Mommy's good pet

18+ | we'll give tumblr a second chance | in case I followed you out of nowhere, I have a side blog, I'm not a porn bot

[mommasboi]

18+ no minors please. I'm K, 25, queer, AB/DL, switch, very kinky. In case you are not from the ageplay scene and I followed you, I have a sideblog for my other kinks (username koltzee).

Pwetty please send me asks with your fantasies :3

I love talking to people on here and being a dumb baby is fun hehe.

[babygirlbaka]

Squish💕

[peytonsundayschool]

Daddy is taking me to the paint store tomorrow because it’s *TIMEEEEE*

We are finally painting my little girl room and I get to pick out my colors all by myself Daddy says I can have whatever I want!!

[ameliemommy]

The Reintroduction

The stroller’s wheels squeak softly as Mommy pushes you through the front door, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out from the living room. You can feel the weight of the thick diaper between your legs, the plastic backing crinkling with every slight movement. The shortalls do little to hide the obvious bulge, the fabric stretched taut over the padding. You wiggle your toes, the socks on your feet feeling absurdly small, like they belong to a child rather than a grown man. But that’s what you are now, aren’t you? Mommy’s little boy, strapped into a stroller, about to be paraded in front of people who once knew you as an equal.

You grip the tray of the stroller, your fingers tracing the edge of the plastic as Mommy steers you into the room. The conversations falter for a moment, then die entirely. You can almost hear the confusion in the silence. A few of your former coworkers glance over, their expressions shifting from polite smiles to outright bewilderment. One of them, Mark, from accounting, does a double take, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips.

“Uh…” he starts, then stops, as if his brain can’t quite process what he’s seeing.

Mommy doesn’t miss a beat. She stops the stroller in the middle of the room, her hand resting on the back as she beams down at you. “Look who I brought!” she announces, her voice dripping with that infuriating, affectionate pride. “Say hi to everyone, sweetheart.”

You squirm, your face burning. You want to shrink into the stroller, to disappear entirely, but there’s nowhere to hide. The diaper is impossible to ignore, the bulk of it pressing against the seat, the tapes digging slightly into your hips. You can feel the warmth spreading through the padding, you’d peed a little on the way over, nerves getting the better of you, and the wetness indicators are probably already an embarrassing blue.

“Hi,” you mumble, your voice small, your eyes fixed on your lap.

Mark, your old coworker, is the first to break the silence. He tilts his head, squinting at the obvious bulge beneath your shortalls. “Dude… is he wearing a diaper?”

Mommy doesn’t hesitate. “Of course he is.”

Sarah, from HR, steps closer, her eyes flicking between Mommy and the unmistakable outline of the diaper. “No way. Seriously?”

Mommy nods, her fingers already working at the snaps of your shortalls. “Seriously.”

Jake from marketing crosses his arms, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “But does he, like… use it?”

Mommy’s grin widens as she unfastens the last snap and tugs the shortalls down your legs in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your t-shirt and the thick, crinkling diaper. The room falls silent again as the full sight of you is revealed, the bulky padding, the plastic backing, the way the diaper forces your legs apart.

And then they see it.

The wetness.

The deep blue stripe on the front of the diaper is  impossible to miss, the plastic glistening slightly where the moisture has spread. Sarah’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. He peed in it.”

Mommy chuckles, bending down to pull the shortalls free and set them aside. “Told you he uses them.”

Mark lets out a disbelieving laugh, crouching down to get a better look. His fingers hover just above the diaper, as if he’s afraid to touch it. “That’s… that’s wild.”

Jake shakes his head, his grin spreading. “So he just sits there, in a wet diaper, like it’s normal?”

Mommy ruffles your hair, her touch affectionate. “It is normal. For him, anyway.” She taps the front of your diaper, the squish loud in the quiet room. “See? Nice and wet. Just like a good little boy should be.”

The room erupts into laughter, the initial shock giving way to teasing. Sarah reaches out, her fingers brushing against the plastic backing. The crinkle is deafening. “Damn. That’s thick. And wet.”

You squirm, your face burning, but you don’t protest. What’s the point? The evidence is right there, plain for everyone to see. The diaper is heavy between your legs, the wetness a constant, embarrassing reminder of your regression. But beneath the humiliation, there’s something else, something warm, something comforting. This is who you are now. Mommy’s little boy, diapered and cared for, and if that means being the center of attention for a while, so be it.

The teasing continues for what feels like an eternity. They ask if you can walk (you can, but Mommy prefers to keep you in the stroller for “safety”). They ask if you want to be like this (the answer is complicated). They ask if Mommy changes you (yes, and you hate how much you love it).

Eventually, though, the novelty wears off. The adults drift back to their conversations, work, politics, the latest sports game, leaving you and Mommy on the periphery. Mommy bends down, her face softening as she looks at you. “You doing okay, baby?”

You nod, but your throat feels tight.

She smiles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Good boy. “Now go play.”

Play. The word makes your stomach twist, but you obey, shuffling toward the corner of the room where a few toys have been left out, a stuffed bear, a stack of blocks, a coloring book. You can feel the eyes on you as you move, the occasional snicker, the whispered comments. But you ignore them, because Mommy told you to play, and good boys listen to Mommy.

You sink down onto the floor, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath you. The blocks are in front of you, but you don’t reach for them. Instead, you sit there, your hands resting on your knees, the thickness of the diaper a constant, comforting presence.

Across the room, the party continues. Laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of adult conversation. And you? You’re just… there. A curiosity. A joke. A little boy in a diaper, left to his own devices while the grown-ups talk about grown-up things.

It’s humiliating.

It’s perfect.

Because for all the teasing, for all the stares, you know one thing for certain: you’re hers. And as long as Mommy’s happy, as long as she’s proud of her good little boy, you can endure anything.

[zitronengelbe-zauberpolster]

[themasterofo]

Being Responsible

“Sir, I was thinking... I want to have an orgasm.”

Oh, is that right?

“Yes, Sir. Just one. I- I know you don’t really like those for me, but… it's been so long…”

Okay, let’s think about it, and we’ll see if that makes sense.

“Um, okay. Thank you, Sir.”

You’re very welcome! Now, first of all, have you been edging like a good girl?

“Well… not so much, really. Not lately.”

Why not?

“Um… I dunno. It's just been really hard to find the time, I-“

Well, you need to start now, right?

“Now?”

Yes, now, silly! You have a rule to edge every day. Do you really think I’m going to consider giving you any orgasms when you haven’t been following your rules and keeping things needy down there?

“No Sir, I guess not.”

You guess?

“I mean no, I should follow my rules, but Sir, you could decide if I could maybe cum if I follow my rules like a good girl for a while…”

No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

“But, Sir, why not?”

Because your edges are very big and very special and not cumming is part of what makes them so nice and special. You really should do some edges if you’re going to ask me for something like this, so I know you understand what you’re asking for. I have to be responsible about things like this. Does that make sense?

“Um, I guess so, but-”

More guessing?

“No, I mean, yes, Sir it does make sense. May I edge now and then I can ask?”

Didn’t I already tell you to start edging?

“I… did you? I didn’t… I thought…”

Stop thinking. Start rubbing.

There you go. That’s my good girl. Now, doesn’t that feel nice?

“Oh, God, yes, Sir, it feels so nice! I can't believe I couldn't find time for this.”

You just didn’t find time for it. You could have, but you didn’t.

“Yes, Sir. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Okay. I forgive you. Just do better.

“Yes, Sir. I will.”

Harder edging please. I want that cunt feeling so so needy.

“Yes, Sir, oh God I'm close...”

Already?

“Nnngh... yes, Sir.”

What a little slut.

“Nngyhhh... nnngyes, Sir. Please?”

What is it, little slut?

“Pretty, pretty please may I cum?”

Oh, that’s very cute. But no. No, I don't want to make any big changes when you're all edged and desperate like this. That wouldn't be fair. It’s my job to be very responsible, and that means no big changes when you’re this needy. That makes sense, right?

“Yes, Sir, I think… um… I mean… but…”

You think? How about we turn that noisy thinking down, please, okay? Rub, rub, rub. Edge that wet little hole. That’s my good girl. Show me your dumb girl face. Haha, so cute.

“Thank you, Sir.”

You’re welcome. Keep that tongue out, cute lil dumdum. Now, Sir takes care of you, right?

“Mmmm… yeth, Thir… nnnnghh… cunt tho clothe…”

I bet it is! So you know that part of taking care of you is not making any big changes when you’re this needy. That could be taking advantage of you, even if I don’t mean to, and I’m just not gonna do it. That’s for your protection. You remember that, right?

“Mmhm. Nngh… I remember.”

Good girl. Very close please. So, that’s why I can’t let you have an orgasm right now. To protect you. That makes sense, right?”

“Yes, Sir, that makes sense. Thank you so much for protecting me.”

Uh-uh! Tongue stays out.

“Yeth, Thir. Thorry Thir.”

Okay, that’s better. And it’s my job to protect you, but you’re very welcome.

“Nnnn… nnnnhhh… nnnnngghhhh….”|

Oh, wow, look at how much my cute little dumdum is leaking! It looks like you really, really missed these big, big edges.

“Nnnnnn… Yes, Sir, I did. So much.”

Such a good little slut. Just remember next time to make sure you only ask for changes when you’re not such a needy little animal, okay? That way Sir can maybe consider letting you have one of those bad orgasms.

“Yes, Sir. I-”

Shhh. Harder. Closer. That’s my good girl. Good girls don’t cum.

Now open up so I can fuck that little throat of yours, and I want you ready to swallow Sir’s cum. Make sure you keep that little cunt right on the edge for me the whole time I’m cumming. You know how much nicer my orgasms feel when I get to watch you being so needy and trembling. If you do a really good job, maybe Sir will let you grind that messy little cunt on my knee while I get some work done.

[something-misremembered]

...transaction complete...retrieving telemetry...

Customer Profile: -ID: redacted -Location: n/a Latest Purchase: -Category: CR2032 Lithium Coin Cell Battery (2-pack) -Format: Priority Overnight Shipping

Customer Forecast¹: -Products per Month: 100-150 -Training [daytime] complete in : 72+ months -Training [nighttime] complete in : 72+ months ¹(estimates, for internal research use only) ------------------------- Collaboration created with photographs and creative direction from the wonderful @bbabybbear-reboot. Please go follow her new blog, be nice to her, and enjoy her content.

[theneedfulthings]

As Good As It Gets

Wet suckles drift from your lips as warm, spiced milk trickles into your mouth.

An idyllic scene if there ever was one, with Daddy’s arm supporting your head, your body resting across his lap, as he hold's his babygirl’s nighttime baba.

Precious few things rival the intimate, nurturing serenity of being wrapped in Daddy’s warm embrace and meeting his reassuring, loving gaze.

When the world and its problems melt away, leaving only the innocence and adoration of Daddy and his little.

But the thoughts bubbling in your mind betray the innocence of a woman in a onesie and diaper, suckling peacefully on a baba.

Your eyes convey what your body craves. There was a time when your “let’s take this to the bedroom” look never failed—but that was years ago.

Back when you had a guest room, not a nursery. When your drawers were filled with sexy lace panties, not thick, thirsty diapers.

When Daddy was your husband.

If Daddy recognized the look, he didn’t show it. His warm, tender smile remained stubbornly steadfast.

Just as you were about to give up and resign yourself to your bottle of milk, Daddy guides your hands to your bottle for you to hold.

His hand drifts down your body, tracing your curves until it rests on your diaper.

The corners of Daddy’s mouth twist with the suggestion of mischief in response to your shiver of anticipation.

It didn’t matter that Daddy’s hand merely rested motionless on your diaper. Just the pressure of his hand, so tantalizingly close to your princess parts, was enough to fog your brain with jolts of electric pleasure.

Your suckling loses its rhythm as you imagined the pleasure Daddy’s hand could provide.

By the time his hand reached for your onesie snaps, even your breathing became scattered and disorganized.

Your soft, gasping moan reflects the truth and triumph of the years of denial as his hand slid into your diaper.

His fingers slowly, meticulously danced on the edges of your princess parts, teasing and taunting with the promise of more. You moan involuntarily whenever his fingers seem determined to find your throbbing button, only to retreat at the last second.

You squealed the moment his finger delicately brushed your throbbing lips, glistening with your eagerness.

But just as suddenly as it started, Daddy’s hand pulls away, leaving you whimpering and deflated with another unfulfilled disappointment. He reached over and grabbed your buzzy wand.

Doing your best to hide your disappointment, you flash Daddy your sappiest puppy dog eyes. With any luck, Daddy will use his fingers. Or better yet, your old vibrator.

Anything but the same magic wand on top of your diaper.

It’s been so long since anyone played with your princess parts without a soggy diaper in between.

So very long.

You deflate like a popped balloon when Daddy lifted you off his lap—until you noticed the devious grin etched on his face. He guides your hand to his belt.

“These things don’t unbuckle themselves, you know.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

You practically ripped his belt off, as if Daddy might change his mind if you waste any time.

“Baby, have you already forgot how to be a big girl? Why are my pants still on? Or maybe you prefer the wand to Daddy now, is that it?’

“Wha-?! Daddy no! I want you, please!” you bluster in terror at the possibility of losing the moment with Daddy.

Your knees nearly buckle when you see proof of Daddy’s excitement for the first time in two years.

Without taking your eyes off Daddy, you toss his pants and greedily lunge at him, determined to show him how grateful you are.

Completely forgetting about the swollen diaper between your legs.

Daddy laughs at your clumsy, squishy thrusts against him.

“Did you forget you’re a diaper girl, silly?”

Embarrassed and consumed by lusty desire, you reach for your diaper tabs. Daddy’s hand stops you.

“No, your diaper stays on, babygirl.”

“Bu-but…”

Daddy reaches down and pushes your diaper to the side.

“You need to remember who you are.”

He pulls you towards him, your body trembling in anticipation. The culmination of countless nights imagining this very moment.

Every millisecond feels like an eternity as you lower yourself down to Daddy, needing him inside of you.

A booming, animalistic scream interrupts the silence the moment Daddy’s head splits your eager lips.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer, mind-shattering ecstasy rippling through your body.

As Daddy slid himself deeper and deeper inside you, you lost yourself to your feral, carnal hunger, writhing and screaming in an uncontrollable, untamed frenzy.

After two long years without Daddy, it almost hurt to have him inside you, though for some reason that only made you hungrier for more.

Every sensation, every wince, every moan was proof of Daddy’s presence.

By the time you slid all the way down, with every inch of Daddy inside you, there was no more delaying the inevitable. You lost all sense of being and identity. Time and space.

The unbearable, erotic tension accumulated from years of deferred orgasms suddenly explodes out of you in a rush of pure, orgasmic bliss. Waves of warm, tingly energy ripple through your body.

Your world is intense—unfathomable—pleasure.

There is only you and Daddy, bonded by bliss. Though the ecstasy is already starting to recede.

Once you catch your breath, your eyes meet Daddy’s, pride etched in his eyes. You wiggle around, still feeling him inside of you.

“D-did you ma-make cummies too, Daddy?”

He giggles at the question. “No, babygirl, I didn’t even know we started. Most women don’t cum in 5 seconds—I don’t know whether I should be proud or disappointed.”

“O-oh…w-well, I ummm…s-sorry…”

“Don’t be, babygirl. You’re still gonna show me how thankful you are to have Daddy inside of you! So go on, show me!”

“Okay, Daddy!”

You slide up Daddy, immediately overwhelmed by the intense overstimulation of the post-orgasm bliss. A whimper accidentally escapes your lips—the opposite of what you wanted.

As overstimulated as you were, you knew this was for Daddy. It wasn’t his fault you made cummies so fast!

Gritting your teeth, you gyrated your hips the way you used to—it was like riding a bike. As your confidence grew, you began to enjoy the dull pain from your overstimulation.

You were so wet there was almost no friction, making it even easier to bounce on Daddy.

And then Daddy moans—the greatest gift he could ever give you.

Faster and faster you gyrate, intoxicated by the growing tension in Daddy’s body, seeing the indelible signs of an orgasm building in Daddy’s eyes.

A tremor ripples through Daddy’s body—you know he was close. But so were you. Your pain is pleasure. His pleasure is your pleasure.

Everything was pleasure.

Finally, Daddy’s hands wrap you in a deep embrace, pulling you deeper into him, grunting in undeniable ecstasy.

The moment his hands pulled you in and you felt the warmth of his seed deep inside you, you screamed with your second, even stronger, orgasm.

For a moment there was only the sounds of two lovers climaxing with each other. Groans, moans, and the satisfied breathing of post-orgasm bliss.

After a few seconds, or maybe even days, Daddy’s hands brushed the hair out of your face, smiling contentedly.

“You were amazing, babygirl.”

“Th-thank you, Daddy!”

Daddy winces as you stand up. You fight back a laugh at his dramatic face, knowing you did far more than that for him.

But it didn’t matter.

His hand slid back into your diaper, a sly smile on his face.

“Looks like my babygirl is leaking, huh? Does Daddy’s diaper girl need a new diaper?”

Had your cheeks not already been flushed with two orgasms, they would’ve been beet red.

“Dadddyyyyyy!”

“What? You’re a leaky girl! And it’s Daddy’s job to get his dirty babygirl clean and ready for nini.”

You were so lost in the moment with Daddy, you forgot you were still his silly diaper girl. The diaper drooping between your legs feeling as silly as ever.

Yet, that only made you enjoy it more.

You were Daddy’s silly diaper girl, after all.

[dumblostlittleprincesscunt]

Humiliation as a date 💕

Humiliation as a birthday gift 💕

Humiliation as aftercare 💕

Humiliation during sex 💕

Humiliation before sex 💕

Humiliation in substitute for sex 💕

Humiliation on the holidays 💕

Humiliation at night 💕

Humiliation at day 💕

Humiliation as a punishment 💕

Humiliation as a reward 💕

Humiliation just because 💕

Humiliation as a love language 💕

Forced pet play humiliation 💕

Ageplay/Abdl humiliation 💕

Toilet play humiliation 💕

Humiliation caused by bullying 💕

Public humiliation 💕

Humiliation in front of your friends 💕

Just all humiliation 💕

[onemoreoutburst]

Aww, I get it. It's hard to be back in diapers at your age without turning into a fussy girl in front of Daddy sometimes. "No wonder you're such a fussy girl today..."

You had an accident while you were asleep and woke up with a soaked diaper between your legs, which instantly puts you in an embarrassed, fussy mood

You got changed by Daddy as soon as you woke up, and he didn’t listen when you complained that it's cold outside of the covers

The wet wipes that Daddy uses feel freezing cold on your butt when he changes you, but he holds your legs as you try to squirm away

You hate it when Daddy has to put your rash cream on, and start whining like a baby

He tapes you in a diaper for the day, rather than the big girl pull-ups you begged for. You whine and plead that you can stay dry, but it falls on deaf ears

You want to be a big girl around your friends today, but you don’t get to decide when you’re a big girl anymore

Daddy doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to wear your favorite jeans over your bulky diaper, saying they wouldn’t fit, and dresses you in a more age-appropriate outfit instead.

You try to pull at the tapes, whining that your diaper’s uncomfortable and too bulky, but Daddy catches you and gently says you need to be a big girl and not complain today.

You feel a twinge in your bladder while being led down the stairs. You want to hold it, proving you’re a big girl, but your bladder is begging to release into your diaper, and nobody is offering to take you to the bathroom…

You feel helpless and little as you feel yourself let go, and your eyes glaze over as the pee trickles into the soft padding.

Your wet diaper is squishy and uncomfortable, and it makes it hard to not feel like a baby, even if nobody can see

You want to be changed right away because you’re squishy and wet, but Daddy checks you and says you don’t need a change just yet, and that you stay in it for a little longer

You get embarrassed when you realized Daddy’s bringing your oversized diaper bag with your name on it for a day trip, even though you begged him to keep it discreet.

Your friends all go to the bathroom like normal, but you don’t get asked if you need to go. Daddy comes over and asks if you’re still “good”

You insist that you’re still dry, because you don’t want to stop playing, but nobody believes you

Daddy asks you if you need your diaper changed just a little too loud, and a little too close to your friends

Daddy pulls you aside and checks your diaper right out of earshot, slipping his fingers under the waistband and cooing, “You’re soaked, baby,” as you try to pull away.

Daddy takes you by the hand to change your diaper in the guest room, pulling out the changing mat before you can even start whining that you don't need it

The ripping of the tapes is so loud, plus the gentle cooing, that it must be obvious what’s going on from the next room over

You want to make more of a fuss during your change, but you're sure everyone will hear...

You want to be put down for a nap after your playdate, but Daddy has errands to run

You don’t want to go anywhere near the baby isle in the grocery store, but Daddy takes you by the hand anyway, insisting that "we need to get a few more things for you.”

You realize that it's going to be impossible to hide all the boxes of diapers and pull-ups that Daddy bought for you, and everyone is going to know they’re for you…

You feel wet, and you don’t remember when you last had an accident…

You weren’t paying attention while playing in the living room and realize, too late, that you leaked all over your tights, but are too embarrassed to admit it

You tried to hide your leaky diaper, but Daddy found out, and he takes you by the hand to the changing table upstairs with a disappointed look.

Daddy decides to put you in your thick overnight diaper hours before bed, to prevent any accidents "in case you fall asleep early," and it feels mortifyingly bulky under your pajamas.

You ask Daddy if you can try to be a big girl tomorrow, but he responds:

“We’ll see, honey.”

[theabdaycare]

Baby Kiara was such a sweet baby when she arrived at daycare. We made sure she had the proper attire to help her fit in with the other adult babies. She loved playing in just her t-shirt and diaper as she played in the crib.

See this full set at the link below!

https://justfor.fans/TheABDaycare1?Promo=MAYWEEK1

[riseofthecommonwoodpile]

if you illegally download all of your music and then buy like 2 albums from smaller or independent bands you’ve likely already done more to pay musicians than a year of spotify streaming. just pirate everything and send some walking around money to a couple artists you like. they’re probably on bandcamp, wait till a bandcamp friday. spotify hates you anyways.

[ralfmaximus]

Next Bandcamp Friday is May 1st, 2026!

Even buying from Bandcamp in-between Bandcamp Fridays yields more profits to the artist than Spotify. Bandcamp charges artists 10% to 15% to host their music, compared to $0.003 and $0.005 per stream on Spotify.

That's right, you'd have to play the same song 200 times minimum to earn the artist $1, and 30% of that $1 earned goes to Spotify. Worse, Spotify pays the rights holder these royalties, not the artist. So if your band has a contract with a label, the LABEL gets paid, then the artist gets a percentage of that.

This article is from 2020 but illustrates the issue with an example. The spotlighted artist earned $4200 from Bandcamp via 700 customers in two days. The same artist earned $100 from roughly six years of streaming.

Also, while you can stream from Bandcamp, you can keep your music! Download the mp3 and it's yours forever.

Also also, there's no ads!

Also also also, there's no AI!

WHY are you giving money to Spotify??

[puppygirl-panopticon]

Reminder to check out its album tomorrow for bandcamp friday :))))))))

https://garbagefireunlimited.bandcamp.com/album/sick-like-a-dog

Every little bit helps :)

[thatgirlmilena]

Numbing cream

This morning I had some time to be lazy in the bed before work. I was going to edge, then I remembered the numbing cream. I have Emla for using before laser epilation (to get rid of the hair) on my labia. 

I’ve been fantasizing about BeingFuckedWithNumbingCreamOn SlowlyLosingSensationAnd WastingTheRareChanceToCum for some time now. Wanted to try how it really feels.

I took the cream from the bed side drawer and put a large amount on my finger. 

Even the thought of this made my pussy drip. Without even touching my clit, I was on the edge. It’s all in the mind, after all ;) In my strange mind. 

I reached my clit and rubbed the whole amount in circles, until it was all soaked. Some on the surrounding area too. I made sure there was an excess amount of cream directly on the clit. 

I edged, just from this brief stimulation on my clit. With the thought of the numbing cream, it was so intense. I stopped touching, but I was going to go over the edge, I could feel it. So I opened my legs wide and opened my labia with hands wide, to stop the slightest contact on my clit. Like that, I waited for 10 minutes, and rubbed to test. The sense had decreased, but I could still feel the touch. Ahh it was soo sweet. I waited another 15 minutes and rubbed again. Oh my.. nothing. 

My clit stopped existing. I touched and rubbed and pressed. Nothing. Just a piece of nerveless meat. Like your mouth after the dentist gives you the anesthetic shot.

My clit completely numbed, I reached for my dildo. It is very smooth, polished wood, curved, to press the right spots inside. I started fucking myself with it. There was a lot of pleasure from the dildo too. I thought I was getting close. If I went over the edge I decided to let it happen so that I prove myself that I can cum from penetration only. I would cum, and remove the dildo just when I start to throb, and ruin it. 

Idea of ruining a penetration-only orgasm sounded so evil. Made me hotter. 

I fucked myself so fast with the dildo. Without my clit feeling nothing, the pleasure was intense, but just not enough. Or maybe it would be enough if I could continue as long as necessary but my arm would get so tired after like 4-5 minutes I’d need to stop and rest. With each frenzied thrust, I edged. With each stop for rest, I calmed down. As I was fucking myself with the dildo like crazy I heard these inner voices of some strangers I imagined playing with me:

 “This is all you get for pleasure now. Your clit is gone. Kaputt. Nada. All you get is penetration only. Cum from this.” 

This was so hot and I was so close I was panting and moaning in the bedroom out loud and sweating… Yet I could not go over that edge.

More than an hour of furiously trying, my arms were very tired, and my body was very frustrated. I gave up. I dressed, and came to work.

My clit came back like half and hour later I left home. It started throbbing with need under my jeans.

I have been at work for 3 hours. I can not do real work. I can not concentrate on anything. The ache on my pussy has consumed me. The need is overwhelming.

When I talk to my colleagues, it’s like I’m faking the conversation. What I’m really thinking about is the ache.

Instead of doing proper work, I am typing this on my laptop, getting wetter and more needy as type it.

[female-orgasm-denial]

I really shouldn’t show you this, you’ll never get it out of your head. Whoops.

[kinkedbycalliope]

Ever since he brought her home, she’s had their hearts completely. Instantly acquiescing to her newfound position as baby of the family, they couldn’t help but find themselves doting upon and cooing at her constantly. They loved to dress her up in the poofiest, twirliest dresses and watch her spin and skip around showing off. They’d ask her to twirl for them again and again, clapping their hands with each precious pirouette and smiling encouragements to the blushing girl until she dizzied herself up and fell over on her adorably round, padded bottom. Because being their bubbly babygirl meant they kept her in not only the poofiest, silliest dresses, but also the poofiest, silliest diapers!

And right on cue with her tumble, their little sweetheart’s wails pierced the air. They swept in to comfort her- Dad scooping her up into his arms, Mom asking where it hurts so she can kiss the booboo, both of them shushing her and wiping her tears and assuring her she was okay. “Maybe tummy time is more your speed, sweetie.” Dad suggested lovingly through her sniffles before setting her down on her blankie on the floor. “We can try twirlies again another time, but for now let’s just get you settled down here all safe and sound.” They loved when she behaved so helplessly, and she loved when they showered her with so much attention.

So their delicate, little babygirl she would always be. Submitting to their every infantile desire for her because they praised and rewarded her so much for it. They gave her second helpings of dessert when she was an extra messy eater in her high chair, smearing her food all over face and getting it tangled in her hair. They ooo’ed and awww’ed over the nursery rhyme performances she put on for them and their friends. They took pictures for her baby book when she was lost in play with her toys.

Their giggly little girl forever <3

[kinkedbycalliope]

Have I ever mentioned to yall how osessed I am with the idea of sorta psychologically manipulating someone through scents? Like I always wear this one specific perfume when I domme because I want the sub to associate that fragrance with me and feelings of submission to me.

What would be really fun though, would be to subvert their expectations and wear my special lil perfume on just a random day, outside of the usual context they experience it in. Suddenly they’re looking at me all doe eyed and whimpering, and they have no clue why, but have they mentioned how good I smell today?

Like imagine getting someone all flustered just because you walked by smelling like vanilla and jasmine and coconut.

(My domme perfume also puts me in a headspace at this point, so I guess I’ve kinda psychologically manipulated myself through olfactory senses…)

[kinkedbycalliope]

Training someone to rely on the smell of pissy diapers to get them off….

[diapereddoe]

Let's get a diaper check of the big baby.

It’s hiding under my jammies

[little-victim-lulu]

The concept of kinky Sunday school... where all the littlest go downstairs into a little room hidden away and watch some little cartoons that brainwash them slowly and teach them to be good. Then all the littles just play games or colour pictures that are meant to reinforce their brainwashed states and teach them pure obedience and how to be the very bestest boys and girls. All the while the grown ups are upstairs having a bunch of fun on their knees.