“When you come back online,” I warn Spitfire, “you’re going to need to hard boot me back to your Kittlen.”
She nods in assent, and vanishes to real life, while I go and spend some time exercising my dominance over little naughty boys. I get them to do a quickie writing exercise, some stuff to add to the blog later.
Two and a half hours later, I’m safewording in Discord.
What I had seen at the female superiority sim was not something I wanted to experience. Don’t touch my throat. Don’t do asphyxiation play around me. Don’t… just don’t. Even the words I’m writing is causing me to panic in the memory. It’s a memory now. It didn’t happen to me.
It did happen to one of the boys. It’s a consensual non-consent sim for the men that come there. They become part of the scumherd. We can do whatever it is we want to them.
She sees the safeword and she’s almost instantly online, even as another was in my head, trying to keep me calm. Before Spitfire can even ask me any questions, I’m telling her what happened.
“A domme at (sim) was doing a throat crushing under boot scene. I’m doing my best not to panic.” I didn’t tell her I was failing.
“Okay, mine. I’m here now. Breathe for me,” she writes to me.
“I am,” I lie, hyperventilating.
“Blue arms around you, protecting you,” she begins, as I continue to explain.
“She wasn’t doing it to mine or to anyone I was responsible for, but when I read back what she was doing…” I paused because more words from her flashed on my screen.
“Safe and secure here.”
“Are you pushing a trance?”
“No,” she replied, “just getting you to relax. My dollie, my kittlen. I saw your safeword on Discord and got here as fast as I could.”
Then we talked. She made sure I was okay to do my set, by getting me to laugh and talk to her first. When she was certain I was ready, she let me go to where my dj set was.
Near the end of it, I asked her to dance with me. I jumped on the blue ball and she mocked slapping my wrist for it. After all, #domwins. I laughed.
“I think you’re still dommy from (sim),” she tells me as we dance.
“Me? Maybe,” I reply, as she scruffs me. I look for her lips.
“I didn’t hit the reset button on you earlier,” she explains just before her lips find mine,” because you were in a panic, so that took priority.”
“You didn’t ask me to give in to you either, but you did get me to.” I feel where my ‘switch’ was, and it was still way into the domme side. “But no, you didn’t turn me off.”
She took the impact toys out of my hands in her following emotes, describing how she was putting them safely away. Then her hand found the nape of my neck. With her fingers in my hair, she scruffs me, firmly but gently.
Then the push begins.
“My hand in your hair
“That it’s time to relax
“And be little
“Be my dollie once more”
Her lips found mine, and in real life, my breathing slowed. My eyes closed and I slowly opened them again, relaxing into her mind touch and I reply.
“Not too little
“Mine,” she purred.
I was hers again.
Later, in my ears, one of the others tells me something I am still in shock over. I was told “if you wonder what did you do to deserve her, you simply kept standing up when life wanted you down. This is what you did to deserve her handsome dolly.”