“You’re just far too little and you’d be up far too late to play with Daddy and his friends. But, look, all of your little friends are right here, just in time for bedtime.”
rope
Later, he’ll be in to serenade you with that guitar. Because he is a romantic at heart, after all.
In this version, when the hero defeats the villain and saves the damsel, she simply passes into another pair of abusive hands.
I dig.
“You’ve just got to be more specific the next time you ask to use the strap-on.”
Tonight was just practice. At the real event, she’ll be trading the comfort of the mattress for the hard, unforgiving wood of a dinner table.
“sorry, sweetheart. But that’s just how the bureaucracy works sometimes. I’ll let you out when I get around to it. Maybe in three to five business days.”
It’s when you start looking forward to suffering, and when that suffering is sometimes more gratifying than pleasure, that you realize you might just be owned.
My body looks a lot like this girl’s body more or less. Especially in the leg region. And there is something stupidly reassuring about seeing your own body in pictures on here.
I have what my boyfriend refers to as tapered thighs. I have really muscular, slim calves and then a donk and a half as far as a butt. As a result, the back of my thighs look more triangular than rectangular, so to speak. Or, at least, they aren’t straight up and down.
And to see a girl with legs like mine all tied up and giving a wicked eyefuck is pretty damn awesome. It’s like stupidly validating that my body isn’t absurd or ridiculous.
Except a certain somebody confirms that mine are more muscular. So there.
Where’s my little girl to play with?
How is this fair?
Found this going through my drafts.
This is what I get for throwing crap into my drafts and not volunteering right away.
Lesson learned.
