Ughhh, fuck obligations.
Can I just be a kitty instead?
panties
Leftovers, Part One
A few days after Thanksgiving, Sir and I went to a get-together Star was hosting with some other kinky/poly people to eat leftovers and hang out. Sir’s a little bit more familiar with and closer to these people, but I like Star and it’s always nice to connect within the community. We also had plans to go to a play party afterwords, so I had something fun on underneath my sweaterdress and coat.
I like going places with Sir where we can be “ourselves” because I like our dynamic and I like sharing that with other people. I don’t mean to say that I enjoy showing off (okay, maybe a little) but rather that I really love being able to be submissive to him in interactions that are just not exclusively with him. We talk a lot about the framing of our relationship and how the paradigm is really more of us using the frame of “boyfriend/girlfriend” as sort of a disguise/more palatable way of explaining ourselves on top of our “dominant/submissive” dynamic. So, it’s nice to just sort of go to a place and casually be Sir’s sub. It was enjoyable to put things on his plate for him, to fill his drinks for him, to sit patiently on his knee while he talked to someone.
At some point in the evening, I was feeling a little awkward (I really only knew Sir, Star, and Star’s partner but just barely) and was keeping to myself when Sir said he wanted to have Star show him how to put me in a harness. I got up and walked onto the carpet, where Star asked if I felt comfortable removing my dress.
For a minute, I hesitated, but then removed it and handed it off to Sir. “Thank you, Ivy,” said a guy I then realized I recognized from New Year’s a year ago. Aka, he was the guy who Sir totally messed up my game with. “I’m sorry,” he added, “am I allowed to look? That’s just…that’s super.”
I blushed. “Yeah, you can look. It’s fine.”
He gestured to the two girls sitting with him on the couch. “We like your stockings.”
“He gave them to me,” I said, pointing to Sir.
“Aren’t they nice?” Sir asked, turning me so the people on the couch could get a better look. He’s got this funny little ringleader/auctioneer streak where, when we’re in a group of people who are of our inclinations, he likes to show off. I can’t even pretend that I really mind all that much.
💋
Sir has a pair of Lucky Brand jeans and I used to giggle a bit every time I would unzip his pants to find this line waiting for me.
I tease Pup a lot that he went on his first date with a butt.
My profile picture on FetLife, which I essentially only use to keep track of people that I’ve met at munches and who I don’t quite feel comfortable enough to give my phone number to, is of my butt. It’s a pretty similar angle to this gifset.
What can I say? I didn’t want to incriminate myself by posting my face, but I wanted something besides a question mark in the profile picture. So, my butt.
I first met Pup for all of a minute at a munch back in August. I honestly spent more time talking to his girlfriend and her secondary than I did to him. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in him or that I was particularly interested in his other partners, but when he added me on FetLife after the munch was like, “sure, okay, yeah, I kind of remember you?”
I later found out that this was mostly his girlfriend’s doing, in an effort to try to get him to both branch out and ask me out. But, when the initial messages came through, I figured he was probably just creepin’ on my butt pic. His girlfriend had been simultaneously messaging me, and so I was also concerned that they were unicorn hunting, but apparently this was also an effort on her part to try to get the two of us to hang out.
So, I agreed to go out for coffee, mostly because not much else was going on that week. I honestly barely remembered what he looked like. I was worried that he actually thought I was worthlessrapemeat, because the two of us had been cutely hanging all over each other all night and we’ve got some similar attributes, and my silly insecurities made me think that when I showed up, he’d be disappointed that I wasn’t her.
In order to feign nonchalance, I turned up late. Fortunately, he hadn’t confused me with WRM. Fortunately, he was actually really nice and good-looking and a good conversationalist. But, yeah, I still mocked him about only asking me out because he saw a butt on the Internet he liked.
Ironically, he turned out to be working part-time at that shitty diner where I outed myself as poly to my friend to get some money on the side while he finished his degree.
My friends now jokingly call him the name of the diner when referencing him, which I guess implies three things:
- Stuff with Pup worked out well after the first date.
- I’m out to most of my friends now.
- I’ve got a lot to fill you all in on.
Femme Daddies forever.
When I was a little girl, my mother told me that you always had to “rise to the occasion.” There was this idea that no matter how you were feeling, when you had somewhere to be, you had to pull yourself together and act like nothing was wrong and be entirely present and accommodating.
Growing up, I judged other people when I saw them call off plans or not meet standards because of how they felt. I considered them weak. I was angry because I had always been expected to be able to be 100% myself when the situation called for it, to deliver regardless of what I was going through.
“But who’s really expecting that of you?” my therapist asked me recently.
I’m learning more and more that sometimes it’s just okay to retreat into yourself and that it’s not always the best idea to just put your face on and go. I was supposed to go out for a party tonight. I’ve just felt off all day. So, I’m having a burrito and staying in and taking care of myself. I offered to buy the host a drink another time and I’m not going to linger on it anymore.
Here’s to – sometimes – not rising to the occasion and making yourself the priority.
Hi Ivy. I’ve been following your blog for a really long time and love reading your stories. Here is a picture of a little present that I sent to my Sir a while back. Please post it and let me know what you think 🙂
Oh my goodness! What an adorable and sexy surprise to find in my inbox! Thank you for the wonderful submission. I bet your Sir was very happy with the gift!
The tender little thumb stroke on the cheek is everything to me.
I’ve decided that in addition to Topless Tuesday, I’m gonna roll out a new tradition called Slutty Selfie Saturday, which will be a celebration of me being brave in semi-public places.
This one’s about a week old, as you can see by the fact that I still have the string around my wrist. But, I think the proposed title will speak for itself:
“This is Definitely Not My Bathroom.”
When I got to Sir’s stomping ground, we had to take a bus to his place.
On the bus, I was facing him and away from the driver and the other passengers. We were close to the back. Feeling a little brave and a little needy, I spread my legs and let my dress slip up.
Sir smirked and reached out to rub my knee. I sat back and kept flashing him the whole ride.