Kitty Blog :3

are they gone? okay. you are a knight and i am your childhood friend but the key point is we've been in love for years and years and years and every time you come back from a quest i'm there.

and every time, i wipe the blood from your face and bandage your wounds, and you catch my hand and press it harder over the cloth, and it hurts you but it feels good, too, because it's my hand that's doing it, and because of this quiet unspoken thing between us that will never be because of the oaths you've made to others.

and then one day an enemy of yours tracks me down and i am your one weakness, and you came back to the quiet village and i am not there, and the houses are burning, and you raze every inch of ground between us

but it's a trap (obviously it's a trap) and you are caught and i am there, and your enemy vows to destroy your world as you have destroyed his (and this is how i find out that you are not the good person i thought you were) (and how i find out that i don't care, i'll have you anyway, if we survive this thing)

and then while you are restrained your enemy hurts me just to see you scream, and i won't beg even though nothing has ever hurt this bad, and you are raging against your chains, with this look in your eye that's fear, not rage, because for all your vows i am the only thing you love.

and then you get free and you kill him and you toss his body aside like it doesn't even matter (because it doesn't, only i matter, i am the only thing in the world) and you undo my bindings with shaking hands and you say damn my oaths, i will slay a thousand kings if you ask it of me, and i smile finally with blood on my teeth and you kiss me

man up

the fuck you're yelling for it's literally just a hunting knife

you're actually getting off on this?

stop fucking crying bitch

“Back in the eighties dungeons were becoming a thing in New York. Guys would pay a lot of money to come there and have some dominatrix tell them what to do. I was making leather pencil skirts for a lot of the doms, with holes in the back so that guys could kiss their ass. One day I was fitting a dom named Asia, and I told her: ‘I bet I could make more money than you without wearing stuff like this.’ She bet me I couldn’t. It was all a big goof. But then I started really thinking about it. Asia was making $150 a session, and that was real money. So I did the same thing I always do when I get an idea. I just ran an ad in the back of the Village Voice. Most of these girls were advertising how young they were. So I used the word ‘mature.’ And I figured out how to write ‘Jewish Guys Welcome’ in Yiddish, and I put that at the bottom. It was some of the easiest money I ever made. I never let them touch me. All I had to do was be a bossy black woman. And I could do that easy because my mother had been such a bitch. I’d pretend to be a school teacher, or a nanny. It was the dumbest shit. I just kept inventing crazy scenarios. And the crazier the scenario, the more money I made. One time I heard about a dom on the Upper East Side who charged $3,000 a week to kidnap a guy and lock him in her basement. I didn’t have a basement, but I knew a limo driver named Dean who liked to hustle like me. So every time I got a call from a new client, I’d say: ‘You want to be kidnapped, don’t you?’ And he’d start stuttering like: ‘Duh, duh, duh, duh.’ And I’d say: ‘Listen to me closely. Stand on the corner of 5th and 18th tomorrow at 3 pm. Don’t be late.’ Then I’d call Dean and tell him the plan. It was always easy to spot the guy. He’d be the one checking his watch and looking scared as shit. So we’d roll up in the limo, grab him by the collar, and pull him inside. Then I’d lock the doors and start telling him what to do. Everything went down in the back of the limo. Dean just rolled up the partition and kept his eyes on the road. At the end I’d give him $100, because I was getting $250 for that.”

losing your hold while you’re on top, careening down on top of your partner in a fit of giggles

harnesses loosening at the one singular moment they shouldn’t

accidentally slipping out and just raw slamming your hips against each other a few times before you notice

body noises. queefing, joints popping, that one moan that kinda sounded weird? who cares, it’s a good time

forgetting where the edge of the bed is in the heat of the moment and almost or actually toppling over off of it

accidentally leaning on someone’s hair

pausing because your pet is clawing for dear life at the door and you can’t concentrate

having to stop because something feels kinda off and it’s more important to figure out what that is

laughter

connection and communication