breasts

Chained, Part One

Penthouse likes to make collars. He braids leather and they look cute, pretty, unintimidating. I like that. The last collar I wore had the word “bitch” on it and I sort of hated it.

He made mine red and purple, two of my favorite colors. It fit comfy and had a little d-ring to attach a leash, which made me blush like no other. By having me help him put the final clasp on, Penthouse really made me feel like it was mine. Which I liked. A lot.

After buckling the collar on me, he had me put on this little nightgown that I brought which is actually a size large shirt from Forever 21 that was five bucks. Call me ridiculous, but I thought the pattern was cute and I tried it on and figured I could pass it off as a nightgown. It covers my ass and, while it’s too loose to be a dress, it’s cute and precious and so little as a nightgown.

In the nightgown and with the collar on, I was already blushing so hard my cheeks burned. But, when he took out a length of chain and clipped one end to his bed-frame, I just about lost it.

Penthouse asked me, before I came, if I would want to be leashed in front of a friend of his. He knew I liked it, he knew she liked the idea of it, and he conspired to make it happen. Blushing, but not thinking anyone would actually want to, I agreed.

On Friday night, we went to hang out with a few of his friends and he mentioned that she would be there. The whole time, I nervously looked around trying to figure out who this girl was.

At one point, this very pretty, petite girl in a little denim skirt mentioned that she liked popcorn because it was something she actually wasn’t allergic to.

Earlier that day, he had discouraged me from eating Nutella, because he mentioned the girl had a pretty bad nut allergy. Putting two and two together, I blushed about six shades of pink.

Continued from here.

Penthouse had undressed me and was starting to unwind a ton of rope. He started with the harness he had put me in during the mini-munch. I smiled to myself as he worked, still figuring I had the upper hand. After all, I wanted to be tied up.

My grin faded when I felt him pull the rope between my legs from the back and tie a knot in it. My eyes widened when he pulled the other end up through the front of the harness, causing the rope to tighten up against my exposed cunt and the knot to line up with my clit.

It was his turn to smirk when he gave the rope a few test pulls.

“Feel good?” He asked and I blushed, looking away. He reached up and mussed my hair. "Go get on the bed and let me do your legs, then.“

The night I got there, Penthouse and I messed around. It was somewhere between tired and playful, with the vaguest implication of a dynamic.

When he was close, he asked if he could finish on my chest. I consented and he looked me over with a triumphant smirk. There’s something about a man who has been dominating me getting right close to cumming that makes me super bratty.

So, when he asked me what I was going to do with his cum, I presumed he probably expected me to blush.

Instead, I smiled and shrugged. “Oh, just taste it like this.” I wiped two fingers over my bare stomach as if to pantomime gathering some of his cum and brought them to my lips, bringing my head up and down on them. My eyes flashed up to meet his and I grinned around my fingers.

I probably shouldn’t be so smug about how he came right then.

herdirtylittleheart:

“You’ve been so spoiled baby. Are you sure you want more?”

-my sexy husband

Fuck Baseball, Part Four

One of the things Craftsmate had listed wanting to do was to torture my nipples. And when he put it that way it was kind of hard to refuse.

He retied me on my back, blindfolded me and pulled my shirt up. After tugging my bra up as well, I heard him chuckle a bit under his breath and felt myself tense nervously.

He twisted, pulled, and pinched hard. I gasped when he would go from gently brushing his fingers over them to pulling them hard while twisting them.

Somewhere amidst the condescension and teasing, he blurted out, “this reminds me of Fight Club.”

“Uh?” I blinked behind the blindfold.

“That part where he says that he wanted to destroy something beautiful,” Craftsmate replied, stroking his fingers over my nipples before flicking them.

I went to say something, but all I could manage was an “oh”.

“When you find out who you are, you will no longer be innocent. That will be sad for others to see. All that knowledge will show on your face and change it. But sad only for others, not for yourself. You will feel you have a kind of wisdom, very mistaken, but a mistake of some power to you and so you will sadly treasure it and grow it,“ – Lorrie Moore, A Gate at the Stairs.

I like when I’m in so deep that I am utterly convinced that being able to suck on your thumb is something of a gift. It hinges on the idea that having some piece of you, however small, either earned or given in good grace, is simply enough to satisfy. It’s a kind of worship where that person, for a small amount of time, suddenly becomes just about everything.

At this point, she is in repose. She has surrendered, resigned herself to the fact that she no longer has any control over the situation. In this sense, more than if she were to be released, she is free.

Trapped, Part 8

I was still regaining my composure when Switch climbed onto the bed and pushed my breasts together. My boobs are literally just big enough to get fucked but small enough to sort of make the process a challenge.

I told him that if he untied my hands and took the blindfold off, I could help him. But, Switch just replied, “no, you just stay as you are and let me take what I need.”

The more I recovered from the ice play, the rougher he used me. He had his cock so far in the back of my throat when he came that I barely had the option not to swallow.

He released my legs and retied my arms behind my back. Still blindfolded, I was pulled up against him and practically cradled as he lifted a bottle of water to my lips. Confessedly, I enjoyed this degree of dependence.

When I had finished drinking, he removed the towel from the bed and laid me back down, climbing in beside me.

“Aren’t you going to untie me?” I asked.

He chuckled, “I think you’re forgetting I took you. You’re mine now until I decide to let you go.”

Trapped, Part 2

The issues with my abduction fantasy lie in the execution. Part of it has to do with fear.

The text above is from the caption I’ve had on this post for a while in my drafts. I keep putting off writing it because I don’t know how to articulate myself properly about the whole thing. I was just never sure it could be pulled off. I wanted to be scared while still feeling safe and I wasn’t sure if those two things were genuinely possible in the sneak-attack type method I wanted my “abduction” to take place.

But, this was somehow working so far. I had a safe word. I knew it was him and still I had been taken very much by surprise. The way he was groping me was a far enough departure from the way he normally touches me when we first start messing around, before stuff gets a little kinky. But, this time he was rough, possessive.

I remember having mentioned having this fantasy once. It was very off-handedly, I hadn’t expected anything would come of it. He had told me about something that he was into that is literally impossible to carry out and I replied that I knew how he felt, because I could never be kidnapped the way I wanted without it being too dangerous for me to enjoy or too safe for me to get excited by the risk involved.

And yet this felt like a good balance. I was at this really happy medium where I was just scared enough to not find it either cheesy or traumatic.

Ivy

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