I think I need a day where I’m just chained to somebody’s bed like this. I don’t need all that much attention, just to be used and feel useful every so often.
black and white
“He’s so damned nice and he’s so awful. He’s my sort of thing.” – Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises.
Can we discuss that I haven’t felt the genuine feeling of peril in quite a while?
Let’s change that.
That Time Pup Was Celibate for a Little Bit, Part Nine
The day after Sir left town, I was a little mopey (as I usually am when he does) and invited Pup over to hang out. We had agreed that it was probably for the best that he and Sir and I had not endeavored to threesome that evening. But, we hadn’t totally addressed the whole breaking into a dynamic thing.
Pup and I were hanging around on my couch when the other night somehow came up, and I made some snarky comment about him “breaking his sacred vow.” I was still laughing when he shoved me off of my couch and onto the floor.
“You’re a little bitch, you know that?” He said in a way that made me pause for a moment to see if he was joking or not.
“Is this okay?” I asked. I was still lying on my floor. “Like, are you serious or…?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m good. I’m just playing.”
I nodded, “okay, good, right. Are you sure you want to?” I brought myself up to my knees.
“Yeah.” I went to stand and he stopped me, reaching down to unzip his pants.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. Of course the first fucking thing you want is that."
He grinned and shoved my mouth down on his cock. "Shut up,” he murmured as he applied pressure to the back of my head. I humored him for a few minutes before pulling back and shaking my head. “No, you don’t get off that easy.”
Pup pushed me back down. He got up and swept his foot under my skirt, kicking it up over my stomach. Despite my earlier claim that I really only wore stay-ups, I was wearing an old pair of tights that had a little rip on the thigh. They matched my outfit better than any of my stay-ups and I didn’t actually think I was going to be showing anyone what was happening underneath my skirt.
Pup crouched down and hooked his finger into the rip. He jerked his hand up, tearing them further until most of my inner thigh was exposed. “I like this,” he said, giving another tug.
“You’re ruining them,” I huffed.
“Aw,” he tore into the crotch. “I think you can still wear these. They look better now.”
That Time Pup Was Celibate for a Little Bit, Part Eight
“I saw you flash your tights at him,” Sir teased when I was putting my coat on to leave.
I smirked. “Stockings. Not tights.”
Pup was on his way out, too, and we figured we’d all walk together since he’s just about a block away from me (yeah, seriously). I’d brought a change of shoes because I didn’t think I wanted to walk home in my heels, but just ended up essentially throwing my shoes at Sir, claiming I could walk in the heels just fine.
The party was a little bit outside of the area of the city where Pup and I live, so we had a tiny trek ahead of us on a few residential roads that were more or less empty. I was being a little brat as we made our way away from my friend’s place, and I tossed my purse at Sir as well. “Now carry this, too,” I said, sticking out my tongue.
I was still walking when I felt Pup’s hand come up the back of my neck and tangle in my hair. We’d all had a little bit to drink, but none of us were “impaired.” But, the surprise of him seizing me by the hair made me trip a bit, especially combined with the fact that he hadn’t stopped walking. I ended up stumbling along beside him as he said, “you’re being a little brat.”
I grinned and glanced over at Sir, trying to gauge if he was all right with what was going down. I was met with a grin and winked before Pup shook me forward.
“You’re being a brat.” Pup tilted my head to exaggerate my glance at Sir. “Say you’re sorry.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m sorry.”
“Say thank you, he’s been so nice to you.”
My legs felt a little weak. I hadn’t been co-dommed by two men since the threesome with SG that Sir and I had back in January, and I was nervous and unsure but massively turned on. “Thank you.”
“That’s a good girl,” Sir replied. I giggled and tried to twist away from Pup, but Sir grabbed my wrist. I walked between the two of them like that until we started to see people.
Sir and I ended up going home alone that night, and probably for the best. It would’ve been a weird way to open things back up with Pup. But the next morning I woke up thinking that maybe things were back open.
That Time Pup Was Celibate For a Little Bit, Part Five
Pup was leaving my place one night when somehow I figured out he was carrying his knife on him.
“You’re not supposed to be,” I badgered. I had been leaning up against my door while he was putting on his boots.
He got up to his feet. “Says who?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, “why are you even carrying it?”
“Because I want to.”
Feeling a little coy, I asked to see it. I jumped a little in my skin when he flicked it open. When he took hold of my hand and unfolded my fingers, I froze. Carefully, he pressed the knife into my palm, making sure not to break the skin.
“Pretty sharp, huh?” He was grinning.
I blushed. “Uh huh.”
My face was still burning when he left.
I get to see him in a few hours. I can’t wait. I can barely wait.
That Time Pup Was Celibate For a Little Bit, Part One
It was late September and stuff with Pup was going pretty well. We got along with each other to a degree that we were able to just hang out and talk, and we had a degree of chemistry that also kind of made it impossible to just talk. Because his girlfriend had other partners, he was both used to seeing poly women and he understood perfectly his place in reference to Sir. He was super respectful of my relationship and we were having a great time so naturally something had to go wrong.
Pup and his girlfriend were having problems and they were – without laying out his dirty laundry on the Internet – of the wow-we-may-not-actually-be-compatible nature which is heavier/crazier/worse than the whole poly-isn’t-working problems. They broke up. Pup was, understandably, a mess.
There was the awkward issue of what that implied for us that I wasn’t sure how to bring up. I wanted him to take care of himself. I came over to try to talk about that, we ended up trying to mess around, and it ended absolutely horribly. It’s hard for me to write about my partners and portray them in a negative light to the peanut gallery of the Internet, but let’s say that the next day he left a letter at my place saying how he’d fucked up.
On my way to a party, I made a quick stop at his place and we talked through the whole thing. Pup wanted to be celibate for a little bit to avoid any more hiccups so, eventually, he could pick stuff back up without ruining it while he was dealing with this. I agreed, we hugged, and I felt much better about the whole thing.
Except we’re a couple of sluts, so…
Back to School, Part Four
I asked Flint if he’d hurt me and he suggested the big menacing rubber thing he’d been giving The Librarian bruises with. I agreed, if he promised to maybe give only about half the force behind each swing he’d been giving her.
He sat me down in a chair and a little pocket of people started to gather around as he began smacking my thigh with the tool. It made a wet, rubbery sound each time it hit, like a suction cup being applied and then torn away very quickly. An oval rose on one of my thighs, turning pink first, then red. The bruise began to protrude as well, bulging slightly from my thigh like an extra swell of quadricep.
A girl came over and put a sticker on my cheek for taking it so well, and we ended up having a conversation while Flint hit me to distract from the pain.
“Somebody said you’re actually a teacher,” she said, gesturing to my outfit.
I nodded, “uh huh, yeah. I’m a teacher.” It made my get-up feel a little silly and a teensy bit degrading.
“You’re probably the hot teacher,” she grinned. “Actually, you’re definitely the hot teacher.” At first, I didn’t realize why she’d started laughing, but it dawned on me that I’d just started conspicuously blushing.
When Flint finished, he asked if I needed aftercare and I severely underestimated how many endorphins were running through me, so I shot up from the seat. Instantly, I collapsed right back down and the girl who had been talking fetched me water, somebody else came back with some cheese and crackers. I put my head against Flint’s thigh and sucked in a deep breath, proud of myself for taking it.
“That’s going to hurt a lot tomorrow,” Lida said, inspecting the bruise.
She wasn’t lying.
Over the holidays, I’m staying with Sir for three weeks straight.
Seriously. I’m too excited for words.