craftsmate

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Okay, okay, here’s the timeline, with highlights pulled out:

  1. Sir found my tumblr and sent me an ask being like hey I think we go to school together don’t be alarmed I just want to hang out. Naturally, I was alarmed.
  2. I went to visit him and we had a nice time. I got weirdly subspaced in a way I usually don’t with people for a very long time and in a way that was unusual for how minimal the stuff we did was. Read all about it here.
  3. He brought me to a mini-munch, the first casual kink anything I had ever been to in my life. He introduced me to a guy there named Penthouse who eventually became a partner for a little bit. I got tied up for the first time in like legitimate rope bondage. 
  4. And so we kind of started flirting with each other which turned into us having serious conversations with each other.
  5. Except then we totally kind of threw a bit of a monkey wrench in there because stuff was getting complicated and weird. Like really weird.
  6. Which weirdly got resolved because I got pneumonia (???) and he decided to take it upon himself to take care of me.
  7. So then we started developing genuine feelings for each other and doing traditional courting-style acts like going on dates, kissing in public, etc.
  8. Except we struggled with reconciling that with a lot of crap.
  9. Like this guy is pushing my boundaries in awesome ways and like making me feel brave and confident about my identity, and we’re acting like a couple, but he’s like no I don’t want a relationship with you and I’m like then what the hell are we?
  10. And so on December 22, 2012, he turned to me while we were waiting for the train and said, “I’m sorry, this is stupid, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

So that’s the deal. Thank you, actually, for making me go through my archives to do that. He and I are kind of handling a lot right now and it meant a lot for me to sit down and go through everything and remember what he means to me and what we’ve been through.

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mirrorscape:

thinkivykink, I am like 99% sure you’d want to be the one in white being walked out. 

Funny story, you big meanie.

I like wearing white lingerie. I like how it’s perverted and sick in its own innocent way. But tonight I’m wearing black because Sir says it’s time I grow up. Pout.

That Time Pup was Celibate for a Little Bit, Part Six

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(So, I’m reposting this as text since the person I reblogged the image from wasn’t particularly pleased about having my weird sex life written about on it. Totally fair. If you’re reading this – another sorry.)

The last time Sir had seen Pup was during the whole accidental blood play fiasco. He knew that Pup and I were seeing each other a little but that Pup’s breakup had put stuff between him and me on hold.

My friend was throwing a party and expressed that we could bring whoever. Originally, I was just going to take Sir but that day he and I ran into Pup and I ended up inviting Pup along. I don’t know why, and I was instantly freaking out after. Obviously he wasn’t going to start penetrating me in front of my friends, but I wasn’t out to everyone and I wasn’t sure how to juggle the whole thing at all. Also, I kept worrying I’d overstepped with Sir and kept asking him every ten minutes, “are you okay with this?”

Pup did everything right about coming to this party. He showed up a little late, didn’t touch me inappropriately. I was getting myself a drink when I noticed him and Sir out of the corner of my eye, sitting together on a couch and talking.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Pup looked kind of nervous, like he was talking to my father instead of my boyfriend, or maybe even like he was talking to my boyfriend, but either way I kind of laughed and walked into another room.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” A friend asked, gesturing through the doorway, “that’s Pup.”

I nodded, “yeah. That’s him.”

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That Time Pup was Celibate for a Little Bit, Part Seven

I made my way back into the other room after a little while to find that Pup had gotten up to get a drink. I sat down next to Sir on the couch and asked if talking to him went okay. “Yeah, totally fine,” Sir replied.

Pup came back and sat down in an armchair a little to my left, but still angled so he could look at and talk to Sir and me. I was about to talk to him when someone else came over and asked, “I’m sorry, aren’t you cold in that dress?”

“Oh no,” I chuckled. “I’m fine.”

“But aren’t your legs cold?” she asked.

“Nah,” Sir interjected, “she’s wearing tights.”

“They’re not tights,” I said, “they’re stockings. I don’t really buy tights anymore, just stay-ups.” And because I’d had a little bit to drink and I was feeling a little bit brazen, I hitched up the side of my dress, giving Pup a full view of my leg and the top of my stockings. For good measure, I shot him a little smirk.

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Sir got a Christmas card with little peel-off window decals on it but he thought they were “gummy candy,” so he started trying to eat them. And he’s like chewing them and he’s like, “these don’t taste like anything,” and I’m like, “babe I don’t think that’s edible.” And he spits it out and reads the back of the card and is now sitting around and pouting because he wanted candy I guess and is like, “I don’t like this card anymore, I’m throwing this out.” So uh I don’t even know who the little in this relationship is anymore.

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Sir says this is the year I start acting like a big girl.

Fat chance.

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I’ve been talking since the summer about the tallies and how, when I reached eight, Sir was going to make me drink a cup of my own piss. One ounce per tally.

Back in October when Sir came to visit, I was up to five tallies. Now, writing this, I am still up to five tallies. However, I’m significantly less worried about it, mostly because I’ve already drank Sir’s now. (It really kind of puts stuff in perspective?)

When he visited in October, he had me get down on my knees in the shower and drink it. He already sometimes pissed on me in the shower, but this was something I’d never done before. He’d had plenty of water beforehand, mercifully, but it wound up getting in my eyes and nose and making it hard for me to breathe. Because of that, I started laughing nervously, which may have ruined the mood a little bit.

But, yeah, drinking my own piss now? I don’t know, doesn’t seem like the biggest deal anymore.

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Funny you should say that.

Sir came to visit me in early October for a weekend (yes, that’s where we are in the timeline now) and when he arrived, I sucked his cock in my living room. He’d always liked to tease me about sucking other guys’ cocks, and had jokingly dubbed the last summer kind of a slutty summer for that reason. To this day, he makes me blush by telling people that I’d made good use of my free time over the summer.

But, anyway, I was on my knees in my living room and his cock was out of his pants and in my mouth. Sir started chuckling and rolled his hand through my hair, pulling it lightly to make me look at him. “Now, who taught you that?”

I blushed and didn’t respond, continuing to suck his cock. 

“Look who’s been getting so much practice.” He mussed my hair. “You’re getting a lot better at that.”

I pulled back from him, “would you stop teasing me?” He pushed his cock back into my mouth, and when he found I didn’t gag, held it there.

So, moral of the story? I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. Practice makes perfect.