucks my cunt, cumming in me while I struggle and beg him not to. I told him, a bit impishly, “I wouldn’t let you cum in me.” That just made him laugh. He’s decided he wants to do it, and nothing I say or do is going to stop him, if he gets the chance. He commented about how much bigger he is than I am, about twice my size. It would be nothing for him to hold me down and do whatever he wanted to me.

He pointed out how it would be especially great to cum in me against my will because I’m not on birth control, so I’d actually be risking pregnancy.  He described filling my cunt with cum and sending me out to get EC with it dripping down my leg. He talked about taking it away from me. He said he’d cum in me many times before he’d let me use it. If he let me use it.

I begged him not to cum in me, offered him anything he wanted, tieed to reason with him. None of it changed the inevitable, although he did enjoy my pathetic attempts and whimpers. Eventually, he told me, “Tell me you want it.” I shuddered and moaned out, “Please cum in me. I want you to cum in my cunt. Fill me. I need to feel you cum inside me. I want to feel it dripping down my leg. I want you to be the first person to cum in me.” He continued talking about overpowering me and using my hole and just ignoring everything I want just for his own pleasure.

A few moments later, I had an explosive, mindblowing orgasm, thinking about him forcing me to get off at the same time he was emptying himself into me, looking into his eyes, listening to him mock me for cumming as I’m being violated like that. This orgasm was fucking ridiculous. Besides feeling like I’d gone out and being unable to move, I almost pulled a Ted Mosby on this guy I’ve known for a few weeks, no joke. Fucking neurotransmitters. It was goddamn fantastic.

What a pathetic, stupid, horny little bitch I am to have that reaction to thinking about having my unprotected cunt raped and risking being impregnated against my will, to begging to have that happen, to the idea of being taunted as it happened. The worst part is, I really don’t want it. That’s the point. I want him to know what I want and decide to ignore it because it just doesn’t matter to him.

[Note: This is about the previous happy hour, on Tuesday, August 19 2014]

When we got to the fast food place, Reaction Junkie and Anderson Cooper ordered their food. Before we walked up the stairs to grab a table, Reaction Junkie handed me his bag to carry while he went to the bathroom. When Anderson Cooper came over, I decided to see if he would do something for me and, in an adorable little voice, I told him the bag was too heavy and asked him to carry it. He obviously did. Later on, Reaction Junkie told me he probably liked that. Hee hee hee. We all sat down and talked for a while. They both have appealing politics and I enjoy watching their friendship dynamic.

A little while later, another group of people from happy hour joined us, and we moved to a bigger table. Several of them were women who were, from what I could tell, toppy or top-leaning. I was really digging the energy at the table and the way people were interacting. I’m ridiculously into the idea of having a friend group, where I have lots of friends and they all know each other, as opposed to just having a bunch of friends. It’s about that community feel. It makes me feel like I have a home, a bit like having a chosen family. Maybe not quite that intense, although I also crave that family feeling, so I would welcome having a group of friends/a community develop into a chosen family.

The toppy ladies were talking about underwear and one of them said “Looking cute is important in the dungeon. You look cute and then you hurt people.” Role models! That’s exactly how I want to be when I’m topping/domming. Also, at one point I said something about having to play dumb or being submissive to men, or something. One of the women responded in a sardonic tone, “Oh, yes. Because women are inferior to men and should be submissive to them at all times.” She waited a beat and then continued, “Because the guys at this table definitely believe that.” It’s funny cuz subby boys. Later on, one of the women was talking about CBT and offering to give lessons to the other. I said I would be interested. She gave me her card and said she would definitely teach me some time. Heh heh heh heh.

I really liked these women, but they intimidated me. Not only because they were toppy, but also because they were women. Women are always more intimidating than men. Partially because I care a lot about what women think and find them harder to impress, which makes for a nervous little feminist bitch. Not to mention the fact that men are, well, easy. No offense, guys. Y'all are still superior and all that, but I know what to do with you. Reaction Junkie has promised to help me make some female friends, which I’m super excited about.

Before we left the restaurant, Reaction Junkie asked if I was in a toppy space. I’d been hitting someone pretty hard not too long before, but also I really like subbing for him, so I said I could be. It seemed like he wanted me to, so I resolved to try to keep my headspace. We headed out to take the train, and, as we left, Anderson Cooper called after us, “Have fun, you two!”, making me blush and smile. I like it when someone knows exactly what dirty dirty things I’m about to go get up to.

While we were waiting for the train, he started saying things to me, holding my hair, and generally being dommy. He started referencing the edgeplay I’m not allowed to tell anyone about, and I finally stopped him and ask him if he wanted me to top. I knew that if he kept doing what he was doing, it would render me unable to do so. He said he could go either way, I said that I could top, but then he just…kept doing those things and pushed me into a subby headspace. When we got on the train, we cuddled up and he started whispering terrible things in my ear about hurting me, killing me, raping me. About how nobody would even try to stop him if he just started beating me then and there. I was incredibly turned on and it was all I could do not to moan too loudly.

When we finally made it back to his place, he went into the kitchen while I took off my shoes. He asked me if I wanted water, and I said I did. He called me into the kitchen, telling me to come get it. I sighed to myself and thought, “He’s doing a thing.” When I walked into the kitchen, I found that I had been absolutely correct. He had a bowl filled with water and told me I was going to drink my water out of it, on the floor, no hands. Like an animal. That is my place, after all. I whined for a while, but I was always going to do it. It was new for me, and I tend to whine before doing new things, but when someone, especially someone with that level of control over me, tells me to do a thing, I do a thing.

He told me to drink it like a kitty, by lapping it up. I was thirsty and being a bit pert, so I asked if I could do it like a horse instead, since horses gulp. He agreed, although he did make me drink some of it “like a kitty” because he wanted to see it. When I’d drank most, but not all, of the water, I stopped. “Are you done?” he asked. I didn’t want more and I didn’t want to keep drinking off the floor, so I said, “Yes.” He repeated the question,“Are you done?” I whined that I couldn’t tell what question he was asking, if I was finished and didn’t want more, or if I had drank all of it. His tone changed when he asked the next time.“Are. You. Done?” I took a risk and said, “Yes.”

He picked up the bowl and grabbed a towel. “You know how we can check if you’re done?” he asked. I cringed, knowing I’d answered wrong. He dumped the rest of the water on my head, and I whimpered. Next time I’ll actually finish my water.

Now that I’d been properly put in my place, we went into his room. I stripped and went to the bathroom. He told me that when I was done pissing, I should spread my legs. I did as instructed, and he came in and pissed into the bowl through my legs. Some got on me, of course, and when he was done, he told me, in a disgusted tone, to clean myself off. I sighed, washed off, and brushed my teeth.

When I went back into the bedroom, he was already in bed. He motioned for me to kneel next to him and I complied. “I’ve reconsidered you letting me sleep in my bed. You can sleep at the foot of the bed.” he told me, noting that I was gross from being on the train and being pissed on. I felt a bit sad and let out a little noise. “Can you say there all night? he asked. I told him I didn’t know, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that not being allowed to cuddle up and sleep with him would have made me bad, and not in a good way, because he told me we could do it another time, he wanted a big spoon.

We cuddled up. I was super exhausted from all the fun I’ve been having, especially with him. He reached back and started playing with my cunt. I fell asleep with him touching me.

I like this kid. I slip into subspace ridiculously easily with him, and I love the rush of being afraid that I get when he tops me. It’s also fun to get to explore my dom side, even if I cede control to him at the slightest hint he’ll take it. Besides the kink stuff, he’s a genuinely interesting person and I really enjoy both having conversations with him and just listening to him talk. I’m excited to spend more time with him.

An excerpt from my newest blog post: “Introducing my Toy to Sub-Space”

Having secured my prey, immobilized him, snared him in my web, I pause. I pace back and forth around the bed, chatting at him about how handsome he looks all spread out and about how much I love hurting him. I’m coaxing him into subspace, but I’m also coaxing myself into dom-space at the same time. As I taunt him, I can feel my pulse find a steady rhythm, my hairs stand on end, and I feel myself growing larger and stronger. I flash my teeth like a predator even though he is blindfolded and won’t appreciate it. My body is vibrating with energy that is making me faster, quieter, hungrier. My instincts are sharper. Meaner.

I know that he is dying for me to make a move, but I keep talking. Pain comes in many flavors, and my inner sadist is relishing the torture I can inflict without laying a single blow.

I talk him through some of what I’ll do to him. I inform him that I will hurt him, that I will cane him. He fears the cane, knowing how it makes me yelp. His pulse jumps. I rest each of my increasingly large dildos against his body so that he can only feel their cool weight as I tell him how I’ll be stretching him out slowly around them.

You can find the full scene on my website by clicking here!

Woke up this morning to new followers, loves and reposts. Thank you all so much! Showed love to everyone back! I really appreciate it!

My master just asked me to be his girlfriend! I said yes of course! So happy! ❤️❤️❤️

Master and I finished my fox tail last night. It’s all big and fluffy. The color is beautiful. Master dyed it pink when it was originally white and black. The pink took to the white and not the black so it’s pink with black tips We tried it out during playtime last night. Can’t wait to show it off! Wearing it to an event Saturday, going to be super cute!

When master says we’re going to play ☺️