#kittytxt

[bimbxkitty]

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

This is your reminder to turn your brain off and edge today.

[m0thkitty]

mfs be like that’s my dream girl then make you lose your will to live

[bimbxkitty]

I’m afraid tumblr works a little too well. Instead of spending my time reading something smart, expanding my knowledge… I ended up scrolling again… degrading, mysoginistic posts, getting more and more wet at the thought of being inferior.

[bimbxkitty]

[bimbxkitty]

I love dressing up. Wearing high heels and dresses, carefully doing my hair and makeup to look like a doll, putting on expensive perfume before going out.

All of this only to get ruined the moment I cross the threshold of His house and end up looking like an used slut.

[bimbxkitty]

Wanna elaborate about learning your place after being a feminist?

Thank you for the question. I’ve been thinking a bit about how best to answer it. I decided to share a little of my story and explain how I ended up where I’m today. I also know Master will most likely read this, so I didn’t want to disappoint him with a lack of eloquence.

My story time

I think for a lot of people, just like for me, it starts in a pretty similar way. I was always taught that being a strong, independent woman is important. Handle everything yourself, focus on your future career, make your own decisions. That kind of lifestyle always sounded convincing, even attractive. Freedom, money, no limits. I mean, all my girl friends support that kind of life too, right? Or at least that’s how it looks on the surface.

The problem is independence can actually be exhausting, stressful, and honestly pretty lonely. But I didn’t really want to look at the alternative, because I’ve always liked having my own opinions, and the idea of listening to someone else felt absurd to me.

At the same time though, I had some… pretty specific interests that were hard for me to explain to myself. I slowly started discovering them through the things I read, watched, and felt. And honestly, Tumblr was an amazing source for that kind of content back then. I wasn’t even blogging yet, mostly just lurking and secretly looking at everything. I didn’t understand why I liked the idea of feeling inferior and being dominated, why being forced into submission sounded so attractive, or why the thought of belonging to someone as his property not an equal partner felt so exciting. Mentally, it was something I rejected, but physically my body reacted completely differently. I kept trying to fight it in my head, but deep down I liked it. I told myself it was just curiosity, just stress relief, and that I could stop anytime I wanted. But it’s hard to stop fantasizing about things that leave you dripping wet…

Then I met an amazing Man who basically had everything I wanted in a partner. At first, we were just getting to know each other and enjoying being a couple. For the first time, I felt safe and comfortable enough with someone to slowly start being honest. Pretty quickly we realized we had very compatible interests when it came to kinky stuff. I genuinely wanted to learn more about BDSM, and now I finally had someone I could explore it with. I felt comfortable enough to open up and actually try things instead of treating it like some shameful thing I shouldn’t want.

I started learning more about rules, safety, boundaries, mutual limits, and how important trust and respect are. We slowly started introducing certain things into our relationship, only as much as I felt safe with, and over time it naturally evolved. Honestly, it felt amazing. I discovered my submissive side in practice and realized I really liked it. At first it was more session-based, but somewhere deep down I knew I wanted more, even if I was embarrassed to admit it. He never pressured me. Quickly I fell in love with the psychological side of dominance, taking it outside the bedroom, introducing rules, punishments, and living in a D/s dynamic daily. It felt like my brain could finally stop running at 100% all the time. Like I could let someone else take control, make decisions for me sometimes, and realize it actually wasn’t scary at all. It was calming. Comforting. Like someone was taking all the stress and worries off my shoulders. That’s how our relationship slowly evolved over time.

The whole patriarchy/misogyny kink, the D/s dynamic, giving up control and my choices was tempting but also intimidating. I’m still learning a lot, and I know I still have a lot to work on. Sometimes the shame comes back. Sometimes I want to fight my own nature. I’ve got a personality that probably deserves some taming and way too many opinions. Are they always necessary? Definitely not. I can be bratty sometimes. We joke that I’m basically like a cat, one second cuddling up for attention, the next trying to pull my claws out. But I need rules, structure, punishments to get better. I need someone to guide me, because when I try to do it on my own, I don’t feel good. I feel lost and confused.

I like being a good girl. I like having goals and trying to reach them. This blog is part of that for me. Making Master happy and proud of me gives me a huge amount of satisfaction.

As for irl feminism, I don’t really feel the need to fight against it same as I don’t really feel the need to deny my submissiveness. I still fully believe every woman should have the right to make her own choices and shape her future however she wants. At the end of the day we’re all just people with our own needs and dreams. I just happened to realize that for me, letting go and stepping over to the other side felt right. Turning my brain off and letting a Man take the lead. Does it still embarrass me sometimes? Yeah, honestly it does. But do I really dislike feeling embarrassed? Degraded? Do I hate feeling inferior? The answer becomes pretty obvious as soon as you visit my blog. But more than anything, I just want to be happy and become a better version of myself.

My place is here.

[m0thkitty]

can someone hold me and pat my head for like an hour while i sob pleaaaaaaase pleeeeaaaaseeee please pleeeaaaase ple

[m0thkitty]

Missing you is nothing. It's background noise.

A dull ache I can drown with time and strangers and sleep.

But knowing you, knowing I bent myself into something smaller so you could stand taller, that's the crime scene.

I know how you lied without moving your mouth. I know how you took my devotion like it was owed, like loving you was a resource you were entitled to drain. You let me believe I was chosen while you kept one foot out the door.

Missing you is absence. Knowing you is contamination. It's realizing I loved you with a purity you never deserved and never matched.

Missing you will pass.

Knowing you will stay as a warning, a scar, a lesson written in blood:

I survived loving you.

You'll never survive being you.