TAG! You’re it. Post ten random facts about yourself, and then post it to your ten favorite blogs. Have fun :)

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I think I did this once before, but I could never say no to anything Lemon asked of me. Soooo…

1. I have very small hands and feet. Once people notice it, they always have to comment/grab a limb/compare one of my appendages with their own.

2. When I was little, I wanted to grow up to be “the garbage man”.

3. It’s recently been pointed out to me that I have a fetish for being discussed as if I am not there or as if I cannot understand what is being said.

4. I’ve also got a fetish for being used by a group of people who all speak a language I cannot understand. Part of it is that their frustration with the fact that I don’t understand them forces them to be rougher. Part of it is that I have no idea what they’re going to do because I cannot understand them discussing it. It’s like a lingual blindfold.

5. My drink is a gin and tonic. It keeps the malaria away.

6. This tumblr is the only “journal” I’ve ever been able to regularly maintain for over a year.

7. I can only wink with my left eye.

8. The only book I never finished reading was Mary Downing Hahn’s The Spanish KIdnapping Disaster. I was in elementary school and starting to get very much into the idea of kidnapping. But, the book was not some groovy damsel in distress drama and instead involved a lot of children crying about potentially never seeing their families again. I don’t know why I thought a book with the words “kidnapping disaster” in the title would involve acting besides, uh, a kidnapping disaster.

9. I will eventually lose every umbrella and break every pair of sunglasses I come to own.

10. The phrase “moist towelettes” literally makes me cringe. It’s just disgusting and you know I’m right. 

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One of the more harmless elements of morning inspection consists of him smelling her shoulder, to ensure that she has washed herself properly.

She always whines that he should really trust her more.

But, confessedly, she would miss the scratch of his scruff if he stopped.

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I like when I’m in so deep that I am utterly convinced that being able to suck on your thumb is something of a gift. It hinges on the idea that having some piece of you, however small, either earned or given in good grace, is simply enough to satisfy. It’s a kind of worship where that person, for a small amount of time, suddenly becomes just about everything.

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Both Craftsmate and Penthouse have accidentally either called me Ivy or almost called me Ivy out loud in person.

You know, rather than my actual name.

Which, uh, isn’t actually Ivy.

Craftsmate did it that first time I hung out with him, after he had flogged me, and we were sort of joking around. I forget what I had said to provoke him, but he was laughing and replied to me, “oh, come on, Ivy.” I gave this really goofy, over-dramatic jaw-drop and he started apologizing. I told him it was all right. Because it was.

Penthouse almost said it in front of The Prodigy and Craftsmate, while he was untying me from the harness he put me in. He had me turn around and said, “and now if you want to get Iv…” He stopped himself, said my name instead, and then continued, “…out of this, you just need to pull here and…”

I wonder, sometimes, if I’m still Ivy in their minds. Like, when they see me, if that is the name that registers before my real name. They both knew me as Ivy and knew my tumblr before they knew my name. And while they’ve been really respectful of my privacy, I just sometimes wonder if I’m still Ivy to them.

It doesn’t really bother me, honestly. I just find it kind of interesting.

straitlacedsecrets:

Mother’s Nature.

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tamino:

I need to brush out your hair. I need you to need me to.

I need it.

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If you really want out, just find the door and you can leave.

Seriously. Just go over to the door, it’s not even locked. 

No hassle at all.

I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.

And if I find you’re still here, I’ll assume you’ve decided to stay.

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So, Craftsmate left his hat here last night. 

I think I’ll leave it up to your discretion what he’ll need to do to get it back. 

(Especially after saying he didn’t think he pinched hard enough.)

Payback’s a bitch.

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Last night, Craftsmate came over and we chilled a little bit.

Somehow, I wound up hogtied.

Yep.

I let him use a few of my winter scarves and he had put me into an all right hogtie, considering the materials. He blindfolded me with another and wound up gagging me by rolling up one of my face towels, threading it between my teeth, and knotting it behind my head. This was, surprisingly, terribly effective as it held my mouth open and pressed my tongue down, rendering me capable of essentially just a few whines and grunts.

He sat up next to me on my bed and told me that if I was uncomfortable with anything, I could just shake my head hard and grunt three times and he would let me out. I should clarify that Craftsmate and I are basically two kinky people goofing around and not sexually involved, for a few rando followers who asked and for whoever else is thinking I’m about to get laid or something. 

Instead, the asshole tickled me. If I moved too much, he spanked me fairly lightly. If I tried to struggle away, he would reach down and pinch my ass through my shorts. Hard.

So, while there were no handprints, as the picture would imply, there were a few little pock marks on my butt where Craftsmate pinched it.

What a jerk.

So, I actually have the sweetest followers.

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I’ve been getting some really sweet feedback from all of you lately.

The always sexy and super squirmy-inducing whyexactly made a very sweet post in response to my story about getting ballgagged for the first time.

And the incredibly intelligent church-mouth really sweetly reblogged my whining about that guy from my frat with a command to follow me.

I so, so appreciate how kind and supportive all of you are. And your comments today were the absolute sweetest.

<3,

Ivy