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Tag: rape fantasies

Monday, December 5th, 2011

More Milk & Cookies

All this bodice ripping has to do with a different kind of milk & cookies. Blackie says this is the kind of milk & cookies one should leave for Santa. *wink*

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Thursday, November 24th, 2011

Dear Pinkie… What I’m Thankful For

Dear Pinkie,

I’m thankful for all that Marc writes — knowing that as you writhe in pain and hatred, it is me who holds you there. My ownership of you, what you suffer in your commitment to me, is as good as if my arms hold you down.

Have a happy, yet miserable, Thanksgiving while I’m away!

Blackie

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Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011

Dear Pinkie

I like it best when you cry from the hatred, the tears of anguish rolling down your face as I disgrace and use you — that you are bound to me, forever in my service, not because you want to be but because you’ve been given to me.

The scorn that rises, the desperation, the fear and loathing that stream down your face in wet, wet streaks that I mock knowingly. And mercilessly.

I love how none of it melts away in your physical acceptance to your duty, to your punishments, to your tasks. How your hot anger brightly burns — with the heat of injustice and pride! Useless sentiments, other than how they fan the flames of my desire to further humiliate, hurt, use against your will.

It’s all right there, on your face. In the set of your shoulders, your chin.

The fire in your eyes that makes your eyes sparkle — no matter how wet your eyes get, the tears do not put out that fire. I know; I’ve tested it. But you detest me more — and so the back and forth of the testing continues! How it all tempts me… The clenched jaw juts with pride — as appealing as the jut of your breasts. The haughty air, as ripe for the plucking as that asshole is for fucking.

Even right now, as I sit three feet away from you, days into your no orgasm rule, naked with clothespins on your nipples, sleep deprived, sloppily typing and correcting your tasks for me… That palpable resentment… Your loathing of me as heavy in the air as the smell of your wet cunt.

A cunt I could take at any moment. A cunt that would welcome me, would welcome anything after the hours, the days, of arousal and pain — a cunt that would betray you — and quickly — with an orgasm.

You know it. And I know it.

How that knowledge makes you hate yourself.

How that knowledge makes you hate me even more.

Yet it’s that hate that makes me want to fuck you, fuck with your mind and your body, all the more.

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Friday, November 11th, 2011

Torments To Endure

Of this bondage illustration, xemxija says, “Ripped and made ready for the torments she was about to endure …”

I agree her clothing’s been ripped, but I think she’s about to endure a lot of ripping herself. Along with enduring some rough tit play too.

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Thursday, November 10th, 2011

Protected: A Maze-Ment

Halloween was special this year… Even if the “celebration” took place on November 1st.

That night Marc drove me a few miles out of the city, to a farm which offers the usual Halloween holiday fare for families. Now that the holiday had officially ended, Marc had made special arrangements to make use of the only attraction still standing: the corn maze.

Farms are dark and freaky places at night, at least to this city girl. But what Marc had planned, well, let’s just say it went past the usual things that make you jump in the dark.

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Monday, March 22nd, 2010

Can There Be Limitless Limits?

Saynine’s This Isn’t Play. . . BDSM and Rape has much to think about — for me and anyone else interested in rough sex, exploring power exchange, etc.

However when does a violated limit become rape? Is it rape if someone expresses a limit against ejaculating on their face and it is violated? If someone is bound and pissed on after negotiating no watersports? Being called a filthy cunt when Humiliation has been excluded? When is an exceeded limit rape? My arrogance tells me always, however I wonder if I have, or could ever unintentionally dip a toe over a foul line. Am I then guilty of moral or criminal violation? I simply do not know.

I’ve put my consent in Blackie’s hands, but now that He has turned that over to Marc as well these issues of limits continue to pop up.

Some would say that our “play” has gone too extreme by virtue of my consent being given over to another; others would say it went too far when the one I give my consent to passed it along to another. I’ve struggled with this myself, this difficulty in balancing fantasy and desires with safety and practical real life matters… Playing with what is hot and feeling like you may just be burned — and it’s not easy to walk away from because it’s so intoxicating.

The basis of my foundational relationship with Blackie — the one that everyone at our marriage ceremony saw — is still love and respect. But within and around this is a fundamental power exchange which, while mainly regulated to “the bed room,” is nearly inseparable. To pretend otherwise is to be an idiot. And I am not an idiot. (Being a submissive no more equals being an idiot than being a Master equals being intelligent; don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.)

The questions and issues presented in Saynine’s post are things we mentally chew on here — on a daily basis. And we talk about them as we can articulate them. Along with the knowledge that others are exploring such things too, what’s been most helpful for me in reading Saynine’s post and the comments is the ability to move outside of my own situation, my own complicated emotions, and look at things more intellectually.

Sometimes the pure and simple “principal of the thing” attitude goes a long way.

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