panties

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Playdate with Popcorn, Part Four 

Popcorn came over to find me leashed up to the bed once more. She greeted me and hopped on the bed, sitting across from me with a little smile. However, I could see the blush already rising in her cheeks and I felt just as nervous. We started with small talk, giggling and averting our gaze every so often.

“If you two don’t just give each other a kiss by the time I could down from ten,” Penthouse joked as he took a seat near the bed. “I’ll pull you together and make you.”

Popcorn reached up and grabbed the leash, pulling me into her and kissing me. Her lips were soft, cautious, gentle. She had informed me, while we were talking, that she had never done much with a woman but she had wanted to change that. But, I didn’t want to push and I let her control the pace, also acting off of the fact that I was the one chained to the bed and she was not.

Because of some limits with the guy she was messing around with, she could not play with Penthouse but she could with me. However, I had requested Penthouse be present for my own sense of security. So, he sat a few feet from the bed, watching, which turned me on even more.

As Popcorn deepened the kiss, never letting go of the leash, I tried to angle myself for him, attempting to give him the best view of what was going on possible. This fact, in itself, felt submissive.

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Last night, as a means of procrastinating, I opened up a tinychat to procrastinate work and try to answer questions live instead of in the cold, cruel inbox format.

What I thought would be a little thing quickly mushroomed into a very busy, very lively meeting of the minds – so to speak. Equal parts weird and fun, the tinychat added a dimension to some people who had, up until this time, been simply stories I read and enjoyed.

Things got a little nuts when Craftsmate came over, got out his computer, and joined in. And then when Penthouse hopped online, noticed the post, and joined in on the chat as well. I was blushing the entire time as worlds collided.

And thanks to you all, I went to bed with a red little bum.

Hmph.

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Chained, Part Two

Penthouse attached the other end of the chain to my collar. It was heavy, but not impossibly, so I had the choice to either hold it in my hands or get down on my knees to avoid it pulling too much on the collar.

I held onto the chains and Penthouse walked over, stroking my hair. “How do you feel?” he asked. “You all right?”

I nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah. I really like this.”

“Could I invite Popcorn over?” Penthouse asked, referencing the girl from the other night. (Yes, I’m going to call her Popcorn. DEAL. I’m terrible with names.)

My gaze fell down to my feet and I doubted she would want to. After all, it was awkward if she had met me before, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t want to do this with a girl she’d only met once at a party. But, I nodded. Secretly, I wanted it. But I doubted it would come together. And, if I wasn’t comfortable, he made it clear that I could end it anytime I wanted.

He took out his phone and texted her. Moments later, he smirked at me. “Oh, she’s on her way over. Maybe you should get on your knees.”

Shocked, I sank down to my knees and placed my hands on the floor, letting the chain go. I bit my lower lip, so excited I was shaking.

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I am the queen of open invitations.

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Continued from here.

I cannot begin to stress the importance of aftercare. 

After being hogtied on Penthouse’s bed, tied up in a lot of rope and having that crotchrope pushing the knot against my clit, I’d gotten pretty subspaced. I was speaking a lot of nonsense, I had trouble keeping my eyes open and I could barely sit up straight.

Penthouse untied me gently, held me close, was patient when I struggled to coherently express myself. He brushed out my hair and tucked me in. He checked in to make sure I was all right.

For as hot as the whole thing was, the aftercare really sealed the deal for me on the experience. Anybody can set up a situation like that, but to be able to care for a very subspaced girl is real dedication.

darkangelsbride:

“No escape”

Photo by Jerome G.

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My first meeting was Friday morning and it went exceptionally well.

I was tired, nonetheless, after having stayed up with Penthouse the night before. So, when I got back to his place, he ushered me into his bedroom.

“You’re taking a nap,” he said.

As a child, I was terrible at nap time. My teacher in preschool had to give me another activity to do after I would stay up and try to get the children around me to stay up with me. So, unless I am falling all over myself tired, I don’t take naps even now.

I pouted. “I can’t just nap." 

He made sure to watch me get into bed and went to the door. "Close your eyes, I’ll join you in a little bit.”

I curled up in his bed and sighed. Outside, I could hear him talking to a few of his roommates. Blushing, I turned onto my stomach and closed my eyes.

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Fuck Baseball, Part Six

Craftsmate and I determined that I was hung up on the rules of “baseball”. That there was a decided order in which things were done and in which people engaged with each other.

“I can’t help it,” I said, “you ran straight across the field to second base, you probably had to knock over the pitcher.”

“Nah,” he replied, “when I was a kid, I was the catcher. Because I didn’t mind balls flying at my face.”

I laughed. I don’t know why I get hung up on standards prescribed by a society of whose counterculture I seem to belong to in more than one way. I don’t know why I would give in to the obligation to kiss someone when I didn’t want to.

Craftsmate is a play partner. Him playing with my nipples is an expression of a play dynamic and not the progression of a romantic relationship which neither of us have any interest in. Because I’ve never had the BDSM without at least the semblance of a traditional relationship frame, I had a little trouble categorizing Craftsmate and determining what was appropriate.

But I think what’s appropriate is what makes us feel good and what is mutually enjoyed and respectful. And that’s a lot of stuff, but it’s not kissing and it’s not sex, coital or otherwise, which I determined in going over my boundaries with myself.

So fuck baseball. Seriously. I don’t even like the game, so why would I follow its stupid rules? If I want the base to base progression, I’ll do it out of willingness, but not obligation.

keepingitinthefamily:

Daddy, when is it baseball season again?

chipwillis:

libraryvixen:

swing batter

source needed

Jonathan Leder for Jacques magazine I believe.

http://jonathanleder.blogspot.com/?zx=3a5b3e3b0021f44

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“Nothing can wear you out like caring about people,“ – S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This Is Now.

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Pink usually washes me out, but I don’t care. I want all of this.