This Would Fix Me

[lady-of-fangs-lyrlia]

I can't see you, but I can hear you. 

The setup is perfect. I'm wearing my mask, which you've taken the liberty of installing a pair of blackout lenses inside. Without my glasses I might as well have been blind, but you insisted on complete isolation. 

My hands are bound, each in a pair of mitts designed with little paw pads on the palm. These in turn you've linked together on a rigged spreader bar stuck behind my head. I must have been cute as you set it up. I heard the shutter of your camera. You've put me in my prong collar which has been clipped to a rather short leash that I can only imagine looks perfect in your hand.

You've set me on top of you. My purpose is clear as you guide the tip of my strap inside you. I'm not even allowed to feel the stretch of your body around me. 

I'm not given instructions, instead left to figure out what you require of me. On top of you, whining, forced to control my pace with just muscles of my core and legs. I can feel the pressure of your thighs where I kneel between them. Even if I were deaf to your noises I could feel the responses to my effort from the way you grip and squeeze me. Part of me wonders if later you'll train me to respond to just those like a horse without its bit.

You feel my pace start to falter. My legs are burning and the muscles of my core are spasming from the effort of maintaining the pace you demand. Between the harsh intakes of breaths you can hear a pleading whimper start in the back of my throat. Something nips where you touch it to me. I feel myself instinctively twist away from it before I force myself to adjust back. You press it again and I don’t flinch the second time. I've played with enough electric toys to know how they feel. 

Every time I stray from the pace you desire, I'm shocked. Any time you see me lose focus I'm shocked. When you want me to shift or change my position you adjust me by the collar. The prongs, digging into all that tender flesh, yank me out of whatever empty mindset I'd retreated to. 

My purpose is clear. Keep myself exposed for you and hammer my hips just the way you like. 

I can't see you, but I can hear you.

I can hear your moans. The sharp intake of breath when I grind myself against that sensitive spot inside you. I've memorized the way you babble my name. A mantra, your steady prayer as I devote myself to you. With every thrust I push you closer to the edge, each of us desperate to hear your sharp cries of pleasure. 

I can't see you, but I can hear you, and that's enough.

(If you would like to support my writing and help me relocate to a safer place I've included my cash app below or you can DM for my paypal) https://cash.app/$LyrWrites

[lady-of-fangs-lyrlia]

Exhibitionist? No. You’re a show dog and I’m treating you like one. 

Each morning your outfit is chosen for you. Picked not for your taste, or the style you thought was yours, but because I want to show off specific features. Chosen because I want to show off the lines and curves of your body. Chosen because that’s how I want to advertise you to everyone that might see you through the day.

Your coat and nails will be handled by a professional. They’ll wash you, touching you everywhere you once thought was personal and private. You’ll be spoken over as it’s decided for you what style, what cut, what shade will be the best to frame your face. More importantly, they have to consider what’s in season. Your look will be kept current, clean, and pristine. If you give them trouble you’ll be put in a slip lead, tied off by the collar to the table and kept still by hands used to dealing with nippy dogs. Too much trouble and they’ll muzzle you before continuing. 

If you embarrass me I’ll drop you off drugged to your next appointment.

We’ll spend hours training the way you walk. With a collar around your throat and a taut leash you’ll learn to keep perfect step at my side. You’ll learn to turn and halt with the smallest adjustment, the smallest tug of your leash. You’ll learn to keep your steps even, regardless of the pace or what I might have dressed you in. You’ll be expected to show this same level of respect, obedience, and focus to anyone I hand your leash to. If I decide I want to see you paraded around the ring by someone you’ve never met, you’ll be expected to follow. Match their pace without ever looking back or pulling. Show me I can trust your training even away from me, that you’ll work to present and behave in the manner I’ve come to expect from you regardless of distance.

You’ll be expected to hold perfectly still as strangers examine your body under glaring lights. They’ll touch along your back, down your tummy, and between your legs. You’ll be overwhelmed with the simple joy a dog has when it knows it’s doing something right. Just hold still. Let them do as they need to. Just hold still and behave.

You’ll see yourself on the TV when I invite our friends over to watch your latest performance.

“Look at that strut”

“Such a beautiful coat!”

“The judge’s hands must have been cold, look at the goosebumps!”

I’ll call you over, the star of the hour. I’ll show them all the tricks I’ve taught you, all the work I’ve put into your socialization. 

The same way the judge’s hands roamed and explored your body, our friends will do the same. They’ll comment loudly over the way your skin twitches and muscles dance. They’ll giggle to each other as they see how excited you get at the idea of performing once more. 

You’ll never hesitate to follow along with their poking and prodding. You’ll never consider what these people used to be to you, or the social bonds you once had. You’ll never consider who or what you once were. 

Just a show dog.

(If you would like to support my writing and help me relocate to a safer place I've included my cash app below or you can DM for my paypal)

https://cash.app/$LyrWrites

[goodgirlenvy]

Why Starting Is Easier Than You Think

The barrier to trying an AI girlfriend feels bigger than it is. On SweetDream you're a few simple choices away from a companion who already feels like someone, no learning curve, no friction.

And once you start, the quality keeps you going. The chat is warm, the visuals are lovely, and the deeper features are there when you want them. sweetdream.ai makes the first step the easy part.

[dbzyuri]

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would meet someone for 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[spacey-maidly-princess]

kidnapper throwing you in the trunk of her car, where you then hear her go back inside your place for what feels like 10 minutes, before coming back out and quickly opening the trunk to throw in your favourite plushie...

[wintymute]

Hey are you okay? You’ve been fantasizing about being institutionally abused and dehumanized while hooked up to an iv drip of enough drugs to permanently prevent you from reassociating and having all responsibility taken away from you by a mean lesbian who doesn’t care about your autonomy, again.

[butterflyfemmme-deactivated2025]

being loved properly for the first time will have you saying dumb shit like “thank you for respecting my boundaries” “thank you for listening when I talk” omg. 🫣

[lady-of-fangs-lyrlia]

“As far as kinks go, marking has to be one that’s stuck in my head the longest. Collars are the staple, the go to, and the first thing most people think of, at least in the kink community, to denote a claim.  There around your throat is some thick leather band or delicate little day collar that someone else put on you.  It doesn’t, or rarely, comes off, and eventually becomes so much a part of you that you forget it most of the time.  Did you know one time one of my long term partners went into work with her collar still on? Lovely little leather number with pink under stitching.  Goodness I could only imagine how red she was when her boss pointed it out.”

The chair under you is dreadfully uncomfortable. Heavy, wooden, high backed, no padding. You’ve been tied to it several times before, but tonight is different. There are no toys waiting to be used on your exposed body; just the rope binding you to your seat. Tonight I’ve taken far more time than usual securing your wrists and ankles. 

“Jewelry is another one people often jump for.  Wedding rings of course, but imagine instead a solid silver bracelet. Something engraved and hand crafted, fit to your wrist just perfectly. Thick enough you’d feel the weight with every movement of your arm. Think how often your hands and wrists are in your vision. You’d always see it, always remember that moment I first slipped it on. And even if it did manage to drift from your attention, someone’s bound to comment on its beauty and draw you back.”

“There are less considered options. You have things like perfumes, or clothing. Picking out how you dress out on the town, what you’ll wear to work, or what you’ll smell like. Each of them, large or small dictating how other people perceive you. I think that’s a fascinating degree of power to be given over a person.”

When I place the butane torch on my work table you begin to squirm.  You can’t help yourself, I understand. Anxiety and fear causes every animal to find the boundaries of its leash. You however have nowhere to go, bound as you are. I start the flame before I dial in the heat. You watch in open fascination.

“My favorites are the permanent kind, or at least the nearly permanent. Maybe a tattoo on your hip that every one of your future lovers will see when they kiss their way down your body? Or maybe I’d like it a little higher. Tucked up near your collar bone. You’d see it only when you look in the mirror but you’d have to change your entire wardrobe.  Either to hide it in shame or expose it to everyone you meet. Regardless I’m still dictating that control over you, forcing you to consider every future outfit choice. Even if you do decide to hide it you’ll have to show it off to some future partner. You’ll have to either explain the truth to them and watch the emotions play across their face, or lie to them. Break a vow of trust between you both because you couldn’t handle the alternative.”

“Where all those fail is their impermanence. Collars are made to be removed. Perfume can be washed off.  Jewellery gets taken off before every scene. Even tattoos can be covered up, or naturally fade with time.”

I’ve put my back to you, my body blocking your view of the flame and whatever I was doing. Heavy boxes are opened, the sounds of metal hitting metal mixing with the roar of the torch. Smells you can’t place start to reach your nose as the torch warms something.

“Scars though? There’s one of my favorite ways to mark someone. This part of you, maybe even the whole of you, was unblemished before you met me. Now it’s imperfect. Changed. You’re just a little less whole, a little different than you were before and you’ll never escape that knowledge body or mind.”

“The impact of my intrusion on your life should leave physical consequences, don’t you think?”

In one hand you can see me holding the softly glowing length of a cattle brand, the air around the tip shimmering from the heat. Faintly you can make out the first initial of my name woven into the design of the metal.

“Just like I taught you, breathe through the pain baby.”

(If you would like to support my writing and help me relocate to a safer place I've included my cash app below or you can DM for my paypal)

https://cash.app/$LyrWrites

[begrudgedhound]

Mistress is my better. I am not human, but perhaps neither is She: whereas I am lesser, She is something greater. Even in my position, I have my pride; I wouldn't serve just anyone, it has to be Her. She has remade me to serve Her, words and actions have served as Her surgical tools to change me forever, and it happened before I even had any clue, dumb dog that I am.

Handler performs Her role with such an elegance that it seems as natural to Her as breath itself; I can't tell if this is the result of a tireless practice and discipline or if She was simply born divine. I don't think a Handler can be made the way one of us can. A Handler is a beacon for all the feelings a Hound can have, desire, devotion, fury. Even a Hound scorned, angry at their Handler, cannot resist the siren's call to heel, the Handler redirecting the dog's rage to serve Her interests. She can toy with its obsession and twist it to Her benefit, and it is Her right to do so.

I expect Mistress to be firm with me, to challenge me and correct me when I am out of line. I want Her to offer me salvation from confusion and to direct me on how to serve Her. I expect Her to treat me as a weapon, a tool to use as She needs or wishes, I'm not human, I belong to Her as a loyal dog: She made me Hers. She can use me as She pleases, I can deal with things She needn't dirty Her hands with and I would do so happily, I will fight in Her stead so She never has to. She enables me to embrace the animal I am, so long as it serves Her interests. She is not just a superior, She is the only person to have my reverence, not just taking it as some officer would, but reshaping me so that it was always Hers to have. No one else could do that to me.

I can only serve Her.

[ivyrotica]

when doms coo out a soft ‘there you arreee’ the moment their sub finally gives in and starts whimpering, gasping, making the prettiest noises while being absolutely ruined >>>

[ijwt-art]

It's my birthday and i'm right where I want to be 😃👍🎉

[ijwt-art]

You thought it was safe, hiking alone...

[deadelated]

when asked by a stranger if we're friends or girlfriends or a mother and daughter I should simply respond "she's my attorney"

[ace-trainer-alice]

Little miss slowburncorruptionbait feels like normally she'd have a strong negative reaction to that kind of thing. But right now for whatever reason, it doesn't seem to bother her at all. In fact, she even feels a bit happy about it. Intrigued, curious, excited. And an even smaller part of her wonders if she should worry about that change. But she doesn't feel worried at all, and so that part of her that worries that she should be worrying grows just a tiny bit smaller.

[nanadouken]

eye contact

[waggytails-floppyears]

ⓘ this user likes being pet like a dog

[roughribo]

Putting my sub's cage next to the aquarium so they can watch the pretty animals when I lock them in their cage. Meanwhile I get to sit back and watch all of my pets in their enclosures.

And that's the best part. I get to watch my sub realize I gaze upon them in their cage the same way I look at the animals in that tank. I get to watch the realization sink in of just how much they really are my actual property. It's more than words, we're not just playing, I'm sitting there admiring what I own and provide for and... they're so happy and safe. This really is their place. They really belong to someone else and need to continue to belong to me. Like property. Owned is not just a role in a relationship to us, it's a state of mind and way of being.