I like when harsh and soft elements like this come together. Somehow they make each other just a little bit more, if that makes any sense.
chains
Sir just used the phrase “bedtime, young lady.”
Pinch me, I’m dreaming.
“Trans-Europ-Express” (1967) – Alain Robbe-Grillet
I’m pretty up front with most of my fantasies on here,
but there are a few [slightly problematic] ones I’ve just gotta keep to myself.
“Why can’t I dress up and be classy like the other girls?” she had whined.
We had a pretty elaborate conversation about this sort of scenario after I saw this.
Let’s just say I was inspired.
This?
For a few hours?
Or a day?
I know we’re not supposed to be all objectifying, but
Standard
—submitted by anon. follower
Don’t worry, she does love the attention.
Oh pshhhhh. As if I’d ever wear shoes like those.
Also, hmph.
It is odd that I could have guessed that was what would happen next?
(except I picked facing out…)
Teehee.
It’s really so easy to confuse indignation for repentance in a brat.
Such a surly expression. Maybe I should leave you blindfolded, gagged, and on the hardwood floor next time.
Chained, Part Two
Penthouse attached the other end of the chain to my collar. It was heavy, but not impossibly, so I had the choice to either hold it in my hands or get down on my knees to avoid it pulling too much on the collar.
I held onto the chains and Penthouse walked over, stroking my hair. “How do you feel?” he asked. “You all right?”
I nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah. I really like this.”
“Could I invite Popcorn over?” Penthouse asked, referencing the girl from the other night. (Yes, I’m going to call her Popcorn. DEAL. I’m terrible with names.)
My gaze fell down to my feet and I doubted she would want to. After all, it was awkward if she had met me before, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t want to do this with a girl she’d only met once at a party. But, I nodded. Secretly, I wanted it. But I doubted it would come together. And, if I wasn’t comfortable, he made it clear that I could end it anytime I wanted.
He took out his phone and texted her. Moments later, he smirked at me. “Oh, she’s on her way over. Maybe you should get on your knees.”
Shocked, I sank down to my knees and placed my hands on the floor, letting the chain go. I bit my lower lip, so excited I was shaking.
Mean Sasha Grey is the patron saint of Pretty.