On consideration, it isn’t so much about being a brat. The reality is that I like being your indignant girl, your little unwilling martyr. I like letting outrage carry me through the things you do to me until it exonerates me from the shared guilt of the mess we’ve made. Until I’m pure and clean and right like a perfect little blade. It’s true: I don’t just want to play the victim, I need to be the victim.
brat
Okay but like, impossible.
One of my favorite games.
The other night, Pup tied my wrists with rope, secured them to the headboard, and proceeded to fuck me with my knees bent up to my chest.
The knots were rather loose. So when we finished and Pup said goodnight, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over without untying me, I wasn’t remotely worried about not being able to get out. But I decided to pursue it. “Hey,” I pouted.
“Yep?”
“You’re going to leave me this way?” I asked.
Pup snorted. “You could get out of that in a minute or two. I’ve seen you get out of much worse.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Do you want me to let you out, then?” Pup asked.
“No, but…”
“Damn it, woman,” Pup joked. “Make up your mind.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want him to let me out, but I didn’t want him to admit it would be so easy to get out. I guess I wanted him to gloat about it, maybe? But it’s weirdly hard for me to communicate the whole “I want to adamantly pout and say no even though I’m really enjoying this” thing.
Which I think might tie in with the fact that I struggle to ask for what I want and just end up hoping that my partner will just, you know, guess completely accurately. Which is incredibly unsustainable, I know, but sometimes I’m just entirely too shy or embarrassed to articulate what I really want.
Confession: I am totally the biggest pillow princess ever.
I’ve heard multiple definitions of this phrase, so I’ll clarify. My working definition here is someone who vehemently doesn’t like being on top in bed. (I enjoy reciprocating oral sex – and honestly give it (and prefer to give it) more than I get it – so we’re not operating under that other definition.)
But like my pillow princess-ness is not even just to the degree that I only want to be on the bottom. Whenever Pup tries to fuck me against a wall or bent over my kitchen counters or over my bathroom sink I pout and fuss and try to wriggle away until he finally moves us over to the bed. I’m really just the absolute brattiest about it.
I guess it’s just that I really like being cozy and there’s minimal risks when it comes to fucking in a bed. I messed around on a floor once and got a rug burn on my face. That kind of shit just doesn’t happen in a bed.
Indisputably, I’m the queen of the pouty blowjob.
Last night, I sassed Pup so he called me little lady and made me stand in a corner.
Heh.
Star’s visiting Sir in his neck of the woods. Right now the two are out and having a good time. I miss them both whole whole lot, and especially miss being able to hang out together.
Pup’s out on a date with a girl today and I’m really excited for him.
But, like, here I am holed up doing work and generally being stressed. And I really miss – with regards to both of these circumstances – being the center of attention.
/brat
« Etre adulte, c’est être seul. »
de Jean Rostand
Me, during the hours when Sir and I are both actually awake and available.
Sir once said it is glaringly obvious that I’m an only child based on how many fantasies I have where I’m the absolute center of attention.