Tag: kink

In this photoset I wanted to explore transparency & vulnerability.

The word “exposure” is versatile. Exposure to the elements, having one’s secrets exposed, dying from exposure, an over-exposed image, exposure to financial risk. It’s the general concept of lacking adequate protection.

Transparent objects can protect from the physical, the rain, the wind. But can’t protect modesty. In their emphatic subversion of

One night while I was lying with Theophage, I told her I had an idea for a scene with Hubris that I’d like her help with. The goal was to create a “cursed item” that, when Hubris wore it, would compel her to identify herself as my clone.

The object in question would be my collar. Collars are commonly considered to have special significance within kink circles. Outside of the symbolism of collaring someone representing ownership of them, collars are also very personal. I’m not quite as precious about my collar as some people, if someone was thinking of buying a martingale collar I’d be happy to let them try mine on first. But I do ascribe some meaning to it, especially if it’s being used “in anger” in a kink scene. So having Hubris wear my collar felt like an appropriate way to invoke a link with my identity.

When Hubris was wearing the collar, she would temporarily forget her own name. She would not respond to it. She would refer to me as The Original, and herself as Misofist Jr. (I knew that she’d find the “Jr” distasteful, and that only made it better.)

Looking at my front, people must have initially thought I was just gagged and wearing a regular slingshot swimsuit. But then my girlfriend ordered me to turn to face away from the group. I felt their eyes on my body even more strongly now that I couldn’t see them.

They could see that the shoulder straps did not wrap around my neck, but terminated in cuffs. They began to understand the predicament I was in, trying to keep my nipples covered.

Just as I was turning to face everyone again, someone slowly asked “wait… where does it attach at the bottom?”

This is a story that I’m a little infamous for in my local kink scene. People often ask me to tell it to new friends in the scene, perhaps as some kind of hazing ritual. One time at a munch I was telling this story, and a friend who was hearing it for the first time fainted and had to go rest behind the bar for 15 minutes.

When I first tried nipple sensitisers, 4 minutes was my limit. So naturally for my second time, I decided to subject myself to 20 minutes of nipple torture using timer lock bondage. I regretted this very quickly.

Recently I got a new toy, nipple sensitisers. The sensation is much more intense than I expected, it’s a blend of discomfort and pleasure, it’s very overstimulating. I had to rip them off after 4 minutes, the feeling was unbearable.

But it made me wonder if I could orgasm from nipple stimulation alone. I don’t have the self-control to keep these bastard toys on for long enough, but perhaps with the help of a timer lock? 4 minutes was my limit this time, so I figured 20 minutes should be an appropriate length for the experiment.

Full length self-bondage nipple overstim video coming soon! I’m just editing it now, but I’m really pleased with the raw footage and audio.

One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the tranny catgirl I kidnapped and keep in permanent bondage avoided my presence…

[censored for legal reasons]

…I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

I did a pretty interesting scene with my girlfriend Hubris last night.

When the scene ended, I used careful phrasing to edit her memories, so she could remember everything she’d done with the third person in the scene but not anything I’d done, not the part that she’d really hated.

You hear a stick snap behind you, and spin around. You can’t see any signs of movement, nothing out of place. There have always been rumours about kidnappers lurking in this forest, but you calm your fears. They’re just scary stories for kids, your fear isn’t rational. The stick must’ve been broken by an animal, you guess. You’re unfamiliar with the environment and how sounds carry, so you can’t even estimate how far away the sound was. Maybe it was off in the far distance.

You turn back towards the road, and jump. On the other side of the road there’s a ghillie-suited, masked person walking carefully towards you. The adrenaline hits and your brain kicks into overdrive. You’ve only been waiting 5 minutes, and I said I’d be there in 30. This person has clearly been here for a while, as you haven’t heard any vehicles since your Uber left. Who are they?

In the past I’ve made the usual amount of joking comments about being a catgirl or a doggirl or whatever seems funny at the time, but I’ve never been serious about those identities. I’m a robotgirl and that’s it.