Usually my Weekend Round Ups have a bit of a theme running through them, a common thread. This week is all over the map! It’s a mixed bag, but that’s awesome, because the whole point of #LiFE is to celebrate diversity in lingerie. Join me for this week’s top three picks …
I recently wrote about the place that D/s has in my relationship with Sir and how we are people first, partners second, and thirdly, our D/s roles. Then, after all of that, I fucked up.
I tried to journal last night. I tried on and off for a few hours, but inevitably I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t stay with it. I’d write and delete, rinse and repeat. Everything I was trying to say felt contrived, or sugar coated. I felt like my own words were mocking me as I read them…
“I love the support and care I feel from you within this dynamic, and I wasn’t really expecting that. In the past, Dominance has been mostly about output. I just didn’t expect to get this level of care and support back.”
“What if I secretly worked you up in public? Would you beg with your eyes, slut? I bet you’d whimper under your breath like a good little bitch.”
“Did you like that I grabbed your cheeks in one hand and pushed my fingers in your mouth with the other? I think you did. I love that the trust, love and connection we have gives me the confidence to do that and know it won’t hurt or scare you.”
“I want to rub my full, heavy balls on your face. I want to get you drunk off of my virility and turn you into a seed drunk slut so I can fuck you into a puddle of your own sweat and juices. Then I’ll rub an orgasm out of my stone-like cock and finally…
“Imagine I’m lying there, tired but with a hard cock, post-dayshift. What do you want to do with me?”
“Something we had to work through at the beginning was your feeling that you couldn’t fulfil an archetype, that you couldn’t live up to a rigid ideal. I think writing about how not fitting into an archetype is not a failure would be valuable.”
“I expect you to treat yourself with the same kindness that I do.” “Yes, Sir. Disregard or disrespect of myself or my body is an affront to your care and possession. I will try to keep that top of mind and remain obedient and accountable. Thank you for the correction.”
“Good night, my <name redacted>. I love you. Prioritise sleep tonight, ok? That’s your task.“
“Come for me, focus on the throbbing in your cunt. Feel my love flow through it.”
He said, “Write about the deep desire. Write about the hunger.”
His words are affirmations, lifelines for my anxious heart. Still, sometimes I feel like a pest: too needy, too Little, too keen. I have to actively work at convincing myself that those things aren’t true and that Sir wants me to ask questions, he wants to provide feedback and praise, he wants to see and…
I squirmed. He chuckled. “Have you edged today?” “Not yet, Sir.” He sat back, squared his shoulders and cocked his head. “No? Remedy that.” “Understood.” There was a silence as we looked at each other, into each other. A pause. A smile. A giggle. “Whatever made you think you weren’t really a Little?”
With the help of a couple handy dandy Twitter polls, y’all chose “real life sex” “feeling submissive as fuck” for some story time inspiration. This is a true account of the sensual sadism that is currently in my life. Two dangerously creative men: Daddy and Sir, both delight in making me squirm and suffer (and…