So, due to some unforeseen circumstances, Craftsmate and I will not be making it out to the woods this weekend (boo.)
However, he’s already come up with something blushy we can do for part of that day and put it on his tumblr.
And, no, of course I won’t like or reblog it. I’m a brat like that.
(But all of you that do are meanies!)
Thank you, followers, for the wonderful likes, reblogs and supportive inbox messages about the little sneak preview I gave of my little project yesterday. It was fabulous encouragement
Expect another little preview and some more information on the collection – same time, same place – next week.
<3, Ivy
Once, I played a game with someone where it was in my interest to hit red lights. Until, of course, his touch grew so distracting that I almost prematurely took my foot off of the gas.
Oops.
You know that crying out won’t help.
It won’t deter him, won’t even give him reason to pause. You have a word to make him stop, a word he’ll respect and honor, but he won’t honor any kind of frantic cry he elicits.
Besides, he’s always encouraged you to scream.
Today, Pretty successfully managed to do a little breathplay with Craftsmate.
Ad even if it was only for two seconds and then the dynamic just sort of stopped, I did it with just one of my little hands.
Winningggg.
My hands are too small to fit around peoples’ throats.
It’s been proven.
Even when I’m Pretty, I’m still a teensy bit Little.
Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part Six
Craftsmate tied me facedown on his bed and proceeded to get his flogger out. He beat me until I was crying out so much that he had to gag me and put music on to drown out all the noise.
Then, he sat down on me and started to tickle my ribs. I am absurdly ticklish and I absolutely hate being tickled. A few minutes in, I was panting for breath and drooling around the gag. He stopped, moved his duvet cover so I could see the small puddle of my salvia that had soaked into it, and proceeded to scold me for drooling all over his bed.
“Look at the mess you made,” he chided, pulling on my hair before pushing my face into it. I blushed six shades of red.
He rolled me over and tied me back down, picking the flogger back up and starting to beat my breasts.
Don’t make me have to beg.
Last night, as a means of procrastinating, I opened up a tinychat to procrastinate work and try to answer questions live instead of in the cold, cruel inbox format.
What I thought would be a little thing quickly mushroomed into a very busy, very lively meeting of the minds – so to speak. Equal parts weird and fun, the tinychat added a dimension to some people who had, up until this time, been simply stories I read and enjoyed.
Things got a little nuts when Craftsmate came over, got out his computer, and joined in. And then when Penthouse hopped online, noticed the post, and joined in on the chat as well. I was blushing the entire time as worlds collided.
And thanks to you all, I went to bed with a red little bum.
Hmph.
“But all I’ve ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.”