Month: May 2012

First off great tumblr! I am new to the sub dom lifestyle.. well have always been interested, but just found a consenting party to be mine :) anyway I’ve been looking around at other peoples experiences and have found tits to be extremely descriptive, which is great. But what does SG mean? How long have you been a sub? Any advice for a noob besides the obvious, maybe something you’ve learned from experience?

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Thank you very much, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. And, welcome to the lifestyle. 

Descriptive tits? Tell me more.

SG refers to the Southern Gentleman. We’re just a series of escalating dares waiting to happen. Or, in a less cryptic way, we’re best friends and occasional fuckbuddies. He doesn’t know about this tumblr, but he’s a prominent character in it.

It’s hard to really say how long I’ve been a sub. I was fascinated with getting captured and tied up ever since I was a little girl on the playground. When I developed sexually, it started to factor itself into my sexuality. But, it’s always sort of been a part of me, I guess, which has been the cause of a lot of joy and even more grief.

Advice: Communicate all the time. You really can never talk enough about stuff. You need that time to unpack and determine what worked, what didn’t, how both parties are feeling. Oh, and go buy some bondage tape. You’re welcome.

<3, Ivy

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Trapped, Part 3

(Disclaimer: The acts described here, despite their forcefulness and my resistance, were entirely consensual. I had a safe word and I could have stopped the encounter at any time if I did not feel comfortable.)

Switch groped my body like he was claiming it, communicating in chuckles and grunts the vastness of the control he wanted. He sneered at my lace bra and the way it barely shielded my breasts from his hands, barely hid the arousal voiced by my nipples.

“Look at this,” he breathed, pushing my shirt aside further. I gasped and tried to shove him off, attempting to push myself off the wall. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, “I don’t think so, slut. I don’t think that’s how this goes.”

He dragged me over to his bed and shoved me up against the side of it. He bumped me with his body, forcing me to bend over as he started to yank off my clothing. My hands fumbled at my clothes, snatched his hands, frantically tried to protect my body.

Switch pulled the off the last of my clothing, my panties, with a rough tug He grabbed me quickly after, throwing me onto his bed and pushing me down on my stomach. The whole while, I fought feebly.

When I saw the belt already looped around his headboard, ready for my wrists, I swallowed hard. He must have seen me, because he placed his hand on the back of my head and shoved my face down into his sheets. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell what it was, but the texture of his sheets somehow felt different.

“Now, hold still, baby. Don’t want to have to hurt you like this,” he pulled my wrists up toward the headboard. I yanked back theatrically. “I want it to be fun when I hurt you.”

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Trapped, Part 2

The issues with my abduction fantasy lie in the execution. Part of it has to do with fear. 

The text above is from the caption I’ve had on this post for a while in my drafts. I keep putting off writing it because I don’t know how to articulate myself properly about the whole thing. I was just never sure it could be pulled off. I wanted to be scared while still feeling safe and I wasn’t sure if those two things were genuinely possible in the sneak-attack type method I wanted my “abduction” to take place. 

But, this was somehow working so far. I had a safe word. I knew it was him and still I had been taken very much by surprise. The way he was groping me was a far enough departure from the way he normally touches me when we first start messing around, before stuff gets a little kinky. But, this time he was rough, possessive. 

I remember having mentioned having this fantasy once. It was very off-handedly, I hadn’t expected anything would come of it. He had told me about something that he was into that is literally impossible to carry out and I replied that I knew how he felt, because I could never be kidnapped the way I wanted without it being too dangerous for me to enjoy or too safe for me to get excited by the risk involved. 

And yet this felt like a good balance. I was at this really happy medium where I was just scared enough to not find it either cheesy or traumatic.

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Trapped, Part 1

It was a trap.

The lights were out in his bedroom. I was three steps in, hand over the switch, when he grabbed me from behind. I gasped as one of his hands twisted my arm up on my back and he nudged me against the wall with his knee. He pressed himself against me and his other hand wandered upwards, grabbing my face between his fingers and forcing my lips to purse. His breath was hot against my neck and the light scruff below his lips tickled my skin as he spoke in a voice that gave away his grin.

“Hi there, pretty girl." 

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So, odds are that viewer was not SG. As we talked tonight. And he’s the type to bring it up.

He did, ironically, suggest we make a blog together. But about something non-sexual. Because I tested the waters with, “people keep suggesting I make a blog but I don’t know what it would be about.” So. Yeah. Hah.

But, just to make sure it’s not SG, I’m going to post all the things about him that kind of annoy me. Because I have been far too nice to him on this tumblr.

  1. When I get too lazy to walk further down the hall and use the nearby men’s room instead and he decides to come in and pretend to be a stranger. Because he knows I won’t leave the stall until the other person leaves for fear of awkwardly getting caught. And so he just doesn’t leave and then starts laughing at me.
  2. When he comments on random pictures of me on facebook with the phrase “boobs”.
  3. The fact that he has effectively charmed my mother and formed a friendship with her completely independent of ours. And so they have fun ganging up on me.
  4. How sometimes he forgets context and calls me “slut”. Usually over text message. Usually when I’ve done something well. Usually in the phrasing: “Congratulations, slut.”
  5. When he calls me a dirty communist/hippy/vegetarian.
  6. When he declares that he’s the 1%.
  7. Numbers 5 and 6, when they happen during sex.
  8. When he intentionally says something blatantly offensive that he obviously doesn’t believe just to see me get angry and then laugh about how easily he got me upset.

Now do you all see what I have to put up with?

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On Friday, we crossed a few boundaries with each other. Not disastrously, but Switch and I both sort of took the dominant role too far in an effort to please the other. As a result, we both wound up with a little bit of overkill on the cruelty end of dominating something. Fortunately, this wasn’t irreparable. 

We talked a little bit about it afterwards to check in and neither of us were completely shattered. In fact, we’d both enjoyed it, but knew there were a few problematic things lingering that had gone on. Mostly, this was in reference to a few acts of degradation that I had put him through and then a few he had put me through. They were just maybe a bit too degrading.

But then last night we actually sat down and discussed the nitty gritty of limits, boundaries, etc. We developed a safe word that works both ways. We admitted our mistakes.

And then we had a really awesome night.

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Meet Switch, Part Ten

By the time we finished, the sun was rising. Switch removed his belt from my wrists, pulled me back against him and we fell asleep curled up with each other. There was something sort of sweet about the way he held me.

We slept only about three hours, we both had things to do or places to be in the morning. We wound up lingering in bed another hour before having to rush off. 

I got a text later that day from him expressing that he’d like to see me again and asking what I was doing Friday night. It took some restraint to not just be cheesy and reply “you?”. 

But, uh, yeah. 

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Meet Switch, Part Nine

Somewhere in the middle of me sucking him off, Switch seized control back. It happened sort of organically. The hand on my hair started grabbing, he started holding my head still so he could fuck my face. I didn’t fight him on it. It’s what I normally gravitate to, after all.

He completely took charge after that, manipulating me to get him off the way he wanted. When he was cumming, he informed me. He didn’t ask to. I sort of liked that fact a lot.

I kind of realize that both of our dominant streaks come out of our submissive streaks. He knows it pleases me to be dominated and so he does it for the purpose of satisfying me. I enjoy being overtaken and so I dominate him for the satisfaction of having him seize control back. It’s an interesting give and take. 

And now that he had control again, I didn’t fight when after I swallowed he pushed me down to the bed and grabbed his belt from the mess of sheets to tie my wrists behind my back.