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I’m starting to wonder just how many pictures of women who I want to control me I can get away with reblogging before it seems too…passé. 

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I have such a fixation with thigh-highs. Stockings, socks, etc. There’s just something so elegant about the way it hits a woman’s leg. And, when I wear them, I tend to notice they make my outfits just a touch more scandalous than if I were wearing normal stockings or just leaving my legs bare.

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I love when someone can sum up a universal feeling in a clever kind of figurative way. 

bendingsubmission:

She wanted some discipline.

One person to tell her no.

Until she said yes.

To everything.

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I just don’t even know what to say besides the fact that I absolutely want to belong to her.

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I think phrase “sick, wet dread” deserves its own Pulitzer. And I’d be more than willing to give dacrylagnia whatever prize she wanted. 

dacrylagnia:

knife (by postbear)

He runs his hand along the blade, thoughtfully, considering the many delicious things he might do with it. 

From her position on the floor she has to twist her head to see his pensive expression. She wishes she hadn’t. The look on his face fills her with sick wet dread. 

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One of my very good friends is a photographer and occasionally he asks me to help him work in the darkroom, mostly just mixing chemicals and such. I remember the first time I went down there with him to develop some shots he’d taken of a guy he was seeing at the time (the entire idea of him taking these pictures post-coitus is just so erotic in and of itself). We closed the door, set up, and then he flipped the switch.

I can’t really explain how I felt beyond the fact that I was overwhelmed by the way everything looked. There was something so crisp and yet so raw about it. We were this bare, grainy matter and our motions seemed gorgeously fluid in this light. I really am not giving the way everything looked justice at all. It was like another state of matter entirely. I decided right then and there that I would one day have to do something absolutely filthy in a darkroom. 

And then I saw the darkroom scene in Vicky Cristina Barcelona with my girl Penelope and I was sold. This just needs to happen.

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Preach, sister.

Welcome back darling.

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Thanks, my dear. The time I took was spent with some really loving people who knew how to keep me busy and lift my spirits. And, now, with my libido back, I’m ready to roll.