It was brought to my attention that these panties, which I had previously declared impractical, are indeed practical for one thing.
It’s the little pink bow that I really like about these panties.
It just gets me.
ass
Chained, Part Six
Popcorn and Penthouse bent me over the bed and took turns spanking and flogging me, making me yelp and squeal into my ballgag. I squirmed when they stroked the skin, blushing in response to their chuckles and little quips about how fun it was to do this to me.
“Do you want to get caned?” Penthouse asked me and I heard him rummaging for something.
I moaned, nodding and trying to look over my shoulder. I had never been caned before, but I couldn’t manage to crane my neck to a degree to fully see it beyond watching something long and brown swish through the air and collide with my ass.
Having seen other caning pictures and now seeing my own ass: guys, those pictures must’ve taken a fuckton of caning. And it must have HURT LIKE CRAZY.
But I liked it. I loved the stinging, I loved the way they rubbed over it afterwards, and I loved the way they cooed over how red it was.
“She’s a good girl,” Popcorn commented at one point.
Penthouse reached up and patted my hair, smoothing it off my face. I looked up and saw his grin. “Yeah,” he replied, “she is.”
Oh my goodness what’s going on, what day is it?
Fuck Baseball, Part Two
“I want to hear what you like,” Craftsmate said after he had finished listing off what he wanted to do. I was aroused, I could feel myself blushing and I was having trouble thinking totally straight. Not to mention I find having to name the things I’m into totally humiliating.
“Why don’t you just read my tumblr?” I whined, “it’s all right there.”
He laughed and reached up, looping his fingers through my hair. “Because I want to hear it from you.” I attempted to turn my head away and he twisted his hand, pulling me back and forcing me to look up at him. “I want to hear it from you and I want you to look at me while you say it.”
I tried to turn my head once more, but he pulled it back roughly by the hair. Squeezing my eyes shut, I managed to stammer out, “I…ah…I like getting tied up and used.”
“Open your eyes and say it again.”
I huffed and shook my head. “I can’t.” He pulled my head back and I gasped, opening my eyes. “I like to be tied up and used.”
He grinned, “used how?”
“Roughly,” I choked out, thoroughly humiliated but glad the ordeal was over.
“Good,” he smirked and patted my head. “Now, what else?”
This camera angle’s just about right. It’s basically all he sees.
But very, very rarely gets to touch.
Meet Switch, Part Five
At one point, he had my face held firmly between his thumb and forefinger. My lips were forced to purse, my cheeks bulged slightly around his grip. His fingers were still inside of me, but he’d stopped moving them. I felt skewered.
I felt him looking over me when he murmured, “God, this fucking body. Especially that ass. You know you have a really sexy ass?”
“Yes, Sir,” I muttered through his grip.
He chuckled and started to move his fingers slowly. I moaned. “And you know guys look at it all the time?”
Were he not holding me the way he was, I may have laughed. But, there was something sobering about the way he was handling me. “Yes, Sir.”
“Especially when you wear skirts like that.”
I couldn’t resist. “I know. That’s why I wear skirts like that."
"You dirty little slut.” He yanked his fingers out of me so quickly I cried out. The fingers on my face left my cheeks and moved to the back of my head, shoving my face down into the bed as he started spanking me again, harder than before.
So, I hit a really major milestone work-wise in school. While it’s totally knocked the energy out of me, I’m very proud of myself.
As a reward, I’m spending tonight in and getting some well-deserved rest and relaxation.
You all are a bunch of pervs for mostly suggesting I go naked. As for the legitimate clothing suggestions, thank you.
My friend took pity last night and came over. She dug out some tall wedges, a high-waisted skirt, and this little tank top. I insisted that it was a little over the top, but she replied that it was just fine. Aside from formals and other sorts of events, I typically stick to skinny jeans and a top or a casual cute dress when going out. The difference would be perceptible and I didn’t want him to think I was like some kind of seventh grader smearing glitter all over myself for my first date to the movies where our parents would be watching from a few rows behind.
Well. He noticed.
In a just staring when he thought I wasn’t looking way. In a very eagerly offering to rub my back when I told him it was a bit sore way. In a desperate attempt to keep his hands to himself while I was sitting on his lap and he was rubbing my back way.
We still had our banter, but it seemed to be riddled with knowing smiles and little chuckles. Sometime during the night, I was told by this random gay guy that my legs were “pure sex”. I blushed and sort of leaned back against him as I thanked the guy who had said it. From the look I was getting over my shoulder, I think he agreed.
We had a great time, but the evening was cut short due to some stuff not really related to either of us. Maybe I could’ve gone home with him, but I didn’t. I sort of want to leave a little bit to mystery,
(via traveling with the ghost (旧館 Old): Олег Михеев (Oleg Mikheev) × Алена Водонаева (Alena Vodonaeva))
I want hard spankings. I like hard spankings. I love the way my ass feels afterwards, I love the dynamic during. But when it comes to actually getting them, I’m a big baby. A few hits in and I’m whining for the person delivering them to stop.
However, if they acquiesce to my pleas, I automatically want them to just keep spanking me. It’s not that I don’t know what I want. I know what I want. I want someone to unflinchingly give me a long, hard spanking while I lie over their knee and squirm and beg for them to stop. Except, they don’t stop.
This is one of the things I appreciate about safewords. It marks a difference between an in-scene “stop” to enhance the dynamics (and account for the natural impulse to tell someone to stop hitting you) and a legitimate, serious word that establishes that limits are being pushed and ends the scene. So, I can get away with being spanked longer, even when I protest and whine, and still have some way of actually ending things when the “stop"s I yell become a little more real.
The thief likes to make me do this.
Kneeling, ass up, back arched, hands spreading myself apart, mouth open. It emphasizes vulnerability, availability, openness. I’m not allowed to speak when I do it, just listen and receive.
At first, I wasn’t too into the idea. I didn’t like how, after a few minutes, having my mouth open would make me drool. I didn’t enjoy just how exposed and small it made me feel.
However, since then, it’s grown on me. Sometimes, I don’t want it to end. It’s just so very simple. And when I seem a bit overwhelmed to him or when I have too much on my mind, he’ll stop what he’s doing and have me get into this position. It centers me. I don’t even mind the drooling anymore.