A bounty of kink & beauty.

Ahoy there! Here you will find images of beautiful women, inspiring bondage and wonderful words. There will also be the odd picture of an adorable animal and things I find interesting and striking. I am just a little bit kinky so it's probably best to give the following warnings: 18+ NSFW. Ask me things. I don't bite (well...I do sometimes. But only if you are exceptionally wonderful) Enjoy ;) Oh- if there are any problems with pictures, please let me know and I will remove. If you want to contact me outside of tumblr's useless messaging system my email address is: purplepirate@hotmail.co.uk
Take a peek at my archive
~ Tuesday, November 5 ~
Permalink
Right now, I need to disappear into the depths of submission. I need to mute my mind. Let the pain and pleasure erase the tiresome thoughts that relentlessly fill my mind. A hand around my throat providing a distraction from the daily grind of reality. I need to look into those eyes and see only him. Think of only him. I need to be stripped down to the rawness of me. Layers of anxiety falling from me with each grip of his hand, each bite of his teeth.
Oh. I just need to switch my mind off. 
musiquevisuelle:

Shall we ever meet again? by Daisy Oak on Flickr.

Right now, I need to disappear into the depths of submission. I need to mute my mind. Let the pain and pleasure erase the tiresome thoughts that relentlessly fill my mind. A hand around my throat providing a distraction from the daily grind of reality. I need to look into those eyes and see only him. Think of only him. I need to be stripped down to the rawness of me. Layers of anxiety falling from me with each grip of his hand, each bite of his teeth.

Oh. I just need to switch my mind off. 

musiquevisuelle:

Shall we ever meet again? by Daisy Oak on Flickr.


Tags: picturesandwords
1,244 notes
reblogged via her-little-boudoir
~ Saturday, September 21 ~
Permalink

"Have you left any marks yet?"

Fresh from a beautifully intimate bout of morning sex. Born from an unending, burning desire to feel more, to have a temporary reminder of the ecstasy of a split second. A concoction of pain and pleasure brought together to create a moment of pure clarity in the presence of an empty mind.

His absence provides a compulsion to delicately test the marks he leaves. Fingers slowly tracing the jagged outline of a bruise. Eyes staring at the redness and regularity of his cruel teeth marks. Nails adding a gentle pressure, depressing the skins surface in an attempt to recreate even an iota of the pain experienced in creation.

When the purples and blues merge once again into the dull paleness of skin, an overwhelming need takes over. An urge to feel again. To experience the highest level his control can reach, a numbing of thoughts and emotions. Dulling the strains of the day with just the clamping of his teeth. Without the marks and the remnants of pain, it’s hard to embrace his reality. The bruises are a reminder of existence.

Tags: writing picturesandwords me bruises
5 notes
~ Thursday, June 20 ~
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Reminiscence and Evolution.

I should be sleeping. Instead, I have taken some time to head back into the depths of my blog to read my writing. How intriguing I am. 

There is a clear path that meanders through my writing. Over what seems like a short period of time, it highlights both my relationships and the evolution of my thoughts and needs. It’s so strange to think that what my mind yearns for now is so different to what it once wanted so desperately. I find myself still needing submission. Still wanting to feel owned and safe under the influence of the right man. However, that is dulled by the ever pressing urge to just find somebody that I can connect with emotionally. Somebody that wants me as much as I want them. Somebody that makes me forget about the stresses of everyday life, even just for a moment. 

I want love. Proper heart fluttering, clichéd love. When I actually analyse what I really need at this stage in my life, that is what it comes down to.  

It’s funny isn’t it, how we change. I have said what I want hundreds of times. Yet, I never really know. I’m never really sure. Tomorrow, it may be something else. 

Tags: picturesandwords life personal submission
2 notes
~ Tuesday, May 21 ~
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The consequence of sequential orgasms…

The first is for stress relief. His persistent fingers easing the strain in her brain with each enduring circle. She sinks into the sensation, knowing that those movements are reliable, no matter the time needed to push her over the brink. 

The second is for his engaging curiosity. How his fingertips wander so slowly across her skin. So soon after the first, almost too much for her to bare. Watching her turn into an uncontrollable mess. Her reactions heightened and uncaring. Raw and unburdened. 

The third is for his ego. A smile spreads across his face as her body jerks away from him. Pulling away from his touch. Her eyes softly closed with a heaving chest. He stares and smirks at the ease of which his fingers can work. 

The fourth is his finale. Hands pushing her against the wall, teeth grazing at her nipple. Fingers searching. Delicacy does not exist any more. Her knees buckling and her grip grasping as his force propels her to orgasm. No longer is she standing. As the crescendo hits she crawls down his upright form and is kissing the floor. 

As she begins to sink into the depths of the carpet, there are hands. Strong ones. Aiding her rise, pulling her arms around his neck. Time is given for her to soften. Then, a deep kiss and a departure. In a blink, he has gone. All that is left is a dazed and satisfied girl in his wake.  

Orgasms to heal two souls. 

Tags: inappropriate information M picturesandwords
9 notes
~ Saturday, April 20 ~
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You’ve got a little something on your face…

Oh fuck! This morning, I started teasing him. Slow, soft caresses of his cock through his boxers. I felt like drawing it out, making him oh so very ready for my mouth. Oh…I just love the feeling of a hard cock underneath my fingers. It just feels so good. 

'You're so hard'. 

That sentence caused a groan and a little jolt of that cock in my hand. 

'Mmm…I love that…when your cock jumps'

Another groan. I teased for so very long, finally taking off his boxers and marvelling at that beautiful cock of his. I felt my mouth watering but I held back. I slid my fingers into my own wetness to create a little lubrication. I played with him. Just enjoying his reactions and the feel of him. All of a sudden, I felt an urge to ask him something:

'If you could come anywhere on my body, where would you choose?'

He groaned again and said that he couldn’t choose. So, I kept on playing. I took him in my mouth and teased and teased. Bringing him close to orgasm and then stopping to aim a grin at him. It didn’t take him long to take control of my head. Funny, I can concentrate more when he does that. All I have to think about is breathing. Anyway… he loosened his grip and I seized my moment once more. 

'How do you want to come?' I whispered, kneeling over him. 

'I want to come on your face'. 

Oh…fuck. I have been fantasising about that for fucking ages. I think I exhaled quite loudly as a massive shiver of excitement and arousal spread through my body. 

'Is that okay?' He asked, with a sweet little look of concern on his face. 

An exasperated yes was all I could manage. Then, everything was a blur. He got off the bed and pulled me to the edge. He took my head and started to push me down on his cock.

Breathe…breathe…ah fuck he is going to come on my face..fuck..breathe! 

I felt him harden even more and I knew just how close he was. He pulled out, took hold of his cock and gave those last few strokes that he needed to push him over the edge. 

'Open your mouth, stick your tongue out'. How could I resist such a demand? I was already poised to do that. I didn't need telling. But fuck did him telling me to do that turn me on even more. I tilted my head back and looked up at him. And then…fuck…there it was. The noises he makes, the face he pulls and that hot, warm liquid falling onto my face. My forehead, my eye, my mouth, my cheeks. It even slid down in between my breasts. God…it felt so fucking amazing. I felt overwhelmed and I couldn't stop grinning. Even after we had cleaned up I bombarded him with kisses. That little experience had set off fireworks in my brain and rendered normally useful and sane parts of it useless. I was drifting off into a wonderful world and it felt so damn good.

I have wanted to experience that for so very long. It felt just like I had hoped. That little spark of humiliation. The feeling of being used. The filthiness of the whole situation. The wonderful fulfilling feeling…

Fuck. This man is just what I need. 

Tags: inappropriate information picturesandwords
41 notes
~ Saturday, February 9 ~
Permalink
This. This is the most glorious feeling. The movement of his lips to my throat forces my head to dive backwards. My eyes close in a flurry of arousal. My chest heaves upwards, forming a delicate arch in my back. I have to catch my breath at the sudden change in direction. Soft and gentle kisses and licks transcend upon me. I am lost to sensation. A slave to its grasp on me. 
In one action, my physiology changes with a sudden burst of energy. Teeth. Sharp, each one its own bout of wonderful pain. I bend almost impossibly for him now, arching up towards the ceiling in a desperate bid to bring my body closer to him. Perhaps to ease the pain or to condition him to never stop.
He left a mark on my neck today, doing exactly this. He knows that I like it, but I don’t think he quite understands why. I do not like it solely because I enjoy the sensation. I like it because it shows that he can give me what I need. And that is exciting. 

This. This is the most glorious feeling. The movement of his lips to my throat forces my head to dive backwards. My eyes close in a flurry of arousal. My chest heaves upwards, forming a delicate arch in my back. I have to catch my breath at the sudden change in direction. Soft and gentle kisses and licks transcend upon me. I am lost to sensation. A slave to its grasp on me. 

In one action, my physiology changes with a sudden burst of energy. Teeth. Sharp, each one its own bout of wonderful pain. I bend almost impossibly for him now, arching up towards the ceiling in a desperate bid to bring my body closer to him. Perhaps to ease the pain or to condition him to never stop.

He left a mark on my neck today, doing exactly this. He knows that I like it, but I don’t think he quite understands why. I do not like it solely because I enjoy the sensation. I like it because it shows that he can give me what I need. And that is exciting. 

(Source: crocotte)


Tags: writing M gif kiss neck bite picturesandwords
1,639 notes
reblogged via kiltypleasures-deactivated20130
~ Saturday, December 1 ~
Permalink

Needs and wants.

I want to be on my knees. I need it. I want that feeling of utter surrender to wash over me as I look up to you. I want the smile to creep onto my face as I realise that I am exactly where I need to be. Let me fall into that head space where only my submission to your domination resides. Nothing could be more simple. I make one choice to submit and everything cascades onwards from that point. All that is left in my mind is a cloud of pleasure and fulfilment. All of the stresses and worries of my day are but mere memories. Only joyous pleasure exists. I need to kneel at your feet. I need that blanket of calm to softly cover my mind. I need to belong.

Tags: personal writing picturesandwords
23 notes
~ Sunday, October 28 ~
Permalink
A modern love story.
The two originated from the tap-tapping of curious fingers, from dirty minds and strong libidos. They came from a warped reality, where nothing was real and everything uncertain. Funny, how those hurdles were overcome. How reality melded into their lives. 
They took time to learn about each other. Spent days immersed in the company of their minds. They became adventurers, trekking through the vast spaces they gave to each other. Their explorations gave them the unique opportunity to question and learn. To grow. Both blossomed as individuals. They had been given the gift of inner confidence that could only come from the acceptance of another.  
Trust became their guiding light, their candle in pitch darkness. It started slowly, a tiny flickering flame. Over time, it grew and grew, until it was no longer a transitory light but a blazing inferno. Not once was that flame extinguished. That is how they got to the point of an irrefutable reality. Trust took them there.
When they met, it was a forceful occasion, their bodies crashed into each other like the waves created from a storm. Bodies collided, eyes feasted. They could do nothing more than to touch and feel. They were checking. Searching for flaws in their matrix, anything to indicate a false reality. Ensuring that they were not just indulging in another creation of their imaginations. Their hands were everywhere. Touching every piece of skin, every curve and grace their two bodies could provide. Searching for cracks. 
They only dared to stop when they were sure. When all four feet were planted firmly on solid ground. When both were convinced the other existed. The motion of their limbs came to a halt, positioned in locations that would become safe havens. They paused, looked into each others eyes, and smiled. That was it. They were in each others arms. They were home. At last. 

A modern love story.

The two originated from the tap-tapping of curious fingers, from dirty minds and strong libidos. They came from a warped reality, where nothing was real and everything uncertain. Funny, how those hurdles were overcome. How reality melded into their lives. 

They took time to learn about each other. Spent days immersed in the company of their minds. They became adventurers, trekking through the vast spaces they gave to each other. Their explorations gave them the unique opportunity to question and learn. To grow. Both blossomed as individuals. They had been given the gift of inner confidence that could only come from the acceptance of another.  

Trust became their guiding light, their candle in pitch darkness. It started slowly, a tiny flickering flame. Over time, it grew and grew, until it was no longer a transitory light but a blazing inferno. Not once was that flame extinguished. That is how they got to the point of an irrefutable reality. Trust took them there.

When they met, it was a forceful occasion, their bodies crashed into each other like the waves created from a storm. Bodies collided, eyes feasted. They could do nothing more than to touch and feel. They were checking. Searching for flaws in their matrix, anything to indicate a false reality. Ensuring that they were not just indulging in another creation of their imaginations. Their hands were everywhere. Touching every piece of skin, every curve and grace their two bodies could provide. Searching for cracks. 

They only dared to stop when they were sure. When all four feet were planted firmly on solid ground. When both were convinced the other existed. The motion of their limbs came to a halt, positioned in locations that would become safe havens. They paused, looked into each others eyes, and smiled. That was it. They were in each others arms. They were home. At last. 


Tags: couple love picturesandwords
739 notes
reblogged via visuallyteasing
~ Thursday, October 25 ~
Permalink
"Where is he? It sounded like he left the room. He probably did. But what if he didn’t? What if he is here, watching me? Silently contemplating how my body is reacting to such a delicious pause. 
Oh my…my nipples are hard. I can feel them tingling. He knows. He knows what this does to me. I can feel the warmth in between my legs. I can feel how wet I am getting. 
What is he going to do? Will there be rope? Will I be tied to the bed? Mmm. Or will he make me open myself for him? So open and willingly exposed. What if he hits me and I have to keep my legs spread for him? Mmm fuck. Or…he might feed me his cock with the blindfold still on. Mmm I want his cock. I want to taste his precum. Oh I want to hear his voice. I want him to whisper what he is going to do to me. Mm maybe he will gag me. Let the drool fall from my mouth to my breasts.
Ice. Maybe he will trail ice all over my skin. Oh… or he might insert the cubes into my ass. Or fuck my ass…oh fuck…maybe he will force me to cum over and over again…Until I am begging him for mercy…mmm. 
Oh I’m so wet! I can feel it. Uh…he didn’t tell me not to touch. I can feel my clit throbbing. I can play. Just a little. Oh..mm maybe I can taste myself too.
Oh! My! I am dripping…Mmm it feels so good to touch my clit. Uh, it’s so sensitive…
Fuck! What was that noise! The chair moved. He is here, watching me! He was here all along…”

"Where is he? It sounded like he left the room. He probably did. But what if he didn’t? What if he is here, watching me? Silently contemplating how my body is reacting to such a delicious pause. 

Oh my…my nipples are hard. I can feel them tingling. He knows. He knows what this does to me. I can feel the warmth in between my legs. I can feel how wet I am getting. 

What is he going to do? Will there be rope? Will I be tied to the bed? Mmm. Or will he make me open myself for him? So open and willingly exposed. What if he hits me and I have to keep my legs spread for him? Mmm fuck. Or…he might feed me his cock with the blindfold still on. Mmm I want his cock. I want to taste his precum. Oh I want to hear his voice. I want him to whisper what he is going to do to me. Mm maybe he will gag me. Let the drool fall from my mouth to my breasts.

Ice. Maybe he will trail ice all over my skin. Oh… or he might insert the cubes into my ass. Or fuck my ass…oh fuck…maybe he will force me to cum over and over again…Until I am begging him for mercy…mmm. 

Oh I’m so wet! I can feel it. Uh…he didn’t tell me not to touch. I can feel my clit throbbing. I can play. Just a little. Oh..mm maybe I can taste myself too.

Oh! My! I am dripping…Mmm it feels so good to touch my clit. Uh, it’s so sensitive…

Fuck! What was that noise! The chair moved. He is here, watching me! He was here all along…”


Tags: picturesandwords
322 notes
reblogged via saccharineslut
~ Saturday, October 20 ~
Permalink
Submissive Stereotypes.
During my steep learning curve in the world of D/s, I have picked up on two different stereotypes for submissive women. The Shy Submissive and The Strong Submissive. Note: I am basing this on women as I have limited knowledge of male submissives.  
The Strong Submissive.The Strong Submissive is powerful in her daily life. She knows how to command herself and usually works in a position where she demands respect. Her personality draws people to her when she enters a room. She is quite capable of holding a long and engaging conversation. She a social butterfly. She wears heels and pencil skirts with a crisp white tucked in shirt. When she submits, she can relax into not having to be in control. Dominating a Strong Submissive is thrilling. The dominant can allow her to free herself from the stresses of being so powerful in her daily life. Following orders rather than giving them feels good. She can melt into her submission. 
The Shy Submissive.The Shy Submissive is calm and delicate. She is an introvert and may come across as quiet and nervous. She has a mysterious allure that draws people to her. She is the girl that you always see at work and want to have a deep conversation with on your lunch break. She reads and talks of things with great passion. Her smile will knock over men and women alike. She will have a small group of close friends whom she bears her soul to. Dominating a Shy Submissive brings huge fulfilment. The dominant can build up confidence and make her feel like she truly belongs. She can both lose and find herself in her submission, letting go completely in a dominant’s trust, control and acceptance. 
So which do you fit into? Both? Neither? The thing is, it isn’t quite that simple. It seems to me that these stereotypes are floating around quite a lot. Subtle remarks in writings and resources seem to suggest that these are the two ‘types’ of submissives.
When I first started reading into this lifestyle, I was instantly worried that I was not ‘submissive material’ because I didn’t fit into the general stereotypes. I am somewhere between the two, leaning quite heavily towards being a ‘Shy Submissive’. I thought that, because I wasn’t powerful and completely in control, I wouldn’t be able to release in my submission. That I wouldn’t find such pure joy from it. 
I have come to realise that it doesn’t matter who you are, how you dress, what you look like, how extroverted or introverted you are or what you enjoy. If you identify a need within yourself to please and serve, you have the most divine power to be the best submissive you could possibly be. You can find complete freedom in submission. A type of freedom that is specific to you and your personality. Share yourself, give yourself to a man who deserves it. Give him you, not a warped, stereotype fuelled version of you. 
Stereotypes shmereotypes. 

Submissive Stereotypes.

During my steep learning curve in the world of D/s, I have picked up on two different stereotypes for submissive women. The Shy Submissive and The Strong Submissive. Note: I am basing this on women as I have limited knowledge of male submissives.  

The Strong Submissive.
The Strong Submissive is powerful in her daily life. She knows how to command herself and usually works in a position where she demands respect. Her personality draws people to her when she enters a room. She is quite capable of holding a long and engaging conversation. She a social butterfly. She wears heels and pencil skirts with a crisp white tucked in shirt. When she submits, she can relax into not having to be in control. Dominating a Strong Submissive is thrilling. The dominant can allow her to free herself from the stresses of being so powerful in her daily life. Following orders rather than giving them feels good. She can melt into her submission. 

The Shy Submissive.
The Shy Submissive is calm and delicate. She is an introvert and may come across as quiet and nervous. She has a mysterious allure that draws people to her. She is the girl that you always see at work and want to have a deep conversation with on your lunch break. She reads and talks of things with great passion. Her smile will knock over men and women alike. She will have a small group of close friends whom she bears her soul to. Dominating a Shy Submissive brings huge fulfilment. The dominant can build up confidence and make her feel like she truly belongs. She can both lose and find herself in her submission, letting go completely in a dominant’s trust, control and acceptance. 

So which do you fit into? Both? Neither? The thing is, it isn’t quite that simple. It seems to me that these stereotypes are floating around quite a lot. Subtle remarks in writings and resources seem to suggest that these are the two ‘types’ of submissives.

When I first started reading into this lifestyle, I was instantly worried that I was not ‘submissive material’ because I didn’t fit into the general stereotypes. I am somewhere between the two, leaning quite heavily towards being a ‘Shy Submissive’. I thought that, because I wasn’t powerful and completely in control, I wouldn’t be able to release in my submission. That I wouldn’t find such pure joy from it. 

I have come to realise that it doesn’t matter who you are, how you dress, what you look like, how extroverted or introverted you are or what you enjoy. If you identify a need within yourself to please and serve, you have the most divine power to be the best submissive you could possibly be. You can find complete freedom in submission. A type of freedom that is specific to you and your personality. Share yourself, give yourself to a man who deserves it. Give him you, not a warped, stereotype fuelled version of you. 

Stereotypes shmereotypes. 

(Source: ctboston)


Tags: picturesandwords submissive dominant stereotypes
143 notes
reblogged via desires-andso-much-more
~ Thursday, October 11 ~
Permalink

I want cliché.

Sweep me off my feet. Blow me away.

I want to be able to read a book of clichés and render it obsolete for the sole reason that you have given literal meaning to every single figure of speech it possesses. Let me feel each and every one of them.

Let me ride on the waves of your passion and control.

Show me your soul and let me bare mine.

Take me to places I have never seen before.

Switch on your light and let me follow you into the darkness. 

Hold me tight and never let me go. 

Do everything you have ever wanted.

Give me everything you have ever wanted and I will do the same.

Tags: picturesandwords
4 notes
~ Monday, October 8 ~
Permalink
I run my hands along the curves of my body. Every inch craves my attention. My fingers sink into the crevices of my skin as if the two were carved in perfect harmony. Heat is spreading from my fingertips, causing fires and furnaces to burn. I am adding coal to the already raging fire, pouring gas onto the flames. Moments away from an explosion. 
beltzagray:

Delicate by Daisy Oak 

I run my hands along the curves of my body. Every inch craves my attention. My fingers sink into the crevices of my skin as if the two were carved in perfect harmony. Heat is spreading from my fingertips, causing fires and furnaces to burn. I am adding coal to the already raging fire, pouring gas onto the flames. Moments away from an explosion. 

beltzagray:

Delicate by Daisy Oak 

(Source: )


Tags: picturesandwords
22 notes
reblogged via un-control
~ Sunday, September 30 ~
Permalink

An answer to a curious follower…

What would your innocent mind do with her?

Many, many things my dear, horny friend.

I would start by running my nails along the delicate curve of her jaw, tilting her head higher as I do so. My fingers would tease their way into her mouth so I could feel her suck and caress my fingertip with her tongue. I want to see just how talented that mouth of hers is. 

I want to lean down and kiss those beautiful lips, her nose and her neck. I want to run my breath along her skin towards her nipples. I want to see those eyes flare as I bite down hard, feeling her buck underneath me. I want to be hard and soft. I want to see her lose control. 

I am drawn to her eyes, her beautiful expressive eyes. My first thought is that I want to see them looking up at me. I want to see her judging the reactions of my body, gauging how effective her tongue is being. I want to grab a fistful of her hair and push her into me as my pleasure builds to its crescendo. I would pull her up my body to my lips and kiss her roughly before pushing her back down again to service me once more.

A whole Sunday afternoon spent with such a delicious toy. Of course, you are watching all of this. In the end, it is all just a show. I use her so that you can use me. Entertainment my dear friend. Excellent, delicious entertainment. After all, I do like to please. Perhaps you could join in?

Tags: picturesandwords writing question
5 notes
~ Friday, September 28 ~
Permalink
Take the tip of your tongue and be soft. Glide it across the sensitive grooves you have made on my skin. I won’t be expecting such a change in sensation. From heavy to light, harsh to gentle. The sounds escaping me will evolve. Cries and yelps will slip into gasps and sighs as I take in the tactility of you. 
I want you to surprise me in everything you do. I will strive for the same. 

Take the tip of your tongue and be soft. Glide it across the sensitive grooves you have made on my skin. I won’t be expecting such a change in sensation. From heavy to light, harsh to gentle. The sounds escaping me will evolve. Cries and yelps will slip into gasps and sighs as I take in the tactility of you. 

I want you to surprise me in everything you do. I will strive for the same. 


Tags: ass pain marks picturesandwords
146 notes
reblogged via morethanithurtsme
Permalink
Too turned on to muster the effort to flick those panties onto the floor. Too rushed to undress properly. Too focused on her own desire that she can’t think of the practicalities of her situation. Just as long as her legs can spread wide enough for her fingers to delve into her demanding wetness. Just as long as the bed supports her straining body as it exerts its ultimate power. If everything fits perfectly into place then it doesn’t matter what she does with those panties. The whole world could stop around her and it wouldn’t matter. This moment is her existence. 

Too turned on to muster the effort to flick those panties onto the floor. Too rushed to undress properly. Too focused on her own desire that she can’t think of the practicalities of her situation. Just as long as her legs can spread wide enough for her fingers to delve into her demanding wetness. Just as long as the bed supports her straining body as it exerts its ultimate power. If everything fits perfectly into place then it doesn’t matter what she does with those panties. The whole world could stop around her and it wouldn’t matter. This moment is her existence. 


Tags: underwear sexy picturesandwords
9 notes
reblogged via brsdrn-deactivated20121226