Dropped so beautifully, so I can follow my finger and be a good girl
All while hiding away at a Halloween party 😄
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@brewingswitch
Dropped so beautifully, so I can follow my finger and be a good girl
All while hiding away at a Halloween party 😄
I needed this.
Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it. I really needed this right now. Thank you!
Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried…
We need more people like this
Goddamn it stop making me feel human
The therapist I wanna be.
Text in the image:
“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”
I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.
I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.
But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”
How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.
And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.” “A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.
With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.
All I’m doing is handing out sticks.
You’re the one saying alive.
I legit cried at this. I’ve needed to hear it put this way. Bless this post.
Every time I see this post I stop to read the whole image. It always helps — even on the good days.
Because it wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t shameful to seek help. It wasn’t pathetic to “cry for help”. I was looking for a stick, be that from myself or from someone else. I was trying to find a way out. I was trying to heal myself.
this is fuckin incredible.
I’m sorry if I repost to many of these, but if it could be someone’s “stick” then it’s worth it
BAM!
Ur virtual slutty school girl
❤️☠️🖤☠️❤️
more of me, my snapchat, my wishlist
Gifs from a fun shoot with Isabella. Hope we can get her back someday.
I love it when they drop like that
Good girl.
*click*
God I ❤️ this lense so much! Doesn’t it make everything look just soo porntastic??
(✨Free NSFW pics in this look here✨)
Candace always remembered her first trance with him. She had been interested in hypnosis for years and when he offered to show her how it felt to experience a trance first hand she wanted to try it out with him to see how it went.
She remembered the sense of wonder she felt as his words rapidly coaxed her into a deep sleep and turned her mind to mush. She had played around with hypnosis before on her own, and had varying degrees of success in going into a trance, but he showed her that there was a deep and infinite space below what she had already found and she could fall as deeply as she liked for as long as she wanted as he continued to guide her down.
What Candace had tried on her own before had been relaxing and felt pretty good, but was nothing compared to the pure unadulterated bliss of the mindlessness he induced. He convinced her to let go of all of her preconceptions of what a trance should be and from there he proceeded to strip her of every thought in her head. With her mind open he was able to eliminate her her inhibitions and everything that stood in the way of going as deep as she wanted to be. With his seductive voice he cleared away all obstacles and in their place he left the joy of mindless submission.
When Candace awoke from that first trance, her first thought was “I’m in trouble because I am definitely doing that again.” The euphoria she had experienced was starting to fade and she was coming back down to reality. She wanted more, she didn’t want to lose the feeling that she had. She needed to feel it again.
Candace thought that they were done with the demonstration, but then he told her to look down and she realized that he had stripped her clothing as well as her mind and she had been sitting next to him completely nude without even knowing it. As the realization hit her hard she felt her nipples constrict and stand up and her pussy clenched at the thought that it had been on display, but she didn’t move to cover herself up. She knew that he could see her arousal and that normally she would be shocked and embarrassed. Instead, a dopey smile crossed her face as she felt a wave of the perfect pleasure she had just experienced in her trance as she simply sat there quietly and let him look as her body flushed with arousal.
Candace had expected him to take advantage of the situation, but he hadn’t made any type of move. Eventually, she had gotten dressed, a little disappointed that he hadn’t done anything else with her before sending her home. When she got back home she spent the whole night in her bed getting off over and over again to the memory. Every time she thought about being helplessly mindless and nude before him without any awareness it would get her revved up again.
The next time they saw each other Candace tried to play it cool, but all she could think about was how she wanted him to hypnotize her again. She was timid and afraid to ask outright, but when she worked up the courage and asked if they could try another round he was more than happy to oblige. He quickly dropped Candace into oblivion as her thoughts followed the path he had created before and slid right out of her mind leaving her blank and open to his words.
When she awoke she again immediately started to miss the fleeting feeling of blank obedient submission that she had just felt and fought to hold on to the last vestiges as her mind slowly began to function. She quickly looked down, but this time she was a little disappointed to see that she was still fully clothed. He smiled when he saw her confusion. Then he told Candace to look in the mirror if she wanted to see if there was anything different. When she did she realized that her face was covered in the sluttiest makeup she had ever done, her hair was put into pigtails and her mouth was stuck in a perfect O.
Candace’s stomach twitched, her pussy quivered and a moan came out from the cock sized hole in the front of her face. The pleasure that came with realizing she had done this because he hypnotized her made her knees shake and her legs weak. She turned to thank him and fell to the floor when she saw he had already taken his stiffening cock out of his pants. As she moved forward she felt the same bliss she had felt being mindless, seeing herself naked, and seeing herself in the mirror. She would do anything to feel this good again and would moan around his cock every time he would grab her by the pigtails to control the movements of her head. She lost herself in the act and let go of all thought but pleasing him with her mouth.
That night, when Candace got home she could still taste the remnants of him on her tongue and it made her feel wonderful while she masturbated over and over again to the thought that he hypnotized her into a mindless blowjob machine. She held her mouth in the same position she had seen in the mirror the entire time and knew that she was addicted to this. She knew she wanted more. She needed to feel that perfect blank happiness that came with giving up her mind, and she needed the rush that came with finding out what he had done with it while she wasn’t paying attention.
Candace went back to him and begged him to do more, and when she woke up she had an entire new wardrobe to wear around him. No one would ever take her seriously when she was wearing the kind of clothing that screamed that she was desperate for sex. Instead of feeling shame, anger, or humiliation, she too was simply screaming to him that she was desperate for sex. She couldn’t even think of visiting him without wearing something incredibly slutty anymore, and it felt so good to see and feel the eyes on her as she made her way over to his place. None of them knew that she had no choice, that her hypnotist had commanded her to behave this way, and that she was going to see him to be commanded in other and even more depraved ways.
Still, Candace wanted more. She wanted to feel his control even when she wasn’t around him. She begged him for something else, before his words took away her mind. When he snapped his fingers it sounded like a gunshot in Candace’s empty head. Here eyes popped open and she was happy he had frozen her in place. She was sitting in a chair with her chest exposed while she was about to have each of her nipples pierced. She whimpered, and gushed as her nipples were permanently marked with a reminder of her surrender to his control. From then on, just the sight of them would make her knees weak and her pussy wet.
Tonight, she had asked him to take something else from her and after he gave her that perfect happiness of blank mindless bliss, she awoke to find that he was taking her anal virginity. The invasion felt strange and new, and a little painful, but the realization that he had taken her mind and was now taking her ass made her swoon and she pulled her legs back and begged for more. Her tits were bouncing, reminding her sensitive nipples of their new ornaments. The pleasure was overwhelming and she wanted to feel this way all the time.
He was telling her that he could help her feel that way. He could turn her from Candace into Candi. He could convince her to cover her body in tattoos showing that she was his property. He could deepen the addiction to hypnosis he had installed that very first night to make her need it even more. All she had to do was give her mind over to him and ask.
Candace’s response was to feel her asshole squeeze around his cock as she came harder than she could ever remember and the whole world went dark. She didn’t care if she woke up as Candi, or even if she had to sign her name with a stupid heart over the i. She would do anything, agree to anything, be anything just to feel the pleasure of his control again.
The start of something beautiful.
The Double-Edged Sword of Brattiness
“But I’m warning you, I’m kind of a brat.” “No you’re not. You’re just a girl who hasn’t had firm boundaries and desperately needs them.”
This was a few years ago, in my baby sub days. I had been kind of bratty in past relationships, but this Dom was not one to tolerate it. I worried he wouldn’t like me. But it turns out that he was right about me. I had always been bratty because I had a deep need for structure that had never been met. I was bratty because I was clawing for boundaries that weren’t there. I teased because it felt like the only way to be thrown down and ravaged. I intentionally broke rules because it felt like the only way I’d feel that tight control closing in on me. I wasn’t a brat; I was a submissive who craved deep and unrelenting dominance. Ownership. I just didn’t know how to get it.
Now that I understand what I need, I can mostly quell those bratty impulses. When I need to feel my Dominant’s control, I say so in a meta talk. I ask how I can serve. I ask permission for things (and sometimes hope for a “no”). I give my Dominant opportunities to lead. I find ways to feel those firm boundaries within my role, rather than stepping out of it.
But part of me thinks there is still value in brattiness—not in outright disobedience, but maybe in close calls. You approach the electrified fence. You hear the hum. You use something to test it. Maybe you get a quick zap, just to know it’s there and working. But you don’t barrel through the fence. Gently testing the boundaries can be a comforting reminder that they are there and strong. You are submitting to something, not just making it up in your head. A little brattiness can also signal confidence in the dynamic. It’s only when you know the leash is there that you can tug on it a little.
That’s the key—a little. There’s a rush of connection from being put in your place, but it wears off. And then you’re left in a worse place than when you started. It can be tempting to push at the boundaries, especially when you desperately need to feel them. But brattiness is not giving your Dominant opportunities to lead. You cannot disobey your way to firm boundaries and deep ownership. Playfulness is one thing, but intentional disobedience is toxic to the dynamic. Instead, you lean in. You ask permission. You have open, honest conversations about what you need and what is missing. Brattiness may make a spark, but it’s rarely enough to build a fire.
It has taken me some time to figure it out. But no, I’m not a brat. I like to say that I’m a good girl…96.2% of the time.
I can relate to this on a serious level. I respect others who identify with being a brat. In my own evolution though I have learned that I am not a brat but someone who needs an attentive Dominant. I’m having that now, I’ve realized I’d do anything to be a good girl. Everyone’s kink journey is different, brat or not, we are all worthy.
Drug my baby bottle
And sweet talk me as you stroke my hair until I’m unconscious.
What a cute date idea. Grab your little and remind her that she’s a tiny baby and can’t make any decisions or hold any responsibilities. Spend the night regressing her, gently humiliating and teasing her, turning her into a giggly and blushy mess until she can’t even talk, only babble like the good little baby she truly is.
Then drug her baby bottle. Not much, just enough to make her drowsy and world hazy. Stroke her hair and tell her how it’s okay. Daddy is right here, nothing will hurt you. You’re just feeling sleepy. And then as she relaxes more and more, start molesting her. Stroke her little cunny while telling her what a good little fucktoy she is, how she was born for the sole purpose of pleasing your cock. And if she starts to complain or protest shush her. Remind her that this is all just a dream. She’s too stupid to understand what’s happening or what’s good for her. And keep going. She’s your baby, do with her as you will.
Drug my baby bottle
And sweet talk me as you stroke my hair until I’m unconscious.
yes plz 🤤
When daddy only allows me to wear jewellery and nothing else…and secretly I love it 💓
For anyone confused about why many men have no problem with dummies who like pacifiers.
Squirtle boobs are just too cute not to post 🐢
Real-Life Experience
Sir loves watching football. He also loves watching me torture myself with pleasure. Last night, he had me strip naked and lie in front of the television with my legs spread. During play time I had to be touching myself. I could edge, rub my clit, fuck myself with my fingers, whatever I wanted- except cum. During halftime I was on no-touch. Sir made me crawl over to him and use my mouth to pleasure his cock and balls, pussy denied and dripping, until he came deep in my throat. I swallowed every drop, like a good slut should. Then back in front of the television to edge through the second half. When the game was over, he asked me if I wanted to cum now. I was so horny and desperate after nearly two hours of teasing. I ached for that orgasm.
“Yes, Sir… PLEASE. Please. I want it so, so badly. Please let me cum, Sir.”
“Well, you’ve been such a good girl all evening… fine, you can cum.”
“THANK YOU, SIR.”
“-but! You have a choice. You have permission to cum however you want, as hard as you want. You won’t get in trouble if you cum properly. No punishment. But it would make me so very happy if you’d ruin it for me.”
My clit was throbbing with the built-up pleasure. I wanted that orgasm so badly. But I wanted to make Sir happy too.
“But, sir… please. Please, I edged so good.”
“I know, and you can cum. I love watching you cum. But I love watching you ruin it even more. Can you think of a better reason to cum properly than that your ruin would make me happy? Don’t stop touching while you think about it.”
I kept slowly rubbing my clit.
“No, sir… I want to make you happy… but… I want to cum… so much… god…”
“Your choice, princess.”
I struggled so hard, feeling that orgasm build, right on the edge… the orgasm that would take me over, would feel so incredible… maybe the last orgasm I’d be offered for days… yes… yes… yes… I tipped over the edge. And then I ruined it. Hard. For him.
I pulled my hands back to my thighs, screaming at the feeling of my pussy spasming and twitching as all that pleasure slipped away, ensuring I’d stay horny and desperate all night.
He came over then and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead and telling me all the things that make the denial and frustration worth it. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you, princess. You made me so happy today. You’re so perfect like this.”
And then he said the hottest, most perfect, cruelest thing of all.
“Now give me another ruin.”
I love him so much.
What a mind fuck. Impressed.
My nails kinda match ✨
Mesmerizing 💋
Owned by @mister-superior
Instagram: animals_lover_ig
Please credit the actual photographer Tanja Brandt who took these beautiful photos of Ingo (the dog) and Poldi (the owl)!