The Micro Tartan Skirt. An Absolute Essential To Any Girl's Wardrobe.

“hmm, I think that word might be too big for you,” is an exceptionally hot sentence.

Premise: Speech Control

Just a little list of ideas that I came up with on the topic of speech control. Some of these are about in person speaking, some are about texting, some are applicable to both. Some of these I’d like to try, some of these I have tried, some of these I would probably not want to do, some I’m indifferent to.

Word Restrictions

No swearing.

No puns.

Only being allowed to use words once per day. 

Only being allowed to use words from a list of pre-approved words chosen by my partner.

Not being allowed to use words from a list of off limits words chosen by my partner, but otherwise able to speak freely.

Not being allowed to use words containing a certain letter of the alphabet, but otherwise able to speak freely.

Only being allowed to use short and simple words, limited by number of letters or number of syllables, or simply at my partner’s discretion. (Imagine typing out an entire text and being met with “hmm, I think that word might be too big for you,” and having to agree and reword what you’ve said.)

Having to refer to myself in the third person.

Having to refer to my partner by a title, honorific, or nickname they have chosen.

Having to use a lowercase “i” to refer to myself. 

Having to use capitalized pronouns to refer to my partner. 

Limited Speech

Only being allowed to say a certain number of words (or less) per day.

Only being allowed to say a certain number of words (or less) per text message. No double messaging, of course.

Having to keep track of how many words my partner uses, and always using less throughout the day.

Having to start each sentence with “Please” and/or end it with “Thank you,” even if it doesn’t technically make sense. 

Having to rhyme. Or else fulfil the requirements of some kind of specific poetry such as a haiku. 

Having to ask permission to ask for things. “Please may I ask to use the bathroom?” 

Only being allowed to say “Please” and “Thank you.”

Not being allowed to ask for anything.

Only allowed to speak to my partner in public. 

Not being allowed to speak on specific topics, particularly when they’re super relevant. For example, we go to the zoo and I’m not allowed to talk about animals. 

Only being allowed to say the opposite of what I mean/want. 

Restricted Speech

Having to ask permission to speak at all, either through a non-verbal signal, or else the only thing I’m allowed to say without permission is “Please may I speak?”

Only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Having to be in a specific position - the more submissive or uncomfortable, the better - to speak. Additionally, having to wait in that position until I am acknowledged and allowed to speak. 

Having to go a set length of time without speaking each day. The timer starts over each time I speak. (Imagine it’s an hour and at 55 minutes you get asked a question you can’t ignore. Each attempt like that would mean you talk less throughout the day.)

When possible, set entire days, or even a weekend as “quiet time.”

Surprise quiet time. That is, a spoken or text command, “It’s quiet time,” and I am expected to be silent until I am released. (A potential training opportunity: this could happen many times throughout the day, each session lasting only a few minutes before the next.)

Starting every day without the ability to speak until I have completed my morning routine. Finishing each day by not being allowed to speak once my nighttime routine is done. 

Having a set day of the week during which I am expected to remain silent. 

Having a cost to speak. A mild-moderate punishment for each time I wish to speak, such as having to put nipple clamps on first or having to write lines for each time I spoke afterwards.

Having to trade my ability to speak for rewards, such as not being allowed to orgasm unless I agree to a two days of no speaking.

Trading chunks of silent time for edges. Each edge is half an hour of silence. Maybe I know before I start edging, maybe I don’t. 

Having to be silent until I have completed a task, such as linewriting, or an edging session, or even something mundane like having to stay silent on a long drive, even while playing a board game. 

Having recurring tasks during which I am not allowed to speak, such as never being allowed to speak during meals or while watching movies. 

Only being allowed to speak while wearing my collar. 

Not being allowed to speak while wearing my collar. 

Only being allowed to speak while naked. 

No words, only sounds. Easy enough when you’re gagged, but having to make the deliberate effort to only make sounds is nice. 

Wearing a bark collar. Each time I speak, I get shocked, until I learn not to speak while wearing it. It then becomes a very effective gag. 

Forced to Speak

Being asked a series of questions and having to provide at least X words to answer, on topic. (It wouldn’t even have to be a high number. Imagine having to use 50 words to answer a yes or no question. Even 20 might be a challenge. But being asked to say/text 300 words on why I shouldn’t have an orgasm? Just a thought.)

Agreeing to X number of questions (number could be in trade for edges, or in trade for lessening a punishment) and having to answer them fully, even if it’s embarrassing. (Obviously within limits. Questions I refuse to answer don’t count towards the number.)

Having a mantra to repeat every time my partner says a certain word, whether that word is part of the mantra or not. (Having someone trigger a mantra like this is great fun, especially mid-conversation, or while I’m trying to ask for something, or while I’m trying to explain something.)

Having to repeat after my partner, perhaps modifying pronouns. (“You will obey” being modified to “I will obey.”)

Being tasked with writing up a fantasy, and then being made to read it aloud.

Being Physically Gagged

Being expected to be gagged or otherwise prevented from speaking at all times. (Ballgag might be too harsh for “at all times,” but tape is effective, too.)

Being gagged at random. Not just during scenes, but during mundane activities, such as watching a movie together or doing housework. (I like the idea of being interrupted while in the middle of something, maybe even in the middle of a conversation, and my partner simply holds out a gag. Or sitting at my desk working when my partner comes up behind me and slips my gag between my lips. Being told to kneel and open my mouth, excited to get to suck cock, and instead gagged. Comes with a bonus of being trained to readily take my gag.) 

Being told I can only speak while being gagged, despite knowing it will be unintelligible.

Planning a voice call with my partner, but right before we begin I am instructed to put a gag on so that at no point during the call can I actually speak.

Games

Playing the quiet game, either with my partner or with another submissive. I am rewarded if I win, and punished if I lose. 

Playing a kinky version of Taboo/Password: My partner picks a word and a length of time. I do not get to know the word, but do get to know we’re playing and for how long. My partner counts every time I use the word, and when time is up, I get punished for each use. Tons of games to be played on both sides, with my partner trying to get me to say the word, and me trying to figure out what it is. Perhaps if the time period is long enough, I get a clue to the word each day. I would probably end up speaking as little as possible to avoid it. 

Wow! You nearly disappointed me there, but that was then excellent! Bravo! Lisp, sales, respect

She had been the driving force behind the mall’s creation, but now she was just a floorwalker in its anchor store, a Yellow Front franchise.

Supposedly, her job was to offer help and answer questions.  In practice, she was there so people could laugh at her piercings.

Her white nylon blouse made no secret of the palm-sized starburst nipple shields under it.  A thick ring hung from the septum of her nose, making her look like livestock.  But the worst was the heavy stud through the front part of her tongue, which made it impossible to speak clearly.

Customers never seemed to tire of hearing her say things like, “Menf cwoaves aw ovah deah” or “Vhat item iv not cawwied in vhis depawtment.”

If your girlfriend doesn't suck your cock, I will 😘

Exceptional, as always! How about: giggle, dumber, memo?

When she opened her in-house message account, there was one item marked Highest Priority:

Meredith:  In reply to your query of yesterday, the answer is that yes, the requirement that you giggle periodically during any conversation you carry out at work is indeed intended to make you seem “dumber” than you really are.  If you keep going out of your way to show off the fact that you are smarter than our CEO (and just between the two of us, you are – you’re also smarter than me, and probably everyone else on the Board of Directors), you damage the reputation of the company.  So from now on, yes, giggle at least once every two minutes, regardless of the subject matter or with whom you are conversing.

In a related matter, it is high time you chose a work-appropriate nickname for yourself.  I can’t very well call your peers “Lulu” and “Babs” and “Deedee” and then call you “Meredith,” now can I?  I suggest you try one of these: Merry, Mare, Mimi or Edie.

Choose one, or have it chosen for you.

–  Bob

Awesome! Just awesome! Spelling, redacted, fake.

Laverne looked at the text on the screen in front of her.

She had used the FinderSpyder search engine to look up references to Jessica Valenti, a woman who had been a former classmate of her mother’s and whose name she dimly recalled from before the New Order.

She hadn’t found much – most of the links that had come up were to sites which no longer existed, or which had changed radically (Pandagon was now a porn site, Shakespeare’s Sister was now devoted to 16th Century conspiracy theories, Obsidian Wings was now devoted to reviews of sports aircraft for the .001%).  And she was suspicious of the authenticity of what she had found: 

“What’s the worst possible thing you can call a woman? Don’t hold back, now.You’re probably thinking of words like slut, whore, bitch, cunt (I told you not to hold back!), skank.Okay, now, what are the worst things you can call a guy? Fag, girl, bitch, pussy. I’ve even heard the term ‘mangina.’Notice anything? The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl. The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl. Being a woman is the ultimate insult. Now tell me tha don’t proev thtt woemnn trynig to be liek men is royally fucked up.”  

“Do you think it is fair that guys woh are smartter thn you will make more money? Does it piss you off and maek you fiil jellous when you find out about your friends getting raped? Do you ever feel like shit about your body? Do you ever feel like something is wrong with you because you don’t fit into th crreect ideal of what girls are supposed to be like? Well, my friend, I hate to break it to you, but you’re hardcore feminist adn you ned hlep.”

Laverne was just starting to think that those quotes had been altered by someone when her Internet connection suddenly died, and simultaneously there came a very heavy knock at her door.

This carries a lot of what the bimbo trope is for me... The inadvertent flash - a sort of 'innocent' unintentional sexiness that is more ditz than slut. Of course, I'm not saying there's any problem with sluttiness in bimbos, nor that there can't more 'slut' in a bimbo. It's just that this sort of thing screams 'bimbo' to me..... 

Reading that back, I do write a lot of nonsense.

Degree, history, re-write.

Raven knew that if she complained about her situation, everyone would scold her for it.  No-one needed to tell her how lucky she was to be working at a job like this, one where she was actually able to use her education.  She had an “understanding” with the head of the department that didn’t take up much of her time, and was not bothered by any other men while at work.

Yes, yes, practically a miracle for a woman with a Master’s in History to actually be working in the field of history, writing textbooks that millions of boys and girls would read.

But what she had to write … !

“While the men were distracted by the First World War, feminists were able to get foolish amendments added to the Constitution: to give women the right to vote and to establish Prohibition.  Only two amendments to the Constitution were written specifically to repeal earlier amendments … .

“When women were allowed to serve in Congress, they passed many stupid and destructive laws, but fortunately they never managed to pass the ultimate destroyer, the so-called “Equal Rights Amendment … .

“”No-one knows for certain what destroyed the space shuttles Challenger and Columbia, but there were women on the crews of each … .”

With each keystroke, Raven felt as though she were writing an indictment against herself as a traitor to her gender, and to her calling.  She wasn’t sure which was worse.

The hottest part of this, for me, is the title! How excellent is the notion that an unwitting bimbo is now described as having 'The Hooters Girl Look'? There's possibly a story in that somewhere!