Ahoy there, any seamen?.....😋

‘Servitude’, Self-portrait (2022) by Iness Rychlik

wh@re sister

what I want is another slave with me who will work for daddy, my slave sister. We mostly hate each other, we are always competing for our masters attention but sometimes when master leaves us not cumming all day we help each out. She will suck on my cunnie and I will suck on hers and put my fingers so deep in her, I will make her cum so much because who wouldn’t do that for their sister? the next day, master noticed us being flirty and teasey with each other, he asks what happened between us and we can’t lie to master- we tell him everything. as punishment master tells us to hit each other and the one who causes more harm than the other can drink masters p!ss, and let’s just say by the end of the day one of us has a black eye.

🔥 Welcome to the scorching battleground of Round 2 in Latex Legends League Season 4! 🔥 This round, our exceptional candidates face the elemental challenge of fire, embracing its intense heat to fuel their passion and determination! 🔥🌟

As the flames dance and flicker, Damien from Italy emerges like a phoenix, his presence ablaze with undeniable allure and strength. 🔥🇮🇹 The fire seems to meld the latex onto his skin, accentuating every curve and contour of his splendid physique, leaving observers mesmerized by his captivating presence.

With each fiery step, Damien exudes a sense of compliance and masculinity that is both alluring and commanding. His entire existence seems to scream servitude, as if he was born to fulfill every desire and command. 🔥💪

Join us in supporting Damien as he navigates through the fiery trials of Round 2 in Latex Legends League Season 4. Show your admiration by liking, commenting, and saving his post. Together, let's ignite the flames of victory and propel Damien towards greatness! 🎉🔥

Worthy

"Kar'niss!" He snapped out of his trance, the echoing sound of his Matron bellowing his name quick to motivate him to rise. He scrambled out of his cobbled together bedding, nearly tripping over himself as he climbed the staircase so quickly he did so on all fours. His body ached, exhaustion his constant companion under the demanding nature of his keeper.

He rushed through the door of his Matron's chambers coming to the side of her lavish bed dripping in opulent dressing. Kar'niss dropped to his knees and bowed until the tip of his nose kissed the marble floor beneath him. "M-Matron, tell me your desire." Lounging in a sea of red and gold trimmed silk sheets was the lady of their noble house, Kyrzhal. Her white locks spilled over dark shoulders, scantly garbed in a sheer black night dress that did little to conceal her feminine form. Red eyes darted to peer at the cowering creature at her beside, her upper lip curling into a less than impressed sneer. "My desire? For you to be useful, just once." Her voice was melodic and alluring yet the deadly venom behind every syllable was baked in, permanent. She sat up and turned herself so her legs dangled over the bed's edge, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Despite her lithe build she towered over him upon her luxurious perch, her shadow cast over him like the looming threat she was. "I-I don't understand, mistress. I live to serve, live for you. My only purpose is to satisfy your every whim." Kar'niss's muscles tensed as he spoke, seeking to bow even lower though such was hardly possible. Kyrzhal tipped her chin upward indignantly, her thin fingers curling into the thick nest of bedding surrounding her. Her leg snapped forward in order to step on the back of his neck, applying a great deal of pressure which forced his face harder into the floor. He cried out from the sudden assault able to sense the threat of his nose breaking against the surface of the floor. "But my whims aren't satisfied!" She snarled. "Do you not understand? You continue to draw breath because of my mercy, my protection."

She applied more pressure to the back of the drow's neck causing him to claw at the floor in pain, trying to move out of instinct but finding himself held in place. "P-P--hrk! Please!" "You'll have to beg better than that if you desire my forgiveness. You'd still be shoveling rothe shit if I didn't pull you from the dung pits. Here I thought I had found a reasonable consort but instead I ended up with a sniveling child." She rolled her eyes and gave her fingers a curl until the knuckles popped one by one. "I'm ss--sorry! You're right mistress, I am l-lower than filth, unworthy!" His voice muffled against the floor, his lips now coated in the blood oozing from his impacted nose. The Matron exhaled a slow, frustrated sigh as the man begged for his life, a common occurrence in this household. Her foot soon relented the battery, lifting her leg to relinquish her hold. He jolted upright and clapped his hands over his nose, lines of crimson smeared across his lips and chin. She watched the display with a blank stare, as if annoyed by the reaction of her punishment. "The next time I tell you to make my bed properly, no lumps, no creases, no sheet out of place, I trust it'll be performed correctly the first time." Kar'niss nodded quickly while continuing to wipe the blood away now limited to breathing through his mouth, resulting in a nasally reply.

"Yes mistress, the first time. No mistakes, no creases, it will be perfect for my Matron. I promise!" "Good. Because next time you anger me, I'll remove your cock. It's likely the most useless feature you have. There are many drow men who are far superior fucks." Her eyes narrowed. "Now piss off. The mere sight of you disgusts me." Kar'niss grimaced at the threat but knew better than to argue. He'd bow to her once more and then slink free of her presence, crawling out of the room. He returned to his chamber rattled and on edge. His legs were still healing from the last time he displeased her, bound in bandages caked in dried blood. There was never a moment of reprieve, never a time he could so much as breathe without attracting her ire. He grabbed a rag to press to his nose which was now tender to the touch. He felt the biting sting of moisture collecting in his eyes threatening to escape. He bit them back despite the pain, despite the anguish, determined to be stronger than his Matron believed him to be. Retreating to a corner in his room he tucked himself away as far as he could manage, hoping the sparse darkness in the space would be enough to protect him. His luck would change one day he was certain of it. This was merely a test by Lolth, a rite of passage for him to become more than a plaything for a sadist. He had to do one thing first, the only thing that could ensure his freedom, his ascension. "Worthy. I. Will. Be. Worthy!"

Yes, I am Sir ❤️

Disney movies aren't real. The Hallmark Channel isn't real. The Princess Bride isn't real. Romance novels aren't real. Adult videos aren't real. Hashtag-riddled Instagram posts of celebrity couples aren't real. 80s love ballads aren't real. And, as much as I hate to say it, The Addams Family isn't real.

Most Americans' (and Canadians') view of love is primarily influenced by one or more of these. Before one gets married, one needs to disavow all of these things as remotely realistic depictions of how couples are to love each other. Loving is an action, and if your concept of the act of loving is based primarily in self-fulfillment and emotion, your relationships are all doomed to fail.

Morning routine uniform inspection

It looks like this will be a hot summer, not just climate-wise, but with labor unrest. The Screen Actors Guild is joining the writers on strike. It looks like UPS will be going on strike. And the new activist UAW president is no longer willing to let the UAW be a “company” union. All this is in addition to numerous other labor actions across the USA.

In some ways, this withholding of labor is the boiling point of the American Capital Labor conflict, which began in 1619 with the expectation that labor would be owned by capital and work for free.

God,

Please do not let my heart incline towards anything not worthy or deserving of a place in it.

The fundamental problem of political philosophy is still precisely the one that Spinoza saw so clearly (and that Wilhelm Reich rediscovered): Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?

Gilles Deleuze, Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia