They’re always so smug before you turn on the cold water.
fantasy
See those two quick little breaths she sucks in right as he’s pulling her top down?
Yeah.
Those just about make this whole thing.
If you really want out, just find the door and you can leave.
Seriously. Just go over to the door, it’s not even locked.
No hassle at all.
I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.
And if I find you’re still here, I’ll assume you’ve decided to stay.
Trapped, Part 3
(Disclaimer: The acts described here, despite their forcefulness and my resistance, were entirely consensual. I had a safe word and I could have stopped the encounter at any time if I did not feel comfortable.)
Switch groped my body like he was claiming it, communicating in chuckles and grunts the vastness of the control he wanted. He sneered at my lace bra and the way it barely shielded my breasts from his hands, barely hid the arousal voiced by my nipples.
“Look at this,” he breathed, pushing my shirt aside further. I gasped and tried to shove him off, attempting to push myself off the wall. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, “I don’t think so, slut. I don’t think that’s how this goes.”
He dragged me over to his bed and shoved me up against the side of it. He bumped me with his body, forcing me to bend over as he started to yank off my clothing. My hands fumbled at my clothes, snatched his hands, frantically tried to protect my body.
Switch pulled the off the last of my clothing, my panties, with a rough tug He grabbed me quickly after, throwing me onto his bed and pushing me down on my stomach. The whole while, I fought feebly.
When I saw the belt already looped around his headboard, ready for my wrists, I swallowed hard. He must have seen me, because he placed his hand on the back of my head and shoved my face down into his sheets. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell what it was, but the texture of his sheets somehow felt different.
“Now, hold still, baby. Don’t want to have to hurt you like this,” he pulled my wrists up toward the headboard. I yanked back theatrically. “I want it to be fun when I hurt you.”
Trapped, Part 2
The issues with my abduction fantasy lie in the execution. Part of it has to do with fear.
The text above is from the caption I’ve had on this post for a while in my drafts. I keep putting off writing it because I don’t know how to articulate myself properly about the whole thing. I was just never sure it could be pulled off. I wanted to be scared while still feeling safe and I wasn’t sure if those two things were genuinely possible in the sneak-attack type method I wanted my “abduction” to take place.
But, this was somehow working so far. I had a safe word. I knew it was him and still I had been taken very much by surprise. The way he was groping me was a far enough departure from the way he normally touches me when we first start messing around, before stuff gets a little kinky. But, this time he was rough, possessive.
I remember having mentioned having this fantasy once. It was very off-handedly, I hadn’t expected anything would come of it. He had told me about something that he was into that is literally impossible to carry out and I replied that I knew how he felt, because I could never be kidnapped the way I wanted without it being too dangerous for me to enjoy or too safe for me to get excited by the risk involved.
And yet this felt like a good balance. I was at this really happy medium where I was just scared enough to not find it either cheesy or traumatic.
Trapped, Part 1
It was a trap.
The lights were out in his bedroom. I was three steps in, hand over the switch, when he grabbed me from behind. I gasped as one of his hands twisted my arm up on my back and he nudged me against the wall with his knee. He pressed himself against me and his other hand wandered upwards, grabbing my face between his fingers and forcing my lips to purse. His breath was hot against my neck and the light scruff below his lips tickled my skin as he spoke in a voice that gave away his grin.
“Hi there, pretty girl."
Quickies in New York: Mean, Nasty, and Filthy
LinkQuickies in New York: Mean, Nasty, and Filthy
See, I have a major infidelity fantasy, if you will. And in my head it goes a lot like this. Except, executing it seems nearly impossible, potentially dangerous, etc. I’m sure there’s ways to do it, but I don’t have a consistent partner right now that it would make sense with or anything.
I don’t know. I’ve got a few fantasies I have trouble articulating or reenacting outside of my head. Mostly because they’re, uh, kind of really risky.
But, damn, doesn’t QNY make it so fucking hot?
She called me to tell me she had fucked the waiter.
This was before poly, before honesty, and before understanding. It was before graduation when self-awareness was still something we’d do when we got older.
I asked if he had left and she said just barely, so I was out the door before I knew…
I’ve discussed before on here how much I enjoy the notion of being “put away”. It ties a lot into the idea of being kept, of feeling like property. And it stems from a feeling of being used on someone else’s terms completely and relying fully on someone’s whim to have me around for amusement. There’s also something very neat about it all, tidy and ordered.
Obviously, it wouldn’t be a sort of permanent arrangement in the slightest. It’s one of those fantasies that’s a little hard to execute and probably more fun to imagine than to actually carry out.
One of my big sexual fantasies back in high school involved a sexual encounter in the snow. It wasn’t really a kinky thing at all, it was more of this very vanilla sort of moment with someone who I cared very much about. It was never carried to fruition, but I get a sort of warm nostalgia whenever I see couples kissing in the snow. I don’t really know what for, but something feels incredibly nostalgic about the whole thing.
The entire fantasy was fairly simple. A lot of it was more about the quietness of the whole thing, the still silence of just being someone with that way in miles and miles of white. Usually, coats stayed on. It wasn’t hasty, strangely enough, I don’t precisely know why the coats stayed on but it was never a matter of being in a hurry.
I guess snow’s metaphorical somehow. White expanses, purity, I don’t know. Pick it apart how you want, I suppose.
Yes, please. Kinkycasey knows what’s good.
“Daddy, can we have a night time ritual..?”
“You mean like you cuffed and sleeping in a ball at my feet?”
(via fbnudes)