want2byours:

thefilthythingsiwhisper:

white-two-wet:

cglblocklist0:

Friendly reminder that allowing underage littles/pets/daddies/mommies/etc your blog if you post NSFW or kink material can get you up to 10 years in prison and can get you on the sex offenders registry for the rest of your life.

It’s called “corruption of a minor” and “pandering obscenities to a minor” and it’s a third degree felony in the US.

This is exactly why I don’t want any minors following me. Please, I don’t care if you’re 17, 17 and ¾, or anything less then 18. Stay off my blog, don’t follow, and don’t browse my page.

Be gone 18 and under!

NO MINORS NO MINORS NO MINORS NO MINORS NO MINORS

submittinginsilence:

mr-prism:

bannableoffense:

imjustbeingfriendly:

whyisthisfrenchguymasturbating:

sarahakele:

inkskinned:

writing-prompt-s:

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years – something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves – they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous

Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.

This is everything.

Everything about how to love.

I was not prepared

What just happened…..

Journal of female Orgasm Control via Hypnosis pt 24

femsubdenial:

scsh3000:

I haven’t been keeping up with writing, but we’ve been playing regularly still.  We’ve explored all kinds of things, some that are even hard for me to believe.  I try to type them out but it sounds ludicrous, so I end up deleting.  But!  This morning was amazing.  I’m on day 3 of a week of denial.  I know it’s nothing compared to what some other people are capable of, but this is my own journey, and this is a challenge for me.  And I asked for a week.  And now I’m getting what I deserve.  😀  I tried to talk him into letting me cum just for our session, just once?  Please?  Pretty pleases?  And he doesn’t even say “No”.  He just gently reminds me that this is what I wanted and let’s just go ahead and check this off my bucket list, why don’t we? 

We tried something new today.  Normally, I get to cum a lot during our sessions, so I didn’t know what to expect today, what with the no-orgasm week and all. He brought me to the edge, then described a scale of 1-10. 1 is completely calm, no arousal. 10 is the state of orgasm. He described how I was currently at a 9.9. and what if I just skipped 10 and went to 11? What would that feel like? Because normally orgasm is the top, the peak, you get there then go back down. But what if he let me skip the need to climax and let me go higher into the pleasure and arousal? So he did. So I did. That was really amazing and intense. I was able to relax all the muscles that tense up to cum and just let the pleasure swoosh around inside me. And as he allowed me to go higher on the number scale, it spread out in my body and the waves got deeper and more intense. And I didn’t feel like I needed to cum, there wasn’t an urgency to it. I didn’t feel like there was a goal of orgasm or edging, i was just being and feeling and enjoying.  Until he let me sink back down below 10, and then the need to cum feeling hit me hard. So much intense build up, So much sweet natured, gentle denial.  I can’t even argue with him.

But he even helped with that a little. He described a storage box that would contain all my unspent arousal and desire until Monday, which is our next session and the end of the week.  So this box can take the edge off a little, by containing my need and lust.  But it has holes in it that allow some to leak out to keep me horny and needy and turned on.  See what an amazingly kind Dominant he is? I can’t wait for next week!  For a lot of reasons!

Unf. Three things I love to do with hypnosis…

  1. Arousal knobs that can go way past 11
  2. Orgasm denial.
  3. Damming up arousal, to be released upon command, flooding your head with so much need, all at once. Knowing that the fact that you don’t feel aroused should be turning you on, but you can’t feel that either, which should be turning you on, but you can’t feel that either, around and around, knowing that the arousal is growing, that you’re digging yourself in deeper every time you notice that you don’t feel aroused, and you know that turns you on all the more yet you can’t feel it. … yet.

And your post has just mashed all three of those buttons! 🙂

femsubdenial:

Good tease toys need to cum.

Good girl. Feel that need. Enjoy how good it feels to focus on it, to let it consume you, a delicious tension that melts away all unwanted tensions until every breath, every little squirm, is a reward, a positive affirmation that you are a good tease toy, knowing that the more you focus, the more that need to cum grows, and therefore the more of a good tease toy you’re becoming, the more aroused you become, spiraling up, and up, deeper, and deeper, knowing that if and when you cum is my choice, knowing that, if I make you cum, it’s only for my entertainment, because secretly, and not so secretly, you want to keep that need to cum, letting it grow larger, deeper, each day, using each day to become a better and better tease toy, repeating a phrase each time you edge for me: “Good tease toys need to cum.”

mommymaxie:

You know what we don’t talk about anywhere near
enough? Having desperate subs do all the work while you sit back and relax. You
could be lounging in your comfiest clothes while your sub rides a dildo at your
request; tears in their eyes, moaning and bouncing on their toy but knowing better
than to beg cause that won’t do anything. Sit back and let them grind against
you, if they want that orgasm, they’ll work for it because you’re not going to
help them.

I think it’d be fun to see how desperate they get
and what they do to get your attention. I mean how badly do they want you to
touch them? And all the while you’re just enjoying yourself, calling them your
good pet or sweet darling, running a hand through their hair or kissing them on
the cheek. It’s so nice to be wanted and so great to have such a great sub,
right?

Things that make me melt

undeadhardcandy:

  • “Good girl”
  • “Can I please come?” “No.”
  • when I whine about how much it huuuuuurts and he condescendingly responds “I knooooow, it’s supposed to hurt.”
  • when I whine and he threatens to make it worse
  • being praised for being a good little slut
  • “get right to the edge”
  • “I can’t wait to take this away from you”
  • when it hurts lots and he tells me I can take more/I like it (even better when I realize how soaking wet I am)
  • afterwards when I feel tired and both sated and needy and he talks me down

Updated Library For Kinksters

toodomforyou:

dominantlife:

I completed some major changes to the Library For Kinksters. Here is the update…

Aftercare

Consent

Doms, Daddies & Masters

Littles, Subs & Slaves

Long Distance Relationships

Mental Health

Relationships

Safety

Self Improvement

Sex

Toys

Training

Many of y’all have asked for guides about BDSM – here’s the guide of all guides! Hope this helps.

xx SD

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