😛😝😜😋🤤🤤🤤 Reblog If You Like To Clean Them 🔃🔃🔃🔝🔝🔝

Claiming your sub in public has got to be one of the most attractive things a dom could do. Keeping your hand around their waist at all times. Having them sit on your lap. Quiet make out sessions in a corner. Placing your hand between their legs from under a table.

I own you.

Strict and Stern, Firm and Fair #47-24

Blowjobs foot beta style!

Never forget who owns you 👸🏻

How I ride the cum out my boyfriends dick

- wrap around him like a goddamn snake. squeeze my thighs up against his body and all that good stuff.

-I slide my hand under the base of his neck so if I want to play with his hair or kiss his neck, I got control over that.

-rhythm yo. Like when I masturbate, I like for there to be a certain pattern it works for dicks too. Dance on that dick.

-don’t let him fuck you back. when I ride my bf, I’m in control. He isn’t allowed to thrust or move or anything. Just allowed to quiver and moan.

-KEEP THAT RHYTHM. I don’t like speeding up. I like making him cum while I’m going slow. I feel like it makes his orgasm last longer and is more intense.

-when I feel him clenching up his body and getting close I like to put my hands in his hair and rub his head while I ride him (at the same pace I’ve been going)

-I like to kiss his neck too at this time it sorta just like builds everything up.

-when he tells me he’s close, I squeeze him tighter like I’ll basically hug him while riding him (idk if that’s just a my bf thing but he really likes being held)

-while he’s cumming I like to keep the rhythm I’ve been going at and then towards the end I slide that dick all the way back in and just sit on it and clench my pussy to make him all squirmy wormy.

And that’s how I ride the cum out my boyfriends dick and I like to just make it all about him sometimes because I loveeeee pleasing him it makes me happy.

“how did you know i was a sub?”

baby I looked at you for 0.3 seconds before you got flustered and shy, cleared your throat, and looked away. you literally almost slipped trying to volunteer to grab something for me. I saw your eyes flutter shut when I leaned in to whisper something. I heard that sharp intake of breath when I told you that you were doing so good.

so go ahead, straighten your posture now. try to delude yourself that you’re not obvious. but you know as well as I do that it really doesn’t matter that you’re taller than me, bigger than me. it’s still just one look from me before you’re on your knees. it’s still my fingers leaving marks along your pretty skin. my voice taunting you, my lips swallowing your whimpers.

my hands working you over until you’re dripping, desperate for more. you like that, baby? feels good, doesn’t it? my pretty sub. so strong. so needy.

my kisses leaving an imprint on your brain that’ll outlast any bruise or scar. permanently rewiring your brain until all you can think about is how to please me, how to be good for me.

the world looks at you and sees someone composed, capable. but you know that you’re naught but a toy for me. ardent and willing. good sub.

let me show you how nice it feels to surrender. let me tease out your moans and your arousal until you’re pulsating and gasping. let me show you what pleasure is meant to feel like.

Your Change of Plans

Your girlfriend wanted to be a Nanny for Littles for as long as you knew her. She’d been working towards her official certification for three years—the entirety of your relationship with her.

You remember how proud she was when she officially became a licensed Nanny. You took her out to her favorite restaurant, celebrating all night.

You never thought this would be her first job. That she would become your Nanny. But it was—and she did.

After you nearly flunked out of school your senior year in college, your parents decided adulthood was too great a responsibility for you. They simply could not trust you to stop partying for long enough to get your degree.

So, they enrolled you in the Little’s Program™️. Where you were stripped of more than just your adulthood. The program also stole your continence, ability to consume even a sip of alcohol without violently puking, and ability to digest anything but the unique formula patented by the program.

You were, in the eyes of the government—and everyone you knew—a Little. Trapped in diapers and living as a Little for no less than ten years, at which time your parents could try to raise you again…or make your Little status permanent.

You were excited to see her when you returned from your four-week stint at the Little’s Program. After weeks of being treated like a toddler, she was a sight for sore eyes. She’d treat you like an adult, you assured yourself.

“Hey baby,” she coos, looking down over the railing of your crib, “you look so cute, I could just eat you up!”

Something about the tone of her voice sent shivers down your spine. Not her, too. “Come on, babe, it’s me. You know I’m not a baby,” you pleaded.

“Could’ve fooled me, sweetie!” she says with sickening sweetness.

“Please,” you begged, “Stop talking to me like that.”

“Awww, I know it must be hard, honey. To go from my sexy, senior boyfriend to becoming my first charge as a Nanny!”

“You-what?!” you faltered.

“That’s right, baby! We get to stay together after all! It’s just you’re no longer my boyfriend. Obviously a Nanny can’t date the baby she cares for—that would be super inappropriate—but we can still be together all the time! I’m your live-in Nanny, baby!”

The silence after her words rang in your ears, the loudest silence you’ve ever heard. You were stunned, unable to comprehend your new reality.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she said, intentionally mistaking your silence for something else, “Are you having an oopsie-daisy in your diaper?”

She leans down and unsnaps the buttons on your onesies, feeling your diaper. “It doesn’t feel like it, honey. You’re not excited I’m your Nanny?”

It was all too much for you. It was unfair. Emotions swirled in your mind, overwhelming you. You cried. Cried like a baby. What else was there to do?

That was a year ago.

Your new life is as weird for you now as it was then. Having your now ex-girlfriend be your live-in Nanny was a special kind of torture. You still vividly remember all the wild, raucous nights you spent together before the Little’s Program.

She showed you the world of kinky sex and let you into her depraved, beautiful world of pleasure. You did things you’d never imagined doing with a girl. You remember all of it.

But your new reality couldn’t be farther removed from that life. Your new life was nothing more than endless diaper changes, naptimes, Little appropriate TV and movies, and early bedtimes.

Nothing she did even hinted that your past relationship ever existed. As far as she was concerned, you were even incapable of hearing the word sex, let alone doing anything like that.

Not that you could have sex anyway. The Little’s Program ensured that nobody would have any sexual arousal. You were incapable of not only getting hard but feeling any pleasure at all, even when she carefully, methodically wiped you down during diaper changes.

She never mentioned it—but you could tell she especially enjoyed your impotence during diaper changes. There was something about the way she smirked. It frustrated you to no end, having her wipe you down knowing you had no chance at doing anything more.

Especially on the nights she went out with her friends, leaving you at home wondering what she was doing—and who she was doing it with. It filled you with an overwhelming jealousy knowing your ex-girlfriend was out on the town while you were at home, filling your diapers in your crib.

She’d never given you details about what she did when she left, assuring you that “Babies shouldn’t worry about what the adults in their life are doing when they leave. Maybe one day—if you ever grow up—you can do those things, too. But until then, baby, you should enjoy having no responsibilities or worries.”

There were some similarities to your former relationship. She still kissed you goodnight before tucking you into your crib. Granted, it was a forehead kiss, but still! She’d also kiss and blow raspberries on your exposed tummy during diaper changes, never stopping until you squealed in delight.

And, as when you were dating, she picked out all your clothes for you to wear. Which wasn’t any different than it was for you now—as long as you didn’t see the clothes she put you in. Your t-shirts, jeans, and tank tops were replaced with onesies and overalls.

Although you did still wear t-shirts, though they were specifically designed not to cover your diaper and had things like “Mommy’s Lil’ Stinker” and “Caution: Big Loads!” written on them.

Other days, she settled on leaving you completely naked, aside from your diaper—diapers never came off until changing time.

One thing you hated to admit that you did enjoy was the tender, intimate moments you shared during “meals.” Sure, you missed solid foods, especially as you watched the adults eat the steak while you sat in your high chair.

But when she laid you on her lap, lovingly looking down on you as you drank from your bottle, everything felt right. Not even the frequent diaper checks—or when you messed your diaper on her lap—could stop you from enjoying the moment with her. You’d be asleep before she changed your diaper anyway.

It was the only time you felt connected with her like before. As your eyes grew heavy she stroked your hair with one hand and supported you with another hand on your diaper.

Last night was seemingly no different than any other night. You fell asleep on her lap as she sat on your crib, contentedly sucking on your bottle. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At least until the following morning. She came running into your room, excitedly trying to wake you up. “Wake up, baby!” she beamed, “I want to share the good news!”

You fight off the grogginess that always comes from sleeping as a Little. “Wh-what?”

She reaches down, stroking your hair, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I was talking to your parents last night, and we came to an agreement that works for all of us,” she gushed, “Your parents asked me if I wanted to adopt you, and, well, I said YES!”

“A-adopt m-me?” you ask incredulously.

“Yes, baby! We already submitted the paperwork online! Isn’t that great?! You’ll be my Little!”

“B-but doesn’t that mean my 10-year time restarts? I thought I’d get to grow up after! I wanted to be with you!”

Her smile never fades, “You will be with me, baby! Always and forever! Since I’m adopting you I can choose whether to renew the 10-years or keep you as a Little permanently. And I thought how much more I love you like this, so you’re my new, permanent Little!”

The word permanent rattled in your head, like an echo that somehow grows in strength rather than fading. “B-but I don’t want to be a Little forever! I wanted to be with you as an adult!”

For the first time, her smile fades for a split second. She looks at you, smiling.

“I know, honey, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve…met someone. Someone loving and mature, someone I can depend on. And, well, we’re engaged!” she says exaltedly, showing you the ring you somehow missed before.

You don’t know what to think. The one thing that kept you going was the hope that you’d be with her again one day, once you grew up again and regained your adulthood. But now, even if you did, she wouldn’t be with you. She wouldn’t wait for you.

The realization surprisingly calmed you. It was like a heavy weight suddenly lifted off your chest. You were free from your fruitless pursuit of her. You’d never be with her again, even if you did grow up. And yet, everything made sense now.

This was how it was supposed to be. You’d still be with her, just as her Little. You think back to the constant diaper changes, the tickle fights, the love in her eyes as you drift off to sleep every night. You were happy.

You no longer needed—or even wanted—to grow up. You wanted to be her Little. You feel your arms and legs wiggle in happiness, proof of your acceptance.

She smiles down at you, tears in her eyes. “Someone’s a happy baby, aren’t they!” she coos, “Are you excited to be Mommy’s Little?”

You were finally happy.