Filed under: Arrangements that could work for me.
mouth
I like when I’m in so deep that I am utterly convinced that being able to suck on your thumb is something of a gift. It hinges on the idea that having some piece of you, however small, either earned or given in good grace, is simply enough to satisfy. It’s a kind of worship where that person, for a small amount of time, suddenly becomes just about everything.
Like a Brisket, Part Twelve
While I was hogtied on the floor and the Prodigy was tying up Craftsmate, I got really subspaced. I attribute to this to a few factors:
- I was pretty stringently hogtied and feeling tied up and helpless like that gets me pretty fast.
- Craftsmate was feeding me grapes from the farmer’s market out of his hand which sort of emphasized the feeling of helplessness for me.
- At one point, Penthouse asked to duct-tape my mouth and I consented. It stayed like that for a fairly short period of time, but that only added to it.
- Penthouse knelt down next to me and was asking me if I was subspaced in this vaguely condescending tone that I like which pretty much cemented it.
- The group was discussing hemp and Craftsmate was like, “wait, you can’t buy that here?” And I started subspacedly mumbling about the FDA banning it. Penthouse reached down and petted my head while I was talking which, uh, yeah. Cement sealed.
Of course, the whole time I’m yelling at myself in my head not to get subspaced. I thought it would make everything awkward and I even apologized for it once I came out of it. I guess I just, even around the people I should be most comfortable enjoying it around, was unsure if it would be weird to actually enjoy myself beyond the academic “ah this is very fascinating” sense of enjoyment.
But, subspaced Ivy knows her US History. So, there’s that.
You don’t want to know the things he made her do to get that lollipop.
“leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them." – Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell, a poem by Marty McConnell.
I don’t actually like being scared. I can’t sit through most horror movies, I can’t handle “death-defying” roller coasters. I jump about ten feet in the air if someone sneaks up on me. But, for some reason, some of the sexual situations I enjoy are probably about five times more risky and fear-driven than any of these things. And, oddly enough, I can handle them just fine.
Humbled, Part 4
Remember that gif I posted a little bit ago to allude to this, tumblr?
Yeah, it was a lot like that.
I was still blindfolded when I felt it on my chin, my neck, my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, the tops of my thighs. I was in shock. I have never, ever encountered that much cum.
Even Switch seemed surprised. He totally dropped the act and started wiping the gobs of cum off of my body. “Damn, Ivy, I have no idea how I…” He started laughing, “I’m sorry, it’s just…”
I shook my head and chuckled, “I know, I know, just let me have a shower, please.”
She whined a lot about how gags made her drool.
He decided to indulge his inner engineer and come up with a solution.
Of course, now she’s just going to whine about the terrible taste of damp fabric in her mouth later.
“Great Babylon was naked, oh she stood there trembling for me,
and Bethlehem inflamed us both
like the shy one at some orgy.
And when we fell together all our flesh was like a veil
that I had to draw aside to see
the serpent eat its tail."
“I looked at his eyes. I was thinking: they are bluer than the sea.
But then the sea is not blue at all, is it?” – Judy Budnitz, If I Told You Once.