I want some bruises that I’ll have to fuss about hiding.
bruises
Peep the bruise on my breast, which is from Pup biting me there. Sir says it’s grounds for getting him muzzled. Thoughts?
Also uh I tried firecupping at the party the other day with a really cool and experienced domme. You can see the circles kind of mingled with the scratch marks and marks from some really cool knifeplay. Basically I’m rushing to get myself caught up so I can write about this party because holy crap.
But yeah, Pup and I tried firecupping together and it was nuts (in a good way.) She went a little harder on him than she did on me, and now his back looks like a domino.
Sorry for the poor quality of the photo of my back. (I do like the sweep of my hair at the top, though.) I’ll make Pup or somebody take a better one in the next few days, because apparently I’ve got these marks for a while.
“I’m gonna tell you something you don’t want to hear.”
Old Ironsides needs a new name.
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.
Trigger warning: rape, rape culture
One of the really unfortunate side-effects of this lifestyle is that there are actually sick, terrible people that can slip under the radar. I’ve had a partner in the past that did some pretty bad things by me, but I thought I had learned.
While nothing happened to me with this person, I’ve had some suspicions confirmed today to an unimaginable degree. Basically, a relationship of his that I thought was a little problematic was actually foul. He’s a person I’ve written about very sparsely on here, I hadn’t even given him a name. And today I met someone else who has played with him, and she revealed something to me about his primary relationship.
I’m horrified for having trusted this person, for even having touched them and let them touch me. I’m terrified that this person can blend in with a group and can target other people. I’m scared that we still live in a culture where his actions could be construed as “ambiguous.”
I don’t know, guys. I’m just really disgusted.
Deets.
StandardTo fill you all in:
- I just spent the better part of a day sleeping. And getting high and eating an amazing lunch with my friend. And watching episodes of Louie. Whatever.
- That guy from my frat has been obnoxiously pursuing me lately since I got with his teammate on Tuesday. Oooh jealousy.
- I’ve got a bruise on my knee and a seriously righteous hickey from Friday night. I left my earrings on Switch’s desk. I bit right around the arch of his ribcage and there’s a pretty endearing mark there now. I like how our sexual encounters have taken on the exact opposite mentality from “leave no trace”.
- I really want to sleep but two drunk athletes are having a verbal altercation outside my window. About sports and testosterone and I just don’t know.
- Guys, what am I going to do about this hickey? I feel like I’m in 10th grade. I’m not sure I can handle the ridicule.
- Also, here you go. You’re welcome. From my lawls to yours.