what-louie-likes:

😂😂😂

goddamn-jack:

reflectedtruthsblog:

cherished-property:

Dating is a bizarre ritual, and frankly it’s one I’ve never understood. My relationships have always just sort of happened. We were friends first, or there was a spark and we dove in. At least that’s how my brain tells the story. I know every relationship began with uncertainty and wondering if I should say this or do that. But nearly a year into dating again, I find myself completely perplexed by it.

Then there’s D/s dating. It occurred to me last week that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. And that’s probably because I’ve never really done it before. Sure, I’ve had D/s relationships. But they have been in the context of looking for a Dominant, not looking for a partner who wants to own me. There’s a difference.

When you are just looking for a Dom, you make sure they want what you want, that you like them as a person, and that your must-have kinks are a match. Then it begins. Rules, titles, tasks. And bam, it’s A Thing. It happens quickly—or at least it always has for me. 

But when you are looking for a whole person within D/s, it seems to happen more slowly. It’s more like vanilla dating. You talk. You learn each other. You live in the grey area for longer, not sure if it is or it isn’t. You give up control, but gradually. One piece at a time. Then one day you wake up and realize you are owned.

As a person who needs clarity and order and instruction, this grey area is hard. I wonder if there are submissives out there who actually like dating? Or maybe we are all just giant balls of anxiety, trying to make it to the point where we can submit—where we feel inspired to give control to a person who wants to take it. There is a deep comfort in finding a leader worth following. I can build my own clarity and order, but somehow it’s more fulfilling when it comes from another.

Still, there’s a tension in dating. How do you make sure a person wants the same depth of dynamic while also letting the power exchange unfold organically? When do you start to give up pieces of control? How can I convey my desire to submit without giving too much too soon? Am I undermining the foundation of a deeper dynamic by expressing my kinky, slutty side?

Of course, these are not so different from vanilla worries. There’s a lot of vulnerability early on in dating. But somehow as a submissive, I feel less comfortable just stumbling into it. It’s hard to trust that the power exchange will develop in its own time. I want to project manage the process—to see in black and white that it exists or will exist at some appointed time. Ironically, letting go of control is not always one of my strong suits.

But then a text message comes, and there’s an instruction. The first instruction. Small. Simple. And yet, it speaks volumes. It says he’s thinking of me. It says he wants control. It says he knows I will obey. And I do, gleefully. He tells me he appreciates my prompt obedience. And just like that, some of the uncertainty clears away. It’s a first step. And oh, how it makes me want to take a second.  

Love it! I’m so glad to hear things are progressing and you had positive reinforcement! 💖💖

memes-r-memes:

😂😂

lionsden17:

prostatorgasmsgirl:

cycleluv:

💞

Brushing up on my skills… 😏🐱❤️

fuckmethroughthesheets:

Ah! Bless you, justanotheririshman! Okay, kittens, here it is:

A Christmas Story: The Vibrator at the Airport Edition

So. When I was coming home this past Christmas from school I, of course, had to make sure I had all of my toys with me. Because, well, as we’ve already established I’m a bit of a sex toy addict. (Woot.)

But I have this one toy, it’s basically a mini hitachi, that has very, very strong vibrations. (Like…mega strong.) And I’d left it out while I was packing the night before I left because I knew I was going to be expected to use it that night before I went to bed when I was permitted to cum.

So the next morning I had to leave my house at 6:30am to begin my very, very long journey to Chicago. I (of course) overslept and when I jumped out of bed to grab my stuff I just threw the toy straight in my suitcase without really thinking about it.

Flash forward to hours later when we’re boarding the plane for takeoff. I’m sat in my seat, happy as can be, and all of a sudden a flight attendant comes down the aisle. She asks me to confirm my name, which I do, and describes a suitcase to me and asks if it’s mine. I confirmed that it was. Then she says: “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

And so she takes me off the plane, all the way back out to the gate, where there’s a security person standing there with my suitcase and he goes: “Ma’am, your bag is vibrating. Do you know what it is?”

I’d fucking forgot to take the damn batteries out of the thing before I threw it in my bag that morning and my suitcase was vibrating like it was a fucking massage chair or something. 

“Well, sir, that would be my vibrator,” I told him. “Or one of them, anyway.”

Which had the nine security guards, gate agents, and flight attendants standing around me stammering and stuttering and blushing and the like.

So they made me open my bag and turn the thing off and everything was hunky dory after that.

But I was the fucking American in another country who delayed the plane from taking off because they had to bring me back out to the gate so I could turn my sex toy off because they thought it was a bomb or something. Because, you know, these are the things that happen in my life.

Mwahahahaha.

Moral of the story? Make sure you take the damn batteries out of your vibrator before you travel, kittens. Because otherwise, you’re going to be responsible for delayed travel plans for many, many people.

Oops?

sensualcuriosity: