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Being Needy...
Posted:Feb 20, 2018 4:47 am
Last Updated:Feb 20, 2018 8:24 am
253 Views
Being Needy...

He doesn’t care that I’m a needy little thing…

Or rather, he does, but he doesn’t need to watch to know I’ll follow his rules.

Pets can only sit on the furniture if they are naked, and with permission.
Pets should always when asked, show how wet and eager they are.
Pets can touch, but orgasms are Master’s property, and should always be begged for politely.

And it only makes me hotter, knowing that he already knows what a pathetically wet, eager pet I am. He knows by the little hitch in my voice when my begging really starts to get desperate. He’s not above smacking my fingers away from my soaking wet pussy if he thinks I’m in danger of breaking a rule. Or just because he likes to hear me yelp in surprise. Or adding a few of his fingers in with my own, if he thinks I’m not really trying hard enough to edge.

He’s going to tell me “No.” when the begging really starts in earnest. He’s going to keep telling me “No.” even when I don’t think I can keep from cumming one second longer. And he probably won’t even look away from the article he’s reading; if you ask him about it, I’m sure he’s much more aware of it than he is of me.

Because he knows I’ll follow the rules.

And good little pets know how to wait.

danipup~
2 Comments
~being kind~
Posted:Feb 19, 2018 5:07 am
Last Updated:Feb 20, 2018 8:23 am
3474 Views
~being kind~

be kind. be ridiculously, radically, endlessly kind. be a part of someone’s good day. send nice thoughts, send positive vibes, send support and love and well wishes. be kind. so often we wish for tomorrow to be a good day when we are at our lowest. some sort of sign that it gets better. be a part of that better day for someone. the world does not magically decide that it will be softer on you today, tomorrow, the next day. and sometimes it starts with a message from someone else, maybe a little bit of inner strength to pull yourself up and take a shower, maybe a bit of sunlight makes the day better. but it’s these small things, these soft things that make a day better. so be kind. don’t ever think about being anything other than kind. be a part of someone’s good day because you don’t know how desperate they might be for it.

bobohu~
8 Comments
*Angels*
Posted:Feb 18, 2018 6:56 am
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2018 7:04 pm
4946 Views
*Angels*

3 Comments
~Saturday Vinyl~
Posted:Feb 17, 2018 3:03 pm
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2018 6:19 am
5780 Views
~Saturday Vinyl~

Aimee Mann .........~Save Me~ Magnolia
Grateful Dead..........~Box Of Rain~ American Beauty
Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash ..........~Girl From The North Country~Nashville Skyline
Neil Young...................~Harvest Moon~ Harvest Moon
Fiona Apple.................~Pale September~ Tidal
Otis Redding........~I've Got Dreams To Remember~ The Very Best Of Otis Redding
Aretha Franklin.........~Chain Of Fools~ Lady Soul
4 Comments
Yours...
Posted:Feb 17, 2018 5:22 am
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2018 5:00 am
6083 Views
Yours...

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked as if I could answer when his deft fingers were expertly playing my pussy and the heel of his hand pressed against me, teasing an orgasm just out of my reach.

“I’ll let you come,” he promised, not stopping for the breathless pleas that tumbled from my lips. “All you have to do is say it.”

I moaned, my eyes half closing in pleasure before the relentless tug of his other hand in my hair brought my focus back to his face, those intent eyes inches from mine as pushed me ever closer to the precipice of orgasm.

“Say it,” he insisted. “Say this pretty pussy belongs to me. Say *you* belong to me.” I gasped against his lips, my cries breaking like glass, trying to form words when all I could do was revel in the exquisite torment of his fingers. “Say it, pretty girl, good girl, *my* girl. Say it for me.”

Just when I thought I would succumb to the waterfall of pleasure cascading through me, when I thought I would break and shatter from the pressure, the words were torn from my lips with a guttural scream, “Yours!”

And once freed, I couldn’t stop myself from repeating every filthy promise he asked of me, the words tumbling out over each other in my haste to give him anything, everything, if only he would push me that one millimeter farther, over the edge.

Permission was in his satisfied smile and the tenderness of the kiss he stole while I shook myself to pieces in his arms. Those clever fingers eased from my body, tracing a wet line up my ribcage to paint a film of my own pleasure over my lips for him to taste.

“Sweet,” he murmured in my ear as he held me close, letting me drift back into my body to feel the insistent hardness of his cock against my hip. “And mine. All mine.”

thecreatureofdarkness~
8 Comments
The Wall
Posted:Feb 16, 2018 5:20 am
Last Updated:Feb 17, 2018 7:00 am
6608 Views
The Wall

I can feel him pushing me toward the wall. I do not like this part. The pain gets more intense, and my body is screaming for it to stop. I don’t know how much more I can take. My mind starts to race. Yellow? Is it time for yellow? Maybe he will stop soon. Oh, fuck. He’s hitting me harder now. My hand flies down to cover myself, and I try to correct the behavior before it warrants a punishment. I am crying now, and all I can think about is the pain. I try to squirm away from the blows. Or at least to shift so he hits me in a different spot.

“Relax. Don’t fight it.”

His voice is so stern. But not harsh. Just resolute. Steady. I know if I cannot calm my mind, he will not stop. And yet I feel myself speeding toward the wall, and it is hard not to brace for impact.

“Just breathe.”

Such simple words. But somehow hearing them calms me. I clear my mind and focus on one thought. This is for him. I belong to him, and that is all I need to know. And suddenly, the tension begins to melt away. In my head, I know this means a flood of endorphins. But it feels like more than just a chemical response. It feels like jumping the wall. I had assumed I would hit it at full speed. But at the last possible moment, I find myself flying over it. I begin to enjoy the pain again. Left then right, moving down from my ass to my upper thighs. The rhythm and strength feel comforting. I no longer struggle to keep still. I can take so much more now. And I need more. So much more. I no longer want him to stop.

But he does stop. I am sad at first because I loved the rhythmic swats. But then his hand slips between my legs. I am so wet. It surprises me how close I am to orgasm, when just moments before, I was in such pain. But I have been through this before. I know he’s not going to let me cum. The moment my whimpers signal that I am close, he withdraws his fingers. My ass is hot and throbbing. And I know what comes next.

He picks up something new. A new way to hurt me. A new way for me to give myself to him. Between the break and the new implement, the pain grows quickly. I feel the wall approaching again. I try to focus on my submission and accept the pain. To feel it flowing through me. His gift. I feel so strong for him right now. Even when it hurts, I want more. I want everything he chooses for me. I want to give him everything until I have nothing left. And in return, I know he will make me fly.

“Good girls get the cane.”

Yes, Sir. I am ready.

cherishedproperty~
2 Comments
Acts of love.
Posted:Feb 15, 2018 3:41 am
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2018 1:58 pm
6882 Views
Acts of love.

The physical ways we connect as a couple seems like a fall into two categories: acts of lust and acts of love. Acts of lust are like binding my arms with your belt while you fuck me. Wrapping your fist in my hair while you pump your cock in and out of my mouth. Fingering me in a stolen moment and then telling me how wet I am. Shoving your hand in my shirt and groping me in a semi-public place. These things don’t happen often, and that keeps them exciting and unexpected and ridiculously hot.

Then there are acts of love. Kissing me. Holding me. Stroking my hair while I rest my head on your knee. Wrapping your arms tightly around me when I can’t fall asleep. Fucking me. There is no such thing as too much of these things. Too much kissing? Nonsense. Too many snuggles? Never. Too much joining of our bodies? Not possible. There is never such thing as expressing too much love.

For me, spanking is like this. You worry that doing it regularly would make it less special. But that just doesn’t seem possible to me. I don’t think of it as an act of lust, but as an act of love. The exact manner of it may vary (as with kissing or sex)—different positions, purposes, or implements. Variations in speed or intensity. There are so many ways to spank. Sometimes maybe it comes with some flair—dirty talk about how I was a bad girl (or a good one), or mixed in with fingering or your cock in my mouth.

But it can be simple and sweet, too. “Come here. Like this. Hold still.” Bend me over. Position me how you want me. Then spank me. No words needed. Just a few minutes of your hand warming up my ass, then straighten my clothes and send me on my way. Calm, centered, and connected to you. Yours.

Pure love

kneelinggirl~
4 Comments
A day on a Train....
Posted:Feb 11, 2018 9:17 pm
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2018 10:26 pm
8727 Views
A day on a Train.....

We made eyes across the train car all the way home, as it slowly emptied of other riders until we were the only ones left. I waited for him to say something, reading my book with feigned concentration, the shifting motion of the car making my heel brush against his leg.

I blushed and apologized. He was gracious, and his smile was sex and sin and good old southern charm. That tie was killing me and my fingers itched to put my book down and crawl across the filthy floor until I was wedged between his knees, and then slowly unknot the source of my distraction.

Two stops from mine, he asked what I was reading, and when I blushed, he smiled knowingly.

“Ahh,” he said in that rich husky drawl, “a romance then..” My flaming face and the slight shake of my head convinced him otherwise. “No,” he concluded, “something dirtier than since you don’t want to tell me.” He put his paper aside and really looked at me, making me feel suddenly underdressed and vulnerable.

He folded his hands in his lap. “All right, beautiful…you’ve flirted with your eyes long enough. Put the book down.”

The command in his tone awoke an automatics response and I put the book aside, my heart racing.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded. “Pull that tight little skirt up - no one is here to see - and show me what you’ve been promising me for the last 45 minutes.”

I should have told him off or slapped his face, but instead, without thinking about it too hard, I tugged my skirt up, revealing lace topped stockings and matching garters and my freshly shaved pussy. I spread my legs slowly, hands on my knees, enjoying the feeling of his hot eyes on my nearly naked and exposed body.

“Tell me no now,” he whispered gruffly. “Tell me no and cover up now, sweetheart or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder like a caveman the minute this train stops and I’m taking you home with me. And you might not be able to walk in the morning.”

I just smiled. “That’s not a no,” he said. I nodded. “Then tell me yes instead,” he said, those stunning eyes wide and dark with desire. The need coming off him was making me wet and hungry for him. He put his hands on my knees, holding them apart. “Tell me,” he insisted. “You’re making me crazy.”

“Yes,” I whispered breathily. “Please.”

“Yes,” he drawled agreeably. “You’re all mine tonight…”

~ iamthegirlbehindthereddoor
5 Comments
*friday night mix*
Posted:Feb 10, 2018 12:15 am
Last Updated:Feb 12, 2018 7:53 am
9970 Views
*friday night mix*

Where Is My Mind...........Pixies ~Death To The Pixies
Loser................................Beck~Mellow Gold
Tangerine........................Led Zepplin ~ III
Pusherman......................Curtis Matfield ~ Superfly
Can't You See...................The Marshall Tucker Band
Pink Moon............................Nick Drake
6 Comments
The Double-Edged Sword of Brattiness
Posted:Feb 9, 2018 6:39 am
Last Updated:Feb 14, 2018 11:04 am
10538 Views
The Double-Edged Sword of Brattiness

“But I’m warning you, I’m kind of a brat.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just a girl who hasn’t had firm boundaries and desperately needs them.”

This was a few years ago, in my baby sub days. I had been kind of bratty in past relationships, but this Dom was not one to tolerate it. I worried he wouldn’t like me. But it turns out that he was right about me. I had always been bratty because I had a deep need for structure that had never been met. I was bratty because I was clawing for boundaries that weren’t there. I teased because it felt like the only way to be thrown down and ravaged. I intentionally broke rules because it felt like the only way I’d feel that tight control closing in on me. I wasn’t a brat; I was a submissive who craved deep and unrelenting dominance. Ownership.

Now that I understand what I need, I can mostly quell those bratty impulses. When I need to feel my Dominant’s control, I say so in a metatalk. I ask how I can serve. I ask permission for things (and sometimes hope for a “no”). I give my Dominant opportunities to lead. I find ways to feel those firm boundaries within my role, rather than stepping out of it.

But part of me thinks there is still value in brattiness—not in outright disobedience, but maybe in close calls. You approach the electrified fence. You hear the hum. You use something to test it. Maybe you get a quick zap, just to know it’s there and working. But you don’t barrel through the fence. Gently testing the boundaries can be a comforting reminder that they are there and strong. You are submitting to something, not just making it up in your head. A little brattiness can also signal confidence in the dynamic. It’s only when you know the leash is there that you can tug on it a little.

That’s the key—a little. There’s a rush of connection from being put back in your place, but it wears off. And then you’re left in a worse place than when you started. It can be tempting to push the boundaries, especially when you desperately need to feel them. But brattiness is not giving your Dominant opportunities to lead. You cannot disobey your way to firm boundaries and deep ownership. Playfulness is one thing, but intentional disobedience is toxic to the dynamic. Instead, you lean in. You ask permission. You have open, honest conversations about what you need and what is missing. Brattiness may make a spark, but it’s rarely enough to build a fire.

It has taken me some time to figure it out. But no, I’m not a brat. I like to say that I’m a good girl…96.2% of the time.

cherished-property~
5 Comments

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