A Whirlwwind

rolledtrousers: There are the submissives who are dogs, and those who are cats.  This is where I expose my inner bias, and extol the virtues of the feline. Where I lay down my flag, stab it into the ground and sigh, because of course you can only be one or the other. You have to join the tribe, and whether yours wags its tail for happiness or if you’re on the other side, with the tail swishers, you have to pick one. I like both, but I like cats just a little bit more. Because the dogs are easy. They love you because you put food in their bowl every day, they devalue your love, and care, because the readyness with which they accept it makes it feel as though you aren’t necessary, that any old automaton could perform the same perfunctory tasks and the dog would love it just as much. There are submissives like that, who submit to any Dominant, who need to submit, because it’s at their core.  The cats require work. They’re never truly yours, and while they’re just as beholden to you as their canine counterparts, they manage to create the air of self-sustainability, that they could just walk out of the door and be just fine, thankyouverymuch. It’s the fact that they stick around that makes you appreciate them, and them appreciate you. The submissive who submits out of choice, who bends the knee because you deserve such fealty.  Except that’s bullshit. You can’t pen people in so neatly, and from one day to the next they could switch characteristics without warning, switch from dog to cat, to lizard, for all I know. People aren’t animals, and animals aren’t even the animals that I’m painting them to be. Generalisations work, but specifics work better.  I do like cats though. And dogs like me. I like them for that.(via iaregeri)

rolledtrousers:

There are the submissives who are dogs, and those who are cats. 

This is where I expose my inner bias, and extol the virtues of the feline. Where I lay down my flag, stab it into the ground and sigh, because of course you can only be one or the other. You have to join the tribe, and whether yours wags its tail for happiness or if you’re on the other side, with the tail swishers, you have to pick one. I like both, but I like cats just a little bit more.

Because the dogs are easy. They love you because you put food in their bowl every day, they devalue your love, and care, because the readyness with which they accept it makes it feel as though you aren’t necessary, that any old automaton could perform the same perfunctory tasks and the dog would love it just as much. There are submissives like that, who submit to any Dominant, who need to submit, because it’s at their core. 

The cats require work. They’re never truly yours, and while they’re just as beholden to you as their canine counterparts, they manage to create the air of self-sustainability, that they could just walk out of the door and be just fine, thankyouverymuch. It’s the fact that they stick around that makes you appreciate them, and them appreciate you. The submissive who submits out of choice, who bends the knee because you deserve such fealty. 

Except that’s bullshit. You can’t pen people in so neatly, and from one day to the next they could switch characteristics without warning, switch from dog to cat, to lizard, for all I know. People aren’t animals, and animals aren’t even the animals that I’m painting them to be. Generalisations work, but specifics work better. 

I do like cats though. And dogs like me. I like them for that.

(via iaregeri)

rolledtrousers: “You’re a loon. I won’t do it.” She’d pushed him away with a smile and a half hearted peal of laughter, and he’d smiled and shrugged, and hadn’t mentioned it again. But there was something about how easily he’d given up that belied a longer strategy in his mind. She kept an eye out. It was the next morning that she woke up with her lips wrapped around her thumb, and it was more than a few moments, which was a few moments more than she’d ever admit to anyone, before she realised and pulled it clear. Her cheeks were flushed red, and when he wandered into the bedroom with a mug of tea in both hands, he’d feigned surprise.  She’d glared at him, but kept her words to herself. They would have done no good; he was better with them than she was.  The next night she set her alarm early, and kept it close to her head. She woke up a few moments before him, and the sight of his sleeping face made her grin, ideas flooding through her mind, breaking the banks of her consciousness. She took one of those massive hands in two of hers, and lead it up towards his face. His thumbs were obscene; thick, strong, with the faintest whisps of hair protruding from the first solid segment. She bumped it against his lips, but it wouldn’t break past the teeth. “You might want to stop that, pet.” His lips barely moved, and that fact alone was enough to make the thrill of fear rush down her spine, forcing her to squirm, briefly. The hand came alive in her fingers, turning around and grabbing her wrist, before pressing it against her face.  “Open your mouth.” She shook her head. “Open your mouth or your thumb will be going in your other hole.” There was a pause, and he smiled, his eyes opening past the crack that he’d previously shown. He stared at her. “And not the one you want.” Her eyes flashed wide. Slowly, sullenly, she opened her mouth, and he pressed that thumb past her lips, deep, forcing her to take the whole thing. It felt lewd, an action of such innocence turned into a powergame between them. But lewd had always worked on her, as much as she’d hate to admit it in this moment. “Suck.” He rasped the word, morning rendering his voice all gravel and broken concrete. For a moment she entertained the idea of resistance, but his eyes quelled such thoughts, leaving her with only obedience. And she obeyed.  A habit, forced and forming, between her lips. She wasn’t sure whether the idea made her upsettingly horny, or horny and upset. Either way her cunt throbbed between her legs in time with each languid suckle on her thumb.

rolledtrousers:

“You’re a loon. I won’t do it.” She’d pushed him away with a smile and a half hearted peal of laughter, and he’d smiled and shrugged, and hadn’t mentioned it again. But there was something about how easily he’d given up that belied a longer strategy in his mind. She kept an eye out.

It was the next morning that she woke up with her lips wrapped around her thumb, and it was more than a few moments, which was a few moments more than she’d ever admit to anyone, before she realised and pulled it clear. Her cheeks were flushed red, and when he wandered into the bedroom with a mug of tea in both hands, he’d feigned surprise. 

She’d glared at him, but kept her words to herself. They would have done no good; he was better with them than she was. 

The next night she set her alarm early, and kept it close to her head. She woke up a few moments before him, and the sight of his sleeping face made her grin, ideas flooding through her mind, breaking the banks of her consciousness. She took one of those massive hands in two of hers, and lead it up towards his face. His thumbs were obscene; thick, strong, with the faintest whisps of hair protruding from the first solid segment. She bumped it against his lips, but it wouldn’t break past the teeth.

“You might want to stop that, pet.” His lips barely moved, and that fact alone was enough to make the thrill of fear rush down her spine, forcing her to squirm, briefly. The hand came alive in her fingers, turning around and grabbing her wrist, before pressing it against her face. 

“Open your mouth.” She shook her head.

“Open your mouth or your thumb will be going in your other hole.” There was a pause, and he smiled, his eyes opening past the crack that he’d previously shown. He stared at her. “And not the one you want.” Her eyes flashed wide.

Slowly, sullenly, she opened her mouth, and he pressed that thumb past her lips, deep, forcing her to take the whole thing. It felt lewd, an action of such innocence turned into a powergame between them. But lewd had always worked on her, as much as she’d hate to admit it in this moment.

“Suck.” He rasped the word, morning rendering his voice all gravel and broken concrete. For a moment she entertained the idea of resistance, but his eyes quelled such thoughts, leaving her with only obedience. And she obeyed. 

A habit, forced and forming, between her lips. She wasn’t sure whether the idea made her upsettingly horny, or horny and upset. Either way her cunt throbbed between her legs in time with each languid suckle on her thumb.

fringeofdarkness: On Face-Fucking. Every heterosexual man alive must enjoy having his cock sucked by an attractive, eager woman.  I suspect many would care little about a girl’s looks, so long as she has great oral skills.   A Dominant comes to view cock sucking in a different way.  If he has an eager submissive, he already knows her holes are available to him for any kind of pleasure he may wish.  All he needs do is to summon her into service, or take her summarily.  Cock sucking, then, becomes a more elevated sensual experience - part of the dance. At times, I will use cock sucking as a way to relax, allow my girl to greet me intimately, and give her a way to experience joy while feeding my hunger. Other times, I will use cock sucking as a way to bring my girl down to her place as my submissive, under me.  I generally take her through three distinct, erotic levels to get her there - all a part of the dance. The first level of descent in cock sucking is allowing her to please me.  I will simply have her kneel before me and suck my cock.  Kneeling brings her to a submissive position.  Sucking allows her to pleasure me.  And freedom to move allows her to use all her skills (mouth, lips, tongue, breasts, and hands) to enhance the experience in any way she can.  As she feels me moan, harden, and grow while I murmur “mmmm - gooooood girl” - she wets in anticipation. The second level of descent is when I gather her hair up in my hands, put her hands down, and bring her on and off my cock.  This introduces another level of descent - objectifying her more - taking my pleasure from her willing mouth.  I can feel her whimper and undulate, squirming as she feels powerless in my grasp.  This is most exciting for her, making her feel savored as an erotic joy. The third level of descent is where we dance in the fringe of darkness.  Face fucking.  Complete objectification.  I position and immobilize her, and I fuck her hot, wet, hole - down and dirty, fast and deep.  I hold nothing back in taking my pleasure from this wet, whimpering orifice, and the sounds I hear and undulations I feel under me are all I need to know she is finally in her place.  She is powerless against my hungry cock, and yet she feels desired, sensual and free in her place under me. Humiliation?  Yes. Objectification?  Definitely.Erotic?  Beyond BeliefFulfilling?  Most Certainly  Any girl who has ever been face-fucked properly comes to crave this experience. And the Dominant who brings her here can feel his full hunger - sated properly. The Dance on the Fringe of Darkness can be so deliciously decadent… © Fringe of Darkness, 2011

fringeofdarkness:

On Face-Fucking.

Every heterosexual man alive must enjoy having his cock sucked by an attractive, eager woman.  I suspect many would care little about a girl’s looks, so long as she has great oral skills.  

A Dominant comes to view cock sucking in a different way.  If he has an eager submissive, he already knows her holes are available to him for any kind of pleasure he may wish.  All he needs do is to summon her into service, or take her summarily.  Cock sucking, then, becomes a more elevated sensual experience - part of the dance.

At times, I will use cock sucking as a way to relax, allow my girl to greet me intimately, and give her a way to experience joy while feeding my hunger. Other times, I will use cock sucking as a way to bring my girl down to her place as my submissive, under me.  I generally take her through three distinct, erotic levels to get her there - all a part of the dance.

The first level of descent in cock sucking is allowing her to please me.  I will simply have her kneel before me and suck my cock.  Kneeling brings her to a submissive position.  Sucking allows her to pleasure me.  And freedom to move allows her to use all her skills (mouth, lips, tongue, breasts, and hands) to enhance the experience in any way she can.  As she feels me moan, harden, and grow while I murmur “mmmm - gooooood girl” - she wets in anticipation.

The second level of descent is when I gather her hair up in my hands, put her hands down, and bring her on and off my cock.  This introduces another level of descent - objectifying her more - taking my pleasure from her willing mouth.  I can feel her whimper and undulate, squirming as she feels powerless in my grasp.  This is most exciting for her, making her feel savored as an erotic joy.

The third level of descent is where we dance in the fringe of darkness.  Face fucking.  Complete objectification.  I position and immobilize her, and I fuck her hot, wet, hole - down and dirty, fast and deep.  I hold nothing back in taking my pleasure from this wet, whimpering orifice, and the sounds I hear and undulations I feel under me are all I need to know she is finally in her place.  She is powerless against my hungry cock, and yet she feels desired, sensual and free in her place under me.

Humiliation?  Yes.
Objectification?  Definitely.
Erotic?  Beyond Belief
Fulfilling?  Most Certainly 

Any girl who has ever been face-fucked properly comes to crave this experience.

And the Dominant who brings her here can feel his full hunger - sated properly.

The Dance on the Fringe of Darkness can be so deliciously decadent…

© Fringe of Darkness, 2011

(Source: justemanuell)