Sir is considering making a rule that I get a little braver and start posting according to theme every Topless Tuesday.
Wouldn’t you all be so lucky?
exhibitionism
Overwhelmed, Part One
There was this moment, in the middle of eating lunch with Sir and the Southern Gentleman, that I actually acknowledged what we were going to do when we got back to Sir’s place. It was odd, we were at this point of sort of actual comfort and contrived conversation. Like, yes, let’s discuss how good American Hustle was. No, let’s not talk about how I’m getting spit-roasted in roughly an hour.
When we got back to Sir’s place, he told me to go get changed and I disappeared into his bedroom. As I slipped out of my clothing, I could hear them talking and laughing in the living room. I was wearing something that I can’t really describe as much beyond a lacey, bowed, mesh, thonged leotard (photo for reference), a pair of fishnet thigh-highs and a pair of black pumps. The heels were just a little too big for me, and so when I walked out into the living room, I stumbled a bit.
Sir’s living room has these tall windows and I told him that morning that I was feeling a little brave and I wanted them open for this. I figured not too many people would be able to really tell what was going on, especially with the futon being so low to the ground.
The corners of Sir’s lips turned up in a smirk, but he tried to stay nonchalant. He gestured to the futon, which was already folded down. “Go sit.” He and SG were drinking whiskey. An effort, perhaps, to continue to carry off the whole casual thing.
I moved over to the futon and sat down. At first, I really couldn’t look at them, I was too nervous. But when I got up the nerve, I saw that while Sir had managed to look unconcerned, SG’s eyes were darting over to me every few seconds. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Sweetheart,” Sir said, “spread your legs, would you?”
I blushed and looked away once more as I moved my knees apart, and they continued to talk.
The Party Sub, Part Seven
Sir’s friend Star is really amazing with rope. After spending a lot of time in it herself, she got good enough at it that she could start to spot the errors that people were tying her up were making. So, she became a rope top out of the frustration that she was experiencing with dom(me)s who couldn’t learn the ropes. Go figure.
Prior to the party, Sir asked if I would be okay with her tying me up and I agreed provided she would actually be into it. As we continued down the stairs from the loft, we encountered her in the main room and I asked her if she’d be interested in hogtying me. It’s kind of my favorite way to be tied with rope and, after asking about my limits and any kind of joint issues, she agreed.
Sir helped me down onto the carpet and I rested my cheek against it as Star got her rope out. She was super gentle, checking in every so often as she wound the rope over my cuffs before gathering my feet up and bringing them close to my hands. I breathed deeply, letting myself relax into the position.
“Does that feel all right?” Star asked when she tied off the last knot carefully. As she leaned up, her hair swept over my back and I shivered.
I nodded, “it’s great, actually.” It sincerely did feel totally great. The rope was snug, but comfortable.
“Do you want me to feed you some grapes?” Sir joked, but there were no grapes. He tried feeding me a cube of cheese out of his hand, but for some reason eating cheese while hogtied and subspaced on a floor is really freaking difficult.
Star has these really nice, long nails and she started to trace them up and down my back. I moaned and buried my face into the carpet, not sure what the etiquette was for telling my boyfriend’s friend that it felt really good and that I was getting turned on.
Someone sat down on my other side and it was the girl from the loft. She smiled and smoothed some hair from my face. “Now, how’d you get into this?” she asked. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course, Miss,” I replied, and she sat with me for a little bit before biting my shoulder again and moving along. I heard voices, but I wasn’t sure how many people were around, and that idea really got to me in a strangely good way.
At one point, a girl laid down next to me and, in a Russian accent, expressed that she “didn’t know enough English to tell me how hot this was” and then asked if she could touch my butt. It’s the most attention I’ve ever received while submitting, and the whole thing was a little overwhelming to the point that I felt like I was high.
When Star untied me, she checked in to make sure I had enjoyed myself and gave me a hug. Sir released my wrists from the cuffs and kissed me. Some people were heading over to the hot tub, and I expressed that it might just be what I needed after this extensive foray into exhibitionism.
The Party Sub, Part Five
Sir and I rejoined the group in the main area and he wandered over to the guy who was beating presumably his partner with a flogger. He’d really liked the material of his flogger, apparently, and struck up a conversation about impact play and the fact that he made his own implements for this sort of stuff.
Being a little bit subspaced, I just sort of stood on by and smiled. The guy was going through his bag of toys, explaining to Sir what he had brought. The two were comparing strategies, so to speak, and the guy mentioned that he had a hitachi. To Sir’s delight, it was purple.
“I’ve never used a hitachi,” I shared, “I mean, I have a crappy knockoff, but not the real thing.”
Somehow, I had agreed to let this guy use his hitachi on me and I found myself walking up to the loft with the girl who had been flogged. She was super sweet (she could probably see I was a little super nervous) and helped me sit down on the bed. Sir stood beside me and ran his hand through my hair while the guy plugged his hitachi into the wall.
Before he started, he knelt down in front of me and asked me about limits, any kind of joint issues, etc. I’m someone who finds attention to consent like that super sexy, and I got a little blushy and flustered and said something silly to the extent of “just do what you’d like.”
He moved over to my right and took hold of the hitachi. He lined it up with the inside of my thigh and let his free hand settle on my lower belly to steady me as he switched it on. I wasn’t sure where to look as he proceeded to tease the head over my thighs, down my legs, across the hem of my panties. Sir still stood at my side, the hitachi-wielder’s partner was seated behind me on the bed, and the guy was down on the ground, making me moan and squirm and blush.
“It’s her first time with a hitachi,” the partner announced proudly, clapping me on the shoulder, and I became aware of the fact that some people had probably heard me and had come over to watch. I averted my gaze to the floor and looked into the eyes of the guy with the hitachi. He smirked and brought it right over my clit through the fabric of my panties.
I gasped and bucked against him, and as he held a bit more firmly with the hand on my torso, Sir explained, “she’s not allowed to cum yet. It’s too early in the night.”
Maybe I had expected that he would find Sir irrational or something. But, when I exclaimed that I was cumming, he quickly moved the hitachi away and onto my thigh before I could. I huffed in frustration and started begging. “Please,” I pleaded, arching my lower back to try to meet the hitachi, “please, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be a good girl.” I figured the sincerity would be enough to sway him, without having to make good on that promise.
“She gets a little silly when she’s needy,” Sir explained with a chuckle.
The guy just grinned wider and ran the hitachi over the ball of my foot. Being ticklish, I squealed and tried to move away. “Well it’s not up to me,” he replied to my pleads, “and you’ve got to earn those orgasms, you can’t just have them."
Fuck. Naturally he had to side with Sir on this one.
He took me up to the edge again. Sir was smiling down at me, rubbing my shoulder. When I looked in front of me, a guy was staring from the steps up to the loft, smirking. The guy had applied so much pressure on my lower belly to try to keep me steady that I pressed too hard and fell back. I nearly died on the spot when I felt a pair of hands behind me pull me back up to sit, and I glanced back to see the man in the tuxedo – now with significantly less clothing – who had let us in at the beginning of the evening.
Despite how exposed I felt and how anxious from all the attention, I realized I was about to cum again. He’d taken the hitachi up to the second speed, as if his partner had informed me, and I was barely holding it together. Once more, I shared and I was denied. I pouted, bucking against the guy’s hand and letting out a frustrated squeal. "Come on, please?”
The guy laughed and switched the vibrator off, unplugging the cable. “Well,” he said, “aren’t you a whiner?” I tried to object but, of course, all I could manage to do was just whine about it.
Sir sat down on the bed and I laid across his lap while he stroked my hair and told me what a good girl I had been for being so brave. I was really proud of myself.
“I hope you let her cum tonight,” said the guy’s partner as Sir handed her a riding crop. She hit me on the pussy a few times, but was so careful and light about it that it was kind of sweet. “I think she deserves it.”
“What’s that, love? Want to keep pretending you don’t like being the center of attention?”
Craftsmate says when I move, he’s going to have me install google latitude on my phone.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It tracks your GPS location with people you share it with,” he explained. “I get to look at your little blue dot on a pretty map.”
He knows, however much I hate it, I like the idea of being observed that way. One-way glass turns me on. Being watched makes me squirm a little bit.
“Too bad I can’t have a camera follow you around.”
Well now that I need to go hide that dress.
Would that little see-through dress that
embarrassed her in high school
become one of his favourite means
of showing off his special girl?
untitled by Patricija Stepanovic on Flickr.
Modesty’s a sham, sweetheart. Now, smile.
Ivy’s First Trip to a Dungeon, Part Four
Craftsmate reached down my stockings and removed the vibrator. He took off the clamps and rubbed some of the ache out of my nipples. He pulled my collar on before I heard the click of the leash being attached. After taking some time to pull my skirt back down and straighten out my clothing, he let my arms down. I had an opportunity to stretch them out before he locked them behind my back with a pair of handcuffs.
“All right, let’s go,” Craftsmate said and pulled on the leash. I groaned softly and followed, stumbling a bit as I adjusted to walking with most of my senses partially or completely taken away.
He stopped and applied gentle pressure to my shoulders, encouraging me to sit on what I soon found was a chair behind me. Sitting down as well, Craftsmate looped an arm around me, rubbing my shoulder while I swore I could hear him talking to someone. The hum of conversation was around us and I hung my head, unspeakably humiliated. I could barely tell who was talking to who before he helped me back to my feet, looped an arm around my shoulder, and let me out into what I deduced was the main crowd of people.
I stumbled a bunch, shaky on my boots and practically hobbled by the idea of how many people were probably seeing me like this. I nearly knocked into someone and I heard some voice say “lovely” from behind me. I tried to convince myself that they weren’t referring to me and that this place was big enough and that maybe people were too wrapped up in their own business to notice some girl being led around the dungeon on a leash, handcuffed, hooded, blindfolded and gagged.