Gosh it's my first time getting denied and it hurts sooooo much. Like I'm in a constant state of ache and need all day. And I'm so so so wet. But it's making me sooooo horny too. I think I'd do anything for a silly little orgasm at this point but Sir says its not time yet. I've been edging endlessly for hours just to feel something but it keeps making me ache more.
I love your blog. It motivates me to keep edging and keep being the needy little slut Sir wants me to be.
- đ
Thank you for the high praise on this side project of mine đ
I will admit, this is really just my little collection of ideas my dom can pick and choose from whenever he wants some help from me đ
Alright, I see we both feel just about the same, doms and subs, about the different kinds of punishments available to us, so I wont make a split poll, but I simply must know between the top two options-
Consider: Which turns you on the most? Which feels the best? Which yields the best results?
Which punishment is hands down the best in all categories for both dynamics?
Locked away. You never bought into all that hypnosis stuff. You thought it was just stage magicians and weirdos with pocket watches. Then you met him, and yeah, okay, maybe you were wrong. It started innocent enough, just little tricks to melt the dayâs stress away after work. His voice was smooth, and it would sink into your head, and suddenly your shoulders werenât so tight, your brain wasnât buzzing with deadlines. But youâre not dumb â well, not yet â and you noticed how it started creeping into the bedroom. First, it was just sexy little suggestions, like how wet youâd get when he whispered your name. Then it got deeper, wilder, and before you know it, you were hooked.
His latest game? The "thought locker." Thatâs what he calls it, anyway. Says itâs to keep you from getting weighed down by life's obligations. You know, bills, errands, all that noise. He guides you down, tells you to picture the smart parts of you, the bits that overthink and worry, all getting shoved into a shiny little box in the back of your head. Click goes the lock, and poof, theyâre gone. Youâre left feeling all floaty and giggly, like your brainâs just a big, bouncy bubble of horny. The catch? That box doesnât open until Master cums. His rules, his game. And lately, heâs been playing dirty.
Itâs been days. Maybe three? Youâre losing track because counting is getting fuzzy, and Master hasnât cum yet. Heâs edging you both, but itâs hitting you harder. Every time he holds back, that locker stays shut, and your head gets emptier. Your thoughts arenât about work anymore. Theyâre about his cock, his hands, the way his breath feels against your neck. Youâre turning into this needy, wiggly little mess. Youâre starting to talk in this high pitched, bubbly squeak, all âpretty please, Masterâ and âIâll be so good!â Itâs humiliating, but that just makes you wetter. Even so, some responsible parts of you are still floating around in that empty head, frantic to make him cum so you can snap back to normal. After all, you donât want to be this drooly mess forever, right?
Yesterday, you tried the subtle route (well, subtle for you at least). Slipped into this tiny pink thong and a crop top that barely counts as clothes, bouncing around the apartment like some slutty schoolgirl. You âaccidentallyâ dropped stuff in front of him, bending over slow, ass up, giggling like an idiot. He just smirked, adjusted himself, and kept scrolling on his phone. Didnât even touch you. Asshole. So today, youâre desperate. Youâre on your knees by the couch, nuzzling his thigh, pawing at his jeans like a kitten in heat. âMaster, pleeeease,â you whine, lips pouty, eyes big and glassy. âI need it so bad, Iâll do anything!â Your voice is all sugar now, dripping with slutty little trills. Youâre not even sure what âitâ is anymore â his cock, his cum, your brain, whatever â just something.
He looks down at you, âanything, huh?â he says, unzipping just enough to tease you. Youâre drooling already, practically humping the air, your hands fumbling to get closer. Youâre not thinking straight, honestly, youâre barely thinking at all. The lockerâs got everything sharp and sensible locked tight, and whatâs left is this horny, ditzy puddle of a girl whoâd do anything for a taste. You start licking at him through his jeans, sloppy and eager, moaning like itâs the best thing youâve ever had. âMmm, so yummy, Master!â you chirp, and you mean it. Your brain is too fizzed out to care how pathetic you sound.
But heâs still holding back. He grabs your hair, pulls you off just as youâre getting into it, and laughs. âNot yet, princess. I like you like this.â And oh god, that stings so good. Youâre leaking through your panties now, thighs sticky, and you can feel yourself slipping further. Words are getting harder. Big ones like âcon-se-quence-esâ or âdig-ni-tyâ aren't worth the effort. Too many syllables. All thatâs left is âcockâ and âpleaseâ and ânow.â Youâre grinding against his leg, babbling nonsense, âMasterâs so mean, so hot, need need needâ and heâs just watching, letting you come undone.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him, your skirt flipped up so he can see how soaked you are. âLook, Master, Iâm all drippy for you!â you plead, wiggling your hips, trying to grind down on him. Your hands are everywhere. On his chest, his hair, clawing at his belt like a dumb little pet. You know you'll burst if he doesnât give in soon. But he grabs your wrists, pins them behind you, and leans in close. âYouâre not getting it yet,â he whispers, and you whimper, because you can feel him hard against you, but heâs still not letting go. It's been days of this, and youâre a wreck.
A few more days go by, and you catch yourself in the mirror â flushed cheeks and dazed eyes, drool on your chin, and you love it. Maybe it's better to just be a giggling, cock drunk doll, humping his leg forever. To keep pushing, keep teasing, keep begging, but never having. Maybe thatâs all your bubbly little brain knows how to do now. âMaster, pleaseeee, cum for me, Iâll be good, Iâll - Iâll -â You donât even finish the sentence. Too dumb, too desperate, too gone.
making a sub repeat "i don't want to cum" over and over to let you know they're getting close, and to help reinforce to themselves that they dont in fact need to cum at all
The longer you play, the less you can think - a board game filled with triggers
(This was such a dumb idea but I would 100% play this with friends if given the opportunity)
what's the term for the kink where you get off on being forced to admit stuff. where you don't like to talk about your embarrassing secrets unless someone is condescendingly teasing you about it and they're getting sadistic pleasure from your discomfort and they have you backed into a corner and you know they're not going to let you know peace unless you spill your guts to them. i get so insanely horny for that. but like. i would never fucking admit that though. you could not torture that information out of me