Three things:
1. Velvet is my power fabric.
2. I should probably put a shirt on before company comes.
3. My webcam is super limiting and Sir, my default talented photographer, is abroad. I’m going to have to find someone to take pictures of me, otherwise this is going to get super repetitive.
It’s shark week (yuck).
I watched Sharknado today, appropriately enough.
I’m horny and fidgety and whatnot. (Not because of Sharknado.)
So here’s a gif.
Confession: My nipples aren’t horribly sensitive to light touch, but when pressure comes into play it’s an entirely different story. I’m usually entirely too sensitive for most clamps/clothespins/etc. I have a pair that work the way the ones in this picture do, so they can be adjusted, but I’m still a huge wuss about the whole thing.
I have a tendency to curl my hands into fists when I’m anxious or upset. It’s never really a violent thing, it’s more of a tension and control thing. I regulate the tension in my hands. I feel the squeeze. It’s controlled chaos.
And submitting is like someone taking that fist and pulling it open. It’s a release. It’s a loss of control, but it comes with such an overwhelming freedom. It says, let me play with the tension, let me control your chaos.
“Why are you so cruel?”
It’s something that she asks from time to time, though the circumstances often vary. Sometimes, it’s in a vaguely smug sort of way. Sometimes it’s a whine. Or through tears. Or under a moan.
His answer, however, is always the same.
“Because you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It was super awkward, confessedly, when the Southern Gentleman first arrived at my place. There was – and hopefully I am not putting words in his mouth – a general pervasive feeling of wanting to jump each others’ bones.
But, there’s things like formalities. And so we greeted each other with a hug, we spent a little time discussing our holidays, we shot the breeze.
Eventually, I moved over to the corner of my room to fetch something. He followed me. I’ve noticed that men tend to do this thing when they want to start something but words wouldn’t be smooth enough. They just start encroaching on you. It sort of helped that I was in the corner.
I turned and said something to him, something completely vague and a little snarky but not having to do with the fact that he had been gradually closing in on me. He just reached down, took my chin, tilted my head up, and started kissing me. Our hands roamed, settled into comfortable permutations on each others’ bodies, his eased up my shirt then back around my back then up into my hair and around again. He shoved me against the wall and my rear hit the windowsill. He pulled my head back by my hair and started biting my neck. Somewhere in the middle of pulling my shirt off, I suppose he realized that we were right in front of an open window and pushed me over to the bed.
I don’t know why, but somehow his clothes seem to manage to stay on much longer than mine. But, I kind of like the contrast.
What was I saying about formalities?
Her (yes, I’m aware, I need to finish my little tell-all about a certain spanking from her) response to my costume as we walked up to my room to grab my phone and keys:
“You look hot, just avoid try going upstairs or bending over. And I’d suggest wearing something a little more substantial than that thong.”
I’d originally planned on going as something entirely different. I was getting dressed in my room with a friend who was headed off on a date of sorts and wanted my opinion. As we were dolling her up, she looked me over and said, “wait, now, what are you supposed to be?”
“I guess I’m like going on a safari or something,” I shrugged.
She laughed, “you look like a teacher. Wait a second.” She fished through my desk and handed me a ruler before saying, “and nobody goes on a safari in heels. Go change out of those shorts. Do you have a miniskirt?”
I can’t say I was ever huge on the whole “sexy teacher” fascination. But, when I wound up having crazy fun smacking my giggling friends on the ass with a ruler, I made an exception.
Would someone just…please?
Oh, I wish.
