Last night, Pup punished me for the first time. 

Of course, he’s “punished” me before, and I know I’m behind on most of the stories of spankings, denial, etc, but this was the first serious punishment. Our dynamic has gotten to a place where he’s gotten the go-ahead from me to do stuff like this, but it still hit kind of hard. 

Yesterday, I’d been pushing myself really hard to get a bunch of stuff done, because Sir said if I was very good I would be able to tr out the new vibrator I bought. And, I’d done it, and I was at Pup’s place and was looking forward to that. But, I’d been goofing around, and he told me if I pushed it one more time, I would be in trouble. And, well, I pushed it. 

I apologized right away, but it had ben done. “I told you if you misbehaved again you’d be in trouble,” Pup said. “You’re sleeping on the floor and you don’t get the vibrator tonight.”

“No, but,” I pouted. “But I got all my work done. And I was such a good girl today. And I said I was sorry.”

Pup agreed that I was a good girl that day, and so I earned my spot in the bed. But I wasn’t getting the vibrator and I was still being punished, which meant he gave me a talk about why I had been bad and that he expected me not to behave that way again. 

While he was talking, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I got little, which was a little uncomfortable for me since that isn’t our dynamic. I wanted to cry because this was new and vulnerable and I was caught in that weird space of wanting it and hating it and being glad it was happening but also dreading the whole thing and what it implied. I went back to the first time I was punished like this – in the serious way that feels like punishment – when Elle made me hold my iPod up against my bedroom wall with my nose for five minutes. It had been so long, so unsexy that it shocked me, and the fact that the effect was a genuine punishment had made me cry that night five years ago, because I was I was alarmed that our dynamic had suddenly shifted out of playfulness and into something with consequences. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my skirt. At first, he mistook my behavior for being insincere, playful, and I realize he’d never seen me be contrite in this context. 

I told Sir what happened and why I wasn’t using my vibrator tonight, and he agreed that I had been a bad girl and that Pup was doing the right thing in punishing me. So there’s the downside of two doms, I realized: getting scolded twice over when I was being punished. 

He had me change and get into bed with him so he could hold me. He let me talk about how I felt, and stroked my hair and told me I could cry if I wanted. “You know I’m not really angry with you. I’m punishing you, that’s all. And it’s okay and tomorrow you won’t be punished anymore. And if it’s too much today, you can turn it off. We don’t have to do this. You have the power to make this stop,” he assured me, but I told him I wanted this, and I knew that was true. 

“Will you slap me, then?” I asked.

He brushed my hair from my face. “How do you ask for that?”

I averted my eyes. “Will you please slap me, Sir?”

He did, and let me suck his cock for a bit after. I made a joke about how he was already hard when I pulled him out of his pants, trying to grasp some sense of power or something in being playful that way, but it was so clearly a move for that. I felt so vulnerable – moving into this territory of our dynamic, being in that sad little punishment head – and weirdly it all made me pretty aroused.

But, when I asked him to fuck me, he refused. I huffed, and he told me I could touch myself. I rolled onto my back, sulking, with his arm still around me. As I rubbed my clit, he teased his fingers idly over my nipples. When I argued that it wasn’t fair, he told me I should try to sleep. My head was everywhere and I would feel better in the morning, he suggested, and I knew he was right.

“You’re going to break me, you know,” I said.  “if you keep at stuff like this.”

He put an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Go to sleep.”

30 Day Music Challenge, Day 4 – A Song That Reminds You of Someone You Would Rather Forget About


It’s hard, because I constantly say that I don’t want to forget any experience or cast it aside because it helped shape me into the person I am today. Even if that is a person who stops and says, “fuck that. I’m never doing that shit again.”

But, here’s what I have to offer:

“Rolling in the Deep” – Adele.

I had gotten back from one of probably the most emotionally fucked up nights of my life. It was one of those situations that it honestly takes time for you to process and really chew and say that what had happened was severely fucked up. It has, since, helped me articulate my needs and really understand my self-respect.

To add to the fucked-uped-ness, the involved stated over and over how profound and deep the experience was. 

Honestly, the only thing profound and deep about it was the degree to which it was fucked up.

But, at the time, I was a mess of confusion and feelings. I had been driven home and it was one of the true instances when I felt profoundly alone. I turned my Pandora on and this song came on and it just cut deep. I hadn’t begun to fully process, but the song somehow struck the right chord. 

For another song I’ll be releasing to the universe, go here.

And for one I’m reclaiming because fuck that, go here.



Anyone that tries to tell you that

leggings aren’t pants

is missing out…

The first time I messed around with a girl, it was through a pair of leggings that I eventually soaked right through. Whyexactly is right on the money with this one.


I went out and had a really lovely dinner with my friends tonight. We were laughing, chatting, enjoying ourselves. Until, suddenly, Elle walked in with one of her friends to get some pickup. 

It was incredibly uncomfortable. Because while I talked to SG a lot about my feelings over the situation, I haven’t shared with her how I felt. I just had sort of decided that this and a few other things were enough of a reason to cut her out, at least for now. She’s not a positive presence in my life at all.

I tried to act like I didn’t see her, but she made a beeline to my table to say hello. I was polite, but didn’t give her much more than that. I don’t want to be confrontational. And I especially don’t want to let her know how much what she did affected me, because that would just be feeding into it.

I didn’t say goodbye when she left. But, it upset me how uncomfortable and small around her I felt. I absolutely hated it. It was even worse to explain to my friends why I had not been particularly friendly to her. I haven’t told very many people about the whole SG debacle because I didn’t want to start anything. 

Fortunately, the rest of the night was lovely. But I just can’t stand how much I let certain people affect me.


When I was driving home from the gym, this song came on the radio. SG had sent it to me a month or so after it came out. That enough sort of stung, but then:

“Well, I know that I’m not all that you got. I guess that I, I just thought, you and me would find new ways to fall apart.”

Elle once told me radios were psychic like that. Once, when she and I were fighting in her car, our song came on the radio and she patted the dashboard with a chuckle.

It all sort of felt like a cruel joke.

But it was really those words that got to me. I had never been too upset about his girlfriend beyond the occasional hiccup, never cared about his other hookups at all. This one made me feel gutted. I thought of them, briefly, together, and I actually felt nauseous.

And so I started screaming in traffic. Windows up, of course. 

I’m heading out in a bit to a friend’s 21st birthday. Hopefully it will take my mind off of everything. Odds are, I’ll probably need someone carrying me home tonight. Whatever.

Ivy out.


I just went to the gym to blow off some steam and came back to find my askbox blown up with messages. Thank you, followers, for caring and for reaching out to me about this SG snafu today. 

I guess I’m upset for two reasons. One, the more obvious, is that this “friend” did this to me for the reasons she did. Maybe I should clarify. She’s not simply my friend. It’s Elle, my ex-girlfriend. She was actually the person to introduce me to SG and had become super resentful of how close we are. "It annoys me so much that I’m the one who introduced you two,“ she said to me once.

They were never as close as he and I are. And, honestly, I put a lot of the good about her on this tumblr, but she had done and said some pretty fucked up things in our relationship. There were a lot of times she asked me to forgive her for things that could be chalked up to verbal/emotional abuse and I did, while she held grudges for things like SG and I having a genuine connection.

What can I say? I’m the fucking giving tree. I’m too accommodating sometimes. Oh, you took my leaves? That’s okay, you seem sorry about it, have my branches, too.

So, she went without telling me and then put a picture she took of him on her phone while there on Facebook. It’s such a nasty move. She sits around and says things like, "it’s funny that we were in a relationship because now I feel like our friendship is so deep” but it’s clear that she resents me. She’s not subtle about it.

And then, number two, that the Southern Gentleman went ahead and did this. She didn’t force him. Maybe he’s away from his girlfriend and most of his friends and working actually a little ways away from home, maybe he knew her first, but I still can’t believe he’d just go ahead and do that with her. 

“Do you understand why I’m hurt?” I asked him after he apologized earlier.

“I do,” he replied.

It still stings.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 6


Continued from here.

I stared over my shoulder at my reddened ass in the mirror. I had never seen it so red, it was almost as if heat were radiating off of it. I winced for a moment, tentatively tapping the raw skin before turning back around and pulling my top down. My nipples were swollen, tender. Somehow, I derived some sort of enjoyment from this. I felt a sense of pride at what I had endured.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful until Elle suggested we drive back to her place so I could get my car and head back home. My boyfriend pulled me into the back with him and urged Elle to help him tie me up. She chuckled and shrugged, “hell, one more time for luck.”

My wrists wound up back behind my back and they pulled the stockings between my teeth and around my head before knotting it again in my mouth. They sat me up on his lap before Elle got into the driver’s seat and started to pull away. 

As we drove, I continuously ducked my head down whenever we passed through traffic, dipping back up to mess around with my boyfriend whenever we found some relative privacy. However, I started contemplating the possibility of being seen as we drove and I could not help but wonder what some other driver would think when he or she saw me tied up in the back seat and messing around with my boyfriend.

We stopped at a stoplight and a truck pulled up beside us. Fortunately, the driver, a young guy probably in his early twenties, was not looking in our direction. I was laid back across my boyfriend’s lap, facing him, my legs resting up on his shoulders. My boyfriend rested his knuckle on the window. I blushed furiously and nodded. 

I cannot describe to you the sort of thrilled smile that crossed his face when he knocked on the window and the driver looked over. My boyfriend smiled. I winked. The guy just seemed awestruck, taking in the fact that there was a girl, tied up and clearly enjoying it, with her legs spread, looking up at him from the back seat of a car that another woman was driving.

The light turned green. The guy just kept staring before smiling and honking the horn. Elle honked back before driving off. 

I swear I got an adrenaline rush from the experience. There was this complete stranger getting a glimpse into something that I normally considered terribly personal. 

“What do you think he thought of it?” I asked as my boyfriend released my mouth.

Elle chuckled, “you’re speaking as if he’s stopped thinking about it.”

The end.


Elle and I had a joke that she was going to lock me in her closet one day and keep me there. I told her I’d be down with it just as long as she let me out sometimes to feed me. She responded, “nah. If I had you locked in my closet, the only reason I’d be taking you out was to fuck you.”

Well then.



Keep me in my place?

(via sexual)

The Infamous Car Story, Part 5


Continued from here

I had barely processed what my boyfriend had said when he landed a rather harsh smack on my ass. He has these hands. I can’t really explain it. They were maybe about average sized, but for some reason the force of blows he delivered distributed itself within them horribly. For this reason, he usually used his non-dominant hand and reserved her dominant one for appropriate occasions. And, even so, he could only get one or two hits in with that hand before it simply became unbearable.

This was one of those occasions. 

I cried out, bucking against the armrest as the blow landed. My entire ass stung, the pain practically radiating after where he hit in violent heat. Elle’s fingers on my clit pushed together and pinched it, eliciting a series of squirms that melted into exhausted groaning. 

“Did it feel good, sweetie?” Elle asked. I could barely muster words, but I had certainly been tugged out of any sort of post-orgasmic bliss and back into the real world. “I bet you’re mighty thirsty right now from all the screaming, hm?”

Apparently, I’d screamed. I nodded feebly and received a smack from what was thankfully my boyfriend’s non-dominant hand, “answer her correctly.”

“Yes, Miss,” I choked out. Now using words, I realized that my throat did feel raw. I hoped no one had heard me. But, from the absence of any sirens or bright lights, I assumed we would be fine.

My boyfriend patted my ass with a smile, “maybe we should go get her something to eat. Seeing as it’s all about little fucking Ivy’s needs tonight.” I hated that taunting. They knew I hated it. If they would have let me, I would have gone down on them. I would have pleasured them. But, they were intentionally denying themselves and then blaming me for it. The effect was immensely frustrating. 

Elle’s hand slipped from my clit and up to my ass, “you hungry, dear?” I shook my head and practically buried my face in the cup-holder when my boyfriend offered, “I think my little brat wants ice cream.”

At the time, little girl play was something he had started to bring up and it was something I was reluctant to try. Respecting my wishes against a foray into it, he simply resorted to taunting me with it whenever he could. I groaned felt a blush rising in my cheeks.

Elle’s hand left my ass for a second before colliding with it once more, “is that it, honey? Do you want ice cream on your special little night where you get whatever you want?”

“I guess,” I shrugged.

My boyfriend smacked my ass again. Hard. “You guess?”

“Someone’s mighty ungrateful,” Elle chimed in.

I shook my head, “I…I mean, if you guys want to.”

“You guys?” My boyfriend landed a few more spanks, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I choked out, “Sir, um, MIss, do you want to?”

Elle laughed, “Ivy, we asked you. And since tonight is all about you…”

“I’ll make you cum. Both of you. Really.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt, Ivy,” she smacked up near the top of my ass again, causing me to cry out, “I don’t think so, dear. We wouldn’t want to be selfish on your special little night. And it isn’t even all about you, is it? It’s about this.” She flicked her thumb over my clit before continuing, “but I’d like to know if the little whore attached to this cunt would like to get ice cream.” I went to open my mouth and she slipped her other hand over it, “and before you answer, Ivy, I want you to remember some things. I’m helping you out here. I’m being your best fucking friend. So don’t you forget manners. And if you don’t give me a definitive answer, I swear to God.”

She removed her hand and I answered, “yes, Miss, I would like to get ice cream. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” my boyfriend sneered behind me, “and where are we going?”

“I don’t…” I began and before I could even finish they had started to spank me again. by now, my ass was raw, tender. I could practically feel how red it was and how badly it had begun to sting. My eyes were watering up with tears when I finally picked a nearby place.

“And what are you going to get?” Elle asked. 

I bit my lower lip, “I forget what it’s called.”

The barrage of spanks that followed from both of them was dizzying. “How did you forget that?” Smack. Smack. “I don’t know, really.” Smack. “I think she just wants this.” Smack. “She’s holding out clearly.” Smack. Smack. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, slut.” It continued. I could barely think.

“I don’t know,” I finally blurted out, “but it has nuts in it.” I practically yelled it. The spanking stopped. There was a long silence and I assumed they were looking at each other before they both burst out laughing. 

They only untied me once we reached the place and allowed me the opportunity to straighten out my hair before we walked into the shop. It was basically empty and, as I walked, I felt the sting in my ass. They both smirked at me when I asked the guy behind the counter what the name of the one with the nuts in it was. 

Overcome by curiosity, I excused myself to the bathroom. Once inside, I turned, lifted up my skirt, and looked over my shoulder into the mirror.

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 4


Continued from here.

I blushed furiously at his comment before letting out another moan in response to Elle’s tongue on my nipple. They both let out a mutual chuckle and I felt my cheeks redden even more. My boyfriend kept my head held back, occasionally tweaking or pinching my nipple when he saw fit.

I thought about what my boyfriend had said. It was true. I absolutely loved being the center of attention in this sort of scenario. I loved feeling more than one pair of hands on me, more than one pair of eyes. I loved to know that the two participants were eagerly lusting after me. I loved seeing the two work together to tease, to explore, to enjoy. And, eventually, to make me climax.

My boyfriend spun me on his lap so I faced him, my nipple popping from Elle’s mouth. “You haven’t even made an effort to please us, you know,” he said.

I shrugged, “well, my hands are tied and you keep putting fingers in my mouth.” I felt Elle’s hand collide with the upper portion of my ass check. The part that hurts marginally more than the part that’s typically hit. I groaned as she told me to stop making excuses.

But, my boyfriend just smirked, “you want this to be all about Ivy? Fine, you whore, it’s going to be all about Ivy.” He pushed me back down over the armrest and I nearly bumped my nose on the cupholder. “It’s going to be all about what little fucking Ivy wants.” He smacked my cunt hard, “but it’s also going to be all about making Ivy suffer to get it.”

I yelped as Elle smacked her hand square over where my boyfriend had just hit. He reached around me, fanning his fingers over my face before letting them branch over it and cover my mouth. “Feel nice, slut? This is why I need to get you a muzzle. I know for a fact you like the way it feels." 

I groaned against his hand and shook my head. The muzzle had been brought up a few times in the past as a potential plaything, but I had been quick to dismiss it as too animal-esque for me. I knew he didn’t want to put it on me because he wanted dogs, but I also knew that I wasn’t entirely sure how If felt about being presented in a way that reminded me of them. 

Also, the general idea of that style of gag frightened me. The criss-crossing of straps over my cheeks, the feeling of my mouth being that covered, the buckles heavy and tight against the back of my head. It was a bit too containing, too restrictive for my liking. And, yet, somehow that also intrigued me terribly. 

I realized how transparent I could be in this position. I was clearly getting wetter from his hands on my face that way and Elle’s occasional slaps to my ass. I could basically smell myself in the car, something I’m sure Elle and my boyfriend shared. I was an open book. I was exposed. I was open. 

Elle tore my panties down roughly before beginning to rub my clit, "don’t like it, dear? I don’t see how you can’t. It’s even got a nice sound to it. Muzzle.”

I moaned against my boyfriend’s fingers and shook my head. He lifted his hands from me only to replace one at the back of my neck. “I don’t…I don’t like…” I could barely get the words out. I attempted a few more times before resigning to enjoying the feeling between my legs.

My boyfriend’s free hand settled down near Elle’s as he started to tease over my lips with his fingers. He chuckled, leaning down close to my ear, “you don’t even care anymore, do you? We could put you on a fucking leash and walk you around and you wouldn’t care as long as you get your pussy rubbed, huh? Everything else just fades away.”

“Always so simple-minded, Ivy,” Elle joined in, “such a one-track mind you’ve got. The second a hand goes down there you completely lose track of everything else." 

I felt myself blush, but they were right. I didn’t care. My thoughts seemed to be pin-holed to one idea, one desire. I came to the sound of them continuing to taunt me, though I could barely process their words. I bucked against the armrest, crying out and completely forgetting the cars that zoomed by.

I came out of it dazed. The effect was dizzying. I continued to squirm and shake with the "after shocks”. They smiled, they chuckled, they waited for me to at least remotely come back before my boyfriend snapped, “did we say you could cum?" 

To be continued.