[dayflowered]

isoamory = lie-chee -> eep-city → dayflowered

⚜️ tme. no pronouns or they/it

⚜️ adult, SM and robots and hypnosis and (art of) gore / body horror. and a few other things probably. nsfw blog kind of, so be warned for that—I don't tag!

[dayflowered]

does anyone have that post thats like "its called dacryphilia because everyone loves da crier"

[lady-of-vitreous-sight]

crying is really fun i love how diverse it is. like sometimes you're just casually shedding tears slowly for half an hour recreationally more out of sublime complexity than proper sadness, and other times you're full on bawling in public because shit fucked you up bad and there's no recovering, and other times you've got the crocodile tears going as someone else cries in your arms while you feel nothing just in case you need to pretend to be a human. it's just so fun.

[charonsferry]

sometimes porn should have hype moments and aura

[bungerc0re]

you can experience jealousy without desire it's actually awesome

[bungerc0re]

oh no [x] for me thanks i just wanted you dead for having it without me :)

[newtypeofdoublezeta]

I LOVE FORCED KISSING SO MUCHHHHHHHH

[newtypeofdoublezeta]

rape is hot because ur being defiled sexually but forced kissing? that’s like being defiled romantically. tres good.

[crabanarchy]

They should invent a being a sadist that isnt embarassing

[crabanarchy]

You're so cute do you want to come back to my place and get kicked in the head

[sapphling]

"normal porn" is downright easy to find on this site, i would rather get back weird porn posted by & attributed to the people who make it without 3-20 annual blog deletions

[ace-trainer-alice]

And then at some point, it stopped embarrassing you so much. Maybe it was just because it ceased to be something new. Like watching a movie over and over. Eventually the tears stop flowing and it simply becomes a fact of life. Novelty lost.

Is that normal? Perhaps for some the emotions run forever. Not yours, at least. Sometimes it seems like hers do. Burning bright for ten billion years like the fire of the sun. For you, time passes. Things end. Life continues.

Just as well, she continues the routine, of course. Stuffs you into a pretty dress. Petticoat holds up pink flower patterns. Corset tied tight until any motion rings a reminder. Cutesy tiara tucked into hair so you move your head slowly. And after showing you your new reflection, she takes you out on a walk.

As you cross the door to outside, you look up and see the yellow gem hanging in the sky over the lake. Clouds pass over it, but its light pierces right through them. Unavoidable realities.

“You know, pretty soon winter's going to start,” she says. “Either I'll have to stick you in a different genre of outfit or we won't be able to go outside anymore.”

At one point she tried taking you around by a leash, but it was a bit past your tolerances. And then the next time she asked, you pre-emptively vetoed it. Too much, too far. Always another time. Or maybe it's just not precisely the fantasy you're after. She's still having you wear the collar out, at least.

“Actually, I have quite a few more outfits planned that I don't think we'll have the weather for. Not for a while,” she says, then tightens her grip around your fingers. “How was your week?”

Where once your steps were timid and careful, now you walk with confidence. Click clack of heels against the pavement. The path is set out before you. Your footsteps occasionally faster than hers, even as her hand is the one guiding you forward. Weaving between leaves that crunch and rocks that children kick.

“It was pretty good, miss,” you say. “I mean, not the best, work still kinda sucks. Remember that old lady who thought I was cis? She's quitting soon.”

These days you spend more time seeing nature than seeing yourself. Once your eyes were turned inward, sneaking glances at your own dress as you looked fearfully around for strangers. Unable to meet their gaze, you'd turn away. Hide behind trees, make yourself small, act normal. It's not an act anymore.

“Aw. I'll miss your stories of her angry ramblings and incomprehensible politics,” she says. “You look really cute today, by the way.”

Now, you're simply smiling. Enjoying the world. Look out towards the lake and see how red and orange infects it. Spreading out across the surface, floating and covering it. Not quite hidden in the leaves, you can see the sun's reflection in the waters.

“I wonder if we'll ever see the lake's surface totally covered by leaves,” you say. “Or will the trees run out first.”

At the end of the lakeside walk lies a strip of shops and a grocery store. A year ago, you outright refused to go inside any of them. A few months in, she would take you into them as a punishment of sorts. Refusal to comply met with forcing you to order yourself ice cream. She chose a new “favorite” flavor you would never have picked for yourself. It tastes like her.

“Do you ever think about how much we've changed?” she asks right before you enter.

You're regulars now. The woman sees you arrive and begins preparing your regular order before she can ask for it. A weekly tradition carved into the world. Two children passing by stare at your dress outright but you don't even look at them. They're the oddity here, not you.

Inside the shop, the sun and its reflection are truly hidden. Can a reflection still be said to exist if it can't be seen? On your work days, are you still the girl in the elaborate dress? Waiting for the ice cream in silence, you ponder how to respond.

Talking in front of strangers while dressed up is still taboo. She never pushed you on that front. Something about cute dolls not talking. Paying only takes her a few seconds, then the two of you are heading to the table. Outside, in celebration of the warmth of distant sunlight.

“I've been thinking about it more recently, miss,” you say as you walk. “Most of the time it feels like it's always been like this. Then I remember to look back, and it feels so strange. Do you ever feel that way, miss?”

Tongue swirls over chunks of strawberry. Catch every last drip before it can fall. On the third visit, the “punishment” was for a drop landing on the dress on the second visit. By the third month, it was simply part of the ritual. Ice cream in a pretty dress. You learned clean eating habits quickly.

“I always try to have a plan for these kinds of scenes,” she says. “Then somewhere along the way I got used to it. I started looking forward to it just as our weekly dates. Power gives way to just wanting to see you.”

You notice her looking at her tongue and smile at her. See the sun in her eyes. Make a teasing face, stick out your tongue further, give an obscene gesture, and watch her turn away in turn. Where your own boundaries expanded, inevitably you found hers. Lines criss cross. ‘Who's really in charge?’ She is, of course.

“Yes, miss? Tell me about it, please.”

The breeze picks up and catches your dress. Hair tossed every which way. Hand held tight on the cone and down on the skirt. She teased you about your first upskirt by strong winds for weeks, even between sessions. Evidently you made this really particular face. Wide eyes looking left and right, shoulders shrinking in, and just a hint of a smile. You make it again, for her amusement.

“You're adorable,” she says. “Let me think.”

Bite into the sugar cone, finish off the last of it. There's a pause. At some point when it shifted from special kink activity to regular dates, the teasing lessened. It became less of a kink thing and more something between art and showing off. Can something ordinary be erotic?

The sun is so pretty at this time of the afternoon. Beginning its descent into the lake. Soon, it'll meet its reflection, and become one with it before disappearing. The only possible conclusion to an ordinary process. Yet, it's still so very beautiful.

"I guess, I've been thinking. When we started, is this where you saw yourself ending up?” she asks. “You were so embarrassed to go out like this, and now this is simply you.

“Maybe you only dress up like this on occasion, but this is who you are to so many people now,” she says. “You're the weird girl in the collar and dress who shows up on Saturdays. I'm the weird girl walking you around.”

Once, the idea inspired fear in you. Speaking of doing this regularly occasionally led to tears. You called off weekends after work went poorly. She congratulated you, perhaps in a teasing way, for how brave you were when we went.

“Now, this is normal,” she says. “This is simply who and what you are. Is this what it is to be a doll? A thing that I dress up and show off. No longer is this exceptional, violating, or peculiar. This is simply how it is.

“And, I just want to know. Are you okay with that? We've started doing other play some other nights of the week. S/m and other kinds of exhibitionism. At some point, this ceased to be a scene, didn't it.

“And so, how does that make you feel? Are you happy with this? Is this enough?”

For a few minutes you're lost in thought. Then as the sun touches down upon the waters, you give her your answer.

.

On days that aren't Saturday, I write short things for my patreon. Somewhere between 'exploratory kink writing' and 'working on getting better at writing'. Then on Saturday I select one of the pieces from the week to share on tumblr. This is that.

I like dress up play, but I also like the shadow it casts. At what point is this just you? Will you ever let it be just you? Is it still a kink?

[ace-trainer-alice]

A control group is a really cool thing to have but not a very hot thing to be in. And being high is both really cool and really hot. So you'd think that a high control group would be really cool but possibly not very hot, and yet.

[bound-by-the-devil]

Choking is great. But face grabbing? Gripping them by their jaw and squeezing until their mouth is forced open… The way their lips pout up… The feeling of the inside of their cheeks sliding over their teeth…. Look at me…

[firewalkwithmedvd]

[desperately trying to sexualize doing laundry] putting... my load... in the

[sapphire----art]

i know no one else has ever felt like this before, but i will be brave and speak my truth. i want to have lesbian sex

[a-gay-little-cat]

orgasm denial continues until morale improves

[ace-trainer-alice]

I've been in kind of a hypnokink mood lately. Like, titles are hot, but someone who normally doesn't respect you being forced to refer to you by a title and unable to use your name? Wayyyy hotter.

[fatbifemme]

Fat hairy femme positivity anyone? RB if you think fat hairy femmes are hot, or if you're a fat hairy femme!!

[lady-of-vitreous-sight]

they're saying the newest trend is stringing up laces between your horns tied in pretty patterns.