Craftsmate claims The Prodigy says she’d getaway drive,
provided I wear a seatbelt.
the prodigy
Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part Four
After the food was made, Craftsmate had me take the apron off and go into his room. He had hung chain off of a section of his bed that turned the space under his bed into a makeshift cage. Blocking off the other sides with boxes, it was this fairly small area where I could crawl a few inches in either direction.
He made me get down into the cage and brought my food in to me. Before I could get to eating with the conspicuous lack of silverware, he took my hands and taped my fingers together into little “paws”. I huffed and bent down, a blush rising in my cheeks as I started to eat off of the plate.
It was indescribably humiliating. My face got messy, I would lose grasp on the plate and it would slide around, I felt utterly ridiculous lapping water up and out of a bowl. When Craftsmate reached down to have me eat something from his hand, I could barely keep it together.
Eventually, he got up and left the bedroom for a moment. When he got back, he had a bowl with some ice cream and apple pie. “The Prodigy made a pie and decided to share some,” he explained and took a seat at his desk, facing the cage. “Next time you see her, you’re going to thank her. Now, come here.”
Gingerly, I crawled out of the cage and rested my head against his knee while he ate, opening my mouth when he fed me some. When he had finished, he put the bowl in my face so I could lick it clean and I complied, feeling the humiliation burn in my cheeks.
“Good kitty,” he murmured, running his free hand through my hair.
Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part Two
When I got into Craftsmate’s room, I set my clothes down on the floor down by the door and he approached me, giving me a hug and smoothing my hair back. I was nervous, but I showed him the plug in my ass, pushing my panties aside so he could see the handle.
From his box of random crafts supplies, he pulled out a piece of leather and tied it to the end of my plug. He had been hinting a bit at the notion of having me be a pet and I had expressed interest. “There you go, kitty, you’ve got a tail,” he said and patted my ass. “Now, I’m going to make dinner and you can clean what I’ve left in the sink.”
I huffed. “But cats don’t do the dishes. You’re conflating fantasies.” Nonetheless, he made me put an apron over my basically naked body and leashed me to the sink.
At one point, there was a knock on the door and I managed to work the leash off and run into his bedroom. It was, of all people, his neighbor The Prodigy looking to borrow some nutmeg. Once she had left, he went into the bedroom, brought me back out into the kitchen, and tied the leash back onto the sink.
The other night, I was at Craftsmate’s place just hanging around. It was later at night and I had originally intended on just going to sleep, but he invited me over to hang out and so I came over in my pajamas. We were chilling when there was a knock on his door.
Because I was in my pajamas, I just stayed in his room while he went to go to the door. I was sort of tired, so I pulled up his sheets and when he came back in to say something about people, I just sort of told him I was going to sleep.
In my defense, I’d had a really, really, really long day.
I woke up about an hour later to hear voices in his kitchen and finding that I had to use the bathroom. Naturally, I felt super awkward just walking out of this kid’s room in pajamas. I heard that they were planning to leave soon and so I tried to bide my time, but I eventually just had to walk through rather quickly to get to the bathroom and hope I wasn’t seen.
On the way back, I was sort of awkwardly stopped and said hello. The Prodigy was there and I tried to awkwardly be like, “haha yeah we’re not fucking I just needed a nap” but that’s never really, uh, convincing.
And I know I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. We’re not fucking and it was just a weird moment with some people who, besides the Prodigy, I’d never seen before. So, it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, but I still felt sort of crappy. I knew it was silly to. However, the feeling kind of crept up and afterwards Craftsmate and I had to have an awkward “okay that was uncomfortable but not awful” conversation.
Oh, shame. You’re a dick.
Both Craftsmate and Penthouse have accidentally either called me Ivy or almost called me Ivy out loud in person.
You know, rather than my actual name.
Which, uh, isn’t actually Ivy.
Craftsmate did it that first time I hung out with him, after he had flogged me, and we were sort of joking around. I forget what I had said to provoke him, but he was laughing and replied to me, “oh, come on, Ivy.” I gave this really goofy, over-dramatic jaw-drop and he started apologizing. I told him it was all right. Because it was.
Penthouse almost said it in front of The Prodigy and Craftsmate, while he was untying me from the harness he put me in. He had me turn around and said, “and now if you want to get Iv…” He stopped himself, said my name instead, and then continued, “…out of this, you just need to pull here and…”
I wonder, sometimes, if I’m still Ivy in their minds. Like, when they see me, if that is the name that registers before my real name. They both knew me as Ivy and knew my tumblr before they knew my name. And while they’ve been really respectful of my privacy, I just sometimes wonder if I’m still Ivy to them.
It doesn’t really bother me, honestly. I just find it kind of interesting.
Mother’s Nature.
Like a Brisket, Part Thirteen
StandardWhen everything was cleared away and everyone was untied, we all just sat around and talked and goofed off. It was strangely comfortable. I felt as if I had known these people for a while, even though I had only met two out of the three that day. It was so nice I didn’t want to leave.
As I was on my way to get my shoes, Craftsmate gave me a hug. “See?” He said, “sometimes things like this work out well.”
He was referencing my previous paranoia that doing munches and stuff like that would just end horribly. I admit, despite some moments of anxiety, I was incredibly pleasantly surprised. So, let it be known that Ivy’s first munch went well and the freak-outs were kept to a pretty fair minimum, all things considered.
Like a Brisket, Part Twelve
While I was hogtied on the floor and the Prodigy was tying up Craftsmate, I got really subspaced. I attribute to this to a few factors:
- I was pretty stringently hogtied and feeling tied up and helpless like that gets me pretty fast.
- Craftsmate was feeding me grapes from the farmer’s market out of his hand which sort of emphasized the feeling of helplessness for me.
- At one point, Penthouse asked to duct-tape my mouth and I consented. It stayed like that for a fairly short period of time, but that only added to it.
- Penthouse knelt down next to me and was asking me if I was subspaced in this vaguely condescending tone that I like which pretty much cemented it.
- The group was discussing hemp and Craftsmate was like, “wait, you can’t buy that here?” And I started subspacedly mumbling about the FDA banning it. Penthouse reached down and petted my head while I was talking which, uh, yeah. Cement sealed.
Of course, the whole time I’m yelling at myself in my head not to get subspaced. I thought it would make everything awkward and I even apologized for it once I came out of it. I guess I just, even around the people I should be most comfortable enjoying it around, was unsure if it would be weird to actually enjoy myself beyond the academic “ah this is very fascinating” sense of enjoyment.
But, subspaced Ivy knows her US History. So, there’s that.
Like a Brisket, Part Eleven
From my spot on the floor, I couldn’t really see what was going on with The Prodigy and Craftsmate. I know Penthouse was partially talking her through some of the basics, but she was mostly doing the “tying like a brisket” herself.
Eventually, and while I was partially sub-spaced (which I’ll describe in detail in the next post, swearsies), I suddenly heard Penthouse exclaim how amazing that was. I looked up and saw some pretty impressive rope-work, especially considering that this was The Prodigy’s first time tying someone up.
“Oh man,” Craftsmate exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at the ropes, “this is like…this is the before picture. And damn. This is the before picture.”
Photo from here.
Like a Brisket, Part Ten
After Penthouse introduced The Prodigy to his homemade spreader bar, he demonstrated another sort of hogtie on me while all of them cooed over the rope-work. I admit, I was sort of upset that I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head to see it, so Craftsmate was nice enough to take a few pictures for me. And so I felt generous enough to share this one with you guys.
I might be blushing tons sharing this with you all right now, so bear with me.
That’s Penthouse’s belt and the whole arrangement was actually pretty comfortable. I could roll onto my side, I could push my legs up, and I could have someone else pull me up by it so I mostly left the ground without feeling much strain on my shoulders. So, I got kind of cozy on the rug and just watched the other three mess around with the rope.
Eventually, The Prodigy picked up a length of it and turned to Penthouse, making the statement that reduced us to so much laughter that we were almost in tears:
“Could you help me with Craftsmate? I want to tie him up like a brisket.”
Like a Brisket, Part Nine
When I was out of the hogtie, Penthouse cracked some joke, asked everyone if they wanted to see something funny, and threw me over his shoulder. I flailed a bit, mostly because I was wearing a dress and I had accidentally flashed my butt enough that evening.
“Be careful,” I said when he put me down. “I can kick your ass.”
He chuckled, “fine. Come here and kick my ass.”
Welp, I made a conscious effort to do that. Honestly. But I wound up over the kid’s knee pretty quickly. I squirmed and fought and tried to sit up, but he had me down pretty well.
“I think Ivy needs a spanking,” Penthouse said. “What do you think, Prodigy?”
“I defer to Craftsmate,” The Prodigy replied.
Craftsmate snorted, “and I defer to Ivy.”
So, here I am, over this guy’s lap, in a group of kinky people, having to decide whether or not I deserve to get spanked. And, tumblr, it’s damn hard for me to articulate when I want something like that. It’s part of the whole shame thing. I would rather have someone else impose it upon me and pretend I dislike it than admit I want it. Yes, even in a crowd of kinky people I was ashamed to admit I enjoy it.
But, part of it was the issue of tone. I wasn’t sure if the entire day was supposed to be entirely demonstrative and academic or cross into something more playful. Thus, I am over somebody’s knee attempting not to get turned on. I am literally going over in my head and telling myself not to act like I liked this when it was pretty obvious that I did.
“Well,” I answered to Penthouse, “I guess I defer to you.”
That spanking hurt like a bitch. In a good way. But what didn’t hurt in a good way was how anxious I was getting and unnecessarily insecure around the people I should have been the least insecure with. Oh, shame.