little

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Sir’s been giving me tasks lately, and every so often he likes me to write about them here. I’ve been enjoying them, and it’s helped me to feel like I’m still submitting to him even with the timezones and the distance and all the other absurd hurdles we’re handling right now.

You’ll remember we had a tally system of me misbehaving over the summer. It was going to culminate in me drinking a cup of my own piss (guh) after eight tallies (one tally per ounce.) It never went anywhere because I’ve been a good girl (heh.) Also, after I drank his piss, it put drinking my own in perspective. Because, meh. 

But still, a cup is a lot of urine. 

The other day, I surprised him by taking some initiative and suggesting I might be okay with taking just a sip of it. Like, a little sip. 

I’ve got this sippy cup my friend gave me as a gag gift. She doesn’t know about the Daddy/little stuff, it was more a joke on my 21st birthday for me to put booze in there and walk around holding it. Every so often, I put a drink in there when I’m hosting a party because I can dance around with it and it won’t spill (don’t judge me.) So Sir suggested I pee into the sippy cup and, in his words, “take a sippy.”

Lately, I’ve been on this humiliation kick and he’s been doing Daddy stuff and it all felt kind of right. I drank enough water that I was pissing clear. I got up the courage and sucked through the straw, but totally misjudged how hard I’d have to suck because I was so nervous and wound up getting quite a bit of it and legitimately gagging on it. 

I thought I’d be more anxious about writing about this, and I’m not sure if this is a sign of growth or not. But, yeah. I peed into a sippy cup (and then sanitized the crap out of that thing) and drank it. I choked on my own urine. I survived.

For the record: I’m a healthy girl and it tastes just fine. Still, yuck. 

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1. Sir gave me a task to do today. He said I got extra credit if I made it a gif.

2. Writing backwards on yourself is challenging.

3. Wearing a sweatshirt because it is cold as hell in my kitchen.

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catmillk:

I will always love this

Oh my God the photos from this lunch come across my dash every so often and I just can’t even.

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In a strange twist of events, Sir now wants to identify primarily as my Daddy. If I ever get around to explaining what’s happened since Thanksgiving, this might make a little more sense.

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The weird fact that gifs like these make me feel nostalgic.

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I miss when he makes me suck my thumb while he’s doing something filthy to me. Or making me do something filthy.

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I just noticed the tags on this (#thinkivykink in particular) and you are very, very mean. 

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In late October, I called up Sir and asked him if I could have sex with Pup. We’d had a few difficult conversations about it, and I was a little nervous to be sleeping with somebody who wasn’t him without him around. Previously, in our non-monogamous arrangement, the sex I’d had with other partners was right in front of him. This was going to be different and strange and maybe awesome but definitely a big leap of faith on both of our parts into a new area of our poly.

We had a lot of talks that made me feel like I was running into a wall, then ones that felt like progress but quickly petered off into difficulty. I often felt guilty asking for this when Sir and I had our own issues to deal with regarding his move and how that would affect our relationship. He was dealing with his own associated problems with the move independent of our relationship, and so I felt impossibly greedy asking to take this step.

But, when the conversation of “hey, can I do this with Pup on this very specific date?” came up, Sir was surprisingly receptive. Maybe it was the fact that he had started to express an interest in getting more physical with some of his partners – we often are most lenient with each other when we’re both having our needs met – or maybe I had managed to successfully convince him that I was sure that this was what I wanted.

“Are you asking me for permission to fuck that boy, sweetheart?” He asked me on the phone. He was using that tone of voice he uses when he plays Daddy. 

I blushed and even though he wasn’t in front of me, I looked at my feet. “Uh huh.”

“Are you going to use a condom?” He asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, you’d better be a good girl and show him that I taught you well,” he said. “You’d better be a good little fuck.”