Ivy’s First Trip to a Dungeon, Part Three

Craftsmate had purchased two new items to bring along to the dungeon earlier that week: a black spandex hood with holes for the eyes and another for the nose and mouth and a rubber gag with a cock-like protrusion that got shoved in my mouth. The former was because I had expressed that I was worried about people seeing my face while I did stuff and being ashamed about it, in addition to the fact that I may have a teensy tiny fascination with hoods. The latter was Craftsmate’s idea of a fun surprise which made me blush all kinds of red.

In a matter of moments, I was wearing both of them, in addition to my blindfold. Between the way my head was basically completely encased and the blaring music of the club, I was terribly disoriented. My head was indescribably swimmy and I could barely process what was going on when Craftsmate rolled my skirt up and tucked it into the waistband of my stockings.

He started to spank me. Through the confines of the hood and the bass of the music, I could hear people talking. My cheeks burned and I only blushed deeper when I realized the wetness on my chin was my own drool soaking into the material of the hood.

I moaned lowly around the rubber cock in my mouth when Craftsmate shoved my vibrator down the front of my stockings and turned it on. He alternated between spanking me and adjusting the vibrator from low to high to off, driving me near insane before he pushed me up against the wall.

“Do you like this?” He asked as he adjusted the restraints so my arms were linked together above my head. I nodded and moaned. “Do you feel out of control?” I nodded once more and felt him step away.

For a moment, I was concerned he had actually just left me there and swung my leg out behind me to locate him. He laughed when I tapped his shin.

“Aww, sweetheart,” I could hear him smirking. “Did you think I left you here for somebody to find?” He pulled my blouse out of my skirt and hiked it up. My bra followed and I was grateful to be facing the wall and unable to see if anyone was looking. At first, I wasn’t sure what the sting on my nipples was, but once he started yanking the chain I realized it was the clamps.

He turned the vibrator back on and started spanking me once more. With my arms tied together, I found I could now turn to face him – although I could not see him – and attempt to protect my stinging ass. He would simply grab me by the hips and turn me back around, but as the whole situation sunk in more and more, I found myself stumbling and pacing. I felt like I was floating above myself and the only thing keeping me anchored to the situation was the stinging pain in my ass and nipples and the buzz of the vibrator.

Eventually, Craftsmate turned me to face him, removed the gag and checked in with me. “Do you want to go find a couch for a bit? You did a very good job.”

“No, no,” I replied, panting, “no, I want to keep going. I don’t want this to end yet. Is…is that okay?”

Craftsmate popped the gag back in and turned me back around.

Recently, Craftsmate took some super up-close pictures of my pussy after he had shaven it.

I don’t usually go looking down there. So, when he had me look at the pictures, I was confessedly almost surprised. I didn’t realize I looked quite like that.

I’ve mentioned on here that my labia minora are uneven and my adolescent self freaked out over this fact to such a degree that I was already considering labiaplasty in high school. Which I now realize is absurd. I also apologized for said labia the first time a guy got acquainted with my vagina. Which I now realize is also absurd.

But looking at it in his pictures, I couldn’t help but find the unevenness adorable. It kind of seemed like my vagina was sticking out its (her?) tongue.

And so I think, from now on, I’m just going to think of it that way.

😛

Craftsmate claims The Prodigy says she’d getaway drive,

provided I wear a seatbelt.

The weather’s getting warmer.

whyexactly:

When you’re out of your element, danger lurks around every corner.

Could this be your lucky day?

I think there’s a certain apartment I need to visit soon.

Or, at least, the man named for it.

Easing out the Kinks, Part Three

Penthouse was grinning that cat that ate the canary smile when we left his apartment. Underneath my coat and sweater, my nipples were clamped and connected by a short chain that was tucked into my bra. I felt it whenever I moved and even when I was still: a nagging sting that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

“You know what little girls do?” He teased, “they skip. Why don’t you just skip to the pizzeria?”

I shot him a glare, but he just laughed.

When he had sat down to lunch, he looked me over and said, “you must be warm. Why don’t you take off your coat?” Under my coat, I was wearing a thin sweater and unlined bra. Literally nothing would be left to the imagination if I were to do that, so I kept it on and huffed while he laughed every time I hesitated before gingerly moving to take another bite of pizza.

Throughout the course of the meal, Penthouse would teasingly tell me to adjust my posture and I would try to hold in a wince as I straightened my back, applying more strain on my nipples. He made excuses to get me to look behind me, causing my sore nipples to rub against the fabric of my clothing.

For as quietly humiliating and excruciating the experience was, I could feel myself growing wet. And though I whined softly on the way back to his apartment about wanting them off, it was impossible to deny that I was enjoying myself despite everything. This detail was perhaps the most humiliating aspect of the entire ordeal.

390nm:

“Let’s go for a walk,”

I said, “the river is beautiful when it snows.”

You agreed, and we bundled up to face the wind. As we were about to head out the door, however, I pulled you aside.

“Today, I think I just want to enjoy the scenery,” I said as I produced a ball gag and padlock from my coat pocket, “There’s plenty of time for conversation when we get back.”

Your eyes grew wide as I pulled the scarf away from your face, slipped the gag between your teeth, and locked it in place with a satisfying “tink” before carefully arranging your scarf so as to hide the gag from prying eyes.

“There, don’t you look beautiful?” I inquired. You replied with nothing more than a muffled groan, but it was too late, we were already out the door.

I took the lead and blazed a trail through the slush covered sidewalks over to the coffeeshop. Just a few blocks away, it was a short detour on our walk to the river.

Despite a muffled protest, I led you inside. “Can I get you something?” the barista asked.

“I’ll have a large coffee, um, black, and she’ll have a hot cocoa,” I replied, looking at you.

The barista then turned to you and asked, “Do you want whipped cream on that, darling?” You nodded silently and then indulged me by turning six shades of red.

The rest of the walk to the river was relatively uneventful. Not many people were out enjoying the snow, preferring, apparently, the relative comfort of a sofa and fireplace to the damp squalor of freshly salted sidewalks. Along the way I attempted to make conversation, saying perhaps, “See how that icicle is reflecting the light?” or, “I love their holiday decorations,” but you never offered up much of a response, other than a glare or a finger pointed at your mouth. “What a tough crowd,” I’d then say, prompting, of course, another piercing glare.

To Be Continued

This is the kind of stuff I want but I am entirely too shy to ask for.

And also a little too shy to endure.

I love the superfluous lock. It’s not like she’s going to be at liberty to be able to take this thing off in public anyway. It adds that extra sense of the loss of control that makes it really, really hot.

Hey guys,

I’m taking a trip away for the weekend and sojourning over to another Ivy that houses Penthouse.

Don’t worry, I’m also there on legit business.

But I figure I can also have fun, right?

I’ve got a queue stocked and I’ll catch you all on Monday.

Like a Brisket, Part Five

So, once I had gotten free, the fourth and final member of our minimunch arrived. For reasons that will be later revealed, I’m going to call her The Prodigy. She had not been feeling well and had considered not even coming and, while the atmosphere with Craftsmate and Penthouse was pretty chill, I was glad she had decided to join our group. The gender balance and the presence of someone who did not read my tumblr was nice.

We introduced ourselves and small-talked a bit until the subject of me having broken out of Penthouse’s robe’s belt came up. I said I thought I had learned the knot from breaking out of it and proceeded to demonstrate on Penthouse. While I hadn’t wanted to bite my way out, he had no shame in leaning down and using is teeth to get out of there in two seconds.

We all decided we wanted to check out the nearby farmer’s market and head to the liquor store. I’m not totally sure why it happened, but Penthouse wound up tying Craftsmate’s wrists the way he had just tied mine and I had tied his. And, so, we wound up walking through the farmer’s market with Craftsmate’s wrists tied in front of him, laughing as he struggled to get his wallet out.

“So,” Penthouse asked me when The Prodigy and Craftsmate were out of earshot, “is this going to wind up on your tumblr? Be one of those big eight-posters or something?”

I chuckled and shook my head, “shut up.”

At the liquor store, Craftsmate decided to be silly and ask two salespeople for these ridiculous foreign bitters with his hands still tied in front with the robe belt. Finally, the second salesperson to help him out exclaimed, “is this some sort of a game?” To which Penthouse replied, “yes, and I’m winning.”

Strangely, in comparison to the incident at the sewing supplies store, I wasn’t embarrassed at all. I suppose it was just how silly and innocuous it all was.

So, if any of you saw a couple of giggling kids with a friend with his hands tied in front at your neighborhood farmer’s market or liquor store, now you know what’s up.

Part of me really hopes this photograph is what the tumblr community calls “amateur” and not part of a porn shoot because oh my God.