Tag Archives: good girl
These things made me feel loved
Some men have worried in the past that they’re not able to dispense exactly the kind of love that I crave – i.e. relentless praise, on an almost minute-by-minute basis, lest I wilt like a houseplant you’ve forgotten to water. To be honest, I often find myself worrying about this too. In an ideal world I’d be the recipient of an almost constant stream of written, physical and verbal encouragement – reminders that I’m sexy, fun, valid, wanted, loved. A good girl. I need this kind of thing so much that those I rely on to help me feel loved might think it borderline sarcastic to plough on even during the (frequent) periods when I’m not doing much to deserve it. I understand this. But there are other ways to make me feel loved, and one of the ways I practice love in return is by noticing and mentioning them…
Giving head like a goddess: a tribute to the blow job
This incredible story about giving head like a goddess and getting fucked like a slut is written and read by Sundial, and originally appeared on her website.
Kneeling naked at your feet I look up into your eyes.
“Be a good girl for me and we’ll get you off.”
The cane – counting strokes
This fabulous sexy snippet about the cane is written by Sirensgrace from Fetlife, and it’s read here by Girl on the Net.
The cane lands across my ass with a sharp crack, pushing a moan from my lips.
In which I fuck the furniture
Apropos of absolutely nothing, I’m going to tell you a story about this one time (ages ago) when I fucked the furniture. Specifically a bed. And technically, properly, I guess if you want to get right down to the nitty-gritty detail of the thing, it wasn’t just ‘me fucking a bed’, it was ‘us’. Because while I shagged the bed with my excellent and adventurous vagina, the man I loved was having a valiant go at simultaneously fucking me up the arse. Let’s do this.
Just a set of fuck-holes
This glorious story about being used as a set of fuck-holes is written and read by the fabulous Sundial, and originally appeared on her website.
And here I am, a nearly naked shackled X bent at the middle. The lower part of the X is formed by my gorgeous new spreader bar. My ankles are wrapped in the supple leather that are its cuffs, unable to move. My torso is laid face down on the table. My arms are stretched out, tits squashed under me. My wrists are secured in leather shackles which you (rather ingeniously) attached with belts to the legs at the far end of table, forming the upper part of the X. There is no give at all, I cannot move.