craftsmate – Page 8

Sir’s been giving me tasks lately, and every so often he likes me to write about them here. I’ve been enjoying them, and it’s helped me to feel like I’m still submitting to him even with the timezones and the distance and all the other absurd hurdles we’re handling right now.

You’ll remember we had a tally system of me misbehaving over the summer. It was going to culminate in me drinking a cup of my own piss (guh) after eight tallies (one tally per ounce.) It never went anywhere because I’ve been a good girl (heh.) Also, after I drank his piss, it put drinking my own in perspective. Because, meh.

But still, a cup is a lot of urine.

The other day, I surprised him by taking some initiative and suggesting I might be okay with taking just a sip of it. Like, a little sip.

I’ve got this sippy cup my friend gave me as a gag gift. She doesn’t know about the Daddy/little stuff, it was more a joke on my 21st birthday for me to put booze in there and walk around holding it. Every so often, I put a drink in there when I’m hosting a party because I can dance around with it and it won’t spill (don’t judge me.) So Sir suggested I pee into the sippy cup and, in his words, “take a sippy.”

Lately, I’ve been on this humiliation kick and he’s been doing Daddy stuff and it all felt kind of right. I drank enough water that I was pissing clear. I got up the courage and sucked through the straw, but totally misjudged how hard I’d have to suck because I was so nervous and wound up getting quite a bit of it and legitimately gagging on it.

I thought I’d be more anxious about writing about this, and I’m not sure if this is a sign of growth or not. But, yeah. I peed into a sippy cup (and then sanitized the crap out of that thing) and drank it. I choked on my own urine. I survived.

For the record: I’m a healthy girl and it tastes just fine. Still, yuck.

Leftovers, Part Two

Star set to showing Sir how to put me in a harness that would, in her words, make my boobs look awesome. She wasn’t lying.

While a lot of the harnesses I’ve seen and experienced tend to press the breasts down or contort them into weird shapes, this one almost imitated a bra. My arms were folded behind my back palm to elbow, which made me stick my chest out. The rope over my chest was pulled up into little triangles, and as a result my breasts were tugged up and out as if they were in a push-up bra.

“I should let some people at the party tonight slap them, shouldn’t I?” Sir asked. I nodded bashfully as Star brought the rope around my front.

“So,” she said. “We’ve got a bunch leftover. If you want, we can give her a crotchrope with it.” I pouted a little, but wasn’t totally upset when Star put a really convenient knot in the remaining rope and threaded it up between my legs, pulling it tight.

Up until then, Sir had mostly been watching intently, trying to learn the harness so that he could put me back in it later at the other party. But, he suddenly gave Star a conspiratorial look over my shoulder, and helped to dip my head back while Star knotted the rope carefully into my hair, showing Sir how to do it safely.

As a result, when I tried to lower or straighten my head, the crotchrope was pulled taut and the knot rubbed against my clit. My head was forced back so far that I couldn’t keep my mouth closed, and I felt silly and exposed and could barely look at the other people in the room.

“Let’s sit you down, hm?” Sir asked and took hold of my arm, guiding me over to the couch. “Why don’t you make some friends?“

Dignity is for grown ups and real people.

Sir, making me blush.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night after having a super vivid/realistic nightmare. (The worst kind, really. Keep your monsters, something about dreaming about something actually, tangibly, believably terrible in perfect clarity.) Just now, I was complaining to Sir about how I needed to be up early today but would be out late tonight with Pup, so I might need to take a nap after work.

“That’s what you need,” he replied. “Nap times.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“With my deputy,” he said. “Wish you had a paci.”

This, coming from the guy who a year ago insisted he really wasn’t into Daddy/little stuff. Who now was deciding that my task today is to go find a pacifier and then take a nap today.

“Do you really like this?” I asked, nervous as I always am that he’s just doing this to appease me.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I do.”

Guys, I don’t even call him Sir anymore. Like, ever.

Leftovers, Part One

A few days after Thanksgiving, Sir and I went to a get-together Star was hosting with some other kinky/poly people to eat leftovers and hang out. Sir’s a little bit more familiar with and closer to these people, but I like Star and it’s always nice to connect within the community. We also had plans to go to a play party afterwords, so I had something fun on underneath my sweaterdress and coat.

I like going places with Sir where we can be “ourselves” because I like our dynamic and I like sharing that with other people. I don’t mean to say that I enjoy showing off (okay, maybe a little) but rather that I really love being able to be submissive to him in interactions that are just not exclusively with him. We talk a lot about the framing of our relationship and how the paradigm is really more of us using the frame of “boyfriend/girlfriend” as sort of a disguise/more palatable way of explaining ourselves on top of our “dominant/submissive” dynamic. So, it’s nice to just sort of go to a place and casually be Sir’s sub. It was enjoyable to put things on his plate for him, to fill his drinks for him, to sit patiently on his knee while he talked to someone.

At some point in the evening, I was feeling a little awkward (I really only knew Sir, Star, and Star’s partner but just barely) and was keeping to myself when Sir said he wanted to have Star show him how to put me in a harness. I got up and walked onto the carpet, where Star asked if I felt comfortable removing my dress.

For a minute, I hesitated, but then removed it and handed it off to Sir. “Thank you, Ivy,” said a guy I then realized I recognized from New Year’s a year ago. Aka, he was the guy who Sir totally messed up my game with. “I’m sorry,” he added, “am I allowed to look? That’s just…that’s super.”

I blushed. “Yeah, you can look. It’s fine.”

He gestured to the two girls sitting with him on the couch. “We like your stockings.”

“He gave them to me,” I said, pointing to Sir.

“Aren’t they nice?” Sir asked, turning me so the people on the couch could get a better look. He’s got this funny little ringleader/auctioneer streak where, when we’re in a group of people who are of our inclinations, he likes to show off. I can’t even pretend that I really mind all that much.

babygirlssweetsurrender:

💋

Sir says I’m no longer allowed to claim I’m not into feeling worthless.

Because otherwise I’d be a liar.

1. Sir gave me a task to do today. He said I got extra credit if I made it a gif.

2. Writing backwards on yourself is challenging.

3. Wearing a sweatshirt because it is cold as hell in my kitchen.

nymphoninjas:

We met each other about two and a half years ago when he found my tumblr and recognized me. He assured me my secret was safe, and when I got up the courage to meet him I tried my hardest to deny the electricity I felt between the two of us. Now, he’s my boyfriend, my owner, my dominant, my best friend. We’re about to enter into some seriously uncertain times as he’s leaving the country for an amazing opportunity. But, to celebrate that and as his present to me for our second anniversary, we packed up some naughty stuff and spent a night at a hotel. This is our favorite shot from the next morning, when we had sex facing the window and watched the joggers in the early fog and the cars in the street, overlooking the city where we fell in love.

– thinkivykink & nankingdecade

Flattered we turned up on NN for Valentine’s.

I totally may have already posted this photo because I got impatient but whatever guys just go with it I don’t want to take another photo today it’s Lazy Sunday okay.

Also, the award for best reblog comment goes to bossassmish:

“Just appreciating a pair of cage underwear that isn’t suffocating the larger booties”

Sir’s Valentine’s Day present to me was pizza-related because duh.

According to Pup, he and Sir totally made out that night we all played Jenga.

But guess whose asshole brain won’t bring back the memory?

Stupid spankbank. Withdrawal denied.