Date idea i get disgustingly drunk and beg you to hit me
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@pr3ttylilpuppy
Date idea i get disgustingly drunk and beg you to hit me

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just thinking about more bruises more bruises more bruisessssss darker bruises more bruises
starting to worry that i’m a massive pervert
wanna write some lines. a pretty little book for writing lines.
with a small dedication from you.
ugh and bleeding lips. bleeding lipsssss. how did we even used to get there

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idk it’s not even the sharp stuff it’s your hands on my face. head. in my hair. ur hands feel so large. and its hard not to want to lean into your cupped palm around my face, to relax into your touch. and flashing instinct for that paired with the hit just sends me somewhere. you’re soft and safe and you’re hurting me and it’s confusing and it’s hot. you’re safe but you get off on hurting me, you want to hurt me, you like that i’m hurting. something feels good and something hurts and my visions blurred from the gloss in my eyes and the hair across my face
oh thinking about being hurt, thinking about it a lot. spacey at my desk with a ramsey soundtrack. would kill for a night out followed by a rough fuck, godddddddd. fuckkkkkk.
mindlessly playing with my tits, focused on something else. maybe you’re working on something, maybe we’re watching a film. and i whimper when you pull or pinch too hard, and you barely turn your head, a condescending “ohh” or imitation of the sound in response. just that. nothing more.
Frank appreciation post (these pics specifically are 😏😏😏)
nothing will EVER
i miss being pinned up somewhere whilst you work. unable to stand perfectly still for long, so writhing. and you come up to me occasionally to write smth on my body or adjust a clamp or tug on a leash. i love when you use my collar to pull me around.
and my hands secured above me. can’t cover my face. i have to look into your eyes and say what u tell me, repeating or answering questions, whatever.
e5 stands out so much when i think about kinky stuff. it was much newer to us both.
you’ve started a few weekends with a sweetly suggested threat of spending the day tied up. i’ve been missing it. i just don’t think i’ll look how you want me to.

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i loooove having to stay quiet when i’m being fucked. once i was being fucked while someone was right outside the door and he put a hand over my mouth to silence me
thinking about it way too often
“you have got to shut me up” i spoke it away from you, into the room, loud and almost laughing. the hotel felt so quiet and the other rooms so close to us, the footsteps in the hallway all too clear.
your “no” immediately halted me, oh i love it when you’re sure, when you stop me in my tracks.
“baby, we are in a hotel room”, your tone was deeper, darker, your voice closer, words murmured into my ear - intentionally or not, my body on yours the way it was - and i let my head roll back as you fucked further into me, fucked more sound out of me.
god i’m fucking horny. i want to sit on your cock and watch us fuck in the mirror, your hands on my waist, i want to kneel in front of you and taste you i want you to hit me and grab me, your hand in my hair, i want you to push me me down until i’m gagging again and again, pleading you to let me up but, oh, what’s that, baby? i can’t hear you with all that cock in your mouth. what do you need, baby? and letting me up to breathe a bit, holding my face with that sweet faux pity on your face. i want to be hit until i can’t take it i want you to get yourself off using me FUCK
i’ve been wondering what was so special about the last time, for your hands to feel that good.
i think it was the slow start, whilst i was sleepy—i’ve been sleepier than you the last two times; dozing off when you’re gone brushing your teeth, you coming back and getting comfy and pulling me towards you with the lights off. mumbling a question of if rain sounds.
we slept for a couple hours, i woke up just a bit, my bra still very much on and very uncomfortable. your hands were already on me. i just like your hands on me so much. i was still too asleep to say words. you understood me eventually, easing the top over my head and the straps over my arms, hands everywhere (searching across the length of my body so easily, it always puts me at ease, even if i get kickier, even if i try to move away—“did i ask?” “do you think you have a choice?”—), pulling me in again. running your hands over my legs, then lingering for just a moment. i’d woken up more by then, enough to drink in my favourite scene unfolding; the room dark, your hands just feeling large. the flashes of pleasure as you skim over my underwear, spreading my legs for more without really making the decision.
i’m usually waiting for you to take it away abruptly at this point. it feels so much better when you don’t, when i soak in every moment, because i’m sure you’ll stop any second now. but you didn’t. and you did that thing i’ve tried to explain before though i don’t think you’ve ever really understood me; running your fingers over me without much pressure at first, then dipping in just a bit, and using how wet i’m getting, pushing your fingers in. god that felt incredible. and the next day, too, i was on my tummy and you to my left, we’d been watching something, our attention drifted, you moved down and, again, i felt weak. chills-and-goosebumps weak, completely-drop-my-head-against-the-mattress weak, all of my body around your fingers in my cunt. not too hard, not too fast, just absolutely fucking incredible.
i think i need a bigger gag. i love the mask, but it doesn’t shut me up. there are times i need to be shut up.

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need a drunk messy and greedy kiss
thinking of riding u