I’ve never been really enthusiastic about ponyplay, but the look of pride on her face and the pride in her posture really attracts me to this. She’s totally unashamed of what she likes. I’m wee bit envious.
Hay.
I suspect that if she were to slouch, intimate acquaintance with her owner’s whip might be generously renewed. She may even currently be counting her blessings, as while the tight strap over her cunt denies her access, it dulls the blows somewhat.
Still not a pony.
Grumble.
The mask is mockery. They all know who she is.
And now they all know what she is.
Squirm.
Plug that before you spill it, whore. You’re mopping up any waste with your face.
Want.
Aaaand I’ve got all sorts of chills and shivers.
Hey. Hey.
Play nice.
What must I say? Congratulations? Ooh how fantastically edgy?
Here, let me whip out my cock and spank my monkey to this piping-hot display of D/s carnality. Unf-unf *spurt*. Oh my monkey is so well and truly spanked.
Children, that is a terrible blade angle. Utterly ineffective. All it’s doing is scraping shaving soap off an already shaved cunt.
Oh. My god. That is edgy Daddy-care and knife play all in one. I would be incredibly inclined to wiggle but incredibly motivated to remain perfectly still. A tingling predicament.
Oneway ticket to Blush City.
Bonus points: blow out your own candles. Nobody else is going to do it.
Happy birthday, Ivy!
M’s Infernal Cabinet of Desire: But is it Art?
You know when you’re uncomfortable with how much something turns you on and so you share it with other perverts in hopes of validation?
The photographer with whom she had an entanglement invited her to an art show, entitled ‘Consent, Ecstasy and Despair: a Study.’ He asked her to arrive early.
He cornered her in the cloakroom, kissed her hard. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said, his hands roving over her body, reaching under her…
M’s Infernal Cabinet of Desire: One
One day, the girl decided that she didn’t want to be free anymore.
She went to him, and asked for his collar.
“Are you certain?” he asked. “Once you are collared, that’s it. You’re mine. Utterly. Mine to fuck, to caress, to torment; mine to lend out, to give away; mine to mark in any way I like….