“July Flame
Ashes of a secret heart
Falling in my lemonade
Unslakable thirsting in the backyard.”
touch
You know I’m a little magpie, Daddy.
I can’t help myself.
No matter how grown-up she tries to be, she’s never too grown-up for lap time.
It was this really lazy Sunday morning and Craftsmate had slept over my place after a party. We had fairly tamely shared the bed and besides some cuddling that degraded into groping, nothing had really happened.
We had started to mess around a little in the light that filtered through the slit of window not covered by blinds. I had worn a pair of my gym shorts to bed without any panties and Craftsmate had started to tease me through the material. Eventually, I was rolled over onto my stomach, my ass pushed up into the air, his fingers rubbing through the fabric, my body quaking gently against one of my pillows.
They were the kind of gym shorts that were a sort of mesh material so they could “breathe”. This translates to, eventually, my wetness literally leaking out of the shorts. Craftsmate leaned in and I could hear him chuckling as he looked at the growing wet spot on my shorts. He brought his hand away from my cunt and I whined.
“Look at that,” he said, dangling his fingers in front of my face. They were wet. “You’ve soaked right through.” He pushed them into my mouth and I licked them clean. His fingers returned to my gym shorts once more, but only long enough to coat his fingers again. He sniffed his fingers and commented that they smelled like something he likes to eat (yeah, we’re that far back in the timeline).
Eventually, he had gotten me pretty close to the edge and just flat-out stopped. As I squirmed and whined about him being an asshole, he climbed off the bed and replied, “I’m getting a glass of water. I’d change those shorts if I were you.”
Playdate with Popcorn, Part Four
Popcorn came over to find me leashed up to the bed once more. She greeted me and hopped on the bed, sitting across from me with a little smile. However, I could see the blush already rising in her cheeks and I felt just as nervous. We started with small talk, giggling and averting our gaze every so often.
“If you two don’t just give each other a kiss by the time I could down from ten,” Penthouse joked as he took a seat near the bed. “I’ll pull you together and make you.”
Popcorn reached up and grabbed the leash, pulling me into her and kissing me. Her lips were soft, cautious, gentle. She had informed me, while we were talking, that she had never done much with a woman but she had wanted to change that. But, I didn’t want to push and I let her control the pace, also acting off of the fact that I was the one chained to the bed and she was not.
Because of some limits with the guy she was messing around with, she could not play with Penthouse but she could with me. However, I had requested Penthouse be present for my own sense of security. So, he sat a few feet from the bed, watching, which turned me on even more.
As Popcorn deepened the kiss, never letting go of the leash, I tried to angle myself for him, attempting to give him the best view of what was going on possible. This fact, in itself, felt submissive.
Playdate with Popcorn, Part 1
I was all nervous about texting Popcorn after we messed around, but Penthouse insisted she would want to. And, lo and behold, when I picked up my phone she had already texted me thanking me for letting her see me leashed.
Except, I was way too anxious about texting her still and Penthouse had to sit there, play with my hair, calm me down, and then text her for me. Really. Because I’m bashful and apparently still in middle school. But he was a very good sport of listening to me get all nervous and then giddy and then everywhere in between.
But, the plans to get together later that evening were made and things were looking peachy.
Under your skin, 1966
Hello, vices.
Chained, Epilogue
After Popcorn had left, Penthouse grabbed my hair and pulled me back down to my knees. “Go on, sweetheart,” he said, “thank Daddy for your playdate.” He reached down and unzipped his pants and I smirked.
I pulled his cock out and started sucking as he spoke to me, telling me how good I had been. I told him, in a moment when my head was off his cock, that I had wanted to kiss her when she left but I wasn’t sure if she was actually into girls or just liked dominating them.
“I think you should text her,” he said, rolling his hand through my hair, “and invite her over later. I think she wants to kiss you, too.”
I blushed and took him deeper.
“You know that paper she mentioned last night? She did that thing early so she could play with you,” he added and smirked, holding my hair a bit tighter and starting to fuck my face. “So, I really do think you should text your new little friend.”
Chained, Part Nine
I heard the tell-tale rattle of clothespins on a line and whined a bit into my gag. Penthouse had grabbed the zipper off of the desk and from my soon-to-be-proven-correct assumption, handed it off to Popcorn.
“What you do,” he explained, placing a hand on my shoulder, “is you just put them all over on her breasts, then yank the end of the string, and they all come off.”
Popcorn was a little ruthless. She went excruciatingly slow, debating out where each one should go, so I was stuck sitting with two particularly harsh ones near the skin over my collarbones. Eventually, I couldn’t take it and just hit the buzzer.
They took care to remove the blindfold and the gag, making sure I was all right, and took off the clothespins gently by hand. I was a little disappointed I hadn’t had the guts to ride it out, but I figured it was better to know my limits.
Penthouse untied my legs and I got up to my feet, adjusting my nightgown and giving Popcorn a hug. We thanked each other for a fun experience and she left, having somewhere else to go.
People who know me tend to equate me with strength. Which I definitely appreciate, as it’s something I pride myself in being.
But, I think I’ve developed such a thick skin that it is hard for the people around me to realize how I can hurt. Because I do believe that underneath the resilience, the self-reliance, the nose to the grindstone sort of attitude I have, the flippancy and all of that is a lot of sensitivity and a lot of sweetness that maybe gets overlooked. My therapist says I have trouble being really, honestly vulnerable with people, especially when feelings are at stake. I agree. I also simply do not allow myself to be anything less than strong. I’ve got this headspace where I can’t show people my actual vulnerabilities because to do so would be unacceptable.
Part of submission that appeals, then, is that ability to be vulnerable. To be sweet and gentle and devoted and sensitive and not have that mistaken for weakness. Maybe it’s partially a coping mechanism – a safe frame within which I can actually be vulnerable rather than in a normal life situation. But, I don’t know. It helps me express a lot of what I keep buried under the surface.