Inspiration comes in such beautiful forms, sometimes In words, sometimes in scents, but sometimes we are very lucky and our inspiration comes from the lovely people we meet in our lives... I am Kitten, and I am a dollie. Welcome to my musings xoxo.
This blog is nsfw, 18+, and while I will do my best to give credit... I will take down any photo upon request.
Hugs I need em
Oh tonight was a rough night… I could go for some good ol’ cuddles for sure.
Fistful of Fear
There’s something about good intentions and bad results, he was sure there was. It probably applied here, too, fired out of a cannon and ricocheted through a few concept revisions, until it popped out the other side here, with a replica in his hand and a little less resolve than he needed.
It was heavy. That wasn’t helping. If it was light it would have been a fortunate reminder that this was all just for show, that even if she’d been pulled into the fantasy, he could remain happily behind the curtain, pulling strings instead of feeling the tug against himself. Not for the first time he considered whether this was a bad idea.
He’d wanted to scare her. See fear in her eyes, the real stuff, not just what she allowed in the moment. See whether there was a difference, and whether the real thing would lose the magic, whatever it was that tickled at his insides and made him feel so completely connected to her. That might be preferable; it would make him feel a little less like he was playing with fire, a little less that he hadn’t already singed his fingertips, burnt off his eyebrows. That his sadism was codependent, tightly wound around care, inextricable.
He’d wanted her to be afraid, but now it was him. Sat there with all but a gun in his hand, he felt the cool hand of fear settle on his shoulder, wrap around his belly. It was a stranger, stranger than it should have been, belying how proud he had been. Kept on pushing beyond the point of safety, and then a little further on from that. And she’d rolled with every punch, turned over and asked for another. They were a perpetual motion machine, hurtling towards… well, this.
The door was ajar. He could hear the creak of jute creep through that crack, and it sounded like a come hither. Like a tease, a plea, the sort of request he shouldn’t be putting off just to have a miniature morality crisis.
He put it to his head. Felt the barrel dig into his temple, cold metal against his skin carrying all the consideration of a judge’s gavel. It felt right, like it had all the weight it needed to have, like it would carry the scene. Now he just had to do it. Walk out there and scare her like he wanted to. Like she wanted him to.
Which is the only thing that put enough power in his legs to stand. Knowing that there had been a conversation, and her eyes had lit up at the idea of it. The timbre of her voice had changed, shifted up half a semi-tone, and she’d wriggled on her seat.
She’d be wondering where he was. Or she’d be entirely in her own head, lost in the scene, and whatever it was she thought about when he left the room. He was pretty sure this would bring her back. Take her a little way the other side, too.
There was just the one way to find out, though, and it sat on the other side of that door.
This is intensity…
*gasssps* it’s magic! I love storytime with you Daddy <3
"Nope. Eyes on the mirror."
There was this look in her eyes, halfway between accusation and begging, all frustration and embarrassment mixed together, that just did things to me. Does things to me, even thinking about it. It’s like she wants to bury her face against my legs and punch me in the stomach at the same time.
Her eyes did drop, fix on that odd perspective looking down the length of herself. She didn’t enjoy it, I could see that much, from the way she’d shift from one foot to the other, and her eyes would move up, just slightly, so that she could stare at the ceiling, or admire the rich plush of the curtains.
"Say it, then. Tell yourself what you want."
Which was the whole point of this. To find a compromise that would act as a key to whatever mental lock she’d managed to affix to her desires. I could see them, teeming desperately below the surface of everything she said, and each time she tried to give a voice to them she’d dwindle into an inaudible mess, before nervously smiling and looking away. If it wasn’t so cute it would be frustrating.
It was a little frustrating, but I wasn’t about to let her know that. Instead we had a mirror, a mediator, translator, interpreter. Something to give her the illusion of privacy, or just to direct her attentions towards something else, and let her finally say the things she wanted to say.
Or maybe not. I was just flinging things at the wall at this point, seeing what stuck. And here she was, not talking, just staring at herself in reflection, eyes slightly narrowed as if she wasn’t sure she particularly enjoyed the look she was giving herself.
Finally, she just looked up, looked me straight in the eye, and pursed her lips.
"Eugh, this is ridiculous. I’ll just say it." If she was expecting me to interject, respond, do anything but sit there with a mildly surprised look on my face, she was to be disappointed. "I want you to fuck me til it hurts." Her voice faltered, coming to abrupt stop, and as a second passed, then another, I almost spoke. It was a start, after all. But then she continued. "I want you to prove to me, without a doubt, that it’s possible to make me walk funny tomorrow. I want you to cover me with marks, scratches, bruises. I don’t want to be able to think tomorrow, let alone move, without feeling an ache somewhere. I want you to take an hour, now, and fuck up the next twenty four for me."
She took a step back after that. Away from the mirror, and away from me. It sat there, halfway between the two of us, and it looked very much like a glove, from where I was sitting. Thrown at my feet, with nothing but an expectant look and perhaps a smirk. She was blushing, sure, but she didn’t look embarrassed, not any more. She almost looked relaxed.
Which wouldn’t do. Not when she’d just laid all that out. Something would have to be done.
This is soooo me, I have such a hard time getting things out.