⭕️Silencios / ghosting de castigo: no contactar durante días o semanas indeterminados, sin fecha de fin, sin poder pedir que se detenga y dejando a la otra persona en angustia real.
⭕️Privación de atención o afecto prolongada que genera ansiedad, sensación de abandono o daño emocional, y que no se puede frenar.
⭕️Castigos físicos con daño real (heridas, marcas que no se curan bien, dolor, que supera lo negociado) sin aftercare ni posibilidad de safeword.
⭕️Humillación o degradación que cruza límites emocionales profundos y se mantiene aunque la persona lo esté pasando mal de verdad.
⭕️Amenazas veladas o directas del tipo “si no aceptas este castigo eres un mal sumiso / se acaba la relación”.
⭕️Aislamiento (prohibir hablar con amigos, familia o salir), cuando no estaba consensuado y genera miedo, ansiedad, tristeza o agobio.
⭕️Privaciones extremas (comida, sueño, descanso) que afectan a la salud física o mental, que no se desean o no se pueden detener.
Sólo son algunos ejemplos de qué podría constituir abuso o maltrato disfrazado de BDSM.
Si un castigo te deja mal: para, piensa y comunica.
Los castigos no son:
❌️Venganzas
❌️Excusas para saltarse los límites.
❌️Carta blanca para hacer lo que se quiera sin consenso por un "bien mayor" o para "educar".
Women
- are 51% of the population
- but 60% of the poor
- and 83% of single parents
- doing 66% of the work
- producing 50% of the food
- but earn just 11% of the pay
- and own only 20% of the land.
- All while giving birth to 100% of the population.
Just in case you wondered why we still need feminism.
"girls like it when guys ignore them" i like men who will get on their knees and beg me to kiss them. i like men who will buckle my seat belt for me. i like men who stick up for me even when i'm wrong. i like men who will kiss me at every red light. i like men who love hard
my favorite part of the bible is when jesus, instead of telling women how to dress, tells men to gouge out their eyes and cut off their hands if they’re not capable of controlling themselves.
Sin arcada no hay mamada.
Que la sienta al final de su boca, que se atragante, que tenga que apartarse un par de centímetros para respirar, y luego metérsela otra vez hasta el fondo.
Dom surprising their Sub
Dom - Congratulations! I’m so proud of you! 🥳
Sub looking confused🤨
Sub - What I do?😅
Dom - Today marks exactly 2 months of you taking your meds without me saying anything to you about it.
Sub - O! WAIT REALLY?😦
Dom - I’ve been counting☺️
hábitos de personas narcisistas
1. caminan adelante tuyo
2. arruinan fechas importantes
3. priorizan a un extraño antes que a vos
4. no responden preguntas
5. ponen reglas que no cumplen
6. te castigan por reaccionar a sus destratos
7. te cagan el autoestima, la cabeza y la vida
La honestidad es algo a lo que le doy importancia. Honestidad y palabra. Si veo la falta de ella aunque me guste una D pierdo el interés. Dos ejemplos: una D en Reino Unido,bastante famosilla. Increíble en el arte del toilet slavery. Pero empieza a hablar de su 24/7 toilet slave+
@betty_Amaranta No tiene sentido que cites algo explicando porqué esa persona está equivocada, y luego le hagas RT a eso mismo.
Son dos conceptos opuestos.
“we shouldn’t be doing this…. what if we get caught, what if someone walks in, what if…” what if you shut the fuck up and let me make you feel good instead of complaining about how wrong it is, hmm?
The dress,that bloody white dress he chose for me, catches and tears on the wild brambles. I don’t feel the pain.
Why am I even running?
I left the door open. He wasn’t there. I could have simply walked out, but instead I started racing away as though demons were chasing me. It’s sick, monstrous, but the further I get from that place, the more desperately I want to feel his hand closing around mine.
He was my tormentor. He tore me away from my life. And yet, in all that loneliness, he created a world in which I was the only person who mattered. No man had ever looked at me with such intensity. No one had ever cared for me so deeply. Over those months, his house became my only refuge, and his touch the only constant in my life. I grew fond of the cage. I grew fond of my kidnapper.
And now I’m running into the night, back to a world that stopped waiting for me long ago. What will I find there? Freedom? Freedom feels terrifying now.
If I stop, I’ll fall apart. I don’t know who I am without him. I don’t know who I was before him. I hate him for what he did to me, and I hate myself because, if I heard his footsteps behind me now, I’d probably stop running.
I come to a halt. I’m standing at a fork in the path, surrounded by the deep, lifeless silence of the forest. I look ahead, towards the faint outline of the trees in the distance and the glow of the village beyond them. That’s where freedom is. That’s where the people are. A way back to my old life.
I turn and look behind me. My home is there. The place that was meant to be my prison has become the only place on earth where I feel safe.
I take one step back. Then another.
I turn around completely. The fear drains away, replaced by a strange sense of relief. I start running back. The white dress billows in the wind once more as I race along the familiar path, straight into the heart of the dense forest.
I don’t care what he’ll think when he sees me standing on the doorstep. I don’t care that I’m choosing to lock those doors behind me. I only want to hear him breathe and feel his touch.
In the distance, between the black trunks of the pine trees, I see the warm yellow light glowing in the window.
I’m going back....
To him....
To my cage....
sucking and nibbling on their sensitive swollen clit as they sob nooooo and try to dumbly wriggle away from their hungry mouth just to be pulled back by their shaking hips and tongue fucked into another mind numbing orgasm I’m into that