“This is the art of
living with a ticking heart — a grenade you
throw through windows to make a
point that language
has no room for.”
– Shinji Moon, “Advice From Dionysus”.
bondage
So, maybe you all can settle a little debate I’ve got going on with Craftsmate.
He says it’s easier for him to cum when he can see my feet.
I call that a foot fetish.
He says, no, it’s not because it’s not that he needs my feet to get off or he wants to fuck my feet. He just finds my feet cute.
And, as he describes it: “It’s not like I can jack off to just feet. It has to be a holistic visual experience.”
So, we decided to turn it over to you guys. Foot fetish or not?
I love when kinky porn doesn’t take itself too seriously. I’m so tired of overdramatic power dynamics and ridiculous outfits. Sometimes I just like to get tied up and then giggle about it.
The socks are more than a little endearing.
The privilege of sleeping on a bed is expensive, pet. But you’re willing to pay, aren’t you?
There’s this sick, strange, scary little corner of my head where stuff like this lives.
“How long is forever? Sometimes, just one second.”
– Lewis Carroll.
“You’re not serious, you’re fussy. You’re a silly little thing and you know it.”
It’s been a while since I’ve been tied up face-down on a certain someone’s rug.
So, I decided to finally share something that’s kind of super blushy but I’ve been holding out on talking about.
I went over to Craftsmate’s one day after he said he wanted to show me something. When we reached his bedroom, he pulled out this mess of straps and told me to open my mouth. I was shocked and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I complied.
He pushed the ring behind my teeth, lining it up so my mouth was forced open. I had never worn a ring gag before and I simultaneously enjoyed and dreaded how receptive it made me feel. With a smile, Craftsmate set to tightening the straps around my head, under my chin, alongside my nose, shifting and undoing them every so often to make the fit tighter.
When he had finished, he grinned and pressed his thumbs to the straps along the side of my nose, holding my face still. “You look so pretty like this,” he said, before shoving two fingers into my mouth and probing around. I could do just about nothing to prevent him from doing so aside from attempting to shove him away.
After he had withdrawn his fingers, his hand settled on my chin and he tilted my head slightly. I groaned, feeling drool start to form around the sides of the gag. Without warning, Craftsmate spat into my open mouth and, without any other options, I accepted it.