Tumblr's Finest Dominant

How many followers have you got, anyway? I haven't worked out if there's a way to see others' followers or only your own.

140, not counting yall.

Not too many, but I appreciate even that much!

I've been trying to figure out ways to spread the Gospel of Steve, but, uh, this isn't really my day job, y'know?
 
140, not counting yall.

Not too many, but I appreciate even that much!

I've been trying to figure out ways to spread the Gospel of Steve, but, uh, this isn't really my day job, y'know?
Have each of your followers email all their freinds with your tumblr info. That'll bring 'em in!
 
Have each of your followers email all their freinds with your tumblr info. That'll bring 'em in!

!!!YES!!!! yes

I could start one of those "fw:fw:fw:fw:fw: PLEASE PASS THIS ON SUPPORT OUR TROOPS FROM OBAMACARE" emails
 
ive been too busy working + twerking to be funny or creative let alone both!

help me recharge my Posting Crystal.
 
ive been too busy working + twerking to be funny or creative let alone both!

help me recharge my Posting Crystal.

You need virgin blood to do that.

*looks around, then strikes a conspiratorial pose* Pssst, it seems you might be hardpressed to find one of those around these parts.
 
Lord Steve emerges from the bubbling ennui cauldron of everydayness!!! Let the wisecool rain down like....um...

...rain!
 
aw you guys!


actually I've been writing irl (as in, not lord steve) poetry but its a bit shite mates wot wot

roight, I'm off to run down a bobbie in my lorrie, pip pip

remember me as I lived: eating crumpets to excess
 
aw you guys!


actually I've been writing irl (as in, not lord steve) poetry but its a bit shite mates wot wot

roight, I'm off to run down a bobbie in my lorrie, pip pip

remember me as I lived: eating crumpets to excess

Wait.

Wha...?

LordSteve is British?

All that wonderful AND an accent?

That's it.
My next houseplant will be named LordSteve.
 
Wait.

Wha...?

LordSteve is British?

All that wonderful AND an accent?

That's it.
My next houseplant will be named LordSteve.
I'll just name my next cup of tea Steve.
That is not to say that the reverse applies, despite what he may think.
 
I'll just name my next cup of tea Steve.
That is not to say that the reverse applies, despite what he may think.

haha actually giggled a lil at this! gj good game



nope, not a brit. sorry rekane.
actually scottish och aye
no but seriously U S A
U S A
woooo basedball and granmas dappled pie!
 
haha actually giggled a lil at this! gj good game



nope, not a brit. sorry rekane.
actually scottish och aye
no but seriously U S A
U S A
woooo basedball and granmas dappled pie!
Thank you. Its always nice to have an opponent that recognizes one's skill.
 
Oh yes, you most certainly wouldnt know from, say, experience now would you?

yes, uh
that was
the joke. I was making. But. Thanks for driving that point home?

you see i was implying that i am insecure in my dominant sexuality and

ahaha see this is why i keep coming back

actually thanks all you guys i've actually made some Killer Posts tonight and I appreciate the love.

As a token of my appreciation, someone give me a topic to run with and I'll spew you up some crazyass maybe oversexualized prose poem. And actually maybe put some effort into it.
 
yes, uh
that was
the joke. I was making. But. Thanks for driving that point home?

you see i was implying that i am insecure in my dominant sexuality and

ahaha see this is why i keep coming back

actually thanks all you guys i've actually made some Killer Posts tonight and I appreciate the love.

As a token of my appreciation, someone give me a topic to run with and I'll spew you up some crazyass maybe oversexualized prose poem. And actually maybe put some effort into it.
Ok Steve.. let's test your skill... Write me a poem about... mmmmm, the trials and tribulations of a driveway. An ordinary driveway.
 
Ok Steve.. let's test your skill... Write me a poem about... mmmmm, the trials and tribulations of a driveway. An ordinary driveway.

tell me,
when they let you out and take you to the beach your handlers just have the hardest doggone time keeping you from kicking over little kid's sandcastles, don't they?

You don't get to play because you don't like me! Silly billy.
 
yes, uh
that was
the joke. I was making. But. Thanks for driving that point home?

you see i was implying that i am insecure in my dominant sexuality and

ahaha see this is why i keep coming back

actually thanks all you guys i've actually made some Killer Posts tonight and I appreciate the love.

As a token of my appreciation, someone give me a topic to run with and I'll spew you up some crazyass maybe oversexualized prose poem. And actually maybe put some effort into it.

I would love your thoughts and ponderings on the how to know if you are indeed a "true" kinkster seasoned in the spices of D/s &/or BDSM. You know...you might be a Dominant if...
 
tell me,
when they let you out and take you to the beach your handlers just have the hardest doggone time keeping you from kicking over little kid's sandcastles, don't they?

You don't get to play because you don't like me! Silly billy.
You just can't write about the issues facing driveways today.
Rain, the harsh scrape of a snowplow, the hot new gate the owners installed....
 
ok CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

i'll do both of those. but only one tonight, and not a good one, because idgaf really sorry aurantica.

Aurantica:

I've been lost in my driveway for days without easy number, my tires tracing arcane and rude symbols in melting rubber on the asphalt to hex or offend passers-overhead. I thought about sending up a flare but looks like we used them all up shooting them at your ex-wife's house a drunken saturday ago and I'm not sure that's ironic but it's sure unfortunate.

The garage looms against the skyline like the Andes but at night it creeps overhead like the Pleiades and glares down at me with windows all ablaze and I whimper in the back seat and try to remember prayers. Some brave grasses flex aside the tar and I snatch them up and suck them dry of minerals and moisture. Man was not meant to live like this is my mantra and my throat is dry from saying it I don't know how loud.

I have my cellphone but it just lurks in the passenger's seat and ignores me and somehow i never get around to broaching the subject of using it. It's sulking, and beeps whenever I get too close.

I spearfish for sunfish in a rivulet from god knows where and I've been saving the scales and gluing them to my skin with tar and soon I'll be a golden monster and maybe then I'll have the strength to storm the garage, stomp upstairs, and find sleep waiting on a cold bed.
 
Claps
Bravo! Bravo! All hail the great poet Lord Steve!!
Bows

well you can if you want to but i'm pretty sure i mentioned that wasn't very good!


Curious In Cali:


He kills her every night and in the morning she assumes new flesh that molds around her bones like a robe and she stumbles downstairs. He's made breakfast.

He watches her eat and remembers how she looked transfixed by the moon last night lying in a shallow puddle of moonlight looking bled out, the red all out of her looking also up at him. He felt like the Minotaur. He felt like Achilles.

When he took his hands away from her thighs finally he left a crude signature of himself there in the form of ten beauty spots against her whiteness, a constellation of hurt.

They say Achilles knew Hippolyta best in the moment he rammed his spear through her sternum and she bled out in his arms, his amazon, like Shakespeare said in Midsummer his "buskinned mistress and warrior love." He understands this most perfectly when he holds her windpipe closed and her eyes dilate like a door opening and she grabs his wrist and helps him choke her.

She is unsteady on her feet in her new body reborn as she is, a fresh lamb tottering to the teat. Kissing her neck and shoulders, he helps her to walk. Don't Be Condescending she says and he laughs and says Make Me and she tears at him and laughs too.
 
well you can if you want to but i'm pretty sure i mentioned that wasn't very good!


Curious In Cali:


He kills her every night and in the morning she assumes new flesh that molds around her bones like a robe and she stumbles downstairs. He's made breakfast.

He watches her eat and remembers how she looked transfixed by the moon last night lying in a shallow puddle of moonlight looking bled out, the red all out of her looking also up at him. He felt like the Minotaur. He felt like Achilles.

When he took his hands away from her thighs finally he left a crude signature of himself there in the form of ten beauty spots against her whiteness, a constellation of hurt.

They say Achilles knew Hippolyta best in the moment he rammed his spear through her sternum and she bled out in his arms, his amazon, like Shakespeare said in Midsummer his "buskinned mistress and warrior love." He understands this most perfectly when he holds her windpipe closed and her eyes dilate like a door opening and she grabs his wrist and helps him choke her.

She is unsteady on her feet in her new body reborn as she is, a fresh lamb tottering to the teat. Kissing her neck and shoulders, he helps her to walk. Don't Be Condescending she says and he laughs and says Make Me and she tears at him and laughs too.
Wha.....was that a trace of humility I just saw?? Wow Lord Steve, just wow...
*wanders off, totally stunned*
 
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