Thank you for, probably unintentionally, teaching me that no one is going to respect me if I don’t respect myself.
Month: January 2013
Just thought I’d share how ridiculous my sex life is.
StandardOur safeword for when I want Craftsmate to stop what he’s doing is red. The safeword for just slowing down a little is yellow.
Tonight, Craftsmate was kind of idly tickling me and I was squirming around on the couch.
“Stop!” I gasped out when it got too much, “stop! Red!”
Without a beat, Craftsmate replied: “the blood of angry men.”
This is clearly my punishment for not agreeing to see Les Miserables tonight.
Edit: He’s now sitting here playing the song and looking all proud of himself.
So, I decided to finally share something that’s kind of super blushy but I’ve been holding out on talking about.
I went over to Craftsmate’s one day after he said he wanted to show me something. When we reached his bedroom, he pulled out this mess of straps and told me to open my mouth. I was shocked and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I complied.
He pushed the ring behind my teeth, lining it up so my mouth was forced open. I had never worn a ring gag before and I simultaneously enjoyed and dreaded how receptive it made me feel. With a smile, Craftsmate set to tightening the straps around my head, under my chin, alongside my nose, shifting and undoing them every so often to make the fit tighter.
When he had finished, he grinned and pressed his thumbs to the straps along the side of my nose, holding my face still. “You look so pretty like this,” he said, before shoving two fingers into my mouth and probing around. I could do just about nothing to prevent him from doing so aside from attempting to shove him away.
After he had withdrawn his fingers, his hand settled on my chin and he tilted my head slightly. I groaned, feeling drool start to form around the sides of the gag. Without warning, Craftsmate spat into my open mouth and, without any other options, I accepted it.
This. Right now.
Except, not really in terms of looking at other people. More in terms of looking at myself, just myself, and thinking fuck it, I’d like to fall back in love with myself. I’m a goddess. Laurels and all.
Just click through and read it.
Brittany Matthews is my spirit animal for when I decide to stop taking people’s shit.
Which is, uh, what I need to start getting better at doing.
“Jennifer McMenamin says you’re not even from France. You’re from Montreal.”
“Are you a good girl for your Daddy when he fucks you?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, good. Because I don’t fuck bad girls.”
The only spirit he saw in her gift was the one he sought to break.
Holy bloody hell. This.
It’s scary to think of the old adage that “antelopes need not be able to outrun a cheetah, but only to outrun each other.”
Come on and use your frontal lobe, humans.
Bam
SHIT. i have never even considered this.
A Submission: Another suggestion for Craftsmate
LinkA Submission: Another suggestion for Craftsmate
God forbid a pet is injured, but this may come in handy to prevent infection. Poor things don’t ever seem to be able to leave well enough alone.
Submitted by thisexactmoment.