It’s difficult when you’ve grown so used to submitting to someone and then, suddenly, you’re not. A balance is thrown.

Specifically to that person, there’s still a sort of deference you afford them. There’s something very much “there” that is sometimes difficult to just let lie. Because these things become forces of habit and suddenly your signals are completely crossed.

Generally, it’s just difficult not to have that dynamic. I don’t want to say I’m just hardwired to submit to people, but there is something about it that makes me very happy and feel very secure. Beyond the sexual aspect of it, the psychological level is incredibly powerful. And it’s hard to sit there sometimes and think you’d like to be serving someone but it’s just not happening for you right now.

I’ve noticed quite a few of you lamenting on here recently over a bdsm relationship that just ended and I send my condolences and best wishes. Because I know how it feels. I’m there right now and everything’s just a little off-balance.

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.

Submitted by a follower.

read this while looking at the picture or after reading or a little of both

look at the texture of the water, it looks like a pool, now move your eyes to her shoulders, the sun is shining off of them, they’re warm, then move your eyes to her hair, it’s wet, she’s been drying in the sun, notice the sun ray over her head, it’s bright out, it must be shortly after noon, the moments are going by lazily, but time’s passing fast for her and it wont be long before evening, remember doing this, remember how your skin felt after swimming in clean water and drying in the sun on soft fabric or concrete, your skin felt sleeker than usual, imagine how her’s feels, in that exact moment in time, when the camera took that picture, imagine being there next to her, not noticing her, just feeling these things, remembering them, imagining these things, and remember, the eyes only suggest a picture, the brain paints it.

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Thank you, tastepreferences, for this photograph and your words. I love that feeling you’ve described so well. Though, confessedly, I don’t think I would be able to not notice her were I next to her.

<3, Ivy

I absolutely love and absolutely hate walking around with little secrets under my clothes.

I’m referring here to crotchropes, buttplugs, writing on my skin, a mandated lack of panties with a skirt.

I feel positively naked. I feel as if everybody knows and they’re all just humoring me while being faintly amused/disgusted with what I’m doing. I have fought tooth and nail with dominants who try to send me out with things under my clothes. The entire day I’m hyperaware of it. I suppose it accomplishes its purpose, I think about the person who put it there the whole time. I feel like I’m harboring some disgusting secret, ready to be discovered, possibly already found.

But part of me likes secrets. Part of me gets off on secrets. And so naturally part of me really enjoys having those secret things under my clothes in public. Part of me enjoys that swimming, anxious feeling of walking amongst the normalcy with feigned composure.

firsttimeuser:

photo by Edgar Zhukovsky

this screams “Ivy Porn”.

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Found object in my askbox from Heart. Lady speaks the truth.

Hey Ivy,

Ivy

Just another Adult Content site

submission

Submitted by a follower.