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Halfway There, Part Five

“So, which breast you want bruised, then?” Flint asked. He likes to punish people for hesitation, I’ve noticed, so I blurted out that I wanted the left one bruised for the sake of avoiding any additional pain than what I was already getting. He cocked a brow. “Left, huh? Wow. Usually people don’t have an answer to that. But you’re just like, fuck this one.” He grabbed my breast in his hand and shook it for emphasis.

He’s got this thing called a rute stick that he uses rather often, and it’s absurdly painful. It looks like a bunch of long matchsticks looped together with a band. On the breasts, it hurts like crazy. I was crying out fairly quickly, making uncomfortable pained eye contact with Lida as I was getting hit.

Flint must have seen me looking at her, because he gestured for her to come over. “Lida, sit on her face,” he ordered. She did, straddling my head and lowering her pussy onto my face. I leaned up and started licking, but nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Flint push the hitachi against my bare clit.

I am way too sensitive for it without a barrier, and I was just about to scream feeling it against my unprotected pussy. “Hey!” I exclaimed, “I…I can’t do this when you do that.”

“Then you’d better get back to work,” Flint said, moving the hitachi to a more comfortable area, where it actually felt pretty fantastic, “or I’ll put it back where it hurts."

Lida, already sensitive from Macy’s attentions on her pussy, was squirming on my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and moaned against Lida’s pussy, focusing as best as I could on eating her out despite the vibrations between my legs.

nankingdecade:

She says she hates fucking in this position. It makes her self-conscious about putting her body in full view. I’m not going to fuck her any other way from now on.

Can we discuss the degree of vanity that makes up my character where whenever I see a post on his blog that describes a “she,” I assume it’s me?

And then I’m like, “what are you talking about, I don’t say that.”

And then I’m all, “oh, right. It’s not always about me.”

Can I chalk this up to poly problems and not my own conceitedness? I was an only child, okayyyy?

Halfway There, Part Two

I half considered using the bathroom on the way out of the restaurant, burrito in tow, but we weren’t all that far from Macy’s place and I figured I would be fine. This, of course, was a mistake.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I said when Flint and I arrived at Macy’s. Macy and Lida were over at the store up the block.

Flint shook his head and set his stuff down on the floor. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” I huffed. “Come on, I have to pee.”

“Well, you’ll be in big trouble,” he replied, gesturing over to the kitchen. “If you want, you can go on the floor in there, but you’re not using the bathroom.”

“That’s disgusting!” I exclaimed.

He smiled, “yeah, it is.” Looping an arm around me, he hiked my dress up and started pushing on my bladder and teasing my clit. I squirmed, trying my hardest not to urinate on Macy’s floor. Thankfully, Macy and Lida arrived before I could. But, Flint just gave a sweep of his arm and said, “all right, everybody in the bathroom. Ivy has to pee.”

This is how I wound up back on the toilet, Flint taking pictures of me to send to Sir while Lida and Macy sat around me on the sink and the lip of the tub. “What is this?” I whined, “a Christmas card picture?"

Halfway There, Part One

My Daddy suggested I wear pigtails.

“Trust me,” she – a reigning queen of rocking the pigtails – said, “they’ll love them.”

I was going to spend the evening hanging out and playing around with Flint, Lida and Macy. While I’m used to people running a little late, I’d started to learn that not only was Flint on time for essentially everything, he was actually usually early. So, pigtails totally made sense when I saw I was starting to cut it a little close.

I was already in Flint’s car when I got another text from Daddy asking for a picture. I blushed a little explaining to him that I had to take a picture for my Daddy, before pulling out my phone to take a picture to send along to her.

Since I hadn’t eaten, I asked Flint if we could stop on the way to Macy’s place so I could get a burrito. (I’d had a rough day, cut me some slack.) To minimize the wait time for said burrito, I took out my phone to call the place ahead of time so I could just swing in and pick it up.

Naturally, this turned into Flint reaching over while he was driving and tickling me as I attempted to keep myself composed enough to place an order.

“You know people who take orders over the phone have to deal with that a lot,” Flint said when I finished the call. “Except he probably thought you were getting fingered or something.”

I huffed, keeping my arms crossed protectively over my torso until we reached the restaurant to pick up my burrito.

“I like your pigtails,” Flint said as we walked towards the door. “I’m looking forward to pulling on them.”

I gave him a thumbs up. “Mission accomplished.”

Applications for shower buddy now open.

Sweetheart’s trying so hard to be a big girl.

But, gosh, if learning to be a big girl doesn’t hurt.

Sometimes I just need you to have the gall to tell me you don’t care whether or not I’m comfortable.

Sometimes, your tenderness reminds me just as much as your violence of how deeply I’m yours.

Dearest Monday,

I may be on what seems like and hopefully should be the tail-end of a cold. I may have a lot to do this week. I may not normally say this.

But I am going – to the best of my ability – to kick your ass.