femsubdenial

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femsubdenial:

thinkivykink:

This is a little harsher than what I usually post up, but consider it an ambitious start to Topless Tuesday and a way to show a certain inquisitive follower the ballgag Sir made me.

Yum, of course, but another part of the reason I like queueing posts like this from thinkivykink is that I am pretty sure of her reaction when she sees them, days later, suddenly appearing on her dashboard. 😉

(Plus, I know there’s at least one other follower who loves ball gags, and it’s fun to think of her reactions as well.)

…. Hmm… if we wanted to make it worse even better, I’ll bet we could squirt something into that ball. A little chocolate syrup? Toothpaste? Wasabi? … Cheese Whiz? 😀 With a blindfold we could do a long scene called “Guess what drool-inducing thing we put in your gag now??”

Eugh.

I hate cheese whiz.

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femsubdenial:

nanking-decade:

squirmies (n.): A condition of heightened agitation due to situational anxiety, apprehension, or arousal.

Example sentence: thinkivykink tried to hold still, but couldn’t contain the squirmies from betraying her as her boyfriend explained how she’d be displayed in a similar position on their next trip to the dungeon.

Hmph. Bullies.

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Bear with me on this one, guys. It’s a little humiliating. 

The other night, using this prompt, Craftsmate put me in a crotchrope with my arms tied to my sides. Before blindfolding me, he asked me for a number between one and twenty.

“I don’t know,” I replied, giving as much of a shrug as the rope would allow. “Sixteen?”

Cue sixteen minutes of Craftsmate going between teasing one of my nipples and rubbing the knot in the crotchrope over my clit. The sensations that produced combined with the fact that he has been teasing me pretty mercilessly for the past few days resulted in me quickly tripping into a pretty delirious state where I completely lost track of whether he was on my nipple or my clit.

The time dragged on until finally the alarm on his phone went off, signaling I’d managed to endure the sixteen minutes. Somewhere between exhausted and immensely frustrated, I managed to doze off only to, according to Craftsmate, literally be woken up by the sound of my own moaning.

Apparently, he had walked in to find me writhing around in my sleep, hands opening and closing, body arching up against the crotchrope. According to Craftsmate, I was muttering things like “please” and “yeah” which, you know, isn’t embarrassing at all. (Spoiler alert: It is.)

He slipped into bed beside me and started gently teasing me, until, yeah, my moans legitimately woke me.

So, ah, that’s what’s up, I guess.