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Can’t sleep.

Moving stress. Porno brain.

Send me nice stuff and make me sleepy?

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“Bedtime, dear.”

Seeing this text every night makes me smile. I feel owned and little and cared for.

passius:

obey-sir: passius:

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He knows that defiance is just the most honest, most precious manifestation of fear.

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I miss my tail.

An Assignment

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Sir ordered me to write a list and post it up on here, in addition to keeping a google doc where I could add to it when I thought of more. But, here it is so far. I think you can get an idea of the topic fairly easily:

  • I feel owned when we are in public and you reach over and just start playing with my hair.

  • I feel owned when you say “yes” – strangely, more than when you say “no” – maybe because I knew I would get it but I still had to ask.

  • I feel owned when I do the tasks you put on my calendar, especially when they’re menial, vanilla things like having to paint my nails every Thursday.

  • I feel owned when I put my hair up to go work out and your marks are on my neck.

  • I feel owned when you remind me that it’s my bedtime.

  • I feel owned when you call me “your girl.”

  • I feel owned when you have me plug myself before I see you and when you push on the handle of the plug through my clothes in public to make sure I followed your orders.

  • I feel owned when I get really subspaced and you know exactly how to take care of me and exactly how to push me deeper.

  • I feel owned when you kiss me sweetly right after you’ve fucked me hard.

  • I feel owned when I try to hide that I am into something or that I want something, but you know that I like it right away.

  • I feel owned when I realize that I have no secrets and I like it that way.

  • I feel owned when I almost call you “Sir” in a vanilla situation.

  • I feel owned when you make me cum so hard it’s almost embarrassing.

  • I feel owned when I catch myself fantasizing about collars with the kind of excitement and interest that I have never had for them before.

  • I feel owned when we’ve been messing around a bit and you find I’m soaking wet and ready for you. And then show me.

  • I feel owned when I remember that I don’t get to curate what you see of me, as you once told me, and I’m finally getting comfortable with that idea.
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myanonymouslair:

Yep.

Oh, God. I didn’t realize what this was at first and then my childhood curled up and died. 

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At first, she protested, insisted she couldn’t. It was too stringent, too uncomfortable. It was cruel and unusual. But once the gag – however ineffective – went on, she already felt herself start to fall asleep.

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Sir says I’m totally transparent.

Which makes me feel teensy tiny in the best way.

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If I am being totally honest, I used to be kind of selfish. I had trouble understanding how I could enjoy things like service and cock worship. It would feel tedious and I would be anxious about not doing well. I wasn’t able to just relax into it and derive any kind of pleasure from it. Instead, I just did it and eagerly waited my turn to get something out of it.

But, as I’ve become more comfortable with my sexuality and picked better partners, I’ve really started enjoy worshipping a cock like this.

In fact, it’s sort of what I’ve spent a good part of this afternoon thinking about.

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Sure, the kennel is a little cramped. But they can’t just leave the kitty home alone when they go on vacation.