A little over a year ago, I made a certain someone cum by being the sauciest little brat possible. And looking at this picture brings back fond memories of that evening.
penthouse
A while ago, Craftsmate and I were in bed together, spooning, when the topic of the whole Daddy/little dynamic came up. He’s not into it at all. While he respects the fact that I like it, he just doesn’t understand it.
“I spoke to Penthouse about it,” he said, “and he said it kind of added a dimension of guidance to the normal dynamic. Like a protection thing. And it makes me think that you feel like I can’t protect you.”
I felt my stomach turn over. It’s not like that at all, it’s a classic case of the way we sometimes interpret things in wildly different ways. We joke that we’re the same Myers-Briggs type, but there are some moments where we don’t connect and some signals get crossed.
And while Craftsmate told me the other day that he is completely at peace with the whole thing now and is totally fine with it, it still stings that he thought I felt that way.
Craftsmate and Penthouse once made a little joke, much to my chagrin, on a certain tinychat about how people would read and write fan-fiction about them.
Or slash-fic. Whatever. Whatever the fuck this nonsense is called.
Either way, I refuse to let my sex life be co-opted into freaking spinoffs. No. No. No. No. No.
It’s been a while since I’ve been tied up face-down on a certain someone’s rug.
A Blushy Submission in my Inbox: Dearest Mr. Craftsmate, and Ivy
StandardMr. Craftsmate,
I’m sorry to hear that you’re having such difficulty house-breaking little Ivy. I’ve never had a new pet myself, but I understand that this is likely a very trying situation for you, especially since she’s at an age where she should have been properly trained some time ago. Hang in there though, persevere, and I’m sure you’ll have a pet to be proud of in little time.
Fortunately, in this internet age, there is a wealth of training advice available. For example, I found this schedule that may help you organize Ivy’s day so that she can most easily adapt to her new routine. I’m sure she will enjoy having so much free time.
Otherwise, if she continues to be a difficult learner (puppies are like people, in that some of them are slow to adapt, or perhaps are entirely affable, but just not that bright) you might consider one of these things:
Apparently they can be dangerous if worn around the neck, but I would bet that a creative mind such as yours could devise some means of securing it around one of her hind legs, and keeping it from sliding down. This could aid in consistency of training as you would be able to correct unacceptable behaviour just about anywhere.
Finally, it may be worth purchasing a supply of these:
as even the best trained pets sometimes have accidents when they get too excited in a new environment. I’m sure Ivy will appreciate the gesture, as not only will they protect her from the shame of making a mess in Mr. Penthouse’s living room, her bare bum will have at least a little cushion on the hard floor.
Wishing you patience in this difficult task. Please do us the courtesy of frequent updates, as I know there are many of who would be all too happy to offer congratulatory words as Ivy reaches new milestones in her training. Good Luck!
“If they’re really bothering you, sweetheart, I can take the clamps off now,” Penthouse suggested while we were in the pizzeria.
I looked up from my food, “you mean in the bathroom?”
“No, silly,” he laughed. “I’m not going to take you into the bathroom right in front of everyone. That would just be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?"
I huffed and stared down at my hands while he continued to chuckle.
Via vicious-rumors
Penthouse and Craftsmate texted me the night before Christmas Eve to inform me that they had a long, valuable, civil conversation and effectively communicated how they were feeling.
I guess being mean to me helped them bond a little bit. Both said the whole thing on the couch was the best, surprisingly least awkward part of the day.
So, I sent them both a text after receiving positive reviews almost simultaneously from each about the other, essentially expressing that they were impressed with the others’ maturity about the whole thing and how well their conversation had went.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. Even if hyping this birthday orgy is cruel and unusual, it was a lovely present to have things run smoothly.
Easing out the Kinks, Part Eight
After I kissed Craftsmate’s cheek, the two pushed me down onto the floor.
“I don’t think you’re allowed on the furniture,” Penthouse explained, “I didn’t hear either of us say you could sit up here.”
“Kneel,” Craftsmate said, moving me back down to the floor when I tried to get back up.
“Sit up straight,” Penthouse added, “legs further apart.”
I can only imagine how much I was blushing. But it wasn’t as much as when we were leaving and Penthouse told Craftsmate to “make sure Ivy is housebroken” the next time we came to visit so I didn’t keep climbing up on the furniture.
As we left, the two agreed the day turned out much better than they had thought. I huffed and went to interject, but they were quick to reply that I had gotten exactly what I wanted.
Touché.
Easing out the Kinks, Part Seven
Eventually, we got some alone time and I got the clamps off and blushingly handed them off to Penthouse.
Perhaps seeing that I was a little anxious, Craftsmate started to tickle my wrist. I attempted to swat his hand away, pouting. With a smirk, Craftsmate snatched my wrist and prodded his finger into my ribs. I felt Penthouse grab onto my other wrist, holding it firmly.
“Guys,” I whined when they started tickling me, stopping only to switch their grasp so my arms were crossed over my chest. Satisfied, they sat back and attempted to watch the television while I groaned and squirmed on the couch. I went back and forth between asking one to let me go, and when he refused, I’d just turn to the other and ask. However, I was completely unsuccessful.
Eventually, they let go of my arms, claiming that maybe I deserved a few minutes to prove that I could behave. I huffed and gave Penthouse a shove. “You guys are assholes,” I said right before Penthouse grabbed my arm and bent it behind my back.
My face was pressed against the couch and Craftsmate was holding firmly onto my other arm before I could realize what had happened. I groaned and tried to wrench my arms away. “You know what she hates?” Craftsmate said before reaching down and pinching my ass. Penthouse joined him, both laughing and enjoying themselves.
“Fuck you,” I replied, somewhere between irritated and aroused. What can I say? I like being ganged up on.
Penthouse reached up and looped his fingers into my hair. “You’re being rude,” he chastised, “now be sweet to Craftsmate and give him a kiss.”
“On the cheek,” Craftsmate added, “because you’ve been a brat.”
I huffed and complied. For people who weren’t always compatible in communication, Penthouse and Craftsmate were far too good at working together to torment me.