A brat gets what a brat deserves
If I have to sum up my aesthetic, it’s basically this.
suit
Leftovers, Part One
A few days after Thanksgiving, Sir and I went to a get-together Star was hosting with some other kinky/poly people to eat leftovers and hang out. Sir’s a little bit more familiar with and closer to these people, but I like Star and it’s always nice to connect within the community. We also had plans to go to a play party afterwords, so I had something fun on underneath my sweaterdress and coat.
I like going places with Sir where we can be “ourselves” because I like our dynamic and I like sharing that with other people. I don’t mean to say that I enjoy showing off (okay, maybe a little) but rather that I really love being able to be submissive to him in interactions that are just not exclusively with him. We talk a lot about the framing of our relationship and how the paradigm is really more of us using the frame of “boyfriend/girlfriend” as sort of a disguise/more palatable way of explaining ourselves on top of our “dominant/submissive” dynamic. So, it’s nice to just sort of go to a place and casually be Sir’s sub. It was enjoyable to put things on his plate for him, to fill his drinks for him, to sit patiently on his knee while he talked to someone.
At some point in the evening, I was feeling a little awkward (I really only knew Sir, Star, and Star’s partner but just barely) and was keeping to myself when Sir said he wanted to have Star show him how to put me in a harness. I got up and walked onto the carpet, where Star asked if I felt comfortable removing my dress.
For a minute, I hesitated, but then removed it and handed it off to Sir. “Thank you, Ivy,” said a guy I then realized I recognized from New Year’s a year ago. Aka, he was the guy who Sir totally messed up my game with. “I’m sorry,” he added, “am I allowed to look? That’s just…that’s super.”
I blushed. “Yeah, you can look. It’s fine.”
He gestured to the two girls sitting with him on the couch. “We like your stockings.”
“He gave them to me,” I said, pointing to Sir.
“Aren’t they nice?” Sir asked, turning me so the people on the couch could get a better look. He’s got this funny little ringleader/auctioneer streak where, when we’re in a group of people who are of our inclinations, he likes to show off. I can’t even pretend that I really mind all that much.
💋
Sir once said it is glaringly obvious that I’m an only child based on how many fantasies I have where I’m the absolute center of attention.
Sir’s honestly a great host.
And as for me: I know my place.
Back to School, Part Four
I asked Flint if he’d hurt me and he suggested the big menacing rubber thing he’d been giving The Librarian bruises with. I agreed, if he promised to maybe give only about half the force behind each swing he’d been giving her.
He sat me down in a chair and a little pocket of people started to gather around as he began smacking my thigh with the tool. It made a wet, rubbery sound each time it hit, like a suction cup being applied and then torn away very quickly. An oval rose on one of my thighs, turning pink first, then red. The bruise began to protrude as well, bulging slightly from my thigh like an extra swell of quadricep.
A girl came over and put a sticker on my cheek for taking it so well, and we ended up having a conversation while Flint hit me to distract from the pain.
“Somebody said you’re actually a teacher,” she said, gesturing to my outfit.
I nodded, “uh huh, yeah. I’m a teacher.” It made my get-up feel a little silly and a teensy bit degrading.
“You’re probably the hot teacher,” she grinned. “Actually, you’re definitely the hot teacher.” At first, I didn’t realize why she’d started laughing, but it dawned on me that I’d just started conspicuously blushing.
When Flint finished, he asked if I needed aftercare and I severely underestimated how many endorphins were running through me, so I shot up from the seat. Instantly, I collapsed right back down and the girl who had been talking fetched me water, somebody else came back with some cheese and crackers. I put my head against Flint’s thigh and sucked in a deep breath, proud of myself for taking it.
“That’s going to hurt a lot tomorrow,” Lida said, inspecting the bruise.
She wasn’t lying.
Can it be Thanksgiving already?
Sir has one of those jobs where he isn’t allowed to talk about the specific stuff he does, even with me. Which, you know, might be the sexiest thing ever.
He’s taunting me about bringing a few surprises when he arrives later today. You all should know there is nothing I hate more ardently than surprises. I don’t like being out of the loop. I don’t like feeling like something is coming and not being sure how I will react to it. Bleh. No.
I was pouting and insisting he tell me when he replied, “some things are for you to wonder and for me to know.”
Unf.
Sir’s had to wear suits a lot lately and has been texting me photos and unf I can barely hold it together. I hope this era never ends.
Lord have mercy.