hood

lately i've been including hoods a lot in my fantasies. maybe slut on display started it up again, but it's always been part of my schema.

the extreme de-personalization of it strikes a nice balance, i think, with the fact that you don't have be turned into a piece of furniture (something i'm decidedly not-turned-on by) to achieve it. sometimes i don't want to be your girl, i don't want to be your cunt, even, as much as sometimes i want to be a thing, an object, with no voice and no face, just a useful purpose. and i'm selfish enough in my fantasies to imagine exactly what that purpose *is*, and it ain't a table. when you throw in a perfectly casual conversation about nothing-in-particular while i'm *wearing* the hood, well, then, i'm off and running. so to speak.

you asked me what i was thinking about while you made me come for you. nothing much more than your voice, at the time. but later, later...

a hooded thing on a leash, ignored and crawling behind you. knowing i'm being watched. sometimes discussed. conspired against. dragged. clamped, tied, teased and hurt to screaming.

just a thought.