instructor144:

foxyshadow:

pleasurewhore:

Yesterday I dissolved into tears. Ugly tears. The kind that shake your body and make it hard to catch your breath.

There wasn’t any one thing that had gone wrong, instead there were a million small things, and months of stress brewing beneath the surface. Emotions began spilling over, and I was helpless to stop them.

At first my Dom and I were at odds. Our shared frustrations brought us to a bad headspace, where we were having trouble connecting. We were focusing on the problem at hand, and the possible solutions, and we lost sight of each other.

And then the magic of our dynamic took hold. He stepped back a moment, and  was able to compose himself in a way I was completely incapable of. (By this point, I’m embarrassed to say, I had fallen into complete overwhelm.) In retrospect I know that he was able to act as he did because taking care of me was more important to him than how he was feeling at the time. When he came back he was no longer trying to reason with me, or even to calm me. What he offered me instead was presence.

The effect wasn’t instant, but there was a palpable shift as he took the reigns and the dynamic began to work it’s magic. Being at the office, and unable to simply step away, he turned his camera on so that I could see him. He reminded me that I am loved, and that caring for me is not a burden, even on days like this. He drew my attention to my collar and reminded me that I am never alone.

He worked, not to remedy the situation, but to bring me back to him. He removed the expectation that I had to hold things together, or even be rational. He reminded me that I am His, and that it’s not conditional. He took his place as my Dominant, and by doing so he allowed me to take my place as his submissive, and when we can find those places we can both find some peace.

This is better than all the kinky fuckery. Wouldn’t you agree, @instructor144 ?

Oh hell yes. This ☝️☝️☝️ is what it’s about, people. All of this.

jukeboxemcsa:

“Three…” Diana helplessly whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head with overwhelming pleasure as Kody carefully slid a third finger into Diana’s cunt. She could feel her musk trickling out around Kody’s slick digits as the smiling woman pushed her hand in and out, back and forth, making Diana so horny and wet that she wasn’t sure she could even remember what number came after ‘three’ anymore. She knew she had to try, though. It was part of the Counting Game.

Diana couldn’t remember anymore how the Counting Game started. She knew it didn’t always involve stripping naked and spreading her legs so that Kody could finger-fuck her; that came later, after she’d already gotten really good at counting for her best friend. But the exact details got… fuzzy. Like Diana, some days. She sometimes remembered it as a joke, sometimes as a bet, and sometimes just as her trusting her good friend when Kody said, “Wanna try something cool?” Some days she didn’t remember anything at all. The Counting Game was just something she did for Kody, something that made her happy and that made Kody happy too.

This was one of those times. Diana was lying on the bed, staring up into Kody’s beautiful blue eyes and letting her mind fill up with the unbelievable pleasure of those three fingers churning her cunt into a drippy mess, and she wasn’t doing much thinking at all. Kody was talking to her–Kody talked a lot during the Counting Game, but Diana never really noticed what she said. Diana just nodded, and spread her legs wider, and let her pussy get so wet and so open and so ready to be filled even more.

‘Open and ready to be filled.’ Diana shuddered in arousal at the words. They sounded so perfect.

The whole game was perfect, really. Kody barely had to do anything to convince Diana to play. All she needed to do was say, “It’s time to play the Counting Game, sweetie,” and Diana would eagerly strip naked and spread her legs as far as they would go so that she could start counting Kody’s fingers. Once they even did it in the campus library, down in the stacks; Diana was quietly amazed to find that her inhibitions offered absolutely no resistance to Kody’s suggestion. The pleasure of counting for Kody was so powerful, so absolute that Diana simply went along with it without thinking. (Ogod. ‘Without thinking.’ That sounded so hot to Diana now.)

She went along with Kody a lot now. It just seemed so… nice. It was always nice to do what Kody said, it always made her feel happy and fulfilled to nod and agree with everything Kody told her. Diana wondered if maybe that was something… to do… with the Counting Game? Like… maybe, um… somehow… counting for Kody like this was, was… affecting her? Diana struggled to push past the pleasure, feeling for all the world like she was on to something important, something that might explain why she felt so submissive to Kody now, something that would help Diana understand why she dreamed every night of tongue-fucking her best friend until her face was smeared with Kody’s musk, something–

“…f-four,” Diana moaned out, as Kody’s little finger joined the rest of Kody’s hand inside Diana’s gushing cunt. Between that and the subsequent thrusts, Diana completely lost her train of thought. It probably wasn’t important, she decided. Kody would tell her if she needed to remember. Diana smiled and nodded, her hips straining up into Kody’s touch as she came again.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox, or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox!)