Another snowless Christmas Eve.
It’s funny how much does and doesn’t change in a year.
lingerie
Tumblr going on queue for the next few days.
Stay warm, followers.
And stay naughty.
Ana Beatriz Barros by Ellen von Unwerth
Easing out the Kinks, Part Three
Penthouse was grinning that cat that ate the canary smile when we left his apartment. Underneath my coat and sweater, my nipples were clamped and connected by a short chain that was tucked into my bra. I felt it whenever I moved and even when I was still: a nagging sting that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
“You know what little girls do?” He teased, “they skip. Why don’t you just skip to the pizzeria?”
I shot him a glare, but he just laughed.
When he had sat down to lunch, he looked me over and said, “you must be warm. Why don’t you take off your coat?” Under my coat, I was wearing a thin sweater and unlined bra. Literally nothing would be left to the imagination if I were to do that, so I kept it on and huffed while he laughed every time I hesitated before gingerly moving to take another bite of pizza.
Throughout the course of the meal, Penthouse would teasingly tell me to adjust my posture and I would try to hold in a wince as I straightened my back, applying more strain on my nipples. He made excuses to get me to look behind me, causing my sore nipples to rub against the fabric of my clothing.
For as quietly humiliating and excruciating the experience was, I could feel myself growing wet. And though I whined softly on the way back to his apartment about wanting them off, it was impossible to deny that I was enjoying myself despite everything. This detail was perhaps the most humiliating aspect of the entire ordeal.
Meow.
I just attended the last class of my final fall semester of my senior year.
You heard me.
I’m exhausted, but I’m homeward bound.
Look at the way she dips her had back, the serene expression on her face despite the anxious tension in her hands and feet.
She’s trying to push past her doubts and expectations to allow herself to revel in it all.
I’ve been her. Over and over.
Some of the stuff I ordered got hereeeee.
My gosh, I am an overexcited child.
But, whatever, I have new pretties.
Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part One
Craftsmate had been asking about my plug a lot in the past week or so when I got the text about what to do when I came to his room. I had arranged to hang out with him and mess around a bit that lazy Sunday afternoon, but I had never received instructions like this from him before.
He had said that I should come over to his place, strip down immediately once I had gotten through the door and let myself into his bedroom. I considered that I was fine with the idea of doing this, even if it was madly blush-inducing. I even got a little ballsy and put my plug in.
As I was getting ready to go, I stole a glance into the mirror and saw the blush burn in my cheeks. Walking over to Craftsmate’s place, I got so anxious I had to put my headphones in and play music to distract myself. I was sure people could see right through my blush, though I knew it was a completely ludicrous assumption to make that blushing girl equals plugged ass.
When I reached his place, I set my backpack down and took a look around. His roommates weren’t home and the shades of the living area were drawn. I stripped down to everything but my panties, walked into the kitchen and had a glass of water. Steeling myself, I walked over to the door to his bedroom and pulled it open.
What I could’ve done in the past two hours: Written a good chunk of a paper.
What I did instead: Looked at pretty bras and panties on the Internet. And maybe made a purchase or two.
Hello, vices.