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Sent a version of this photo to Pup a few minutes ago, and liked it so much that I took another. Sir’s hosting a play party in a bit and I’ve got my outfit and my collar on and I’m ready to go. This isn’t the one I am demo-bottoming at, but I’m still a nervous girl.

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At least they left a toy.

Y’know.

In case she gets bored.

(Image submitted by nanking-decade to make me blush.)

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Meet Switch, Part Five

At one point, he had my face held firmly between his thumb and forefinger. My lips were forced to purse, my cheeks bulged slightly around his grip. His fingers were still inside of me, but he’d stopped moving them. I felt skewered. 

I felt him looking over me when he murmured, “God, this fucking body. Especially that ass. You know you have a really sexy ass?”

“Yes, Sir,” I muttered through his grip.

He chuckled and started to move his fingers slowly. I moaned. “And you know guys look at it all the time?”

Were he not holding me the way he was, I may have laughed. But, there was something sobering about the way he was handling me. “Yes, Sir.”

“Especially when you wear skirts like that.”

I couldn’t resist. “I know. That’s why I wear skirts like that." 

"You dirty little slut.” He yanked his fingers out of me so quickly I cried out. The fingers on my face left my cheeks and moved to the back of my head, shoving my face down into the bed as he started spanking me again, harder than before.

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After I’m played with, I go right to a mirror. I like to hunt for bruises, for burst capillaries, for scratches. I think certain kinds bruises look gorgeous, the way the color manifests itself on the skin. I’ve always thought hickeys looked like fireworks. I like the feeling of being marked and being in some way possessed through this.

I carry myself differently when I’m bruised. I usually make a concerted effort to cover them, but I still recognize they’re there. They make me hyperaware of my body. They make me feel gorgeous and unique. 

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“Youth is the only sexy tragedy. It’s James Dean jumping into his Porsche Spyder, it’s Marilyn heading off to bed.” – Michael Cunningham, By Nightfall.

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Oh, summer, how are you almost over?

hllywdsdirtybirds:

Hannah Martin & India Reynolds