You do slap them from time to time. But you’ve never used anything harsher… yet.

dage:

Yes, little one, it is time

ninanineta: (via anaistheninja)

I’ll end here for the night, because this right here is the whole deal.  It’s not just that you make me feel vulnerable—it’s that you know it. You can tell.  And you know what to do about it too.  Sweet dreams Love.

sheslostcontrol-again:

“It was the sort of bone deep emotion that made him want to hold her tighter with one hand, and draw a sword against the world with the other.”   — Jeaniene Frost

(via ridingwild)

I still think back sometimes to the very first time you touched me… how you read my body and knew exactly what to do… like you knew every inch of me already.

quickienewyork:

nymphoninjas

Of course if I start feeling too fragile, I could always snag a pair of these babies.

thewhore:

i have these knickers. and i feel secretly invincible when i wear them. 

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that physical vulnerability hinges on this simple fact: you are stronger than me, and can take what you want.

kenzielogic:

“I said for you to keep those legs spread, little one.”

Exposed and waiting.  I can feel you behind me, watching my breath quicken… watching as I slowly begin to drip down my own thighs from the anticipation…

awhispertoascream:

Yes, pet, just like that.

I want to open to you. I want you to see everything I have.

Good God read this.  When I say we’ve just scratched the surface Baby I mean it.  We have so much left to explore.

bendingsubmission:

ilikeitsexy

My first submissive partner had a sweet spot, at the union of her lower back and the top of her ass. I say sweet because I often found my fingers lingering there for lengthy amounts of time for unknown reasons. It wasn’t as though her skin felt better there, just a place I gravitated to regularly. I don’t know much about chakras, but I’d be willing to bet hard cash one of them lies here.

We came back from a party one night. She slipped out of her dress and spread herself across me like this. l love a woman who makes a natural habit of sliding out of dresses while leaving her heels on. As I stroked her hair, my fingers found their way to that sweet spot. This time, out of curiosity, instead of just drawing small circles, I slowly added a little pressure. When I did, she arched her back slightly. Interesting. I increased the pressure again. A small moan. Back of the throat. Almost a purr. Fascinating. More pressure. A deeper moan, and her legs flipped up, crossing themselves. The legs and the heels and the sight of her were having an effect. I felt myself growing stiff against her cheek. She did as well. Ran her tongue and lips along me through the fabric. More pressure from my hand in response, like kneading bread. More insistence from her mouth that my clothes come off, in the form of her teeth against me.

We continued this little exercise of escalation, until I could feel her agitation. I was always more patient. She told me of the warmth running from my hand through her. Told me the warmth was making her very slick. Said I should investigate. As tempting as that was, I responded by bearing down. I wanted her warmer. Wanted to see her drip. Told her so. Her response was gorgeous. A little gasp. The one that comes from being pushed past willful, to wanton. She began slowly fucking the air, where she wanted my hand, quietly pleading for fingers to fuck her. Taking a firm grip of hair at the base of her skull, I leaned in. Told her it would be so easy. To bury them. Deep. Only a matter of moving my hand a few inches. But I wanted something else. I wanted her to come. Just from this.

So I told her.

The moment I said it, a little tremor raced through her and left in a something between a breath and a moan. Tight circles with both my middle fingers deepened. Her nails raked the sofa slowly. I told her to hold on, with her teeth. The moan was muffled as she sank them into me. I tightened my grip on her hair, and pinned her sweet spot with pressure. The tension in her body escalated, drawing it so taut there was no motion. No moan. No exclamation. For a moment I thought I’d lost her. Too far. Then I heard her toes curling against the leather of her shoes. I knew she had snapped. Silently. Then the first buck. Christ, the first buck. Involuntary. Her spine breaking loose and dancing, wracking her body in the sweetest, deepest convulsions. I slid my hand down to her ass, cupped it and ground more out of her. Always more. I would pull it from her like gold. 

I don’t know how long she shook. I do remember in the middle of it, I felt pre cum running down my thigh like a river. It felt better than coming. I remember being acutely aware this was our gift to each other. I would be patient. Find the secrets on her skin. Unlock them. She would entrust them to me. Show me her true self. This would make us whole. We didn’t move for quite some time. I stroked her hair while the aftershocks rippled through her. We both knew words would feel cheap if they left our lips.

You leave me open, gasping, head swimming and ready for anything.

sheslostcontrol-again:

He handled her in whatever manner He chose. Her pleasure would come at His discretion.

I can feel myself flush, thinking about you slowly removing my panties, your eyes taking it all in, taking your time as you decide what to do next.

sheslostcontrol-again:

“Just be quiet and do as you’re told, pet. I’ll take care of the rest.”

(via z-z, papiersgras)

Part of why I like it rough may be that I can hold onto that defiance the whole time.  This is the part of me that I’m comfortable with… but also the part that you see right through.

ridingwild:

she was the picture of fierce feline defiance

and she meant to stay that way

after all, what she really wanted

was to be taken hard

like a horse to be tamed

and a whore to be owned

and no whimpering little girl 

would ever get that feral run

she was bound, but she was in tacit heated control…

I imagine doing this for you—letting you watch, not just for a minute, but from start to finish.  Thinking about it gives me a rush of adrenaline and makes my cheeks burn.  I cannot picture getting all the way to the end without thinking about turning away, or burying my face in your chest.  I don’t know why… you’ve seen me make this face before.  It just seems different to think of you just watching. I’ve made myself wet just by writing this.

The caption below is right on the money.

discourse:

the difficult part was not as she clenched her teeth sensing his arm coming toward her, the hard part was not resisting the sudden jolt forward as his hand came  into contact with her, the hard part was not coping with the sharp sting where his skin met hers, the hard part was not the intense heat of the spreading pain, the hard part was not knowing that it would happen again and again…

the hard part was bending before him, exposing herself, imagining what was to come.