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Hetero Female Submissive, 37,  Thornton, Colorado
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RavensFable

RavensFable - photo 2

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I actually put a lot of thought into this profile, so would appreciate it if you take the time to read it. In the BDSM world, I identify as a masochist mainly. I am also a babygirl, submissive, and toy. I enjoy feeling intimidated and helpless, and emotionally uncomfortable. I tend towards CNC and free use dynamics. Daddy would very much like me to find more people to use me, and would particularly enjoy it if I went to visit him with a pussy full of cum. I do struggle with anxiety and depression. I am also very shy in general, and very busy. I am introverted and run out of social energy very quickly. Because of this, it is very seldom that I will even think of bringing anyone into my life as a play partner or anything more. I tend to not want to chat on here a lot. I am sometimes overly blunt, but that is usually just because I don`t have time to waste. I do not have kik or any other messaging ap, so prefer to keep communication here until we are both comfortable then I am willing to text or email or use messenger. Some things I would look for in a play partner: - I will not consider anyone younger than me, and prefer someone older. - No couples - do you see how busy I am? I do not have time to waste, and couples almost ALWAYS are time wasters. This does not mean you cannot BE in a couple so long as you are not cheating, I am just not interested in pursuing play with a couple. I am bisexual, I would love to be used by a Dominant couple, but have yet to meet any that don`t want to waste my time. - I do have a physical "type", and I have gotten to the point where if I do not find someone physically attractive then I will not be with them. I have dated too many people I was not attracted to and honestly, I am too old and cranky to continue doing so. - Online "sexting" does absolutely nothing for me. I am a private person and I do not "kiss and tell" so to speak. - If you are not currently living in Colorado then I will not consider you! This means living within a reasonable distance in Colorado from me. - I am allowed to not be interested in you. That is something people forget a lot. I do not owe an explanation or anything else to you for it. I will not hesitate to block you if you keep pushing. If you are interested in using me, send me a message with “Charlie” somewhere in it. Just a note – Charlie is NOT my name. And sending me a message with this word does not guarantee that I will be interested. All that said, have a good day and be kind to one another.

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 RavensFable

 Submissive Female

 Thornton 

 Colorado

 5' 2"

 260 lbs

 37

 Hetero

 Caucasian

 01/01/23

 

Actively Seeking:

Dominant Female

Dominant male

Male Dom Couples

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Journal Entries:
1/23/2023 1:32:41 PM

My First "Good Girl"

“You look very pretty, sweetie.”

I looked up at the kindly older woman who was smiling at me and blushed bright pink, then smiled nervously and mumbled a thank you. I was sitting outside of Spencers in the mall, it was about 1:30PM, and I was waiting for my first boyfriend. He was already late, and had not been answering his phone. We were about to go see Wall-E and have dinner together. I was in my early twenties, which was late for a first boyfriend. But I was brought up in a very conservative, tight laced Christian family. Dating was for marriage, not for fun, and you never would date someone normally without a chaperone. I was being a rebel, and I loved it. I was meeting a man I had met through a newspaper ad (because I was too shy to approach anyone and this was before a lot of the dating sites we have today, although shortly after this I did discover chatrooms), we were going to a movie alone and going out to eat alone and part of me was certain that I was making God angry. My sister had dated in high school behind my parents back. I had never been that rebellious, I always did what I was told to do. I had left my parents religion though, and the first few vertebrae of my backbone began to develop, and now I was a free woman. And I was terrified. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and no idea how to interact with people I had been brought up believing were outsiders and not to be trusted.

My first boyfriend was named Steve. He was an hour late to our first date. I don’t know why I stayed put and waited. But I had. I kept telling myself to give him a chance. This was back when I felt if I could find someone to love me, it was in spite of my size. I never knew there were men who specifically liked girls with my body type. So, I figured whoever wanted me at that point, I had to be grateful. Steve was not someone I would consider attractive, and today he was not someone I would have gone out with. He was much older than me though, and I liked that.

We went to Wall-E, and about ten minutes into the movie I felt the hand on my knee. I was wearing a skirt with a high slit. He pressed popcorn to my lips and fed me while his hand went further and further up my leg. At one point he leaned over and whispered for me to open my legs more for him, and I did. This was the first time anyone besides me had touched there. I was burying my face in his jacket and whimpering, my belly was flipping inside me, and I felt a brand new sensation as his finger slipped under my panties.

I had touched myself before, but it felt nothing like this. Those times it had been careful and experimental prodding between my legs while I shoved my fist into my mouth to muffle the sounds and avoid alerting my parents. I had played with pressure, rhythm, speed, and location until I knew how to make myself feel good. The concept of someone else knowing though seemed foreign. I barely even had a gr on things I liked sexually. I had confessed to Steve that I was a virgin, and he had sounded excited. He had whispered into the phone, “I have so much to show you…” We had spent a week or two talking every night. I would sit out on the porch of the house where I lived with my parents, talking quietly and looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening in. He would ask me how I liked to kiss, how I liked to make love, what fantasies I had, and I would reply shyly that I didn`t really know. I knew I wanted to be tied down, but beyond that I was not sure.

If someone had later demanded to know what the movie was about, I would not have been able to tell them. Most of the movie I spent with my face buried inside Steves leather jacket to muffle my moans as his fingers ran up and down my slit. He fed me popcorn, then when the popcorn was gone he slipped his fingers between my lips and I sucked on them. When the credits began to roll, I stood on shaky legs and went to the restroom. My panties were sopping wet. He drove me to my car and smiled. I fidgeted. I told him I had nowhere to go – in case he wanted to do something. I didn’t have the language for it at that time, but I was on fire and wanted him to put it out. He stopped me mid-sentence with a kiss, and he was a very good kisser. I melted quickly into a puddle as his hand went into my hair and grabbed a giant handful, his other hand went back under my panties and pushed them aside now that we were in the privacy of his car. His fingers found my clit and began to circle it gently, before his fingers slipped inside me. My whole body was shaking and I felt this odd sort of desperation. I wanted it to end, but never wanted it to stop.

I found myself moaning and pleading into his ear. I didn`t know what I was pleading for, just knew I needed something. He breathed hotly into my ear as he whispered all the things he wanted to show me. He told me he would teach me to be a good little cocksucker, that he would teach me to take his cock in my ass and pussy, and he would loan me out to his friends and watch while they used me. My hips were moving on their own against his fingers, and I was almost sobbing as something in my belly was building and building. He had my hair in a vice grip and he placed bites and nibbles along my neck, then yanked my shirt collar down to reveal my breasts and sucked on my nipples. I cried out and bucked and squirmed against his fingers, and he smiled as I sat there flushed and with my mouth open and trembling and my eyes wide in wonder. He kissed me again, then called me a good girl for “cumming for Daddy”. That was the start of my addiction to the term “good girl”.

That is a hard feeling to recapture. I had never been a “horny teenager” and my hormones had never pushed me to the backseat of a car with a classmate while we clumsily kissed and pawed at each other. No, I did not develop those feelings until many years later. Now I was in the front seat of a car with a man who knew how to make me sing, and I loved that feeling more than I could say. He gave me my first spanking, fucked all my holes for the first time, and I had my first two threesomes with him. I remember dressing in a schoolgirl costume while he and his friend “punished me” for bad grades in school. I straddled him and worshipped his body while teasingly rubbing my went cunt on his cock. He pinned me down and fucked my ass while pressing my face into a pillow while I screamed. He made me cry with his belt as he put welts across me. Looking back, it was all very tame, but at the time it was this exhilarating high that made me feel invincible. I loved being his good girl.


1/3/2023 8:57:40 PM

Conversation with Daddy, and starting a new project ^_^

Me: excitedly tells Daddy via text about the "deep throat training" kit I found on Etsy....it is a series of progressively larger super soft dildos with the "expert" one being a large and firm dildo

(I would love to learn to deep throat Daddy but have a sensitive gag reflex and almost decorated us both the other night)

Daddy: approves

Me: I think I will work on training my ass for you too Daddy.

Daddy: Why do you need to do that? You take my cock pretty well.

Me: So it is easier. And because it makes me horny to train my holes for you :P

Daddy: Well okay then....

Me: Also I am sure you like the idea of me on my hands and knees every night stretching my ass for you and any other cock that wants it :P

Daddy: I really do!

Yup. That is the new project. I may even get brave and post pictures at some point.

Just a note - if you want to use or borrow me you still need to read my profile and I still need to be interested in you.


1/3/2023 11:35:54 AM

Another Kind of Pain

Sir, please may it cum?

I had woken up from a naughty dream, and could feel slickness between my legs. My pussy throbbed in time with the beat of my heart and I felt myself pushing my thighs together and squirming against the sheets. I usually sleep in the nude, and it was so tempting to fling my legs open and relieve the ache between them. But I had to stop myself, because my cunt was not mine anymore.

My phone dinged at me.

No, it may not. It may edge endlessly throughout the day.

My heart sank, fingers stopping on their trek between my legs. I frowned at the phone. My pussy pulsed harder, and I groaned as my fingers began to circle my clit. It did not take long until I was on the very edge of orgasm, and with a half sob I shoved my fingers into my cunt to back away from it. I did this again and again, each time drawing closer and closer to release, my cunt was sopping wet, my clit hard, and each time I backed away from orgasm my cunt pulsed in protest. I laid there for what seemed like forever tormenting myself, knowing he wanted me to suffer, until my body was trembling and I could not stop the whimpers coming from my lips.

Then I looked at the clock and bit back a sob as I realized I had to get up and get ready for work. I sent one more plea.

It is so wet it hurts!

How unfortunate for it. Edge all day only, it may get permission to cum tonight.

I sighed miserably. Yes Sir.

Many do not know this but the clitoris is not just the little nub we love to play with so much. It is actually a much larger organ that circles the entire vulva, making it so sensitive to touch. I felt every single inch of it throbbing with need. I could feel my panties getting damp. I got up and got showered and dressed, then heading to my cleaning client. Were I going to my full time job of being a Veterinary Technician, I could have been distracted enough to ignore the throbbing pain between my legs. But as it was, I was cleaning a house that day, and that is an almost meditative activity. Which meant my mind could wander.

I replayed our play session the week before again and again in my head. Me crawling on my hands and knees naked and blindfolded, feeling so exposed and helpless. The lash across my ass and back and thighs and even a strike or two between my legs. The welts and bruises had mostly faded by this time. I remembered freezing on the floor and trying to hear him as he had moved around me, wondering where the next strike would come from, knowing I could do nothing to stop him. My muscles had ached from him fisting me, from every orgasm he had ripped from me.

By the time I left my cleaning client my pussy had soaked through my jeans, and I was near tears with need. It was only 2PM. I went home, stripped, and laid in bed with my legs splayed open, and again tortured myself. My weeping pussy was throbbing, my legs shaking, and I was biting my lip to keep from crying out.

Please Sir, may it present itself for use tonight?

Busy.

I wanted to throw my phone across my room. Under my ass a small patch of moisture had appeared on the bed, and I squirmed more as I fingered myself and danced on the edge for about an hour.

He wanted me desperate and suffering.

I ground my ass into the bed, fingers buried deep in my pussy, whimpering as I could hear how wet I was. I whispered into my empty room. “Please, please, please….” I still had chores to do, but this feeling of arousal was becoming its own addiction. I dug out my butt-plug and eased it into my ass, then got dressed to do chores. I took care of pets, did dishes, whimpering occasionally and pressing my thighs together. I knew he was busy, and did not want to bother him, but part of me wanted to text him the least dignified message pleading to please be allowed to cum, even if just once. I rehearsed my text message in my mind. “Please Sir, its selfish and useless holes are so needy and sore and wet, and it needs to cum so very badly! It will do whatever you want, please let it cum!”

But I didn`t. Mainly because telling a sadist “whatever you want” is a BAD idea in my opinion. But also because he was busy, and I was meant to suffer.

By the time bedtime rolled around my knees felt weak and I felt just a little sick to my stomach. My cunt felt like it was the largest organ in my body, and it pulsed angrily at having been denied all day. I sent one last miserable text, expecting to be denied and told to edge all night long.

Please Sir, may it cum?

My fingers traced the puffy lips around my cunt, already slick.

My phone dinged.

No less than 5 times, no more than 10.

I almost sobbed in relief, my legs opened wide and my fingers working at my greedy cunt. Within seconds I came hard enough to see specks dancing across my vision. I slipped the butt plug back into place, then used my vibrator and dildo, crying out in relief as my body arched on the bed and I squirmed. In my mind there was a hand around my throat pinning me to the bed, I was blindfolded and helpless, I pictured a belt lashing at me while I screamed and I came again and again until my body was soaked in sweat and I was a whimpering mess. I kept going, feeling incapable of stopping even if the house were burning down. I felt splashes against my toes as I squirted, and pressed my pillow hard against my face and cried out into it.

My body ached, my clit pulsed, and I shook as I laid there and spasmed helplessly. It was borderline painful, but it felt so good that I found myself touching my over sensitive clit just to keep the feeling going a little longer. I had cum 7 times. I knew if I were with him that he would not stop there, I remembered him using me that night and forcing my body to cum until I forgot how to speak and was simply lying there and taking it until he decided he was done. I drifted off to sleep, whimpering one last time as I snuggled under the covers.


1/3/2023 4:03:27 AM

The Little Dark Thing - My Masochist Speaks

I remember thinking “God, I hope this is the right house….” as I stepped in the front door and stripped. It was the right house, and on the entertainment center there were restraints, a blindfold, and a gag waiting for me to put them on. I knelt on the doormat he had set out for me, put the restraints on…..and waited. Before I play with someone, I ask them if they have instructions for me. Their answer often decides if they will be playing with my submissive side, or my masochist. This man was playing with my masochist, and she is much more picky. He had given detailed instructions for me via text. And then he had said, “you do not speak unless spoken to”.

Minutes passed and my feet began to feel numb, but I didn`t move. He hadn`t told me I could. He was still upstairs and I wondered vaguely if he knew I was even in his living room, waiting for him. After what seemed like forever I heard feet coming down the stairs, and he was standing in front of me. Through the blindfold I could not see him, but I could feel him. He felt like the sun, and I found myself turning towards him like a budding flower. I heard him click the lock on his front door, and realized he had not told me to lock the door so I hadn`t, and anyone could have walked in and seen me there. I heard a rustle, there was another click as his leash attached to the collar he had me put on, and then I was pulled. I had been to his house several times and kind of knew the layout but still struggled to crawl after him blindfolded as he drug me up the stairs. Then I was all but flung to bend over the side of the bed.

I stayed still and waited. Because he had not told me to do otherwise. Up to this moment he had not told me anything. When the first strike hit my ass I yelped. It felt like he was beating the dust off me, and I could feel myself becoming….real? Clean? The pain always is felt in my chest, and it builds up and builds up until it is like a giant bubble – then it reaches its peak and I am floating and free. I have a hard time putting it into words. All I knew was that at that moment, I was just a vessel for him. I would take his cock and the pain he gave me, of course. But I would also take his tension and stress, maybe anger, maybe lust, maybe joy. And in return he would take the things from me that I could not express. My grief, my pain, my fear, my shame.

Often when my masochist comes out to play she says the phrase at least once – “take what you need from me.” That can come in many forms. It can come in piss raining down on me while I am told I am a useless whore, my holes being used, my ass being beat until blood runs down my legs, being used until I am crumpled up on the floor like a dirty wash cloth. It can come in the form of needles slowly being pushed through my skin while my head tilts back with a sigh. It can be a rough hand over my mouth and an (unloaded) gun shoved to my chin while I am fucked hard, whispering threats in my ear. It can come in the form of being locked in a cage and made to explain why he should allow me to return home, even though at that moment I barely remember my name. Because, he says calmly, he isn`t sure he wants to let his new favorite toy go.

My masochist is picky because she has to be. She is not impressed with toys, a handsome face, or years of experience. She is impressed with the simplicity of a belt and a hand around her throat. She does not see herself as a person, she sees herself as a toy or an for use. She likes to be fearful, nervous, and even terrified. She knows she will not be truly hurt – but she likes to forget that for a while. She likes to feel like the mouse being hunted by a cat, only to have the cat smile and say he wants to play with her for a while before going in for the kill. She likes feeling pinned to the spot, melted by the intensity in his eyes and, even though she knows she could run, her curiosity and need to serve holds her there. She likes to fall apart into a million little bits, and only have a vague hope that she will be put back together. Because, from the moment she consents to submit to him, she belongs to him and is his property – at least while he uses her. She will offer up her body for this, she will scream for him, she will moan and pleasure him, she will bleed for him if he so desires, and in the end she will feel bright and new just because he said “good girl” after she allowed him to wreck her.

I am doing this writing because this is something that has been so hard for me to put into words. My masochist doesn’t like to think of herself as having needs, she just exists and sometimes needs a voice. My submissive side is much different. She is not very shy, smiles and holds eye contact, is talkative and bubbly. My masochist is all lip biting, gazing at the ground, and soft voice. She is always fearful that she will offer herself up, just to be rejected. For most people, she couldn`t care less. But for a few, she gravitates towards. She wants to please, wants to serve, wants to be a safe place for his frustrations and stress and lust. My submissive side has needs and wants. She likes being fucked, likes some beating – but my masochist likes to be utterly destroyed. She likes to look in the mirror afterwards and see the new landscape of bruises, cuts, and abrasions across her skin. She likes the muscle twinges in the following days as she is reminded of her ruin. She will sometimes masturbate while recalling those hours of being used, as that pain echoes in her brain.

I don`t know where this dark part of me comes from. I don`t know if it is because of trauma, mental illness, or what. I have struggled with self-injury for as long as I can remember, but no pain I have ever felt during use comes close to the pain I have caused myself. I do tend to compartmentalize myself a lot. The person I am at work is not the submissive I am for Daddy, and the masochist I am for a select few is not the person anyone would ever see me as at work. I don’t know why sometimes I turn into this dark little thing that feels the need to offer my tears, blood, and screams on an alter for….what?......validation? Relief? I don`t know. I do know that if the energy is not right, she won`t come out. I feel her every few months like a tickle under my skin, as though she is suffocating and needs to be released. There is always this bit of desperation to her, a shivery feeling in the pit of my stomach. She then goes looking for the Sadist that will call to her, but is seldom successful. Often, she feels anxious and lost - and looks for a safe place to be broken.


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