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A good way to not address the fact that I am posting a really blushy and humiliating photo to be the bravest girl ever is to tell a funny story:

I showed Sir this picture yesterday and he was like, “mmm is that Pup’s hand?”

And I’m like, “no sillyhead it’s yours.”

So let’s establish that when I send my boyfriend a random picture of HIS OWN HAND and my butthole, he recognizes my butthole.

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But actually the only bruising Sir could get on Old Ironsides were those two little dots you can see from the tips of his flogger, as well as the faintest lines ever.

So he found a “better” use for the riding crop.

“Better” is of course subjective.

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Because I’ve got an app now that lets me watermark photos so I don’t even need to put them on my computer.

And because I promise I’m not letting my crazy ruin an amazing evening.

And because this might be my favorite (dirty) photo of us.

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Halfway There, Part Ten

Flint must have seen it in the look on my face. He had Macy back at eating my pussy and Lida was bent over in my lap. I was kissing her while Flint played with her, but kept catching myself looking over her shoulder while I kissed her neck to smirk at him. I joke that I enjoy feeling like the bottomest of the bottoms, but something about the whole vibe of what was happening made me feel a little cocky. 

“Ivy,” he asked, “you want to try domming?”

Instantly, I got super bashful. He had Macy lie facedown on the couch and handed me the rute stick. At first, I was very nervous about it. I was basically just tapping Macy on the ass with it. He had Lida kneel down next to me, but I just kept looking at my feet.

“You could hit harder,” Macy said.

Something about the way she said it flipped a switch in me. I raised a brow and measuredly delivered a harsher swat to her ass. “Oh yeah? I could hit harder?” I gave a few more. She moaned into the pillow.

I glanced over to Flint nervously, trying to feel out if this was all right, but he just grinned and took a seat.

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Piss Shy, Part Twelve

Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

Flint had devised the clever and totally mean plan of pitting WRM and I against each other with a little bit of impact play. He started by holding her still, kissing her as he let me hit her ass with a tool that looked like a lot of skewers bundled together.

While I was beating her with it, I got a little cheeky and scolded her for not cutting her nails. “We’ve been out, what, three times?” I reprimanded, “and still – still – you keep your nails that long. You need to clip your fucking nails.”

Of course, I was significantly less cheeky about it once Flint was holding me still while I cried into his chest as WRM beat me. I felt absolutely awful for hitting WRM with it once I knew how much it hurt, but she had been such a sport about it while I was a big baby about taking half of what I’d given her. 

Then, Flint had WRM pin me back down while he aggressively rubbed my g-spot and clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the oncoming orgasm with just about any neutral, unsexy thought I could summon. “I can’t,” I pleaded, “I don’t want to drink piss, please.”

“You’d better drink a lot of water beforehand,” Macy said from the corner. 

As hard as I tried to hold off, I came. Hard. Flint didn’t relent, continuing to assault my clit and g-spot with his fingers while WRM held me still. “Hey, think you’ll get another tally for each time?” He asked jovially. He wrenched another orgasm out of me before I pleaded with him to stop, my pussy was far too sensitive and tender to continue. 

WRM let me go and I rolled over onto my belly, covering my face with my hands. I started to cry, overwhelmed by the idea that I was probably halfway to drinking a cup of my own urine, hating that I’d secretly enjoyed every second that led up to this, that I even liked the fact that I was facing these consequences. 

corwinprescott:

“Rain on The Morning Bird’s Throat”
Philadelphia, Pa 2014 

Corwin PrescottNicole VauntAnastasia Arteyeva

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herdirtylittleheart:

Now all I need is a volunteer. 

Uhhh Daaaaaddy.

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I need to go to another party.

I’m getting addicted to feeling brave.

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Overwhelmed, Part Four

Before we really got started, Sir left me with the Southern Gentleman for a little bit so that he could use the bathroom. Now alone with SG – my hands cuffed behind my back, ass sore from the beating, lingerie tugged down to the middle of my torso to allow the clamps onto my nipples, jaw a mess of drool from the gag, one of my heels off from all the struggling – I blushed when I realized that he, and Sir, were both still fully clothed and completely put together.

SG looped a finger in the chain that connected my nipple clamps and tugged upwards. I arched my back, straining to relieve some of the pressure, and shrieked behind the gag when one of the clamps slipped off of my nipple. 

“Awww. Oh no, poor thing,” SG mocked as I whined behind my gag. He lined the clamp back up with my nipple and tightened it. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, the soreness in my nipple now compounded by the clamp being reapplied so soon. "Aw, don’t act so put upon,“ he teased and patted my cheek.

I opened my eyes and grimaced at him as he shifted on the couch and picked the riding crop back up. His hand slipped into my hair and he bent me forward, delivering a few sharp hits onto my already raw ass. I cried out, burying my face in his knee. He moved his hand down to cup my face and I could hear Sir enter the room again.

Sir reached down and hauled me up to my feet as if I were a small child, with his hands under my armpits. My other shoe slipped off. As SG rose as well, I felt incredibly small and helpless with them surrounding me, dwarfed by almost a foot by both of them without my heels on.

"You got her back,” Sir commented, and traced a finger over the one hit I had sustained there where I had struggled. I thought Sir was going to make some silly comment about how SG had damaged his property. Instead, he held my chin and tilted my face up so that I was looking SG in the eyes when he asked, “would you like her to suck your cock now?”