It takes a village…

…to make a ho. It does. One cannot #ho on her own. A ho without dick is not a ho, after all.

This ho has been busy recently. Last night I met a guy from #AFF. No, I’m not on AFF any more, but I am still talking to a few guys via #Kik. I think I’ll call him Raindrop because it was POURING rain yesterday. The skies opened up and let loose right as I was leaving my house to go meet him. I stupidly wore sandals, so my feet were totally wet by the time I got inside. In fact, it was raining so hard that in the 30 feet from my car to the door, I got totally soaked, even with the umbrella. Not cool. Also not cool? The espresso machine was not working because of a power outage earlier and I wanted a hot drink. Balls. The barista clearly felt badly about the inconvenience, so he gave me a free iced tea. Sweet!

So…Raindrop. He has a very nice body…muscular and lean, the exact opposite of me. I am squishy, although I do have thin wrists. I have also see photos and video of him. His penile attributes are impressive. He was sporting some scruff on his face, which I liked. We talked a bit and I feel like we hit it off, but stay tuned. I’m notorious for not being good at reading signals of interest or un-interest. I’m feeling quite horny, so I hope something happens…and soon. This ho needs some #peen!

My post a few days ago has really seemed to have an effect on some people. Some are friends that I know IRL and others are folks from an online bulletin board who know me through my posts there. In case you are not compelled to click the link, let’s recap quickly. Via Instagram, I was approached by a male Dominant from #LasVegas. Before I realized what happened, we clicked and I agreed to visit him out there one of these days. He has rules, as do all Dominants (I had my own rules when I had submissive males serving me.), but his rules definitely have everyone but me freaking out. His nickname will be Master.

He’s asked that I stay at his house instead of a hotel during my stay. I’m not to communicate with anyone while there, nor am I to share his home address with anyone other than the Uber or taxi driver. As soon as I enter his home, I have been instructed to undress, get on my knees, and take and appreciate whatever he gives me. What will that be? Perhaps it will be his fat cock down my throat. Maybe a spanking. I might be used as an object like a table for his meals. I cannot cum without his permission. I’m to eat what he eats, as he is vegan. (I’m most horrified by this request. I don’t want to eat fucking soy and mung beans – or whatever the fuck vegans eat.) He will have free access to all of my holes. I have been instructed to bring whatever toys that I would like him to use on me should I please him enough to earn a reward. If we are out in public and he asks me to do something, I must do it without question. Basically, I’m to turn off my brain for a few days and do as I am told. I’m there for his pleasure. He will be my brain and I will be his #slut. His pet.

I have communicated my hard limits very clearly, as has he. Condoms are mandatory. This man is a professional and he is also prepared to provide paperwork showing that he is disease-free and I am doing the same. My next STI tests are on August 4th. He has absolutely no inclination to harm me, though if I do not do as told, he will hurt me as a means of discipline for not following his rules. I have agreed to his conditions.

*~~* Flashback to the Summer of Honeytoes *~~*

Back during the Summer of Honeytoes (2002), I met an older dominant male online. He must have been 30 years my senior, maybe more. I was a little bored that summer since I was between jobs, so I was ho-ing like a champ. As a Dominant myself, I was interested in exploring my submission to see if it was something that fed me sexually and/or mentally. I wanted to see what my submissives experienced when I took control from them. We talked a few times and I agreed to meet him on an upcoming (pre-planned) trip to New York. A friend and I were taking a trip up there to visit a latex shop.

I arrived at what looked like an office building and took the elevator up to the floor where he was waiting for me. When the elevator doors opened, my stomach sank. I felt like I might throw up. Fuck. There were no offices. In fact, the whole floor was under construction. There were wires hanging from the partially completed ceiling. There were scaffolds, tools, drop cloths, and paint cans strewn about. In that moment, I questioned what the hell I was doing there with this stranger. I figured my picture would end up on a milk carton. The die was cast, however, and I stayed. The details of our evening are long gone, but what I vividly remember is the spanking that I received. It was tcritically brutal. It was NOT sweet pain, y’all. It fucking hurt. A lot.

Each time his hand connected with my ass, I could scarcely contain myself. I yelped and cried and sniffled, and that was only made worse by his words. “The more noise you make, girl, the harder I will hit you.” Message received, but once the tears flowed, I was unable to calm down. Yes, I had a safe word, but being stubborn, I refused to use it. He never once slowed his pace.

At the end of the night, I went back to my hotel room. My friend was waiting up for me, keen to hear all about my night. When I told her what happened, she flipped out. She was absolutely jealous that it hadn’t been her on the receiving end of those slaps, that slut! My ass was on fire. In a few places, there were spots of blood. There were bruises. That is how brutal he was. Yes, I wanted this. I consented to this. Be careful what you wish for, as they say. I wanted to know if I might actually lean toward being a #masochist. I, myself, am not. In fact, I actually classify myself as a #sadist and I totally understand where his mind was during our encounter. I’ve left bruises, made mens’ balls swell to the size of grapefruits, and broken the skin of many of my submissives. I get it.

Okay, back to current time…

There are no concrete plans to meet with Master right now. It is just fantasy…an incredibly hot fantasy. I am going to Vegas at the end of August, but he is not in town, so there will be no meeting. Of course, there’s my annual pilgrimage to Vegas over Thanksgiving that I booked months ago. Perhaps we will meet then. Perhaps not. Maybe not ever.

Let’s talk about my Vegas trip at the end of August. I have booked Man Bun (!!!!!!!!!!) for one of my nights. I messaged Giggy to see if he’s around while I’m there so that we could grab a drink, since he owes me one. I told him that I will be meeting up with Man Bun one night and said, “Join us!” They are friends, so who knows? Will it be a Man Bun-Honeytoes-Giggy throw down? Once again, stay tuned.

…and always remember: Ho is life, y’all!

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

2 thoughts on “It takes a village…”

  1. Nothing of note – yet. We exchanged Snapchat accounts and I sent him an ass pic. We might get together tomorrow…might not.


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