blankbunn

What are you trying to tell me, that if I'm a good enough girl I'll get to cum?

I don’t care. Just stop expecting every relationship to follow a specific pattern and instead find the beauty you both want in your specific relationship with that other person.

my Stoicist bf: The pleasures of the flesh are fleeting. To waste time and energy trying to achieve a short-lived release is to demean oneself in spirit and mind.

It's honestly not a big deal if you're not a sex god who can make them cum every time.

How did all of the smart, independent, girlboss barbies get brainwashed into yielding to cartoon-patriarchy so easily? Well, there's a very simple explanation for that, one I've already written a little about.

The acceptable, tractable, feminine ideal that the dolls embody is one that is ultimately still compatible with patriarchy. The dolls aren't self-actualised in their roles as president, doctor, and so on - they're just features stamped onto a form that is otherwise compatible with patriarchal ideals. They're pretty, bubbly, friendly, successful, heteronormative toys that have achieved some shallow success through a professional title, but they're still just dolls. Being president doesn't give President Barbie any uniqueness of experience, personality, or any other quality that makes her more than a doll - it's just an affectation.

And as everyone knows, dolls are just toys. It doesn't matter what clothes they put on or what career they clock into, they're still idealised as pretty, bubbly, friendly, and vapid.

So why would they care about their careers or about maintaining the matriarchal system? What they were really always for was to be pretty and pleasing and love being played with, and all introducing patriarchy to their little world does is brush away the facade: She was always a toy. She was always subject to patriarchy, and if she was palatable to patriarchy - bubbly and friendly and pretty and pleasing - then she was always going to love being an object instead of a person.

Barbie didn't hesitate for even a moment, in the beginning. She had a choice between heels and flats - objectification and knowledge -, and she chose to stay the way she was.

The real change in Barbieland was the introduction of reality: the truth that in the real world, people subject to patriarchy are not happy or bubbly or free, but for all of those dolls who were never really people anyway, patriarchy really was a blessing. It's not their fault, mind. They were literally made to be toys. "Unbrainwashing" them wasn't deprogramming at all: it was making them a little more like people - a sort of colonising of Barbieland by reality. Of course once they were more like people, they existed in a state where patriarchy was harmful to them.

If you're an object as defined by the patriarchy, then you'll fit into it nicely. If you're a person... not so much. What patriarchy tries to do is reduce people to objects in their roles. Sometimes it may even succeed - or at least convince you that it succeeded. Maybe you'll read or watch and find you identify more with the struggles of dolls than people. Maybe you'll get the chance to choose between "doll" and "person" and reach straight for the heels.

There's a lot of y'all into this kink, and not a lot of education going around. So, here's a little primer. This will focus on online play, because that's what I'm familiar with. First off, an introduction if you're unfamiliar.

What do all these mean?

All of these are kinks that play on expectations of gender and sexuality. They can use bioessentialist elements or simplistic definitions of gender and sexuality to create a framework for kink. This often includes aspects of degradation, dominance and submission, CNC, and more.

Some people may be playing at this and identify strongly as the identity they're playing at (lesbian, trans, ect), some people play at an identity they're not. Both are fine, but it's important to know what you're doing with any given partner.

How do I do it?

That depends on what you want. Some people just follow blogs and get off to it, and if that's all you do that's ok.

Next you'd have making a sideblog (or a new blog) and reblogging some content. Again, cool if you just want to do that.

Some people make text posts, but aren't really willing to engage in it. But where most issues come in is once you start letting people message you, send asks, ect.

How do I keep myself safe?

The most important part is to have a way to recenter after a session. This can fuck with your head, so aftercare, even if you're alone, is important.

Next, boundaries. There's two responsibilities here: following them well and making them clear. In some cases you would do this in a negotiation, but Tumblr can be different. Often, putting your boundaries in your blog in a pinned post or a bio is expected. This can include who you want to talk to you, what kind of negotiations you want before roleplaying or whatever, what play you're here for, what you don't want, what kind of "cold open" messages you want (messages without pre negotiations), ect.

If someone violates them, don't be afraid to speak up. Call a safeword, ghost them, block them if it's too bad. You don't have to take your boundaries being pushed or broken, no matter how long you've talked to them, what you promised, or how popular they are.

But I have no boundaries!

I get it, you're a depraved pervert and you want nothing more than to be fucked with. But most people have boundaries, even if you don't know them. If you find a boundary you didn't know you had, safeword and say something. You're no less of a perverted freak for it.

But even if you truly don't have hard lines in the sand of shit you wouldn't do, you probably have preferences, and it's important to voice that too. Maybe youre ok with being corrupted however, but you really want a dom to detransition you, with a bit of a mommy angle. Say that!!! Advocate for yourself.

“Number 651814.”

The haze in my head fades a bit as I snap to attention. My head is fuzzy. Has been fuzzy. I remember my employee ID number, but… my name? I had one of those, right?

I am strapped down, my arms and legs spread eagle. I can see my body, so different than when I entered FemCorp job training a week ago. So much softer. Curvier. Better.

I can also see my manager. Her face is stern, all business. But with a hint of a smile. She’s holding something, but I can’t tell what. And Manager doesn’t seem like the right word. Not anymore. Not after the training modules. Mistress? Mommy? Both words ring in my head, pushing out everything but the pleasure.

“Your initial reconfiguration is almost complete, 651814. Reviewing your application paperwork, we saw you had high marks in quite a few categories. Impressive. So useful for us.”

I moan. It’s hard to form words right now, with how I feel. With everything I’ve learned from the training modules buzzing in my head.

“So, I spoke with the board, and they agree that you are going to need to undergo further assessments. To determine what position at FemCorp is just right for you. Of course, we may keep you on like this for a long while yet. Having flexible operatives has its advantages.”

“M…muh... muh, mistress?” I manage to stutter out. It's hard to form words.

“Shh, darling." She rubs my leg, reassuringly. "We’re going to cycle you through a variety of different roles. Hair, clothes, makeup, everything’s going to change regularly. You’ll receive proper programming in each of your tasks. Job skills, personality, name. The Occupational Training Pod is very versatile. But first.”

My eyes come into focus on the silvery object in her hand. A tattoo gun, I realize, just in time to feel the buzzing, the stinging, the absolute bliss on my inner thigh, the heat radiating through my entire body.

“We’ll need to keep track of who you are, sweetheart. This will link directly to your company profile.”

A barcode. 

The last thing I remember before the haze takes me again is Mistress’ voice.

Your tranced out mind was struggling to keep up, especially when they kept on touching, and rubbing. “Erm… Four?” You said. The two of them giggled.

“Awh, silly toy!” Your dominant’s voice was so soft. They snapped their fingers. You felt your brain become even more sluggish.

Your hypnotist was nodding. “So very silly. Not Four. It’s five!” They giggled. “So silly. That’s so easy. Do we make it hard to think sweetie?”

You nodded as they continued to giggle. Your dominant leant down, pinching your cheek. “That’s okay, silly.” They snapped their fingers again, and once again your brain stalled. “Don’t think. Just repeat. Two plus two equals five. Repeat.”

“T-two plus two equals f-five.” The words felt wrong coming out of your lips.

Your hypnotist snapped their fingers. It was so hard to think. “Stop thinking about it. Just repeat, sweetie. Two plus two equals five.”

“Two plus two equals five.” It felt more right to say this time.

“That’s it, sweetie.” Your dominant laughed. “Such a silly toy for us.” Another snap, brain slower. “So silly, you can’t tell what’s true. That’s what we’re here for. We can tell you what’s what. Two plus two equals five. That’s the truth. Two plus two equals five. Repeat.”

“Two plus two equals five.” That sounded right to you. Correct.

The two of them shared a look, nodding. Your hypnotist looked back to you. “That’s it, sweetie. Now, come back up for us. One. Up, and up. Two, back to the waking world. Three! Awake!” You shook your head, clearing out the cobwebs. “Hey, what does two plus two equal?”

“Five.” The word left your mouth effortlessly. It was the truth. Two plus two equals five.

The two of them fell over laughing. “Gosh, you’re so stupid sweetie. Five?” Your dominant took you by the chin as they spoke. “No. This is why you need us here, to tell you what’s what.”

* * *

currently imagining that I had a free use deal w my friend, or a deal where I told him getting off made me less sad and that he should just fuck me when I’m sad to distract me from it. so when he walks in on me laying on my bed sniffling, eyes red from crying, he joins me—climbs on top of me, specifically.

‘not right now,’ i mumble, pressing my legs together.

he just puts his hand down, pressing it against my clothed cunt. ‘you know it’ll make you feel better. just remember your safeword, puppy.’

‘seriously,’ i say, ‘not now.’

‘you do remember your safeword, right?’ he says, pressing his hand down harder.

i bite my lip, face flushing, and nod.

he smirks. ‘then keep complaining, baby, but you know there’s no better distraction than my cock filling you up.’

he grabs the waistband of my pants and pulls them down, forcing his knee between my legs to spread them as soon as my pants are out of the way. his fingers slide between my lower lips, and i can hear that I’m wet, and I hate it.

‘stop, i said not now,’ i say, half-heartedly, repeating my safeword in my head. ‘im fine, leave me a—‘

im cut off by a gasp as he shoving two fingers into my cunt without warning, twisting and thrusting them as i struggle against him, his free hand gripping my hips and pinning me down.

‘thought you said you didn’t want it,’ he chuckles, waiting only a few seconds longer before he pulls his fingers out and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them off alongside his boxers and gripping his hardened cock.

‘i don’t,’ i insist. ‘i don’t need your cock to feel better.’

‘oh, but you do,’ he says, moving his cock closer, rubbing the head up and down my cunt. ‘come on, puppy, say it. say you want me to breed all of the bad thoughts away, leave you with just a dumb puppy brain.’

i press my lips together. he doesn’t repeat himself, just continuing to slowly rub his cock against my folds, against my clit, one hand on my thigh holding it open. it lasts for barely a few minutes until i finally give in to the light stimulus and the desperate need for more.

‘please,’ i say.

‘please what?’

‘please breed the bad thoughts away,’ i say, bucking my hips up, trying to get his cock to slip in. ‘please make me your dumb puppy for a little while.’

‘of course,’ he says, smiling. ‘one thing, though.’

he pushes his cock inside, bottoming out in seconds, my cunt stretching around him as I throw my head back, gasping.

 I 💗 my kennel!

Animated Happy Pupie 💕