It’s going to take a lot more to get me to hold still for much longer, Daddy.
bed
Playdate with Popcorn, Part Four
Popcorn came over to find me leashed up to the bed once more. She greeted me and hopped on the bed, sitting across from me with a little smile. However, I could see the blush already rising in her cheeks and I felt just as nervous. We started with small talk, giggling and averting our gaze every so often.
“If you two don’t just give each other a kiss by the time I could down from ten,” Penthouse joked as he took a seat near the bed. “I’ll pull you together and make you.”
Popcorn reached up and grabbed the leash, pulling me into her and kissing me. Her lips were soft, cautious, gentle. She had informed me, while we were talking, that she had never done much with a woman but she had wanted to change that. But, I didn’t want to push and I let her control the pace, also acting off of the fact that I was the one chained to the bed and she was not.
Because of some limits with the guy she was messing around with, she could not play with Penthouse but she could with me. However, I had requested Penthouse be present for my own sense of security. So, he sat a few feet from the bed, watching, which turned me on even more.
As Popcorn deepened the kiss, never letting go of the leash, I tried to angle myself for him, attempting to give him the best view of what was going on possible. This fact, in itself, felt submissive.
Playdate with Popcorn, Part Three
Before Popcorn came over, Penthouse treated me to a little sensory deprivation. Because, yes, that sort of thing is a treat to me. I’m a funny girl like that.
He secured the blindfold over my eyes, tied me down to the bed, and popped the headphones into my ears. He had recorded something rather filthy and entirely too blushy for me to go into too much detail about. But it was really hot, let me assure you.
At one point, he turned the recording off and called up Craftsmate to thank him for the blindfold and the ballgag he had made. I blushed deeply as he did, his hand trailing up my thigh as he implied over the phone that I wasn’t really in any condition to talk.
Shortly after he let me out, Popcorn confirmed that she was headed over. Honestly, the deprivation had put me in about the right headspace. I was incredibly calm and quite ready to submit.
Not to mention very, very worked up.
Well, tumblr.
All the schoolwork, partying, staying out late, messing around, organizing, campaigning, and general burning the candle at both ends has finally caught up with me and I am sick. So sick. Really. My voice sounds like Neil Young’s.
Right now, I need to focus on self-care but my head is running at 10,000 miles a minute over thesis, the election, schoolwork and everything else.
Since I am not the proprietress of a latex straightjacket (I’m intrigued, though, okay?), let’s hope I find some way to hold still, just breathe, sleep properly, and get myself together.
“They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word,“ Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca.
Chained, Part Two
Penthouse attached the other end of the chain to my collar. It was heavy, but not impossibly, so I had the choice to either hold it in my hands or get down on my knees to avoid it pulling too much on the collar.
I held onto the chains and Penthouse walked over, stroking my hair. “How do you feel?” he asked. “You all right?”
I nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah. I really like this.”
“Could I invite Popcorn over?” Penthouse asked, referencing the girl from the other night. (Yes, I’m going to call her Popcorn. DEAL. I’m terrible with names.)
My gaze fell down to my feet and I doubted she would want to. After all, it was awkward if she had met me before, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t want to do this with a girl she’d only met once at a party. But, I nodded. Secretly, I wanted it. But I doubted it would come together. And, if I wasn’t comfortable, he made it clear that I could end it anytime I wanted.
He took out his phone and texted her. Moments later, he smirked at me. “Oh, she’s on her way over. Maybe you should get on your knees.”
Shocked, I sank down to my knees and placed my hands on the floor, letting the chain go. I bit my lower lip, so excited I was shaking.
Penthouse lives with eight other guys.
This is totally fine, Penthouse has his own room.
Except, uh, until one of them starts blasting opera music while we’re trying to mess around.
True story: La Traviata and flogging don’t mix.
Word to your mother.
One of the mornings I was there, Penthouse had to go somewhere a few hours before one of my meetings. We had messed around in bed a bit and he took some rope and tied one of my ankles loosely to the bed-frame.
“Now, edge yourself and text Daddy all about it and you can let yourself out,” he said, kissing my forehead before grabbing his backpack.
I pouted as I heard the door click shut and reached down between my legs.
Continued from here.
Penthouse tied me down to his bed, pushing my shirt up and tugging my pants off. He slapped my face and I groaned into the gag, feeling the spit start to build up behind the ball. My arms tugged hard at my bonds and I glared up at him as he slapped my breasts through my bra.
“Are you going to tell me where my wallet is?” He asked. He had passed the threshold of annoyance into sternness.
I shook my head and he reached down, slapping me once more.
“Ivy,” he squeezed my nipples. “Where is it?” I shook my head and he reached to the side of the bed, grabbing his knife and flicking it open. Almost instantly, I grew still as he started to run it over my skin. “Are you ready to tell me?” Despite the goosebumps that rose on the back of my neck, I shook my head once more.
He brought the knife down to my stomach and, pushing just hard enough to just leave a mark, wrote the word “whore” on my stomach in thin, capital letters. I’ve never been written on with a knife before and having to hold still through the entire thing was insanity.
“Now, let’s hear where that wallet is,” he said. I just smirked around the ballgag and he shook his head before getting up and walking over to one of his cabinets. “All right, let’s see what I can do to persuade you.”
So, I have been procrastinating making this post since the beginning of the summer because I am super lazy and also I have a lot of feelings, but Roommate took the year off. After some crazy home/family stuff that really doesn’t belong on my sex blog, she called me and told me that she needs the year off of Ivy University to straighten that stuff out.
“My biggest regret, honestly,” she said, “and my biggest worry about the whole thing, was having to tell you this. Because I so wanted to have next year with you.”
It stung and we both were very sad, but I called up a friend of mine and she took Roommate’s spot in our place instead. So, Roommate is no longer my Roommate. I guess, because it’s her drink and because it just seems right for her, I’ll call her Corona now.
She and I have made sure to find time to talk to each other and I absolutely love my roommate, who I’ll call Sunshine for personality-related reasons. But, there are some nights where I really miss her and when I look around the place and wonder what it would be like if she were here, how it would look, what would be different.
She left a little coded message on facebook for me the other day. Something only I would recognize. I know she did it to be sweet and to let me know that she was thinking of me, but God did it sting like crazy.
I guess there’s something there, tumblr. I don’t know. Regardless, I miss her.
Photo by Gennady Tarakanov