tastefullyoffensive:

[via]

I was asked why I get all calm and quiet when given “the look”

It’s a convoluted and complicated story. I’ll try to make it as simple as I can.

I’m a squirmer as you’ve seen. I’m a squeaky squealing happy moaning purring li’l bundle of energy. Even when I’m sad, I mope loudly. I’m also talkative and will chatter more when I’m nervous or excited. 

When I met my.. My beautiful. My Friend. My well he never was really mine. For the purpose of this story let’s go with “Sir” Though he was EVER so much more then that to me. Anyway when I met him, we started to play on that. He loved that I was squirmy but liked knowing he could make me quiet. There is this LOOK that anyone can do, if they think about it hard enough. It says without saying “sit still” “Be quiet” “Be calm” And with a little ooh so yummy positive reinforcement This nommy yummy oh so powerful look worked like nobodies business on me. Sometimes It was okay to chatter. as long as I sat like a good li’l pet there at his booted feet. My bottom perched on my heels, back straight, tits shoved out for the world to see, my li’l hands curled behind me.  

He’d sit me there, in public on the ground, Him on a chair near me. Offering sips out of a glass when I looked parched, or allowing the curious and baffled passers by to offer the “poor little thing” a drink. And I did look Oh so little next to him. He was Big in every which way. I was soo teeny looking there at his feet. In my naughty school girl get up, wearing his collar led by a shiny chain.

I ate the attention up. So I sat good and still. Pretty as a picture. And I was allowed to chatter to my hearts content. Because that amused him too. My wide eyed answers to questions.

“Why do you let him do this to you?”

me: “Let him? I Begged him to!”

“Isn’t the ground cold?”

me: “Oh yes! But Sir fed me a blonde earlier and is letting me drink so I’m nice and warm. And when we go back he may even warm me up!”

And their questions to HIM! ooh jeebis. “Let the girl have a drink” “tell her to get up, she looks so pitiful there” “Order your girl to rub my feet” “Does she have to do EVERYTHING you tell her?” on and on.. the sillly stupid things. Great big beautiful Sir. With his tall boots and his tall frame and his sad lost beautiful eyes. He handled it like a pro. Feeding me sips of strong liquor and having me run little errands so they could watch me bounce.

It was T who taught me quiet. He liked when I squeaked with the spakings but preferred a pretty little pet for decoration. It wasn’t sexual, at least not for me. The spankings did.. something for me but I think they filled me more in ways that I can’t even form words for. Psychological? FuckifIknow. He used THE LOOK to keep me hushed. A finger across his lips if I thought to talk. And If I wasn’t quiet I wouldn’t be allowed to play!  ”GO dance, Bug. Shake your cute ass so they see what they can’t have, then come back and sit by me” But when I came flouncing back out of breath and flushed from pressing against beautiful people on the floor he’d Grab me and throw me over his knee! My fishnet clad ass on display for everyone. He’d tug my panties up a little or down, depending on what we’d discussed was okay earlier, and SMACK! redden my ass to scarlet. Some of his spankings left bruises that lasted days. I loved playing with T. 

R Liked specific feedback. So again that LOOK! I already knew the basics by the time she got me. and we were so perfectly matched she barely needed to lift a brow and I’d go from giddy giggling flirting little sex kitty to oh so still and quiet. Waiting to hear what she wanted. She liked “Thank you R” and “I love you R” and “Yes please” and “HARDER!” and most especially when I dissolved into giggle fits. She liked the noises i made when I was turned on. And the color my skin turned when it was all properly spanked. She loved that she could get SHY little me to get out of my clothes in a FLASH if it was for the right thing. In a room full of strange strangers, with my favorite toy (A violet wand) She had me nude, and arched and begging and moaning for more baby more. she made me CALM knowing that with that look. If I did what she wanted I’d get something so special and precious.

So.. the look makes me calm and expectant and excited and quiet. Because I wonder. I wonder what it means when YOU do it. I go quiet hoping you’ll tell me. Waiting for the next words. An order? A question? A compliment? A demand?

All are potential.

I’m trained for Calm. and that look makes me sooo so so weak. 

And when I use it?

Oh there’s trouble. When I’m in charge even I don’t know what to expect. I can be calm and patient, a good top. All in charge and in control. Giving orders like a pro. Or.. not. I can be chaos with a candle a whirlwind with a bundle of tape. And if I give the look it means the same. “Be calm” “Be quiet” but It usually comes with a direction, just in case. “Stop” and “or else” And if there’s a hint of a smile it may well be because I’m imagining using a belt, a flogger, a big bunch of glow in the dark silly bands held together with a d ring and a prayer to make skin turn fun colors and make lips part. The look can mean “shut up” It can mean “I’m going to fuck you” or just “I’m going to fuck you up” So, when I do it I TRY to tell you (general person the look is directed at) What it is I want. So there’s no confusion. there’s no whining later on that I didn’t SAY! Baby if I have an eyebrow lifted and my pale pale eyes are focased on yours. And those little hairs on the back of your neck go up? That’s Trouble.. 

it’s just that sometimes trouble, well, it can be fun. 

(/drop) 

I agree with:

tmcscandal:

Truth.

Have you ever had a vent, a rant? a thought that you had no place for? As an aspiring writer I have difficulty with this. I feel this need to segregate certain thoughts to certain places. I post often over at fetlife, my sexual dreams and ideas and rants. I keep my more socially acceptable thoughts and ideas in more public forums. I find myself asking.. why? Don’t I want my readers (few as they may be) to know all of me? To see all my work in it’s whole. Good, bad, dirty, warts and all?

I don’t know. I know right now I’m struggling. I have this deliciously filthy story brewing away and I’d like to peck at it I’d like to pick it out to set the scenes and ideas down. But, I don’t know where to put it. Where to share it, or if it’s even worth the bother.

Often times being an artist is.. difficult. 

Had to add this. Hellooooo powerguy! <3 *swoon*

misskitquinn:

urban-bohemian:

San Diego Comic-Con Cosplay Spotlight: Gender Bent Justice League

Gender Bent Justice League is a group of cosplayers who have taken characters associated with DC’s Justice League and transformed them into something that is more Rule 63 than it is crossplay.

“A couple of us like to do female versions of preexisting male characters. One of our friends, Psykitten Pow, she had a female Flash,” says Tallest Silver, who organized the group and who dresses as Batma’am. “One night, we were all hanging out and I said how funny it would be if we had a whole Justice League with swapped sexes.”

so. true.

(via esotericantimetabole)

damn.

I am feeling lonesome today. Got some info that has me upsets today. Things will be fine.. but. :(