I Want You To Order My Food For Me Because I Have A Hard Time Making Choices On A Menu. I Want You To

Good Girls love doing their hair and makeup everyday.

It’s about being pretty. Wearing makeup is about crafting your look and maximizing your best features, while minimizing flaws. As a woman, you’re going to be chiefly evaluated for your appearance, so make it the best it can be.

Good Girls always strive to look their best.

It’s an art. Your face is a canvas that goes everywhere you do. Display your ever-improving skill at creating impressions and capturing attention.

Good Girls love to be pretty, be sexy, and be noticed.  

It improves your confidence. It returns your focus to maximizing your appearance, and leaves you feeling more confident and put-together. That will carry over to your behavior as well.

Good Girls love doing their hair and makeup everyday

It shapes your mindset. Not feeling sexy? Do your makeup!  It’s well known that when a routine is done regularly in a given mindset, simply doing that routine can begin to cause that mindset.

Good Girls always strive to look their best.

It shows you care.  When you’ve done your makeup, anyone seeing you knows that it‘s important to you to look your best.

Good Girls love to be pretty, be sexy, and be noticed.

Since COVID, I have been working from home. I do miss the indirect temptations, knowing we both think about crossing the line but value having our jobs enough that we didn't. There is always that eye contact, that look and smile that says I wish things were different.

A Two Way Street

If you want a man that works

You have to be a woman that serves

If you want a man that leads

You have to be a woman that follows

If you want a man in a suit

You have to be a woman in a dress

If you want a man that provides

You have to be a woman that obeys

He will dedicate himself 100% to his role, but you have to also.

You cannot decide to listen when it’s convenient and act out when it’s not.

He sacrifices a lot for you.

He expects the same in return.

The Metzlers’ conservatory, Delaware.

Only 300 square feet, the conservatory blends the centuries-old tradition of glass shelters designed to house exotic plants and the new tiny house movement, in which people gravitate toward smaller, intimate spaces. Think of it as a petite palace, a manor in miniature, a castle cocoon.

The domed conservatory has marble floors and a panoramic view that skips across 15 acres of garden and grounds to the lapping shore of Delaware’s Nanticoke River.

Beautiful story. What a wonderful goal to take someone there.

Day 5: not cumming is better

Something happened last night. I went somewhere. I didn’t even know it was real. I didn’t even know it existed. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that way.  I bought a new toy. A lovely glass dildo that I’ve basically fallen in love with. I’m not sure any penis will ever compare. And, I begged to cum. Not because I really wanted to. “Please, I want to cum”, actually meant “please, play with me”. The thing about this story is, I have to read back our texts. I can barely remember what happened. I was there, following instructions, responding to questions, but my mind was… somewhere else.  He told me what to do. To use a little bit of lube, and slide it over my sensitive pussy, having edged hard shortly before. He told me to insert it. I did as I was told. He told me to push it deeper. I slowly, carefully, with more lube, did as I was told. And back to my clit. Rubbing the glass over it. I can’t explain how good it felt. And he told me to put it back in. I didn’t even question him: he said, I did. I was already going into a sort of sub space. It was nothing compared to what was about to follow.  I’m so close, I begged. Please, let me cum. Please, don’t let me cum. I want to be good. “You will be good. Nice slow strokes.”  That’s when he started to push me. I was so close, each and every stroke felt as if it would take me over. Every time I pulled the dildo out, my pussy clenched, my muscles tensed, and I tried, desperately, to hold back. One of the towels I had ended up on my chest, in my mouth, as I tried to keep my orgasm back, like holding back a wild horse.  He became cruel. “Don’t stop, and don’t cum, is that clear, denial slut? Shut up and fuck.”  It turned me on more. I tried to take breaks, I tried to go slower, I tried a different position. I kept myself on the edge for… longer than I would have imagined possible.  “Good girl. Slide it out, and into your mouth.”  I was grateful for the break. Thankful for the pain of my pussy clenching, aching, screaming for an orgasm. I was relieved to have something in my mouth. Sucking, I know how to do. Even if it wasn’t a real cock.  When he told me to go back to my clit, I realised the break hadn’t helped at all. I felt it in my entire body. I told him, desperately:  “I’m literally two strokes away from cumming my clit feels so warm and swollen and ready and I can feel this orgasm built up in my body unable to escape and every neuron fired up and every inch of my body sexual.” Now that’s what I call an edge, he said.  Something happened. I don’t remember how. All I remember my entire body was on fire. I could feel the edge from my clit down my legs into my toes. From my bottom to my lower back through my spine to the top of my head. I felt it in my forehead and my cheeks, I felt it in my breasts. My hands were shaking, or was that afterwards? I don’t remember.  I don’t know if the slightest touch will make me cry or cum, I said.  Cry for me, he encouraged.  “I’m not even sad, it’s just my whole body is sex.”  “There’s poetry.”  I sobbed. I wept, and even that nearly made me cum. I kept touching myself, barely even moving. Slowing down. Slowing down even more. And then finally, coming to a still point. The dildo inside of me. My head empty. My body filled. As my breathing slowed, all I felt was my heartbeat. Wherever I was, there was nothing there. Just my heartbeat, and sex, and there he was. Talking to me.  “Well done. That was beautiful.”  I went somewhere, I said. I’m not sure where.  Edge-space, he said.  I didn’t know I could go there.  And now, I want to go back.

Spoil Him.

Once upon a time, I was an arrogant, self-centered brat who believed my husband was lucky to even be sharing the same air I breathed. I was beautiful, men flocked to me, and he should have thanked his lucky stars I chose him. I’m not even sure why he stayed with me, to be honest. I guess the old fashioned saying “Marriage is hard. If something is broken, fix it. Don’t throw it away” really worked in my favor.

Life got hard, arguments abound, and my effortless beauty started to fade. He’d tell me, I like blonde hair. I like toned bodies. I like tanned skin, and every suggestion was met with malice, resentment and defense. I was perfect, why couldn’t he see that?

Because I wasn’t perfect. I neglected him for my own needs. I saw only my ideals, my problems, and he was never good enough. I wanted everything and gave nothing.

Sex stopped. Love stopped, attention stopped and I felt lost for a long time. Then, when all was almost lost, I started doing the things he asked of me. I cooked our meals, I cleaned our home, I made myself presentable for him in ways I knew he enjoyed and appreciated.

Suddenly, our relationship started to bloom. The winter was ending. His approval, his praise, it made my cunt drip and sex became a drug. Feeling sexy for him became an obsession. He worked hard, paid the bills, provided for our family, and I saw beyond my own conceited pre-conceived notions and appreciated him for being a MAN. And now I’m happy, blessed and fulfilled to be his woman.

Traditional gender roles may not be right for you, but they are for us. I’ve never felt more right in anything I’ve done before than when I’m doing something for him.

And when he says “Get a tan” I lay in the tanning bed with a wet pussy.

Happiness and comfort can be found in many forms. Bless you.

Last night as Michael was bout ready to pound my ass, I realized the thing I loved most about being a bimbo is the freedom of not caring about all choices. While I love how hot I look and the self confidence it comes with and the lack of having to learn, so boring though Michael loves it, the thing I love most is knowing I don't have to make a decision. He asked me if I wanted pussy or ass and I honestly didn't care but I knew that if I did care, I could speak up and say "Fuck my pussy baby"(don't use Daddy really anymore since he is one) and he'd oblige. Knowing that I have a choice and not caring was one was so relieving. It extends beyond just bedroom stuff, like when it comes to food Michael will ask what I want and I can say I don't or if I don't want something I can say anything but Greek or if I'm unsure between options I can say either mexican or Italian and he will be like ok Mexican. It's nice not to have to feel like you have to choose. When I was younger and before became bimbo, I felt I had to be decisive on everything and caused me anxiety but now I know I don't but if I do choose its cool. That is really refreshing.

Side note Last night he didn't ask if I wanted sex because we fuck nightly but if I said I'm not in the mood(and I do feel confident to tell him that) he'd respect it.

Side note two Michael generally does let me make decisions that to him don't matter first. It's not that he can't make decisions or scared of my reaction, he just really doesn't care. He is super simple but super smart but the way he sees it is for like sex or food "my dick is going into your orifice" or "I love food and I'm bout to eat" I don't care.

5 easy steps for being more submissive in a relationship:

1. Let him provide and protect.

It is in a man’s nature to come to a woman’s rescue when they are in need. Don’t feel bad about being weak or in need of his protection, just accept it and thank him for it.

2. Always look beautiful for him.

Men admire beauty! If you want your man to appreciate, love and admire you, you must look your best. Wear form-fitting clothes, keep yourself in shape and take care of your skin!

3. Listen, but don’t answer.

Sometimes, when he’s upset or stressed about something, the most operative solution is to just listen. You will often internally disagree with him, but the last thing he needs is to hear it. If he’s frustrated about a thing from work, he needs to vent, to be understood. He doesn’t need to end up in another debate.

4. Attend to his wishes.

Sure, you may have a thousand other chores to do, and it can be a bit stressful if he asks you to do additional things. Maybe bake his favorite cake, or clean the bathroom. Just calmly say «Alright honey, I’ll get it done.» Even if you aren’t able to do it right away, he’ll appreciate your efforts.

5. Know when to ask him something/deliver bad news.

After being together for some amount of time, you’ll get to recognize when he’s in a bad mood, not up for getting asked favors, or hearing bad news. Do it when he’s relaxed, and in a good mood.

Reflections of a Sigma Man

Recently, someone told me that if 10 people saw a situation, there would be 9 similar opinions and then mine. Mine would be unique, insightful and possibly easier, faster, less expensive and likely more appealing. I know this was intended to be a compliment. Sometimes comments like these make me sad on the inside.

The comment is likely to be mostly true both professionally and personally but it is this personality trait that has made me feel like an outsider most of my life, making me wish others thought like I do, see things the way I do sooner, communicate with a solution in mind. I think I need someone in my life that is so far away from the way I process that I wouldn't be frustrated that they are not aligned in my thinking because finding a similar person to me has been an exercise in futility.