So, I’m currently in the process of cautiously reconnecting with an ex (if such…

So, I’m currently in the process of cautiously reconnecting with an ex (if such a thing can ever actually be done cautiously.)

This is somebody who always had a gift for speaking directly to the broken bits of me, especially the parts I didn’t want to admit were cracked. Since the last time we split, I’ve been to a whole lot of therapy to determine that, yep, the fault lines in my psyche got there in pretty much the usual ways. I just wasn’t overly-curious about their origins before splitting up with him back then shook some things loose.

Given that it’s all pretty textbook, and I doubt he’d have such an elegant grasp on where the buttons are and exactly when to press them if he didn’t have a guess or two as to Why I’m Like This… At what point do my childhood traumas become need-to-know information?

I’m not really looking for a heart-to-heart about it, and experience tells me it doesn’t present a major obstacle to kink play or aftercare. But a part of me does wonder if I should give him a chance to opt-out of “roleplay” that skims a little too close to truth, (even though I doubt it’d stop him.) And then, another part of me almost feels like I’m withholding an interesting new sex toy from him by not filling in the blanks and letting him stick his fingers right in the wound, if he chooses.

(submitted by: butseriouslybeauty)

I’ve read this multiple times over the last few days, and I feel like there’s something I’m missing.

What exactly does “reconnecting” mean in this context? Why don’t you want to have a heart-to-heart about it? Combined with your “if such a thing” comment, you sound more than a bit hesitant here… not just about the vulnerability of disclosure, but your shared intimacy in general. It’s like you’re skeptical that this older relationship can bear the weight of a newer, more complex you, and you’re looking for reasons to be smaller and immediately comfortable.

If you’re just looking to have fun, it’s probably a good approach. He isn’t owed the information… just keep things simple and normal and enjoy your time together! If this might be going somewhere, though? Tell him. You need to be transparent, and he needs to know his instincts about you were on the money.

As for your specific question… at what point do childhood traumas become need-to-know information?

I’m not sure there’s a single point, but I’d say you’ve in the neighborhood when it’s relevant to your recurring emotional activities. If he’s going to be pulling the levers, it’s kinda rude not to tell him that you’ve got them all nicely labeled now and the lights work if someone knows to flip the switch.

Again, this doesn’t mean he’s owed the info… sometimes “rude” is the lesser evil. But being polite to the man pawing through your head in the dark might end up being what’s best for you.

story about the most recent time u humiliated one of your girls?? –

story about the most recent time u humiliated one of your girls?? -🙈

(submitted by: Anonymous)

“The most recent time” doesn’t mean much to me. I relentlessly humiliate these little turds at every opportunity… my amused contempt permeates the air around them. My glowing compliments make sudden u-turns into insults that cut to the core without invalidating the initial attagirl. My baby talk makes them feel small, then turns brutal, making them feel even smaller. I never stop showing them just how pathetic they can be.

And see, knowing that? Knowing I’m right, and that I can reduce them to nothing at whim? Knowing I can just pull the rug from under their feet and send them sprawling without warning?

There’s nothing more humiliating than knowing that your understanding of your self can be entirely upended by an arched eyebrow and a smirk.

It’s not everyone’s kind of story, but I like it.

Do any of your girls legitimately have a bedtime set by you?

Do any of your girls legitimately have a bedtime set by you?

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Pinky’s the only one with a sleep issue that would benefit from a bedtime, and hers is mostly caused by short-term allergy meds. The rest are gonna snap awake with nightmares after a few hours, whether I put them to bed at 9pm or midnight.

When she’s physically with me, I suppose Piglet has a sort of bedtime, except it’s a floor rather than a ceiling… she’s not allowed to go to bed before midnight. But that’s just because I refuse to watch a twentysomething act like a Golden Girl.

Is being single a prerequisite for being yours?Would you ever be interested in a…

Is being single a prerequisite for being yours?

Would you ever be interested in a girl who’s got other men in her life, who are perfectly aware of her dedication to you and content to laugh and shake their heads about it?

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Yes, it’s a prerequisite.

Of course, as with most of my prerequisites, I make occasional exceptions. (Blossom, for example, has an “outside” relationship. Hi, Domi!) But exceptions are always in some way exceptional… whatever follows “I have another relationship, but” had better impress the hell out of me.

And given all that’s involved in this sort of dedication, I suspect “a girl who’s got other men” —plural— would be kidding herself if she thought those guys would laugh and shake their heads. Unless she’s dating Subby McCuck and his buddy Bootlicker J. Sissypants, they’re likely to balk at me truncating her sex life, putting up cameras in her home, tracking the GPS on her phone, accessing her (joint?) bank accounts, or generally deciding where she lives and what she does.

Once I’ve had my fill, there’s not much left but scraps.

I watched a bit of the last livestream after it was posted. I love…

I watched a bit of the last livestream after it was posted. I love your voice.

Curious as to whether you ever actually tell bedtime stories there, though.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

I don’t personally understand the appeal of my voice, but…

We’ve done Story Time on a few occasions. I read Little Red Riding Hood once, I’ve occasionally read excerpts from The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer, and during last night’s stream, I read from a kids’ book that Button sent me.

I’ve also been known to sing Billy Joel’s Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel) now and then.

Is it better to arrive at your door trained and ready to go, or…

Is it better to arrive at your door trained and ready to go, or do you enjoy the process of training a girl?

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Those who walk through my door are undergoing a profound psychosexual transformation, and something akin to a religious conversion. No one is “ready to go”… they all need preparation.

Or indoctrination, if needs must.

But I’m not a Starter Sadist. Experience is preferred, and where experience is lacking, I look for evidence of introspection, adaptability, and passion. At the very least, I want to be certain you know what you’re getting into.

I’ll teach you to pray, but you should already know how to kneel.

why do you reblog so many pictures of super skinny and fit women? It’s…

why do you reblog so many pictures of super skinny and fit women? It’s making me want to starve myself to be like them

Why? Because they’re pretty, and make my cunts squirm.

But you don’t need to be like them. You need to be like you. The best possible version of you. If that’s skinny, then great! If that’s athletic, then great! If that’s “my ass is two ax-handles wide and nothing short of retroactive gene editing or divine intervention will change it,” then… fair enough!

Just be honest with yourself and do your best. That’s all anyone can ever ask. Especially you.

To paraphrase the timeless poetry of William “Bill” Preston, Esq.: be excellent to yourself.

And leave the mean shit to a specialist.

I’ll be honest, the only reasons I can think of wanting to feed Glowbug…

I’ll be honest, the only reasons I can think of wanting to feed Glowbug macarons is because she has nice tits and is willing to eat ass

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Her tits are indeed pretty good… they haven’t been stabbed with needles nearly often enough, but overall, they’re fine.

As for the rest… willing? Are you kidding? She’s eager.

More than any other hole, her mouth is the gateway to the Inner Bug. Her lame little thoughts emerge from it, even as she shovels food into it to silence those she dares not speak. Its smile lights up her dumb face, which is usually fixed in an expression somewhere between “sleepy” and “hungry”. Her empty mouth is her Self, central to her experience of the world. It is the absence at the heart of her presence.

And her nature abhors a vacuum.