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nsfw, poll and slutposting under the cut.
i wonder what color they’d like…
i have dark red, light red, baby pink, black…
baby pink and black are practically just scraps of lace, they don’t cover much..
dark red has a little opening in the front, like a tit window, almost but for…yeah.
and the light red has this little heart chain that goes across the back..
i have this pretty black top, too! i just wonder what color they’d like… won’t you help me choose?
filthy, gross, disgusting mutt. posting on tumblr as if they’ll see, praying they’ll tell you what to do? pathetic. and stupid, if you think about it.
you are not a good dog.
nsfw.
make me wear one of those pretty, girly underwear pairs, and the plug. make me walk around the house, doing my chores, every movement jostling me from the inside, soaking through the pretty lace…
nsfw.
i’m home all alone today. not a soul besides me in this house. alone, with my selection of toys.
damn shame you aren’t here.
this is a shitpost.
nsfw. tw.
please, please, please.
i need you to tell me how to do it. how to get off. i can’t..i can’t do anything unless you’re telling me how.
i need to give up control, let myself be a little braindead, let myself be truly yours, in every sense of the word.
mark me up, from the inside and the outside. i want to be nothing but a myriad of purples and blues and swollen reds, nothing but a walking show of your affection.
i’d let you call me the nastiest, most vile names. i’d let you use me whenever you want…i’m made for your pleasure. i’d let you use me whenever…please do. that’s how i know you enjoy having me around.
i woke up like this, and it’s awful. i feel squirmy and pathetic and disgusting. i feel like someone’s abandoned puppy, wandering the streets, waiting for be picked up by some kind soul…
i’ll be so, so good for you. the perfect dog. just please, keep me around? don’t toss me to the side once you’re done with me…
I love obeying, I love taking orders, tell me how to masturbate, tell me what porn I should watch, i'll do anything
nsfw.
please, please touch me. i’ve been so good, i deserve it, don’t i?
i just want you to set the rhythm, the pace, the energy. i want you to be in control.
tell me what toys to use, how fast to go, how high the vibrations should be…tell me what to do.
i’m always in control. let me give up the reigns.
please ?
call me your pretty boy.
your angel, your darling, your slut.
i don’t care, as long as i’m yours.
the undeniable, deep-rooted urge to call them some sort of title, some sort of ranking.
because they’re simply better than me, and i must address them as such. correct?