Ummmmm I think I just figured out what I want for my birthday.
paddling
Dear Followers,
Your “applications” for shower buddy are the cutest, funniest, and bestest ever. I’m not ignoring you. I’m simply pouting that you’re all anons.
What is the fun of that?
<3,
Ivy
Remember when Bobbi Starr was a good little subby girl when she started doing kink.com shoots?
Heh. I bet she barely even does anymore, either.
Before I left to return to Ivy University, Penthouse gave me a little spanking. It was fun, playful, a little silly.
Thus, my visit to Penthouse land saga ends. Over a month after it happened. But you can’t fault me for taking my time with it.
But, now I’m stuck playing catchup on some hot stuff that’s happened in October and November that I’d like to write about for the dual purpose of this blog being the only semblance of a journal I can keep and because writing erotica for me is hot and fun.
So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed the details of my trip. There’s more fun to come.
Sometimes, play can be playful! Go figure! 🙂
Daddy makes me laugh, even while he’s paddling my butt.. <3
(Submission via myheadisfullofflames)
Like a Brisket, Part Three
When we got to Penthouse’s place, we played a game of show and tell.
Craftsmate went first and produced from his bag a series of floggers he had made, including something Penthouse had essentially commissioned him to make. When he took out the flogger he had hit me with, I had to chuckle. That thing and I had a history.
Penthouse showed us this giant leather glove he had been using to essentially flog people with that didn’t hurt very much but made one hell of a noise when it made contact with anything and his new riding crop. However, the highlight of his show and tell had to be this absurd wooden toy sword he had found and bought because he figured it would be good for paddling people with.
Leave it to kinky people, right?
Craftsmate let me try out hitting him with it and Penthouse made some room in his kitchen to allow me a good swing. To play fair, and out of pure curiosity, I turned and allowed Craftsmate to hit me back.
I shrieked when it made contact with the fabric of my sundress and my rear. It was probably one of the hardest hits I’ve received on the ass from anything. My experience with paddling is fairly slim, so I was walking around the kitchen, holding my ass, and whining for a few minutes after the hit. It stung like crazy.
“Turn around,” I said, “I want to look at my butt.”
I looked over my shoulder and just saw red. With a huff, I told them to turn around. “You’ve seen my butt already anyway,” I cracked before turning and lifting the bottom of my dress once more, “take a look at this.”
Penthouse chuckled, “there’s a line on your butt. That’s kind of awesome.” He looked over the toy sword and smirked.
“Sorry, Ivy,” Craftsmate said, “but, yeah, line on your butt.”
and what happened when you showed that stranger yourself?
Like a frozen computer, all my buttons are getting pushed right now.
So, according to some modern lingo, a girl’s a noodle if she’s straight until wet. Take, for instance, the woman in the lace collar. (Look at that smile.)
Fresh and I caught up over tea tonight. I wish I could say that the conversation was sophisticated, but we wound up talking about noodles. Our experiences with them, our opinion of them. And not the kind that come in a little styrofoam microwave cup.
Fresh calls this phenomenon a “spaghetti girl”.
Try and tell me “noodle” isn’t better.
When they say no running by the pool, they mean it.
In this house, slutty little girlys get what’s coming to them.