franticpanic

[franticpanic]

you guys need to be normal about people who don't like penetration. people who don't get hard easily. people who finish quickly. people who participate in kink without having sex. people who don't like being touched. people who don't like giving head. people who only like penetration. people who (almost) always squirt. people who take a long time to cum. people who have a hard time getting wet. people who don't talk during sex or anything else that is not part of the way you think people or bodies should behave during sex

[franticpanic]

brat taming scene in which every time the brat starts to fold a little, their dom embarrasses them by reminding them how easy they're breaking. in which the brat squirms and tries to steel themself when their owner starts trying to encourage them, knowing that even their words of encouragement are a trick to make them fail quicker.

"what, done talking back already? don't give up yet, sweetheart. i thought you were going to make this a challenge for me? you don't want to lose this quickly, do you? what an easy brat to break. get back up. let's try again, darling."

[franticpanic]

This was a beautiful and powerfully worded message. Thank you. I’ve become comfortable with the fact I’m a sub who craves a caretaker dom, even if part of me still worries that I would end up being a bother. But this? The way you talked about being a dom, it made me feel perfectly valid and normal and reminded me that I wouldn’t be a bother. You reassured me, and this wasn’t even something I really realized I had been worried about. Thank you.

So I'm new to bdsm as a whole, but I found something out, in normal vanilla life I'm usually in charge, not a dom per say but people rely on me to do my job correctly, but deep down I'm just a cute dumb bunnygirl who wants to be caught, bred, trained and called a good girl, taught to be a good obedient cum vessel. I don't have a Dom yet, don't know the local scene either, a bit shy to start. Found you on tumblr and am loving the cnc stuff and petplay here. Also may I call you Sir, I don't wanna force a title on you.

You may. You may also simply call me by name, we are just two regular people having a conversation of course. Sir or Atlas is appropriate to me. I don't expect anyone to call me Sir beyond using it in a respectful manner. I am just a person, no one owes me a title.

I agree in the beauty of submission. It can be very freeing, especially if you carry a lot of responsibility. Handing over that weight, that responsibility to someone you can feel safe with. This is how a Dom serves you. It feels good to curate that experience for someone. To take care of someone. Give them a space where they can embrace themselves. Embrace pain and tears. Embrace darker feelings, impulses and desires. Embrace fear and release. Drop stress at the door.

Safewords as well. Finding comfort in scary situations and knowing you can stop them at any moment with a single word. Your safeword is very powerful. Find one. Use it.

Despite common belief, you don't need a Dom to explore yourself. To figure out what you like, to join community. It's nice to have one, but not required.

To speak in general terms, not a comment on you personally:

Having a Dom is not a shortcut to finding out what you like or want.

A Dom is not a shortcut to personal growth.

A Dom is not a shortcut to developing and curating your own submission.

A Dom is not a shortcut to teaching you how to act, who to be or how to better yourself as a person.

A Dom is not a shortcut to personal emotional labor, avoiding therapy or learning self soothing.

We should not seek things out because we need them, but because we want them. And by doing so want to enrich and be enriched through the building of a deep connection with another person.

You shouldn't need a Dom, Daddy, Master. You should want one and go forth with what feels right and natural to you.

Take care, doll.

[franticpanic]

I can feel the whines building in the back of my head, and I want to go into pup space so bad. My fantasies are often sexual, whether or not they’re including pup things, but my actual pup space is just wanting to be held and pet and cuddled.

At least I think that’s all it is that I want? I have never been able to imagine doing something sexual with an actual person, even if I know I want to or am curious. If that makes any sense. Like… as soon as it’s actually me in the fantasy or an actual real-life person in the fantasy, it pulls me out completely. But maybe… if it was actually happening, where I was being given orders and I didn’t have to think and I could just let go… gods it’s so confusing. But the more I imagine things, plus read certain books, the more I’m wishing it could actually happen.

Which okay, I can process that thought. I mean… I know I want my partner to eventually be my handler. I know that… I can’t believe I’m actually typing this out. I know that I want to be owned. Okay I said it. Okay. I know I want to and like submitting, and the small ways I’ve been able to be submissive with my partner so far… yeah there’s no denying I’m a sub. Those things aren’t too hard for me to process. This is where it gets tricky tho. I’m asexual and don’t experience or understand sexual attraction. I thought I wasn’t interested in sex or sex things at all. Except in very specific possible situations where it would be more about my partner and knowing they were happy. Which isn’t uncommon when it comes to sex-favorable or sex-neutral aces. Only for me… it’s more than that. It’s the submission. That’s what I didn’t understand at first. And I thought I didn’t like the idea of sex… but apparently it’s vanilla sex, for lack of a better explanation, that I don’t like? But if it’s not about sex itself, but me submitting… that’s what I like the idea of. It’s not that… I would or want to have sex with someone because it would make them happy, it’s that I would want to submit to them and let them control my pleasure and being told how to please them. I can’t believe I actually typed that out either. Gods. Okay.

Anyways going back to my pup space longing, I think that definitely pup space is separate from my… okay my curiosity about submission in sexual situations, I said it. Like pup space I don’t think would ever become sexual to me, but other submissive things… maybe. I don’t know, I mean there are fantasies for reasons. But either way… yeah there’s no denying I’m a sub. My partner I know has caretaker tendencies which I love, and I’m pretty sure she would be a wonderful handler when I get brave enough to ask her that word for word. And I think handler is the best word that describes what I need. Someone to handle me when I’m a pup, when I’m being a bit bratty, make decisions sometimes, give me orders sometimes, and someone who will take care of me all while handling me. So yes, a dom, but it’s easier for me to wrap my mind around handler.

Okay this wasn’t exactly what I planned on writing about but I think I needed to write it down and also put it somewhere where maybe people will see this.

I am not the most active on tumblr but I wouldn’t say no to making friends if anyone wants to talk to a slightly awkward confused embarrassed sub lol

[franticpanic]

Don't you wonder what it'd feel like?~ To be blissfully subby, made into a good lil pet~

Do you ever fantasize about letting go, giving up your personhood for the night, lazing on a couch, getting your scalp gently scritched, a pair of pretty lil animal ears atop your head, lightly twitching at the stimulation

If you didn't before, I know you will be now~

Go on. Find yourself that special someone that'll take you in, and let you be a pet for them, well taken care of~

[franticpanic]

Gatekeep your submission. Be selective. Be picky. Put value in keeping your wellbeing, safety and mental health intact.

[franticpanic]

I'd like to craft a control collar.

I'd start with an ordinary pretty collar, and then I'd start attaching triggers to it: you can't take it off on your own, when wearing it you must obey direct orders, and so on.

The cumulative effect would be for the collar to turn you into a subby, owned pet.

And of course, I could force you to wear it. I could hypnotize you and make you put it on, or I could just hold you down, strap it around your pretty neck, and watch all the defiance leave your eyes.

And sure, maybe I'd do that every so often.

But what if instead I just put it on the table next to you. You'd know exactly what it did. You'd know it would take your thoughts away, it would turn you into a horny toy... when you wear that collar, you aren't really a person anymore. I wouldn't force you to put it on. All I would do is tease you, flirt with you a bit. The collar is right there.

And soon enough, you'd be wearing the collar and kneeling expectantly, waiting for an order to serve. Because deep in your soul, you want to be owned.

[franticpanic]

You ever feel bad after you cum? Feel all gross and unworthy and like you've done something wrong? Save this post, come back to it when you feel like that:

Now here's what you're going to do:

Take a deep breath. Hold it for a second, then let it out slowly. Remind yourself it's just a kink, it's not a real thing.

Go get yourself some water. Drink it slowly. Tell someone you love them. Watch something that makes you laugh. Remember that you're okay.

Your kinks don't make you bad or gross or wrong. They're just a thing in our heads. You're good.

[franticpanic]

(cw: royalty kink)

it falls to me to teach you to defend yourself. i'll always be there to protect you, but our future majesty must be studied in all forms of combat. the king has hired the best in the kingdom for you, even the best from other kingdoms, but none of them have had the success that i've had with you.

of course it's because i understand you - i know you. i know your strengths and your weak points, i know your habits and your traits, negative and positive. i know how you think, i know what you wish for. i know what you look like when you're nervous, even when you hide it well. i know you, almost completely.

and as i teach you, i get to know you better. i train you in fencing, archery, horsemanship. you're a quick study and dedicated to doing your best, but you do struggle specifically in hand-to-hand combat.

something about the intimacy of an enemy putting their hands on you, the vulnerability of fighting without a weapon to separate you from your opponent, the brutality of using your bare hands to fight them off - it stalls you. you panic every time. the couple of seconds you hesitate could mean your death someday.

one day i accidentally discover a new, and very effective, training strategy.

its critical that i teach you to never let yourself be pinned down. if the opponent manages to restrain you, you're as good as dead - especially a delicate thing like you. but you don't seem to be taking that concept as seriously as you should. nothing i say or do drives the point home. we're only in a lesson, and you can't seem to get past that mental block. deep down you feel safe, so you won't put in your true best effort.

one day towards the end of a lesson, i throw you to the ground, once again pinning you easily with my weight. i watch as you grit your teeth, gasping and struggling, helpless against my strength. at first i see you mentally review what you've learned, but you rush it and it doesn't work. as you begin to panic your technique gets messier and messier, and your strength is no match for mine, let alone enough to force your way to freedom.

as i wonder how i'm supposed to teach you this and let you find a way out on your own without coddling you, my thigh settles between your legs and suddenly, i see your pretty eyes go wide.

my lips curl in a smirk. i press a little closer, my grip on your wrists tightening. don't panic now, i warn you, my voice heavy with false innocence. you seem flustered.

slowly, i settle my thigh more firmly between yours, my knee driving gently against you through the layers of fabric separating us.

the friction of your clothed cunt on my thigh has an instant effect. you fall still as if frozen in panic. a slight blush warms your cheeks.

go on, i encourage you. you think i'm gonna let you go so easily? at least try to escape.

you bite your lip, staring down at the space between us, your eyes still wide with panic. i nudge my thigh into you, earning a little flinch.

"sir..." you breathe, your chest rising and falling with shuddering breath.

what is it, your Highness? i ask, feigning concern. something the matter? do you give up?

your eyes shift up to mine. you suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. "no, sir."

perfect. then keep going.

slowly, you obey, shifting under me, but with a hitching breath you quickly realize that any struggling will drive you instantly against me again, the friction hot in your core. the urge to rock your hips and grind against me makes you twitch. confused, you lay there helplessly.

do you really plan to lay there and take it? i taunt. there's a way out if you keep trying.

your pretty lips part to complain, but your words die on your tongue. you glance down and back up to me, and you realize. you know i'm doing it on purpose.

now your gaze is hot, with equal parts horror and desire. "let me go," you demand, but your heart's not in it. just like your heart isn't in any of your attempts to escape my hold.

i smirk down at you. what kind of a teacher would that make me? i ask. if you want freedom, you'll have to work for it, sweet prince.

your eyes are wide in a silent plea. your blush deepens as i press into you, earning more friction. you release a little gasp and involuntarily grind against me, your hips rolling. then you suck in a breath, trying again to focus yourself.

the more you struggle, the harder you're forced against me, the better it feels. you could, of course, admit defeat, as you sometimes do when i've got you hopelessly caught in my stronger grip. but that would be too serious a blow to your pride, especially considering the humiliation you're already enduring.

you rock into me, panting as your cunt throbs against my thigh, whining low in your throat. my grip on your wrists tightens and you flinch.

"i'll report you to the guard," you threaten halfheartedly. your voice trembles with pleasure.

i smirk down at you. we're pressed so close i can feel your heart slam against my ribs. for what? beating you in a fight?

face flaming with embarrassment, you rock against me again, tentatively. you release a little sigh of bliss. you build a slow, careful pace, which i match by pressing my thigh into you, and soon you're trembling, pleasure pulsing through you in waves, not intensely enough to get you off, but enough to make you sweat and whimper.

i lean down, whispering in your ear as if to give you a hint. just like that, pretty boy. that's exactly right. keep going and i might release you after all.

you whimper into my chest, rocking harder against me. finally shamelessly pleasuring yourself in my thigh. i know it's mortifying, but you can't seem to stop, you're so desperate for it. i'm tempted to flip us over and let you hump my leg if that's what it takes to satisfy you, but i know that would be all too embarrassing.

finally your little whimpers rise into whines and moans that you muffle in my chest, and i mutter in your ear as you fall into the monotonous rhythm that means you're so close, you'll cum soon if you keep going like that. that's a good boy, i say. a sweet thing like you would win every fight. no one could stand to hurt you.

with a gasping moan, you gush in your trousers, soaking your boxers with cum. your lashes flutter, your chest rising and falling frantically against mine with stuttering breaths.

i nuzzle my nose in your neck as you recover, my grip on you softening. good boy, i say again. my pretty prince.

after that first time, you fight better than ever. you don't let yourself get pinned even once over the next month. obviously it's an effective teaching method - i can't say you're any better at fighting me off when you're pinned, but if you don't get caught in the first place, i can't complain. so next time you're trapped beneath me, i make sure to once again, for your education's sake, trap you helplessly under me, bury my face in your neck, and remind you to be a good boy for me and earn your release.