Last night Sir had me strip down to my thong and lay next to Him with all His clothes still on. He slid His leg between my thighs, guided my hand to the bulge in His jeans, wrapped His arms around me, pinched my nipple, and told me to rub His hard cock through His pants and to rub my pussy against His leg.

    And for a while, that was all He let me do. I asked to kiss Him and He said no; I asked to take His cock out and worship it and He said no. He wanted me right where I was, humping His leg and desperately trying to stroke His cock through His jeans, moaning against His neck, getting wetter and wetter as I squirmed in His arms. He kept my nipple pinched between His fingers as He told me what a needy, pathetic little slut I am. How He knows He can always bring it out of me, no matter how shy I might be feeling beforehand – a few words from Him and permission to grind myself against His leg and I become nothing but His whore.

    Eventually, He did kiss me; eventually, He did let me take His cock out and slide it down my throat; eventually, He fucked me, hard and deep until He came. But after He left, even with the plug filling my well-fucked ass, it was the feeling of being naked in His arms, grinding myself on His thigh that I was thinking about as I rubbed my hand against my wet and empty pussy.

    December 17th - a rescue plan

    Some good news, I’ve been talking to two developers now and got them working together, we just had a meeting with the guys behind an existing large (millions of users) site similar to Tumblr, with a vibrant and open-minded community, and more importantly, it has open-minded owners who believe in free speech. They think we can get something done here to rescue the whole community.

    I’m not allowed to reveal the site name yet. I can tell you it’s mainstream, open to everyone, open-minded and welcoming. (It’s not WordPress or any site owned by Facebook or Twitter. It’s not Pillowfort, that’s in closed beta. It’s not Ello, that’s mainly for artists. It’s not kinkspace or fetlife, those are too specialist. It’s not jux, that seems to be closed. It’s not Soup, that seems still in development and too small.)

    One of the reasons for delaying the announcement for next few days is they don’t want a “land grab” where people take the names of current popular Tumblr users over there (cyber squatting). So they are looking at ways for existing Tumblr users to keep the same names on the new site.

    More info over the days to come.

    The plan is, broadly:

    1. By December 9th, announcement of the new site and how to secure your username there

    2. By December 10th, an online tool for bloggers to copy their existing content to the new site automatically, with the same tags and captions.

    3. Bloggers will need to copy their content across between December 10th and December 17th if they want to use the automatic tool.

    4. My understanding is that after December 17th there will be no public access to any “flagged” posts on Tumblr, but the original poster will still be able to see the flagged post (for a short time at least). Therefore, the original poster may still be able to manually download a post to their own PC or phone, after December 17th, and manually upload it to the other site. But if you have lots of posts that will take a long time, it will be better to use the automatic tool before December 17th.

    Please understand that these dates are approximate and may change for technical or other reasons.

    There may be a few rough edges or not so perfect looking site design on the transfer tool. Everyone is doing their best. The main goal here is to help as many people as possible preserve access to their content, in the short space of time Tumblr has allowed us, and preserve as much as possible of the Tumblr community spirit somewhere new.

    The new site will cater for photo, GIF, text and html posts. It will not offer video and audio posts, due to cost reasons - maybe in future, but for now you will need to preserve video and audio content yourself in some other place.

    If your Tumblr blog has a mixture of original content and reblogs, or all reblogs, all of that can be copied over to the new site. Reblogs will become “your” original content if nobody else posted them yet, otherwise they will be shown as reblogs. The devs are looking at ways to preserve attribution of reblogs back to the original Tumblr poster, if that person also moves to the new site.

    Important: your Likes cannot be copied from Tumblr to the new site. You will have to go find the same posts again on the new site, and like them afresh.

    (Similarly, existing reblog comments, asks, messages and other user interaction on Tumblr cannot be copied to the new site - that’s just too much to do, in the short time available.)

    If you want to preserve any of your existing Liked posts on Tumblr, you will need to either: (1) download the post to your own PC, or: (2A) reblog it now to your own Tumblr blog, and then (2B) use the automatic tool, before December 17th, to move your whole Tumblr blog across to the new site.

    If you have Liked a lot of posts here on Tumblr, the webapp should be able to help you do steps 1 and 2A quickly, I mean download or reblog.

    (Someone complained to me today about the appearance of Gridllr on a phone. It’s best to use Gridllr on a PC, Mac or Tablet with a large screen.)

    If you have liked a post here on Tumblr and the original poster decides to delete it, or even to delete their entire blog, some time before December 17th, then that post will be permanently lost. So if you want to be sure to preserve any of your Liked posts, you should best download or reblog as soon as possible. If it’s reblogged to your own blog it is safe from deletion, at least for next few days.

    Obviously, you will lose access, after December 17th, to all past posts you have liked, if Tumblr has flagged them as NSFW. Again, the steps (1), or (2A) and (2B) covered above will be the only way to hold on to these posts.


    Egalitarian D/s. It’s a thing.

    There’s a post floating around regarding equality in D/s. I wish I could find it to link it here {I’m sure one of my lovely followers will attach it in the comments and then I’ll update with a direct link}. In it, there is a reply wherein egalitarian D/s is referred to as “cancer.” 

    Without touching on the horrible thing of comparing something like this to a disease I am far far too familiar with in my life right now, I want to touch on this concept. 

    Egalitarianism. Let’s define it quickly. 

    e·gal·i·tar·i·an iˌɡaləˈterēən/


    • 1.relating to or believing in the principle that all people are equal and deserve equal rights and opportunities.

    As I’ve been thinking about writing this post, I spent a lot of time reviewing my own beliefs about the subject. And honestly, it comes back to a viewpoint that I have been forced to hold since I was very very young. 

    The concept of complimentarianism is one found in a lot of conservative circles, especially religious ones. The crux of it comes down to traditional gender roles, to a point. Men are the head, women are the feet. Men are the rulers, women are the subjects. Men are the lords, women are the lackeys. Men rule, women drool. 

    This is where a lot of the dangerous viewpoints spring from: purity culture, modesty culture, r*pe culture. 

    In D/s, there are categories where traditional gender roles are enforced and embraced. There are categories of CNC, of women belonging under men’s feet, of women “knowing their place.” There are parts of these categories where T and I find ourselves, alive and blissful. 

    @instructor144 writes about the hierarchy of needs in a D/s relationship. I happen to adore his theory and hold closely to it, as does T: 

    • The needs of the submissive
    • The needs of the Dominant
    • The wants of the Dominant
    • The wants of the submissive

    In this, there is egalitarianism. There is a beautiful equality here. I am, at the end of the day, T’s partner. In true D/s, it is the submissive that holds the power. One word and it slows. Another word and it all ends. The Dominant loves and cherishes His submissive to such a degree that it is His life’s goal to ensure that she is held and elevated to a place of height, almost above Him as she is beneath Him. 

    It is not a cancer. It is oxygen. 

    It is not a death. It is a life. 

    There is a phrase in Scripture that says, “to be great in the Kingdom of God, you must be the servant of all.” The greatest Dominants I have ever known have been the ones who kneel at the feet of their submissives–perhaps not literally, but stooping to lift them up after beating the strength from them, who bathe them and love them, who tenderly adore their little ones to the point that they would go hungry if there was only enough food for one of them. 

    In the D/s world, there are a thousand forms, a thousand types, a thousand twists, a thousand personalized terms. But in this, I hope we can all agree, at least at the barest base form.

    Equality. That is true D/s.


    Hey James. I don't get wet very easily, and I sort of have this fucked up fantasy of having to use numbing cream as lube. -Jo

    Just imagine it, the perfect cock you’ve been waiting for, sucked and made hard with your hands. You’re desperate for it, he lies you back, you watch him slide the condom over it, teasing the tip at your entrance. And then he opens a round jar, hands it to you. ‘Spread this on me baby, it’s something special to make it go in nice and smooth.’

    And you dip your hands into the white cream, your fingers seem to tingle even as you touch it, but you stroke it up and down his shaft, readying it to take you. But then your hand, what’s going on with your hand, you can’t feel it.

    ‘It’s numbing cream, sweetheart, don’t worry, that’s supposed to happen’

    ‘But, what about, down there, won’t it…?’

    ‘Oh yes, you won’t be able to feel a thing,’ he whispers in your ear as he presses close to you. ‘It works so fast inside you’ll barely feel even the first stroke, in fact, look down… I’m in you already.’

    And you watch in torment as the moment you’d dreamed of for so long happens before your eyes, his big thick cock taking you, and all you feel is the pressure of his body slamming into you. Nothing else.

    ‘Oh you feel so good baby! I love this, I love you totally focused on me, on my pleasure, beg me baby, beg me to never let you feel this, to never let you cum from this.’

    And through your tears of frustration you do what he asks, you beg. And you mean it. And he cums. And you feel nothing, but that nothing is more wonderful than you can express.

    Got a fantasy, send it in and see what I do with it!


    the first time

    Where we live in the country, there are coffee stands on nearly every corner. In some counties, there are even coffee stands that offer a little something extra with your coffee. Im not sure why they’re called bikini baristas. Ive never seen a girl in a bikini. In fact, I’ve only ever seen them wear lingerie, electrical tape with a thong, or stripper outfits to be honest.

    Keeping this in mind, I suggested to my husband during a particularly fun conversation that perhaps he should go down there, order a coffee, flirt a bit, and see how things go. Maybe after regular visits, he’d find a girl he hit it off with.

    It was playful conversation one night during foreplay. Afterwards, I wanted to take a bit of the pressure off of him. After all, this was my fantasy, not his… I told him it wouldn’t matter if it actually happened. Making up a story to tell me about picking up one of the baristas and bringing her home to our bed to fuck her, would do just as well.

    A few days passed and then I got a text, “Can’t wait to tell you all about the barista tonight while I fuck you.” My knees weakened a bit as I reread the message over and over. Unconsciously, I bit my lip and reached down to touch the wetness that was forming between my legs.

    I kinda hoped that he would wait awhile before making up the barista story, cause I wanted it to feel believable. Regardless, this was the first step in our cuckquean adventure and I was just excited he was playing along.

    When he appeared at the front door that night, he was already wearing a sly smile. He opened the door and found me standing in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. Brushing the hair off my shoulders, he leaned in and kissed my neck. “When you finish up here, meet me in the room.”

    “Come here, I want to show you something,” he demanded. I crawled across the bed to where he was seated. He motioned for me to sit in front of him and lay back against the heat of his chest. Whatever it was we were about to look at, he wanted me front row, but with access to my body.

    I leaned back against him as he scrolled through an Instagram page full of what I could now tell was bikini baristas. “Ooooh, which one did you pick to tell me about?” I asked.

    The squares on the screen each featured a different girl in sexy clothes. Most were playing to the camera with their puckered lips and perky tits. “Which one would you want me to fuck?” he growled in my ear.

    “Mmmm,” his breath against my neck made me weak. I scrolled through and looked at all of our options. Each one was pretty in her own rite. They were all around 10-15 years younger than me, and none looked like they’d had children. Everything about them was perfect and perky.

    I found a petite brunette with a round ass and big natural tits. She also was dressed in the prettiest black lace lingerie, with a garter belt and thigh highs to match. I knew he’d like her. “I want you to bring her home, baby,” I said as I clicked the square, enlarging the original picture.

    She was prettier than me, not by much, but by enough that I felt a pang of insecurity as he grazed his thumb over the picture. “I was hoping you’d like that one,” he whispered against my neck. “I took your advice, baby girl. I stopped by that coffee stand on my way to work yesterday.” His fingers skimmed along my thighs. I uncrossed my legs to allow him more access.

    “I ordered a drink, but they were out of what I wanted, so I asked the barista to recommend a drink for me.” He went on to tell me about their flirtacious banter. “When I signed the receipt, I wrote my number on the bottom.” His fingers now lightly grazed my parted lips through the fabric. I was already a dripping mess. I leaned into him as he swirled his finger around my clit, barely touching me.

    “She texted me yesterday. Nothing risque… at first, but we got to talking and I told her about your dirty little fantasy. I casually mentioned I was having a hard time meeting girls in the area who would be down with the situation and she didn’t believe me. She said I shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding girls to fuck.”

    I whimpered as he pulled my thong to the side, exposing me. “We’ll look at that,” he cooed, “I haven’t even gotten to the good part and you’re already a mess.” His fingers circled over my clit while, with his other hand, he reached up under my shirt for a handful of my tits.

    Teasing me with his fingers, he tells me how casual conversation turned into flirting last night. He says she sent him pictures and exits the instagram app. He opens his messages and suddenly I’m confused.

    Wait, did this actually happen or is this fantasy?

    He scrolls quickly through conversation so I can’t read it. My brain tries playing catch up. So, wait, this actually happened? He went down there to pick up a girl? My stomach is in knots. I feel light-headed and try to come to terms with what is happening. I wanted this… Right? He opens one of the pictures she sent, its a sexy shot of her in lingerie. Fuck, I think. She’s gorgeous… I’m feeling wildly insecure. Maybe I can’t do this.

    He flips through a few more photos of her in lingerie before he stops and pulls his fingers away from my clit. His fingers are slick. My pussy is wet with envy. “There’s no denying it now, baby… I knew this turned you on, but I’ve never seen you soak through the bedsheet like that, ” he says pointing to the puddle in our bed.

    I’m embarrassed. So many thoughts are going through my head, everything is chaos, the room starts to spin. He swipes to show me the last picture.

    I audibly gasp when it comes into focus. “Look at that,” he says, zooming in on the center of the photo. She’s seated on a bed with her legs splayed open. Her right hand is holding the phone while her left hand spreads her pussy open. It’s fucking beautiful and pink and perfect. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers into my ear. I whimper again and he slides his fingers inside me.

    I lean back into him and close my eyes.

    “I could hardly keep up at work last night. Between texting her all night and two trips I had to make to the bathroom, I was behind the whole time. I got so hard looking at her pictures and talking about her being apart of your fucked up little fantasy, I had to jerk off. But the conversation kept going beyond that and before I knew it, I had to jerk off again. That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know that I’ve ever been that turned on.” His words sting, but the ache between my legs intensifies. My hips buck upward, my body betraying me and begging him to continue as the pressure builds.

    “You like that, huh, baby?”

    I nod my head.

    “No, I want to hear you say it.”

    My voice cracks. I’m so close now. “You should go back tomorrow. I want you to fuck her. You deserve to fuck her, baby.” I’m right on the edge.

    “Remember when I picked up coffee for us this morning?” he asks, “…I fucked her first.”

    An intense orgasm washes through my body. His fingers slow to a steady pace as we ride through my clenching muscle spasms. My breath slows to a normal pace before either of us speaks.

    “That was everything I hoped it would be, babe,” I said as I rested against him, “Thank you.”

    Holding my chin, he turns my face up towards his, “Show me your thankful,” he says, “get on your knees.” I do as I’m told and slide off the bed and get down. He turns to grab something from the bed. I wait patiently at his feet.

    It’s his phone. He opens a video and starts to watch. There’s a lot of heavy breathing and smacking sounds. Then I hear his voice coming from the video, “Oh my God. Your pussy is so tight. Fuck.”

    “Open your mouth,” he demands, looking down at me. I do as I’m told and I’m immediately rewarded. I can taste her on his dick. I’m overcome with envy and lust. My tongue explores the length of him as I lick her pussy off of my husband.


    srsly tho this is absolutely a thing that dudes do all the f***ing time

    like where if he knows a girl doesn’t necessarily want to give him a hug, he will trap her in this position in front of witnesses where she has 2 options- both of which are undesirable for her, while simultaneously desirable for him

    if she doesn’t want to hug him, whatever she does, it will suck for her.

    she can 1. say nah and be the fucking asshole in front of other ppl or 2. forsake her corporeal boundaries and allow unwanted intimate contact

    it’s a f***ing trap


    F***ing hate dudes forreal.


    too many f***ing times ugh


    Story time. One day I was on the MAX (basically a giant street car that goes all over the metro area) on my way to meet up with a few friends. I didn’t look at anyone, I didn’t speak to anyone, I just stood to the side on my phone making sure I wasn’t going to be late to my meeting. Out of no where, this guy comes up to me and starts to chat me up. Me, being who I am, am absolutely terrified to tell this guy to f*** off. He was at least half a foot taller than me, and was way too bulky for me to fight back. So I suck it up at humor him, say hello. Before introducing himself or asking me for my name, he asks me out on a date. Not wanting to piss him off I try to make light of the situation and I laugh, telling him that my boyfriend wouldn’t like the idea, but thank you for the offer. He just shrugs and says, “He doesn’t need to know.” At this point I’m scared out of my mind. There’s this guy who, after seeing me run two blocks to catch the train, comes up to me and has made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to leave without getting something out of me. I deny him a second time, saying, “I don’t even know you’re name. We’re strangers, I don’t know you.” He finally introduces himself and asks me for my phone number. I tell him I don’t give my number out to people I’ve just met and he says, “Fine, but at least take mine so we can meet up later.” So he watches me plug his number into my phone (which I deleted as soon as I knew I was safe and away from him) as we’re pulling up to my stop. I tell him I need to leave and switch trains and he tells me, “Oh, I’ll wait with you. I don’t have any plans, so I’m in no rush.” It’s important to note what at this point he had previously told me that he was late to a job interview, but he has all the time in the world because he still hasn’t gotten what he wanted from me; a yes. I get off of the train and he follows me, and waits at the platform with me for over ten minutes until my train arrives, asking me all sorts of personal questions about where I live and where I was going that day. As soon as the train pulls up he grabs for me and says, “Do I at least get a hug before you go?” I was terrified. I was embarrassed. This dude, who before even asking me for my name asks me out on a date and then continues to harass me after I tell him I have a boyfriend, asks me for a hug only fifteen minutes after meeting. People around us were staring at me, as if I was being rude for denying him, and every inch of me was mortified. I wanted to run, but I felt like if I had done that he would have chased after me and things would have gotten worse. So I did, and he squeezed me so tight I felt like I was going to burst. It took me a good ten seconds to get him to let go and I ran to the train car just as the doors were closing. He was trying to get me to miss my train so I would have to wait with him even longer. I would have been stuck there for over a half an hour until the next train came by, and the platform (aside from the few buses coming by) was now COMPLETELY EMPTY. He knew EXACTLY what he was doing and he knew EXACTLY how to get me alone with him. People, if you are in a situation like this do not feel obligated to give in. If someone is making you uncomfortable and asks to touch you in any way, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SAY YES. Make excuses, be blunt, just straight up say ‘no’. If possible, go to someone else near by who you think can help you and ask them to help you. It’s important for guys to learn that they can’t get what they want just by asking over and over again. I got lucky. But not everyone does. Please, everyone, Be Safe.



    So I was on the transit bus alone one time. This was my first time riding, and so already I was PETRIFIED. I sit down, pull out my ipod, and begin to play some games. This guy sits down next to me, and begins trying to have a conversation. I don’t really respond, I don’t even look at him, just give half-hearted “mhm”s and “oh”s, as I don’t want to be rude if he was just striking up a friendly conversation. He then asks me on a date.

    Now, as I stated before, I already was absolutely petrified. My heart stopped and I didn’t know how to answer. So I just didn’t. He didn’t let up and I could feel his eyes on me. I quietly stammer out a “no thanks” and my stop HAPPENS to be coming up, so I pull the string thing to let the driver know I want to stop there, and once we stop and the doors open I get up and he asks me, “Well, can I at least have a hug before you go if you won’t go on a date with me?” 

    This makes me break. There are now people staring, as we are the only people standing up and not getting off… So I just start crying. Hell, I am bawling almost instantly. He looks so fucking freaked out and people are now getting up to come over and comfort me/question him. I don’t stop crying, and he keeps trying to comfort me by touching me, and people are yelling at him for that. 

    AND THEN. AND. FUCKING. THEN. THE GOD DAMN BUS DRIVER. A VERY EASILY 6 FOOT BURLY MAN. COMES OVER TO US. PULLS THE GUY AWAY. AND KNEELS DOWN. HE THEN ASKS, IN THE MOST CALM VOICE, “Did you request the stop?” I very slowly and shakily nod, as I am still crying my eyes out. He then asks, “Do you want to get off?” I give a quiet “mhm” and nod once again, and he offers me his hand. I take it, he stands up, and he escorts me off the bus. He asks me questions such as where I was going next, if I was going to meet someone shortly, if I was going to transfer buses from there. He was very polite and waited for me to answer the entire time, and my friend (who I was going to be meeting there) showed up. He asked me if this was someone I knew, I said yes, and he said alright, have a good day. He then told me- and this is something stuck in my mind forever, so it is word for word-

    “If some guy EVER starts harassing you like that again, do exactly what you did there. Cry. Cry and scream and have a temper tantrum. Not only will it throw him off, but it will get others to notice. They might not interfere, they might, but you will have gotten their attention and if you happen to go missing the next day the search for you will be a hell of a lot easier because everyone in that location will have seen you screaming and crying with a guy now very awkward with his actions. They will know. That is what my daughter did, and three days after she went missing she was back in my arms. I pray for you and every other person like you who has this done. You stay safe now, okay?” And after I began blubbering again, I nodded and he left.

    So this is the second lesson for yall. If you can not have the courage to say no or make an excuse, cry. Let out those sobs and tears and cry your heart out. Because it is going to make people notice and make people aware.


    Reblogging for that second story. This might save a life.


    I just wanna note that bus drivers can be really amazing and good ones do look out for their riders.


    Also, as an additional tip (in case you cannot cry on command or such), you can say, “No, because you’re creepy/creeping me out” and if he persists or tries to laugh it off, say “I do not want to be touched” and look at one of the strangers/persons that is watching.

    It: 1. Gives them a sense of urgency in the situation, as the eye contact is a way to make them feel as though you are personally asking for their help and it is now their obligation to help. 2. Contains words so that if you’re in a public place but people aren’t necessarily watching, then they (as natural evesdroppers) can overhear the attention-grabbing words and then notice the situation. Note, this does NOT mean that they will come for help, but you might be able to look someone in the eye (as previously mentioned) or just get some people’s attention. 3. It shows that you have fight in you. As with rapists, those who are physically aggressive (ie. these huggers) choose women they see as an easy target. The moment you show them you are going/willing to fight them, they are less likely to continue. Sadly, this is not always the case, but every little bit helps.

    Hopes this also helps, guys, and I’m so sad that this has to even be a post we need.


    Dudes who follow me: 1) reblog this 2) don’t be the creepy guy who asks random women for hugs 3) be aware of your friends or random creepy dudes and call them out if they act gross towards girls/womem


    Ok, I wasn’t going to comment about this, because there was no way of doing it without talking about a part of my life I really didn’t want to. But fuck that, there be young girls out there who need a hand.

    So I used to be hot when I was young. I mean, model hot, because I actually used to model. Even now, I’ve let myself go on purpose because I was tired of the harassment. But I fit a UK size 6 with a pert ass from volleyball and a cup c breast. As you can imagine, I couldn’t wear anything or go ANYWHERE without being harassed. I sometimes even happened in church.

    Anyway, I’m not a shrinking lily, and when I get angry enough I can do some crazy shit. So here are some of my coping mechanisms:

    1) find a matronly looking lady, run up to her with ‘aunt may! I haven’t seen you in ages! ’ then whisper ‘please help he’s harassing me!’. 99.9 times out of 100, she will be scandalised and help you anyway even if she’s annoyed or in a hurry. If no older lady is available, find a younger one, or a nun, or a trans lady. We of the sisterhood know what it is to be harnessed, and I guarantee if you look frightened enough, they will help.

    2) If you are out alone at night, and someone is following you, spot a house or apartment where the lights are on and knock, asking ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ or ‘john’ to let you in. Even if the people inside are annoyed, odds are they won’t turn you away, and you can phone someone to pick you up, or phone the police from a safe space

    3) Make noise. Cry and scream loudly, call them out ‘i don’t know you and you are terrifying me! Please get away from me!’ if there are people around. Even if they don’t help directly for fear of their own safety, someone around you is calling security or 911.

    4) speak a foreign language. If you know it, speak the language to them fast and incessantly, like you have just met someone you knew and you’re just giving the best performance rant of why your OTP is the best OTP. Make yourself ANNOYING. Think about what would be awkward and annoying to you and make it what you do to them. If you make them think YOU are something to get away from they will leave you in peace.

    Now beware, the following ones are the CRAZY ones and may not always work. But they are a valid last resort:

    5) stare at them. Stare at them like you’re hungry and they are a hapless deer you’re going to tear to pieces. Like yours the girl from the ring emerging from the TV to kill them. Don’t smile, don’t change your expression. DON’T BLINK. Hold their state like you’re Wednesday Adams about to do unspeakable things to a spider, and they are the spider. Even the most courageous of stalkers balk at this, but if they don’t…

    6) Use the Hannibal Lector. After staring at them for and extended period of time (imagine all the things that have made you scared, imagine you could get revenge on them for putting you here, that’s the thought you need to have), if they are getting closer to you, whisper something like ‘i would fry your liver in garlic’. Even the hardiest ones will be taken aback, but keep it up while making sure you don’t let the others hear you. Things like, occult star readings requiring blood, wondering whether he is the offering the spirits sent. If you’re on this site you’ve read some weird shit at least once. Tell him that. Tell him you would like him to meet your lord, Vlad the Impaler, who requires much blood to be appeased. Be a stereotypical ‘crazy bitch’ like they see in the movies. Believe it or not, this has worked for me twice.

    Above all, banish the notion that you have to be polite.

    They were impolite by approaching you. If you can, ignore them. If you are not alone, pointedly put headphones in your ear, and don’t make eye contact, wait for them to realise that ‘youre a bitch anyway’ and move away. If you are alone, evade and find places and ways to fix that as soon as POSSIBLE.

    And if all else fails, summon Satan.


    Something I have learned at work:

    Never underestimate the power of a good “EXCUSE me????”

    Legit. It makes people STOP IN THEIR TRACKS. This is the one I whip out when people start swearing at me over the headset and always, without fail, they stop what they’re saying, shocked.

    Go for offended, and go for loud. Not yelling loud, but giving-your-best-presentation loud. “EXCUSE me??? You approached me two minutes ago, I don’t even know your name, and you want WHAT? Creep.”

    For one, the presentation will shock them. For another, that indignant tone? EVERYONE AROUND YOU IS GOING TO WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS JUICY SHIT.

    Now the second key here is, DON’T LET HIM JADE (justify, argue, defend, explain). He smiles and goes “I just wanted–” FUCKING INTERRUPT HIM. Firmly. Irritably. “I heard what you wanted, and I’ve already declined once. Maybe you should go back to kindergarten where they teach you no means no.” Run right over the fucker. He’s not respecting your words, you don’t need to respect his.

    A further note: if you’re an iPhone user, you can use Siri to call 911. (I know Android has a similar function, but I don’t know what it is–play with your AI and find out.) If you’re in a secluded area, this works well; I used to walk home from work at 2am and had to do it twice. Make eye contact with your harasser, activate Siri, and loudly, firmly say “Siri, call 911.” Siri will immediately reply “calling emergency services.” (It actually takes five seconds to activate, but there’s a Call Now button if you need it.) Almost ALWAYS the person harassing you would rather take off than wait for you to get a dispatcher on the line.


    As they say on the podcast,My Favorite Murder:

    Fuck Politeness.


    This is NOT the kind of thing I usually post on here, but this is something that every female [or, every person honestly, harrassment isnt a one way street]needs to see. This is a fairly active blog, so I hope to see numerous reblogs.


    Who cares that this isn’t Harry Potter it’s important


    Okay, I would be an a-hole if I didn’t reblog this. I know it’s long but read it people, it is very enlightening. I’m sorry this happened to you girls, the thought of a terrified lady breaks my heart. I swear, if I ever happen to be the person who witness such situation I’ll do everything in my power to not let my own fear stop me from helping a girl out. I swear. Now please guys, reblog this further. The more people see it, the better.


    They both had demanding, stressful, high powered jobs. They often had to work late. If she got home before he did, he edged her. If he got home before she did, he spanked her. Then they went out to dinner. No panties for her, of course. They both got their stress release either way. Everybody wins.


    Sounds like a reasonable arrangement to me.



    I want my ass fucked and told filthy things like:

    -your pussy is such a cute decoration

    -this isn’t for you, it’s for me to cum

    -your pussy doesn’t even exist

    -im never going to fuck your pussy again

    -your ass feels so much better

    -i think we should only fuck like this from now on

    -pussyless bitch


    Lately, while fucking me, @mochavoy has been telling me what a loose and useless cunt I have (even though I know that’s not true), and that maybe he should only fuck my other two holes. Last night, he kept going back and forth between fucking my very wet cunt, and my throat, telling me how much tighter my throat was. It got me so incredibly hot, I even came close to cumming. But, good girls don’t cum. And I’m a good girl.

    7: Day of the Clit Shield

    Continues from here:

    After breakfast James hands me some clothes “Put these on dear”. On inspecting I see it is a latex corset with leather decorations. One piece. Looks half my size.

    “This is too small”

    “It will fit. It stretches. I want you to feel the tightness”

    Without questioning more, I put it on. It does stretch, but I find it hard to fit in. After minutes of struggle, it is on me. It is so very tight, and I can hardly breath. It is crotchless too. My already small belly is non-existent, I look nice and perfectly fit. My breasts are pushed up. My bare pussy is visible. Overall I look better and hotter, but it is very uncomfortable.

    “It is too tight. I can hardly breathe.”

    “Good”. Oh God who am I complaning to?

    “You look hot. Come here.” He holds me.. fondles my breasts.. plays with my pussy lips.. places a finger inside. “You are wet. I like that you are always wet”

    He turns me around and hugs me from behind, kisses my neck. Rubs my clit with his thumb. I can’t help but move my hips towards him.

    “Little clitty likes it, doesn’t it?”

    “Yes, Sir”

    “But little clitty can’t have more. We’ll have to put this on to stop little clitty getting too naughty”

    He presents some white thing like half a kinder egg. It is smaller than a kinder egg, looks like a plastic tea spoon without the handle. He gets me to lie down my legs spread, places the shield on my clit, and secures it with extra strong tape. I touch my pussy. There’s a bump on where my clit is and the space between my clit and the shield makes any contact impossible. Simple and very effective.

    “Now that your clit is safe, we can focus on your fucking skills. Without worrying that you’ll cum. And maybe you learn to cum from penetration only too in the process. I know you’ve cum close a couple times these last few days.”

    He places a suction cup dildo on the marble floor. It is the smooth silicon one, the same size as his, 8 inches. He wants me to impale myself on it and fuck it. I am pretty horny anyway, I’d love to.

    The dildo slides in pretty easily as I am always wet these days as James says. I ease in, and start moving up and down on it. Feels great, but maintaining the speed is hard because it is harder to move in the tight corset, especially when breathing is hard. Still my need for cock filling me and rubbing my insides is so much, I do it. After like 5 minutes on the dildo, James brings a small butt plug, lubes it well, and pushes it inside my ass. “Do not stop riding the dildo”  Easier said than done, but I try to concentrate and continue. The plug goes inside my ass with ease thanks to the lube. It is not uncomfortable, I find it hot being full on both holes. To fill one more hole, James takes off his cock and places it in my mouth. “Suck my cock as fast as you run the dildo” I actually love being full on all holes. I am now getting very tired, riding and sucking on full speed. “Do not slow down, otherwise I’ll cane you after this” This is enough to motivate me. I use all of my willpower and energy to maintain the speed.

    “Rub your clit for me”

    I forget the shield and I try. Obviously I can’t.

    “I can’t.”

    “But do you want to?”

    “Ah yes, please can I remove it and touch myself?”

    “No. But I like that you want to”

    His toying with me increases my frustration. Riding the dildo stimulates me inside, I am so full of need. I am close… only if I could rub my clit.. I ride the dildo and suck James’ cock with a last effort increased speed hoping maybe I can go over the edge if I go faster. Then.. He spurts his cum inside my mouth, moaning loudly with pleasure. I swallow.

    He pets my hair and tells me to go on the bed to rest. I am a bit disappointed to have to leave the dildo, but I am also very tired I appreciate the rest.

    I spend rest of the afternoon in the corset, wearing the clit shield. After lunch James takes me to the TV room, puts on a compilation of women masturbating and cumming. He watches with me, stroking his cock next to me… while I am unable to touch and rub my clit. It is really frustrating to not touch. I am jealous of him, jealous of the women on tele…

    Suddenly he pushes me down on the sofa and climbs on top of me. Locks his mouth with mine kisses me with passion. I respond oh so very eagerly. I want him to remove the clit shield and fuck me deep rubbing me with his balls and make me cum. I move my hips towards him, trying to tell him that silently. My clit doesn’t feel anything under the tent of the shield. He doesn’t put his cock inside me anyway. He continues stroking himself with his hands… and cums on my breasts, half pushed out the corset.

    It is a big disappointment feeling his precious cum wasted on my breasts when he could have fucked me with it and made me cum. Tightness of the corset combined with the sexual frustration is getting to me. I feel like running away. Otherwise I would bitch and complain.

    I run away to the bedroom.

    After a while he comes and finds me. He kisses me and cuddles me. He takes the corset off. It is a big relief, I can now breathe better. He takes me in the shower and washes me gently. Caressing my breasts, my arms, my back, my legs as he washes me. He takes of the clit shield too, the tape comes loose under water anyway. He splashes water on my pussy using the shower head. It feels nice to feel something there. I wish he rubs it with his fingers too, but he doesn’t.

    He dries me and puts me on the bed, face down, naked. He takes some body lotion in his hands, stars giving me a massage. He gently rubs my shoulders, my back, my neck, my arms… I’m loving it. He then turns me over and masages my belly. My breasts. My thighs.. Then he takes some more lotion and moves to my pussy lips. Rubs them with the lotion. In circles. With his thumb.. Takes more lotion.. moves to my clit. Ahh he touches my clit.. Very lightly.. Starts circling it. Rubbing the lotion, in slow circles. “I’ll slowly rub your clit 500 times. You are allowed to cum” he whispers.

    His fingers on my clit is heaven. After the clit shield all day, I am feasting on his touch. My eyes are closed, I see warm pink water flowing like a river towards my core.. My breathing is getting faster and faster.. he is rubbing slowly and counting. “189, 190, 191…”

    “245” His touches are getting weaker. I feel less pressure. I move my hips towards him to increase the pressure. It doesn’t help.

    “Please can you rub stronger?”

    “I am rubbing strongly.”

    “But I feel less and less”

    “Hımm… I can rub faster?”

    “Ah yes please please rub faster”

    He increases speed, I see he is moving faster, but it doesn’t feel better. In fact I feel almost nothing. Something’s not right.

    “I don’t feel much”

    “Well.. maybe the numbing cream I used as massage lotion for your pussy is taking effect.” He grins.

    I hate him. I hate all of this. I want to cum. My clit wants to be touched.

    I touch my clit myself, I rub it fast and strong.. no, nothing. The sensation is lost completely now.

    He hands me my g-spot vibrator.

    “Here, play with this. I am setting the alarm for 45 minutes. You can fuck yourself with your vibrator until the alarm goes off. You are free to cum. You will stop when the alarm goes off”

    With that, he leaves the bedroom.

    I want to cum so badly. I put the vibrator on full speed and try really hard to cum. I get very close, but just can not go over that edge. I can’t.. Without some stimulation on my clit.

    I am sweating.. my arm and wrists are sore from holding the dildo. My pussy is sore from the fuck. I am so hot, so close to cumming. If only I could rub my clit.. I do, and feel nothing there.

    10 more minutes of this.. I am furiously fucking my pussy with the dildo…

    Then the alarm goes off.


    The late night show.

    I love the idea of forcing someone to enjoy something they hate. You wouldn’t know it was me, but you might by the time I was done. Imagine a park. You can see streets lining each side of it, lights shining dimly down on the footpath, with all the grassed area lit up by floodlights. Trees were dispersed throughout, rustling quietly in the gentle autumn breeze. Refreshing and cool at the end of summer, the air sent tingles down your spine, goosebumps covered your body. The grass was just a little prickly, it needed to be cut. You could feel it all up your ass, back and poking at your head through your long blonde hair. Soft rope caressed your skin, it was almost comforting in the way it held your ankles tight to your arms, legs forced apart. Lying on your back, helpless like an overturned turtle, your ragged breathing filled the air. Looking down between your bound limbs stood a man directly in front of a spotlight, body completely cast into shadow. That tall figure looms above you, watching you silent, not moving at all, only the glint of a smile visible, your struggling figure bringing him joy.


    The stars twinkled down beautifully from above, quite the contrast to the hellish scene you found yourself in… I wanted to enjoy myself, the park was my stadium for my most prized victory over the whore that lay before me. Everything was quiet, and the stage was set as I continued to gaze down at the smooth, curvy body wiggling around. I couldn’t help myself, kneeling down I had to run my hand up her abdomen up over that bountiful tit, squeezing heartily against the cries that echoed out. That was the cheer of the audience watching the fruition of the show. I could feel the excitement building as my hand wrapped around that tender neck, my whole body leaning over her frail form. The tip of my already swollen cock rubbing up over her pussy mound, it felt so good … protests turned into cries as my hands graced those delicate pussy lips, feeling each fold and line as I traced around it. Glistening in the pale light, the wetness was practically dripping off the tip of my finger, the neglected cunt was already at full attention. Circling and circling and circling my finger glides around and around her clit, watching the discontent grow as her unwitting enjoyment shows. I can feel the blood flowing through her little clit and see the twitching and needy fuck hole, despite the resentment and obscenities spewing from this slut’s mouth. All alone, nobody to bear witness to her futile resistance but me, who’s only getting harder at the thought of her body betraying her. The ropes pulled and buckled as her arms strained against them. How pathetically cute. She could undoubtedly feel the difference as the tip of my cock rubbed up and down her slick lips, soaking up the wetness. It was almost painfully swollen at the prospect of having that tight wet hole wrapped around it. Biting back tears and not wanting to witness it, she turned her head away in shame at the betrayal of her body being violated. Everything about it disgusted her, but that was the only thing in her mind, because that is who she is right now, a fuck toy.


    The ropes cut into your skin painfully as you used every fibre of your being to push against them, to get away. Up and down, up and down. Nothing could help you get away from that warm tip continually stroking away. It was the flooding wetness that struck deep within you though, you could see that conceited grin overcome his face as he felt it. All you wanted was to get away. Yet again he leant over, pressing his body on top of you. You felt his shaft press the length of it down your slit, nestling in between your lips. Why did it feel so good having it move against your clit. Everything was so sensitive and yet he started moving a strong, calloused hand through your hair, playing with it like a lover. Lips wrapped around your neck, nuzzling it gently, why was this kiss so tender. So tight, so heavy, struggling for breath under his weight you’d do anything to get away. “You are going to beg me”

    ….what. As his deep voice spoke everything else went quiet, like your future depended on this man’s word. It didn’t seem like a question or a demand … he stated it like a fact. Everything about him disgusted your whole being, yet as those hands continued to feel around your body, pinching and playing with your tits, caressing and squeezing your throat, your cunt can’t help but twitching in anticipation. You could feel it too, the gentle sliding up and down of his dick, the twitching as fresh blood pumped through only getting it harder. It felt like a hot rod of steel pressed up so tightly against you. Round and round he started again. Up over your clit hood, down and around your clit and back over. Slowly, gently, precisely. Staring up into the infinite blackness of the sky pressing down on you, all you could feel was that growing pressure within you. Like slowly winding up a spring ready to burst forth. You wanted to scream, to shout with all your being but your whole body felt tense as everything slowly built towards a peak. You couldn’t cum on this strangers hand … being raped all alone in a park… Everything stopped. Just like you internally begged it to. Right on the edge. That was the first edge of the night. Nothing but cool air wafted over your cunt but everything felt fiery hot. Silent tears stained your cheeks as your soul, your dignity, died inside. Why did it feel like you were but a puppet on the end of his finger. It was your internal fight to protest his slow and torturous edging of you against your refusal to beg such a heinous man to end this sadistic game. Every edge was more painful and intense than the last, turning your body into a mess of desperation. Sweat rolled down your forehead and more tears welled up in your eyes with every passing moment. He didn’t want you to just airily beg, he wanted that desperation of your cracking voice, to hear the ruination of any delusions about your whorish existence. Everything began to blend together as he brought you to the edge over and over. A haze clouded your mind as you slowly devolved into a basic, needy cocksleeve who’s only thought was giving him what he wanted.


    It felt so fragile as I pushed it deep into this whore. It might have just felt better that way, to know how far she stretched around me. Mmmmm, that hot little body is still quivering from that last edge. I can almost feel her hips pushing back against mine, urging me deeper. Even with the slow, hard thrusts, trying to push every inch into that cunt of hers, the sound of wet slapping filled the air. It was the most beautiful sound to drown out the whimpering and crying of the worthless slut that lay before me. She didn’t need any more reminding of herself being raped, but the sound filled the empty space like nothing else. Slap — Slap — Slap. I couldn’t get enough, pushing myself deep every time forcing myself into her over and over. Her hips, rocking up and down, that ragged breath, her pussy clenching down on me, holy fuck. I almost want to make her cum all over my dick, almost.

    Those desperately clenching muscles as all stimulation stopped, trying in vain to find something to push over that precarious edge. She could feel it, throbbing deep inside her. My need to continue fucking her, to pound away that little hole, mixed with her own frantic need to cum. Her knowing that I denied my own pleasure for her continued sufferance brought a sadistic glee like no other. staring down at the sexy, wretched body that was ruined by my doing was a drug I couldn’t get enough of. My hands wrapped around her, like vices, as I began to fuck her again only confirming for her how badly I wanted her right now. Sweating, ragged conjoined bodies grinding together, steam rising from the heap in the cold night like a stench of desperation. Building up deep in my loins, such pressure was compelling me to be harder and faster, all the while I could feel the tell-tale muscles straining beneath me as she got closer too. Her begging had long gone reached a point of desperation and depravity, but that was how she is going to stay, denied.

    Jumping up, I quickly clamber over her now protesting body forcing myself down her throat, feeling the immediate choking and gagging over my shaft. Grabbing the back of her head and thrusting into it, I could feel her tongue everywhere, unsure what to do as my tip edges into the back of her throat again and again. Nothing could have prepared me for the torrential load that burst down this whore’s throat. My ass cheeks clenched tight as stream after stream flowed out like a veritable river. So warm and sticky, it was dripping out of her filled mouth down over my balls, mixing with the sweat after a hard nights work. Eyes closed I enjoy the beautiful spasming of my muscles in the night air, lying on top of this wonderful fucktoy. It was so peaceful listening to the gurgling and terrified cries. And to think about how hard she’s going to cum when she touches her cunt to this later …the orgasm she never got.


    Noritoshi Hirakawa


    She’s not sure what’s worse, when he brings her into the men’s bathroom or the women’s, but she thinks it’s the latter.

    When they go into the men’s room together, he uses her almost perfunctorily. Just easing his needs. She’s there to provide him with relief. The men who enter mostly give him a sort of wink-wink, aren’t you a lucky bastard kind of acknowledgement. Like, there’s a fraternity of them who just get that hey, sometimes, you need to get your rocks off with your girl in a public bathroom. Totally get it. Even been there myself. If the men are there when they exit the stall, she’s treated to a sort of admiring awe, like she’s a trophy. It’s friendly and generally polite, maybe a little envious. Their eyes are lascivious, and they’ll say crude things. They’ll call her a hot piece, a slut, mistake her for a whore and ask how much she goes for.

    When he takes her to the men’s room, it’s usually for a quick fuck or suck. Quiet, he doesn’t say much, except for the sounds of his groans. He doesn’t bother hiding how much he’s enjoying the use of her body. There are the sounds of her saturated sex of course. There are always those sounds. She bites her lip hard to keep the other noises trapped inside her, and for the most part she’s able to succeed.

    She never succeeds when he escorts her to the ladies room. She’s not sure why, but something about having other females there to witness her degradation doubles her humiliation at being used publicly for sex. He knows it, too. He points it out to her too, he says, “You’re wet, aren’t you. Even though your sex-hole is still sore. You need me to fill you up, don’t you?”

    He says it in his normal voice. She hears the sink faucet stop. The hand dryer stays quiet.

    She twists back up against him. Her breasts have popped out of her stretchy, tight dress; the elastic neckline holds them up, pushes them close together. Her nipples are erect, sticking out in the air. The hem of her dress is somewhere rolled up around her waist. She’s naked, more or less, the clingy fabric pulled down, pulled up, bunched around her middle. He fondles her, spanks her bare ass. The crack of sound is like a gunshot in the tiled bathroom.


    His hands are all over her. He turns her so he can slap her breasts. Tits, she corrects herself silently. Like he told her before. When he’s hurting them, they’re not breasts, they’re tits. The slaps echo in the bathroom. Someone enters, when the door swings open, it brings with it the increased volume of noise from the dining room. The door swings shut just as he clamps his fingers down, crushing, and twists, and she screams a little. Just a little, but it’s enough.

    A woman’s startled voice: “What-oh my god. Is that- is someone- ”

    There are at least two other people in the restroom, and they’re just standing there. Listening to her tits get slapped.

    “Answer me, Ashley.”

    “Yes,” she says, because he’s waiting. “Yes, OK, I’m wet.”

    “It would hurt you a little to have my cock in your sex-hole again, I think.”

    “Yes. You’re right. It would hurt.”

    “You’d still like it though,” he mused. “But I can’t put my cock there right now, Ashley. You’re not wearing any underwear. You might leak. All my come would leak right out of you. That’s no good. But I still have to fill you up, don’t I. Why don’t you get down on your knees. That’s right. That feels good, doesn’t it, being on your knees.”

    It’s true. She loves being on her knees for him. No matter where. Maybe…maybe sometimes especially here?

    “Open wide so I can feed you my cock,” he says. “Oh, that’s so good. What a good mouth-hole. I’m going to fill you up now. I know how my kitten loves her cream.”


    She loved cock in her ass, which led her to naturally drift to the anal only lifestyle, so when her latest boyfriend suggested they lock up her pussy and only leave access for her ass, she loved the idea. Reality ended up a little more frustrating than expected at first, but she got into the routine soon enough and it’s been nearly six months since anything touched her pussy except for cleaning, and her sexual urges have almost entirely shifted to her asshole now. They’re thinking it might soon be time to replace the belt with piercings to permanently close her cunt.


    “Aww baby, I know you have had a rough day. Come put your head in my lap and I will comfort you in your time of need.”

    *5 minutes later*

    “Get naked. Let’s go shower.”

    *In the shower, shoving His cock in my mouth*

    “That’s good, you’re feeling better now aren’t you? Mmmm, yes slut. Now I’m going to piss down your throat and then we can go to bed. Good girl.”

    (When cuddling happens.)


    What a sweetheart!


    Ladies, you can vet your man all you want. You can run background checks. Your friends may even know them and give them rave reviews, you still need to listen to your gut.

    Warrior women, you have to go deep within yourself and go on instinct. Live in your instincts. If he says all the right things but when the rubber meets the road and your gut says something is off, then something is off. He may even do all the right things but if instinct is telling you he is off. Then he is.

    It may be a subtle trigger. A promise not kept, word misspoke, or even his eyes.. If your gut says not to trust him because of it, then run. A man who cannot keep his word, or control his words is not the man for you. These are character flaws. This is who he is. If his character is that flawed then he is not the one.

    He is not a Dom. He is playing a game. If his words cannot be trusted, you cannot trust him to hold the cane to your back and stay his hand. Pushing you beyond a hard limit without consent is a character flaw. Never ever allow it. It is sign of weakness and never be submissive to a weak man.


    “There’s a tale in the Kabbalah that suggests that the Angel of Death is so beautiful that on finally seeing it (or him, or her) you fall in love so hard, so fast, that your soul is pulled out through your eyes. I like that story. 

    There’s an Islamic story that declares that the Angel of Death has huge wings covered in eyes, and that as each mortal dies one of its eyes closes, just for a moment.
    I like that story too, and take pleasure in imagining huge wings, and a ripple of ever-opening, ever-closing beautiful eyes.

    And there’s a touch of wish fulfillment in there too. I didn’t want a Death who agonized over her role, or who took a grim delight in her job, or who didn’t care. I wanted a Death that I’d like to meet, in the end. Someone who would care.
    Like her.”
    Neil Gaiman


    She will forever be my favorite incarnation of Death. How fitting that Dream would be so serious and at times melancholy, and yet Death was full of life.


    That's probably because for one day, every century, Death would walk the Earth as a mortal, in order to better understand us.