“Don’t you ever tell me you’re calling my bluff, sweetheart.”
Turns out he wasn’t bluffing.
I’d elaborate but I’m kind of dying of blushies.
humiliation
Do you think if I leave a little, umm…trail of breadcrumbs…doctortease will start posting again?
I thought that if I left the special lube for Mr. Purple at Sir’s place “by accident,” I’d be able to avoid having to put him in my butt again. I felt pretty clever about that one.
Except that plan just backfired, and now Sir’s sending me to the store to buy some lube where I’ll have to freaking present it to a cashier and uuugh.
Pouting forever.
Not the worst tanning setup I’ve seen.
But she’s going to get the worst, most embarrassing tan-lines ever.
Overwhelmed, Part Two
After what felt like an eternity of just sitting there, Sir looked over to me. “Come over here,” he said, pointing in front of him.
I rose to my feet and moved over in front of the couch, standing in front of him and SG. Sir reached forward and placed his hand on the side of my leg, patting it gently. Unsure where to look or who to look at, I wound up just going between the two of them nervously. Picking up the bit gag, Sir had me lean down so that he could place it between my teeth and buckle it behind my head.
I pouted a bit at the fact that I was being silenced so soon in the game, but I knew it probably wouldn’t last long. SG reached forward and pinched my nipple through the thin fabric, twisting it until I groaned in protest.
“On your knees,” Sir ordered and I obeyed, kneeling in front of them. Confessedly, I hadn’t expected the whole thing to get quite so kinky right off the bat, but SG was totally on board as Sir passed him one of my cuffs. They each took a hand and buckled them on, before Sir attached them behind my back and pulled me back up to my feet.
SG stood as well and Sir grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me against SG. His hands wandered over my breasts before roughly yanking one side of the lingerie I was wearing down. SG reached up and started once more to pinch my nipples, while Sir gathered up my hair in his fist.
“Give him a kiss,” he said, tilting my head up to face SG, who was grinning ear to ear. “Give him a kiss for coming to play with you.”
“I can’t,” I mumbled around the gag.
Sir laughed and tightened his grip, “do the best you can.” I huffed and leaned up, essentially touching my gagged lips to SG’s. I felt him chuckle against my mouth before he kissed my lower lip almost tenderly, considering the situation.
“That was kind of cute,” SG said as Sir pushed me back over to the couch, releasing my hair as I stumbled onto the cushions. As soon as I settled, though, he took hold once again and pushed me until my cheek was touching the fabric and my ass was up in the air.
“You stay there,” Sir ordered, “while I show SG some nice things to hurt you with.” With that, they left the room.
I have a training regimen all planned for kitten.
Have I mentioned Mr. Purple has a little suction cup?
(But also: nope nope nope nope nope.)
The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Nine
I had no idea what to say to the Southern Gentleman as I waited, so I just kept quiet until Sir walked back into the room. He reached down and squeezed my ass before hitting it once with the cane. I grunted in pain, squeezing the couch with my knees as he hit me again. My feet aimlessly shifted as I sought to retain my composure.
“See how nicely she marks?” Sir offered.
SG chuckled as I cried out from a particularly hard swat. “Is she always that loud?”
I would have said something snarky, but I was too caught up in the pain. Combined with the humiliation of being displayed and my extremely high level of arousal, I was practically drunk with sensation. But the endorphins had not kicked in yet and the hits still hurt like crazy. I felt my eyes well up with tears and I wailed.
“Is she crying?” SG asked. There was some concern in his voice, but there was something else. He seemed absolutely intrigued. He’d never really done the whole pain play thing with me. And, suddenly, I was stuck wondering if he was worried or if he was hoping that the answer was yes.
“I’m crying,” I exclaimed, my voice strained. “Show him. Show him how I’m crying.”
Sir chuckled and grabbed me by the hair, turning me around and sitting me back down on the couch. The sore, raw skin of my ass touched the couch and I winced a bit. But I could feel the wetness pooling between my thighs and I wanted so badly to be fucked that I was delirious from need and pain.
Sir and SG were talking, but I could barely keep track of it all. Instead, I was looking at the little box that showed was SG was seeing. I looked at myself, something I hate to do in these situations. I like to keep some degree of cognitive distance and seeing myself tied up is hard. Blame my shame issues.
But this time, with my makeup running down my face and my arms cuffed behind my back, I couldn’t make myself look away. I wanted to see myself.
Suddenly, the image faded and Sir was lying me down on the couch. He hooked two fingers into my pussy and started massaging my gspot. I shivered underneath him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He smiled, “rewarding you.”
What a lucky little kitty she is, getting all her courses on separate plates. Surely her owner needs to realize kitties shouldn’t care about presentation and that putting it all together – maybe even blending it – is just fine.
I don’t know what would be blushier:
Actually wearing this thing
or having to lie very still while Sir measured everything out to make it.
I suspect that either situation would be nothing compared to when he called in some kinky friends to show off what he made. How blushy would it be, having a few people stand around discussing the workmanship of the leather, completely ignoring the squirming form bound by the straps?
Quite blushy, I would think
Yeah, okay, that’s a good point.
