You're laying the groundwork. It's not subtle, nor is it meant to be. Associating your commands with pleasure and easing me into following them - because they feel good. Of course I'll follow them. I get to feel good, I get to obey you, I get to submit to your will. Surrender to your control.

And you do it so deftly, too. You know your bag of tricks inside and out, you know how to navigate receiving submission while making sure it's both all-consuming and just that little part of me that is now yours.

Me being me, of course I decided to test your effect on me. How could I not. You've been so diligent in building a solid foundation, letting me see it, having me put in the work and guiding you with my reactions and words (on the rare occasion I find them).

You tell me to kneel. I, of course, go along with it. I love that I get to show my submission to you. You tell me to touch myself. I can feel a split second of hesitation there. But it'll feel good. I go along with it. You tell me to cum. It feels so much better with a couple fingers on my clit. Not even rubbing hard enough to get me off. Just enough to enhance it. I'm taken aback by the intensity.

You lay out my actions of the past handful of minutes. They. Seemed very acceptable and a lovely thing to obey, to submit in this way. That's certainly all it was, I thought to myself at the time. I think to myself again, now. I try, to think it. Be convinced of it. It rings false.

And you tell me to let it hit me like a tonne of bricks, that realization. Those actions weren't mine. Not entirely. I was not moving completely of my own volition. You've laid the foundation.

Cum for me, you tell me again. As you let yourself feel it hit you like a tonne of bricks.

I cum.

I obey.

I get lost in fighting to rationalize my actions.

The pleasure washing through me from the orgasm belies those rationalizations.

You're in my head.

You control me.

I crave your control.

You let me sit back in the chair. I'm so out of it, still. I can feel your control settled over me. Dazed. Waiting. Basking.

Content.

Alright. So. I have a confession to share with you. In middle school, I strongly identified as a libertarian. In my defense, I was 13 and I had autism. Against my defense, I was literate, and capable of using common sense. I confessed this to you willingly, so go easy on me.

One thing about this that I can share with you is that I, as a 13 year old boy, read Atlas Shrugged. I read it as someone very committed to the ideology, who wanted to believe it, who wanted to like it, and there are two things I can share with you about that book from that time period.

I was going to rant more about this but I kind of lost my train of thought. The book fucking sucks. It was propaganda of such remarkably low caliber that it actually helped me move out of those circles. Every time someone talked about liking the book, I'd reply with something along the lines of "Yeah, I especially loved the part where she destroyed the post modernists by unequivocally condemning affairs", and if they agreed with me, they would have lost my respect forever, and if they looked very embarrassed, I could at least acknowledge that they had a soul, albeit small and malformed. I had dozens of people claim that they read the book, and only three or four actually passed the test.

And now, goodnight.

Reminder that Ayn Rand had many affairs, didn’t get rich and ended up on Medicare, which she applied to under a fraudulent name so people wouldn’t find out about it.

@cuprohastes anytime you reply to a post of mine, you improve it AND give me a fun fact. Mutual of the day award. Thank you.

Thinking about this again

HALSEY by Adam Kudeimati

@enscenic

I get dropped pretty quickly. I'm just that easy. Yanked back up. Wake up, wake up. Let's get started. (Didn't we start already?) Alright, let's go then. I get dropped again, drifting for a few. Losing track of time, just a bit. Wake up! How are you holding up? We've been at this for a while. (No, we just started. Right? What? I can't be that easy.) A~nd back down again, dropping down, there we go. You're just that easy. Yeah. And back up again! Oh, now there's a blush. (I really shouldn't be that easy.)

Of course.

“Can I, uh.. forget that we talked about doing stuff…” *snap* Their expression turns a little blank, their hand still on my upper arm, rubbing it gently. I grin at them. They smile back. Their arm drops, and we go back to doing what we were before they asked, before we talked about all the brainwashing to come.

“What is this personal space you speak of?”

(via)

The phrase "bros before hoes" refers to the sense of knightly obligation that all straight cis boys feel to, upon magically transforming into a hot girl, suck all their bro's cocks (to completion) before pursuing lesbians.

i love halsey so much 😭

tolu coker spring-summer 2025 rtw

Another day, another hypno horny

Just me?

Had this once where we switched half way and anything I did she would flip and do to me. Hottest thing ever. I was begging to be her good boy.