Oh, make a tumblr already so I can flirt back easier!
Month: August 2014
If this is turning into a story of a Domme Ivy, it has become my favorite.
StandardHehe. đ
You shall seeee.
(The answer is yes. I’m bad at surprises.)
Do you tell your partners who don’t know you from the blog that you have this blog? Before you write about someone do you ask permission?
StandardSome. A lot of my partners do know about it, even if they donât know the specific web address to it.
Along the way, I ask people often if I can include certain details. After the New Year’s Eve play party, I asked Star – who was one of the hosts – what capacity I would be able to write about it while still being respectful.
When it comes to people where Iâm just honestly not sure about, I want to be safe. Usually, I wonât write about those people. If I do, I change details about them so theyâre really not identifiable at all.
Obviously, Iâm just as concerned about their privacy as I am about my own.Â
Halfway There, Part Ten
Flint must have seen it in the look on my face. He had Macy back at eating my pussy and Lida was bent over in my lap. I was kissing her while Flint played with her, but kept catching myself looking over her shoulder while I kissed her neck to smirk at him. I joke that I enjoy feeling like the bottomest of the bottoms, but something about the whole vibe of what was happening made me feel a little cocky.Â
“Ivy,” he asked, “you want to try domming?”
Instantly, I got super bashful. He had Macy lie facedown on the couch and handed me the rute stick. At first, I was very nervous about it. I was basically just tapping Macy on the ass with it. He had Lida kneel down next to me, but I just kept looking at my feet.
“You could hit harder,” Macy said.
Something about the way she said it flipped a switch in me. I raised a brow and measuredly delivered a harsher swat to her ass. “Oh yeah? I could hit harder?” I gave a few more. She moaned into the pillow.
I glanced over to Flint nervously, trying to feel out if this was all right, but he just grinned and took a seat.
Iâm hanging out with the lovely worthlessrapemeat tonight and getting dinner at a place we both love.
She kind of looks like the pretty meanie in this gif.
Except sheâs prettier.
And meaner.
The cliff hangers in your stories are unfair.
StandardThe demands in my life right now are unfair. Be patient!
Ten Things White People Can Do About Ferguson Besides Tweet
LinkTen Things White People Can Do About Ferguson Besides Tweet
If you feel helpless, there are ways you can channel your rage and sadness in real life.1. Join a peaceful protest.
Theyâre happening all around the country tonight, including at the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, around 7 p.m. Eastern.Â
2. Recognize that Michael Brownâs death was not an isolated incident.
In 2012, more than 300 black people were executed by police, security guards, or vigilantes. In the last month, three other unarmed African-American menâEric Garner in New York, John Crawford III in Beavercreek, Ohio, and Ezell Ford in Los Angelesâhave been killed by police. Those are the ones we know about.
3. Stop saying âThis canât be happening in America.â
I understand the impulse, I really do. But that impulse only comes to those who are insulated and isolated from how America treats poor people and people of color every day. Langston Hughes wrote âAmerica never was America to meâ in 1935. If you didnât quite understand that poem in your junior high or high-school lit classes, read it again, while you think about whatâs happening in Ferguson. Let it sink in.
4. STFU about looting.
And call out your friends and family members who wonât. Itâs been five days since Michael Brown was murdered. On one of those days, some furious, grieving citizens caused some property damage. Nine have been arrested. Every other day since then, police with more gear than American soldiers going into battle have been occupying the neighborhood where Brown died, attacking peaceful protestors with tear gas and rubber bullets. Theyâve tear-gassed a state senator and Al-Jazeera reporters, and arrested an alderman. Theyâve demanded that reporters leave the area and arrested two who didnât move fast enough. âDisproportionateâ doesnât begin to describe it. If you look at all that and still think itâs important to talk about looting for âbalance,â you should know that you sound like a racist asshole.
5. Look Around You.
If you live in an urban environment, youâre in a position to bear witness and document inappropriate and abusive police behavior. If you see an African-American neighbor being detained by police, wait to see what happens. Get your phone out. Download the ACLUâs âPolice Tapeâ app, and if you see something that looks off, take a video that will upload directly to their servers, in case your phone is confiscated. Whatever police may tell you, this is your legal right.
6. Make a donation to a civil rights organization like the Southern Poverty Law Center or the ACLU.
â¨
7. Educate yourself about the systematic inequality that leads to civil unrest.
The St. Louis American ran a powerful editorial today that fleshes out the history of Ferguson. When you finish reading that, go somewhere quiet for a bit and settle down with Ta-Nehisi Coatesâs âThe Case for Reparations.â Donât stop there.
8. Put pressure on your elected representatives.
Institutional abuse of African-American citizens is happening all over the country, and it demands a federal response. Talk to your senators and congresspeople about enacting policies to protect citizens from their protectors. While youâre at it, maybe suggest they work to limit the amount of military weaponry police can inherit from the armed forces.
9. Listen to your African-American friends when they try to tell you why this hurts.
If you donât have any African-American friends, you might want to think about why that is.
10. Okay, go ahead and tweet.
And Facebook. Tumblr. Instagram. Vine. Amplify the voices of people on the ground, and help counteract the damaging narratives being propagated by some mainstream media organizations. Itâs the very least we can do.
ÂFor white people wanting to know what they can do to help.
Need all my white friends to get into this.
Sir didnât expect me to be
so short.
Story of my life with Kitten.
HEY.
Halfway There, Part Nine
When the food was done, Macy walked into the living room with her plate and took a seat on the couch. “Make sure you put your feet up on Ivy,” Flint said, which was in theory hot, but Macy has the coldest feet I have ever encountered. As in, do you have a circulatory system?-level cold. I groaned, but it wasn’t so uncomfortable that I was going to make it stop.
Lida’s feet soon joined hers and the three ate, talking and mostly not acknowledging my presence on the floor until I asked to be untied when my legs were starting to lose circulation a bit from being folded up for so long. They let me out, taking a bit to admire the rope marks on my skin while I stretched out.
We sat and watched television for a while, letting ourselves relax before the start of the inevitable round two.Â
So, I discovered yesterday that I enjoy figging.Â
Sir and I were skyping and I wanted to do something exciting and special for him. I hesitated at first, because I usually hate pain play, but I had the ginger root and I couldn’t hide the fact that I was a little curious. With clothespins on my nipples, I carefully exposed a little bit of the ginger and let him direct me.
He had me rub it onto my labia first. I was disappointed when the sting came on only mildly, but suddenly the burning swung into full effect. I felt like I was glowing. I usually hate pain, but this was absolutely amazing. I really, really liked it.
He directed me to rub it all over the hood of my clitoris before pushing the hood back and getting some on my clit. After a little experimenting, I discovered I really enjoyed carving out a little groove into the ginger with my nail and situating the groove over my clit. That was totally intense and really awesome.
I went off to my evening plans with my pussy still soaked and tingling, considering that maybe I’d found my favorite pain.Â