late night pizza

you smile again and wipe your wet fingers on my face. "first, take off your shirt and clean that mess you made."

i hesitate for a moment but pull my shirt over my head and start to lean down.

"on your knees, and i want that ass up. in fact," you pause dramatically, but i know that tone of voice and shiver. "put the shirt in your mouth, hands behind your back, and clean."

i don't hesitate this time, and i put the shirt in my mouth. i'm still holding my new collar in one hand, and reach my arms behind my back so i can grip it with both hands when i spread my legs and lean forward. half my focus is on cleaning my juices off the floor, and the rest is on making sure i'm displaying myself well enough for you. my clit is throbbing from the exposure, and all i can think about is how badly i need to please you.

when i finish cleaning to your satisfaction, you order me to stand, but you keep the shirt in my mouth and my hands behind my back. "now," you tell me, "you can either put your filthy shirt back on or i can use it to tie your arms behind your back and put those tits on display. you can choose."

i think for a moment then hand you my shirt and the collar, before turning and presenting my arms to be tied. you pull my arms back, thrusting my breasts out further, and tie them tightly.

you trace your fingers lightly up my arms and over my breasts, making me shiver as my nipples harden. you pull me back against you and kiss my throat, but your hands continue down my body and slip back under my skirt. one hand holds me still and the other goes right for my clit. you hold me against you, still pressing soft kisses to my throat as i come undone in your hands.

you stop before you can push me over the edge but keep holding me still while i suck your wet fingers clean. when my breathing starts to calm, you push me forward. "let's go, babe."

as we approach the register, the man working here looks me up and down and smiles. i stumble, having forgotten that we weren't alone, but you keep pushing me forward. we're not heading straight toward him though- with your hand twisted in my hair you steer me toward a display case full of different types of dog tags.

we stop in front of it and my eyes meet your reflection's in the back of the case. i don't need to see myself to know that my cheeks are flushed and my lip is swollen from biting it, but i look anyway. i barely recognize the slut i see looking back at me.

you bring out the collar we chose and now i can't take my eyes off your hands. i watch them open the collar and fit it around my throat, and when they close the collar i sigh, letting out a breath i hadn't even realized i was holding.

i'm staring at myself, transfixed, barely breathing, for a minute before my eyes meet yours again in the mirror. "thank you, sir."

you hold my gaze as you pinch my nipples and smirk at me. "we're not done yet, my slut." you keep playing with my nipples with one hand while the other drifts down and under my skirt again. "pick a tag," you tell me, and begin to finger me.

you're much rougher this time, bringing me to edge and barely letting me catch my breath before starting again. without my arms free to brace myself, i'm shaking just from trying to stay upright. the only thing keeping my knees locked in place is the knowledge that if i fall to the floor, you'll leave me there to writhe and beg.

i shake my head to try to clear some of the cobwebs and pick a dog tag, but before i can speak you stop playing with my breasts and slip your fingers in my mouth. i can see you laughing at me when i can't hold back the whine, but i quickly forget about the dog tag anyway. you do this a few more times, until my whines are turning to screams.

the next time you remove your fingers from my mouth to start the cycle again, i immediately shout, "the heart! the heart tag, please, please, the heart!"

you wipe both hands clean on my breasts, giving my nipples an extra tug when you do it. i don't remember it happening, but at some point in this you pulled them out of my bra so now they're fully on display. when you're done, you reach out to grab the tag, then push me toward the cashier.

i look down, not wanting to see what this man thinks of me right now, but you push me right up to the counter. "tell him what to engrave on the tag, baby."

i whimper but don't speak, and your hand comes down hard on my ass. "daddy's little slut," i say in a very small voice.

another slap. i say it again louder. another slap. louder, and with a please. another. another. another. you stop after i shout, "please, please engrave my dog tag to say daddy's little slut!"

you rub your hand over my sore ass then push me forward, until i'm bent over the counter with my legs spread.

"miss?" the clerk asks, causing me to instinctively look up at him. he grins. "can you spell that for me?"

each letter comes with another hard slap on my ass. after "daddy's" and "little" you finger me again roughly, bringing me to the edge. after the second edge, i brace myself for another slap, but it doesn't come. instead you grab me and turn me so i'm on my back and spread my legs wide.

"you can cum when you're finished, is that clear slut?"

i gulp. "yes sir."

your hand comes down hard on my oversensitive pussy. S. L. U. on the T, your slap lands directly on my clit and i scream as the orgasm overtakes me.

there is a rumor going around. that i am “desperate for cuddles.” and i wanted to come forward and say. it’s true. i am

@dog_feelings

days like today, all i want is to be collared and curled up at your feet while you go about your night. every once in a while you tell me i'm a good girl or use me as a footrest or feed me bits of your food and let me suck on your fingers. you reach down often to touch my hair just to remind me you're still there. i'm safe and happy and warm and owned.

after you approve the collar we shop for leashes together, but i'm in a daze. every time i start to regain my composure, you reach under my skirt and bring me to the brink of orgasm, then laugh at my whines when you step away.

as you edge me over and over, you taunt me- telling me i'm a desperate slut, just your little fucktoy, this is what i'm meant for, look at how pathetic and wet i am. then you have me repeat it back to you, and in my desperation i start adding to it, telling you that this is what i deserve for being such a whore, that it doesn't matter what i want as long as i'm pleasing you, begging to let me suck your cock to show you what a good girl i am.

after you push me so perilously close to the edge again, i finally tell you i can't take it anymore. you push me against the wall, using the leash across my throat to hold me in place. "touch yourself."

"sir please, i can't--"

you add pressure to the leash choking me and lean in closer, so your lips brush mine when you tell me, "that wasn't a request, slut."

i whimper but reach under my skirt and run my fingers up and down my wet pussy lips. you loosen the leash a little and kiss me just as my fingers find my swollen clit, and i can feel you smile when i gasp into your mouth.

you continue kissing me while i touch myself, seemingly unaffected by my need, just holding me in place in this pet store like we have all the time in the world. when you hear my breathing change as i get closer to the edge, you order me stop and continue lazily kissing me, completely ignoring my desperate whines and rocking hips.

when my breathing calms you order me to do it again, and again, and again. sometimes you order me to fuck myself, or lick my fingers clean, or pinch my nipples since your hands are still holding the leash across my throat. we keep going until nothing matters except your voice and my throbbing clit. i don't care anymore that we're in public, that all i can hear in this store anymore is my moans and wet pussy, that there's no way i could get within 20 feet of the cashier without him being able to smell the juices dripping out of me. all i care about is obeying you and ending this torment.

i don't know what you're waiting for or want from me and i'm too far past rational thought to think about it or even ask. after the fifth time in a row of making me edge myself, each session getting shorter and shorter, i burst into tears when you order me to stop.

you step back from me and admire your handiwork. i'm leaning against the wall, eyes closed, still crying. my inner thighs are glistening, my juices running down my legs in a way that's impossible to miss. even as i cry, my hips are rocking, still so desperate for any touch.

you cup the side of my face and tell me i'm a good girl, petting my hair and telling me how obedient i am in between you sucking my fingers clean. when i have enough composure back to look at you, you smile at me and ask if i'd like to cum.

i immediately stand up straighter. "yes sir."

"you'll still have to earn it," you tell me. i nod. "what will you do to earn an orgasm today, baby?"

you ask it so innocently, but your hand slips under my skirt and finds my clit again before i can answer. "anything, i'll do anything to cum, please daddy," i beg.  

been feeling too anxious to talk to people but here's the first part of a thing i've been writing.

~~~~~

you lead me into the pet store quietly, just smiling to yourself when i shiver from the cool air on my already wet pussy. you hold my hand as we walk through the store, but move to stand behind me when we get to the collars and leashes. you place your hands possessively on my hips and pull me back against you, enjoying the view down my top as my breathing speeds up. "it's time, baby," you whisper into my ear. "what kind of collar do you want?"

i hadn't thought about helping you choose my collar. i had half expected to wake up one morning to find it around my throat, if i was being honest, and i was overwhelmed by the choices.

i shake my head, and you feel the moment my trembling shifts from arousal to panic. you pull me closer and kiss the side of my throat. "you're not choosing," you remind me. "you're helping me, but this is not up to you." your voice is sterner now and i sink into it, letting you steady me. "clear?"

"yes sir."

you kiss me on the throat again, in a spot i know will soon be covered up by your collar, and i moan softly.

"good girl," you murmur before letting me go.

i watch you walk up the aisle before moving to the collection of leather collars. i lose track of you while i look through the rows of collars, touching the cool leather, feeling how supple or stiff they are, shaking them to see how much noise they make and how heavy they are.

i turn back to you as you walk back down the aisle toward me. you pick up one of the training collars, a metal one with spikes on the inside, and hold it up, jangling it to make sure you have my attention. my breathing speeds up again and you laugh a little when i squeeze my thighs together and reach out to the wall of collars to steady myself, but you put it back on its shelf. "maybe next time," you tell me, and finish walking back to me.

you reach out to touch the collar i was looking at with one hand, and the other slips under my skirt, trailing up and down the slickness coating my inner thighs. you trace those wet fingers over my lips and i greedily suck them into my mouth, moaning a little at the taste of us. you start to pull your hand away but i hold onto it, making sure i haven't missed anything and rocking my hips in time to my sucking.

you laugh at my whine when you finally remove your fingers from my mouth. "such a desperate little thing you are, babe." you move to stand behind me, trapping me between your body and the wall of collars. "this one?" i don't know how your voice is completely steady, considering you have one hand under my skirt again and i can feel you getting hard.

when you first brush against my pussy lips, i look around, making sure we're alone. "eyes ahead," you tell me, your fingers stroking up and down my wet cunt. "tell me why this one."

"it's pretty. i like--" i stop, gasping when your fingers find my clit. a light pinch from you brings me back. "i like that it looks delicate, light pink with little gold hearts." i'm trying to grind against your fingers now, but you keep them far enough away that i can't get any relief.

"and?"

i can't help the whine that escapes me when you slip two fingers inside me. i rock against your fingers as i continue. "i like the matching bracelet. i can wear that whenever i can't wear the actual collar. so i'm always collared. always yours." i barely squeeze it out before you're pulling your hand out from under my skirt and i whine louder.

you step back and watch me as you bring your fingers to your mouth. i'm still braced against the wall, eyes closed, hips rocking against nothing. there's a trail of pussy juice dripping down my legs and i can't hold back all the little moans and whimpers. "look at you, my pathetic, wanton slut. we haven't even looked at leashes yet."

i've been thinking a lot about why i love being called a good girl so much, and i think i've finally nailed it. a lifetime of qualified praise and flat out being told i was disappointing means being told with no qualifiers that i'm pleasing someone is like, the most unattainable thing i can imagine.

it was never just "you did a good job on this" because it was always "here's all the ways you should have done better." it was never "i know you tried and i'm proud of you" because it was always "you're wasting your potential and it's disappointing to watch."

i think a lot of it is an adhd thing- the things that look easy are incredibly hard for me to do (so i never fully succeed), and the things that look hard come to me very easily (so there's no apparent effort). for instance, i could never do my homework but one time i decided i wanted to learn how to sew and made a complex renaissance dress in three weeks. it didn't feel hard to me though, so all the praise i got for it felt misplaced.

being told i'm a good girl makes me feel safe and warm and cared for, in a way that nobody has ever cared for me. cared for as in treated with care, treated like something unique and breakable but worthy. i used to settle for being useful, but every time i'm told i'm a good girl i know i'm so much more than that.

or: why insisting i can trust you will never make me trust you

i'm a late bloomer. i have high anxiety and spent most of my life being told all the ways i wasn't good enough, so i never even really tried dating in my teens and twenties. the upside to starting all this in your 30s is that you have a much better sense of who you are. the downside is you feel that much stupider for falling for someone's bullshit.

i'm also very trusting. growing up in a town without crime, where your whole extended family lives, has that effect on you. i try very hard to be honest, and i tend to assume the best about people and take them at their word.

but even if they're the minority, even if they're the VAST minority, the fact that i've ignored my gut to trust shitty men who swore they could be trusted means i cannot risk ignoring my gut anymore. if you set off those alarm bells and don't back off when i ask you to, you are now classified in my head as a danger.

the consequences of ignoring that have ranged from "just" a panic attack to a sociopathic meth head texting me, in detail, about how he was going to come to my house and rape me and get me pregnant* so like, when i tell you to slow down and you ignore me, you're blocked.

the nice, caring, deeply submissive, always needs to please part of me hates this policy. i hate it. i hate not giving people second chances, i hate taking away their opportunity to learn and grow and apologize, and i hate not being able to take people at their word.

a friend helped reframe this for me recently though: this isn't about me. this is about taking care of my future master or mistress's property- namely, my body and mind. thinking of it in those terms has made it so much easier to shut down men** who start with that "i'm just ignoring your boundaries cos i'm so excited to be with you!" nonsense.

*i'm safe, and he's an asshole

**i haven't been hit on by nearly as many women or enbys, but still: it's always dudes

(originally posted 01/2016)

i'm on my knees in front of you, naked, with clamps on my nipples attached by chains to the clamps on my pussy. you're still dressed and i run my hands over your thighs and drag my nails across the fabric covering your bulging cock. i feel it twitch beneath my fingers and lean forward to press my lips against it. you can barely feel my tongue whispering against the denim but it's enough. you thread your fingers through my hair and tug until i moan.

i bring my hands back up to your waist and undo your belt, but i'm still running my teeth over the denim. you tug harder, letting me know play time's over. i remove your belt and hand it to you, in case you need it for extra motivation, then pop the button on your jeans. i drag the zipper down agonizingly slowly until your cock is brushing against my lips with no more barriers.

i wrap one hand around the shaft of your cock and squeeze gently, using my other hand to play with your balls. i lick around the head and take just the tip into my mouth. while i suck on the head of your cock, i take my hand off the shaft and put it between my legs. i play with my pussy until you get impatient and pull on my hair again, then i bring my wet hand up to your cock and stroke it a few times.

i lick up and down your cock, the taste of both of us mingling in my mouth. my juices are dripping down my thighs now, and every once in a while i scoop up more to lick off of you. i draw it out as long as i can, humming happily and smiling up at you whenever you tug on my hair to urge me along. your breathing is heavy now, and you can barely contain a whine when i run my tongue up the underside of your cock and lightly drag my nails down the top. you shift your weight to lean against the wall behind you and use your booted foot to tug on the chain attached to my nipples and cunt. "enough," your growl.

the sudden tug on the chain makes me gasp. i lean forward to find some relief but you don't ease up until your cock is back in my mouth. even then, the relief is short lived. you tug on the chain to the rhythm i set bobbing up and down. you keep one hand wound painfully in my hair and move the other down until it's wrapped around my throat, leaving the belt draped over my shoulder in case i forget myself. at the next tug on the chain you pull me forward by my hair and squeeze my throat until you can feel the added pressure on your cock. you hold me in place by my hair and throat and the chains clamped to my body until i'm shaking with the need for breath, then you let me go. the break only lasts a few seconds until you pull me all the way back onto your cock.

the third time you release me, your cum fills my mouth. you keep your hand wrapped around my throat and feel me swallow until i've sucked every ounce of it from you.

you loosen your hold on my throat and push me back roughly so i'm sprawled on the floor in front of you. i've left a puddle beneath where i was kneeling, and you admire the flush on my body as you get dressed again.

once you're sorted, you lean forward and take hold of the chain again. you give a gentle tug and tell me to touch my pussy. i use two fingers to circle my swollen clit as one finger from the other hand dips inside me. you tug on the chain. "another finger inside you." i fuck myself with two fingers now, keeping rhythm with your tugs on the chain.

after a minute of that you tug on the chain much harder. "lick those two finger clean, slut." my hips are raised, i'm trying so hard not to move them and increase the pressure of the chain but it's all too much as i lick my fingers clean. you tug again and i gasp around the fingers in my mouth. "three fingers now."

you go back and forth, stopping me whenever i get too close to orgasm and slowing things down with the pain from the clamps until i'm not even responding to the tugs anymore, just to your voice.

eventually you smile down at me. "would you like to come, slut?"

"yes please," i respond breathlessly.

another sharp pull on the chain. "beg."

"please sir, please can i come?"

another pull on the chain.

"PLEASE, please may i come sir?" i'm sobbing in between pleas, still frantically fucking myself.

you hum at me and i continue to plead with you, although it's becoming more jumbled between the sobs and gasps for breath.

you lean down over me. "ask nicely."

i swallow the next sob and take a steadying breath. "please sir, please may i come?"

without warning you pull the chain again and rip the clamps from my nipples and pussy. you wait until my screams die down before you tell me "no" with a smile in your voice.

(originally posted 12/17/2016)

i lay before you, your voice and the look in your eyes the only things binding me in place. as you run your rough hands up my thighs, i spread my legs, a silent invitation to use me as you wish.

your hand is hot against my already wet pussy, your fingers strong as they tease and torment my most sensitive parts. while one hand caresses my pussy, your fingers so softly circling my clit, you use the other to slap my breasts and pinch my nipples until my moans turn to gasps turn to whimpers.

you bend forward to kiss me and as my lips part for your tongue my pussy opens for your fingers. first one, slow and gentle, then two, twisting inside me while your thumb brushes my clit. with the third finger inside me, you bite my lip and pull, lifting my hips off the bed while i scream into your mouth. your thumb is pressing hard against my clit, and you can feel my pussy pulsing around your fingers even as i try to escape you.

i can feel you smiling. knowing how much you enjoy this- holding me in place, hurting me, owning me- turns our time together from something i want to something i desperately need.

you ease me back down, but the gentle caresses and whisper soft touches are still torture to my oversensitive pussy. you kiss my jaw, and the scratch of your stubble against my throat nearly pushes me over the edge. you back off slightly, still touching me but just enough to keep me on that edge.

"tell me what you want." the words are whispered against my throat, and when i don't immediately answer you pinch my pussy lips, digging your short nails into my skin until i cry out.

"tell. me. what. you. want." each word is punctuated with a kiss or a slap to my clit, until i'm writhing beneath you.

i tell you i want to come on your cock, and you slap my clit again, harder this time. "please!" i'm so close now, i'm nearly sobbing as i beg you. "please, please, i want to come with you inside me, please sir, please." i'm fighting so hard to hold my hips still, but the slaps are still coming. "i want you to come inside me!"

the slaps stop, but the caresses are almost worse, and i can't help the sobs that escape my lips with every touch. you tell me i'm a good girl as you run your hands over my body, holding me in place even as i feel like i'm shaking apart.

when you take a step back, i cry out, suddenly afraid that you'll leave me in this state. you grin and shake your head. "not today, slut, but that would be a fun game for another time, don't you think?" i shudder, but try hold myself still for you so i don't give you any other ideas.

you touch my ankle and i obey your unspoken command, spreading my legs wider, making myself ready for you. "touch yourself," you order me. i flush, but hesitantly move my hand to my pussy. you know how hard it is for me to perform for you, but then, if it wasn't hard for me you wouldn't have so much fun ordering me to do it. i'm too hesitant today though, and you slap my thigh. "like you mean it. if you want to come today, you'll have to earn it."

i circle my clit with my fingers, then run them over my swollen pussy lips. you nod at me in approval, and as you take your shirt off i dip my fingers inside my pussy. i slowly fuck myself while i watch you undress, and when you finally free your cock, i move my fingers to my mouth and suck them clean.

you nod in approval again and step closer to me. my world narrows to the feel of you pressing against my pussy, and i can't contain myself anymore. my pleas run together as i beg you to fuck me.

you press inside me slowly, so slowly, and the burn of my pussy opening for you is everything i wanted. you pause while fully inside me, then slowly pull back out until just the head of your cock is pressed against my entrance. a high-pitched whine escapes me before you slam your cock back inside me.

my orgasm slams through my body, stealing my breath away, but as you continue to thrust inside me it stretches out, until i'm lost in a haze of pleasure and pain as my body overloads. as my pussy spasms around you, i hear your breathing go ragged before your hot cum fills me. your fingers on my clit push me through another orgasm, and then we're both spent.

you crawl into the bed beside me and murmur something about cleaning up later. i curl closer to you and whisper, "thank you thank you thank you" before letting my eyes close.

doms (and i am using that term extremely loosely here) who immediately try to talk you out of limits of any kind that they think are unnecessary are, well, not the worst, but definitely pretty bad. at least they're telling you up front that they have absolutely no respect for your limits, well-being, or autonomy, as opposed to those people who pretend to respect your limits but push past them at the first opportunity, but they're still real shitty.

if i tell you that i don't give my phone number to people i don't know, you don't get to decide that my limit is silly, or pointless, or bad for me actually. i'm submissive, but i'm not YOUR submissive, so you do not get to make that determination! that limit is there for a reason, and that reason is men like you who think two coherent messages mean i'm your property now.

if you don't understand the harassment that women, both in the kink scene and out of it, have to put up with from men who feel entitled to our time and attention, then i hate to be the one to break it to you, but: you are one of those entitled assholes.

(and before the first "not all men" pissbaby comment: if you're not that entitled asshole, then you should also hate those guys who are making women put up extra walls. the second half of the phrase "a few bad apples" is "spoils the bunch," so instead of crying to me, maybe make those assholes fall in line.)

(yes, i am bitchy today. i've had enough of men deciding they know my limits better than i do though.)