Gi**** Posted 4 hours ago This story is pure bratty deliciousness, with some roughness to boot. TW: rough sex, light ***, anal and a whole lotta brattiness. I have two thoughts about brat kink that I have to share before the story. First, the term "tamer"... Who in their right mind would ever want to *tame* a brat? The brattiness is not a bug, it's a feature! I prefer the term "wrangler". Secondly, lots of brats say wranglers are just brats themselves but that's not true. See, a brat is someone who is still learning how to wield their bratty powers, whereas a wrangler is someone who has already mastered them 😌 Thanks for reading. Enjoy 'Waffles'. ---------- As weirdly as she's contorted in her position, she can't help but scooch her hips further forward. The waffles are steaming and smell divine and what thoughts she can hold are swimming in the imagined sensations of cutting in, the resistance against the knife in her hand, the weight of the ice cream she puts on her fork and the feint suction as she pulls it all through the syrup. She wants to savour these little things, the ritual of it all. And she was going to spill syrup on herself because of course she was. It happened every single time, same with pancakes but so what? They were too good! No matter how she tried, she would lose herself in the pleasures of messy eating and inevitably look down to see an amber drop running down her clothes. But this happy summer dress? Urgh! It was so orange and floral. It would've suited a Sunday School teacher, except for the length when sitting down. She hadn't hated it until Daddy had called it a "good girl dress", and not in the good way. After that it was dead to her. Anytime he got to pick her outfits, this was what he went for, which sucked when it was winter and they were outside. On the plus side, she'd get to go shopping for a new dress to replace it and who'd be paying? Daddy made the waffles so it's really all his fault if she loses focus and makes a mess of herself. And she was going to bukkake the shit of this orange monstrosity. She smiled at the mental image of Daddy, holding the stained garment and being all *look how they massacred my boy*. He'd done well, the waffles are perfectly golden with a generous helping of syrup and ice cream. It looks and smells so good, plus his finger is *right there*, expertly curled and perfectly still, resting ever so lightly against her G spot so that every attempt she makes to eat the breakfast that he made for her - hell, every breath! - moves her against his finger. And he is *right. there*. She can't help but squirm, which rubs it more, which makes her squirm more, which rubs... You get the idea. She's distracted by all of it. From beneath the tablecloth, he commands her to eat. He's using his daddy voice and the ice cream isn't the only thing melting. It would be so easy to just do as she's told. The delicious waffles, her pussy being fondled... If she's obedient for just a little while, she'll no doubt get some good dick and the orgasms she's so desperate for. No, she thinks to herself. He never makes it that easy. She knows that as soon as she tries to cum he's going to pull away. Princess ain't going out like that. Game on, bitch. If she rushes him, he'll pull away, that much she knows. And there's no way she could sneak up on him by going slow and building up to it. She could never keep quiet anyway, he'll catch her for sure. Maybe if she pretends her moans are from the waffles? It probably won't work but damnit, she has to do something. She drops her head and looks down at her plate, trying not to give in to despair but the sudden movement, the wet sounds as she grazes ever so slightly against him, she needs it. Craves it. She pretends she's chewing, loudly enjoying a mouth full of nothing as she slowly moves her hips back and forth, hoping he won't notice what she's doing but also loving that he absolutely will. "Princess." That voice. Two syllables, stern. She holds her breath and stills herself. Okay, so she knew it wasn't going to work, but so what? She had to try, right? She wouldn't have respected herself with any less. She exhales and picks up her knife and fork and prepares to commence the ritual but her desire's calling the shots and without thinking, she slams her thighs tightly together around his arm and power grinds his hand against the chair like a dog scratching it's bum on the carpet. It's no use, he's too strong, He pries her legs apart with his free hand like she was wasn't even there (and despite her failed attempt, she wasn't even close to being there). He withdraws his finger. "Why did you do that?" He asks and she can swear she hears him sucking on his finger. She puts on her meek voice, hoping it'll help avoid repercussions. "Because I want to cum." "And that justifies not doing as you're told?" he uses his arms to keep her knees wide. "No." "Clearly you think it does," he replies. She can feel him taking in her exposure. "This is the breakfast table, not the cum table." She pouts and slumps in her seat. "It's sometimes the cum table." "Now is not a sometimes, Princess. Now is a do as your told and eat your breakfast time." "Okay Daddy, but put your finger back? Please?" "No, you lost your finger privileges." He keeps her spread and as she looks down at the plate in front of her, she wonders how well lit she is beneath the table cloth where she's on full display for him. Sure, she wants to cum but he won't let her and she really wants these waffles... But once he's told her to eat them, she doesn't want to do it. Her mind runs through possibilities of how to have her waffles and eat them too. She could eat the breakfast, then go to the bedroom alone and fuck herself with a toy, or maybe run herself a deep bath to read smut on her phone, play with herself colonial style. Hell, she could make a day of it! Great ideas, all around, definite plan B contenders, but they didn't *punish* him enough. Whatever she was going to do had to say "fuck you Daddy" on every level. Foregoing the waffles was gonna be a big sacrifice, but she was glad she hadn't touched them. It would hurt more. *Fuck your waffles, daddy*, she mused. *And fuck your finger privileges, I'm gonna bring my vibe from the bedroom and fuck myself right in this seat, not let you touch.* She could get her headphones and watch porn on her phone, totally ignore him the whole time. Or she could watch porn without the headphones, really drive the point home. Real nasty shit. BDSM with degrading dirty talk. Or tentacles. Best case scenario, she cums with a toy. Worst case scenario, he takes the toy off her and ragefucks her until she cries. She isn't really seeing a downside. Her sexual appetite denied, she decides she's done with his bullshit. She puts the cutlery down and pushes the chair back when his firm hands grip her thighs and pull her back in place. There's something about the way he's touching her, she knows instantly that he'll go much harder if she tries anything. The syrup is almost dripping, floating the sweet melted icecream to its pool on the plate, but she's frozen. His hands, she knows exactly how he's positioned his hands - he's getting ready to pinch her. She hates it when he pinches her. And on the inner thigh of all the places! He always has a knack for hitting right on the worst spots. A voice in her head, like an old lady in line at the supermarket chimes in that it tracks, given his knack for hitting the best spots, too. Mentally, Princess politely nods to the old lady thought, puzzled when it continues *the lord giveth and the lord taketh away*. She fumes at her brain. *Where the fuck does this shit come from?* His hands are warm against her thighs. He has to be bluffing. He won't do it, there's no way he'll do it. But if she's so sure he's bluffing then why isn't she moving? His hands move slowly up and down, deliberate and firm. She breathes to clear her mind and shut out the pinching threat. She wants to relax back in her seat but she can't. She fucking hates being pinched. It occurs to Princess, as his pincers pass directly over that softest spot again and again, that he isn't searching, he knows exactly where it is. All of this is for effect. He's not exploring, he's teasing, daring her, tempting her. He'll have that grin on his face, where he's going to growl her for breaking the rules but deep down he wants her to destroy them. As stern as he is with her, she knows beneath all of it he loves her defiance. She can almost feel him telepathically encouraging her. Fuck it. Bolt. She moves quickly, like a trap snapping shut; a gazelle in that first spring of evasion before it's immediately torn down by a lion, teeth like pincered fingers over the jugular of her thigh, just so it hurts a little. A warning. She decides to heed it, but her tension and defiance remain. This is not over. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy." She pleads with a half fake sob, trained to articulate the three apologies unless she wants the *** to continue. "Don't make me tell you again." Even with his stern voice, she knows he's loving it. She barely makes out his words, more the timbre of his voice letting her know what he said. She slinks back to behind the wire and tells herself next time she'll run earlier. He wasn't really going to pinch her. He's a punk bitch. She looks down at her waffles, a little deflated. She wants to be fucked. She wants him to bend her over the table, rub her face and hair in the syrupy mess and pound her until she can't speak. He'd teased her in bed and then left her to make breakfast and get her dress ready. All this with the waffles, only to park his finger on her G spot and just leave it there!? There should be a law against shit like that, or at least a goddamned fine or something. All she wanted was to cum, for fuck's sake, is that too much to ask? She did like how his hands felt moving slowly over her thighs though, softly exploring and edging ever closer to her desire. The more he spread her legs the more aware she was of being on display for him. She could feel herself melting, like the ice cream soaking into the waffles and making them soggy. That fucking finger, damn she missed it. She picked her fork up to her mouth. The waffles were delicious, even if they were a bit mushy. "They're good", she says between chews. "That's my good girl." She cuts herself another piece, trying to savour the cutting and stacking ritual, despite the lack of resistance to the knife but she turns into a puddle the instant she feels the warmth of his breath against her. His mouth is almost on her so that she feels his beard tickling her when he speaks, his lips barely moving in a whisper. "And what do good girls get?" It was a trained reflex, she didn't even have think about it. "Orgasms". She gasps as his tongue probes firmly between her folds and laps up and over her hood. He groans like his meal tastes even sweeter than hers, sending ripples through her body. "Keep eating." He presses his mouth back over her and tongues her passionately. "You too," She breathes, trying to load her fork again. "Don't tell me what to do." he grumbles into her vagina. "Yeah yeah -" she dismisses, cheekily. Mindlessly, she starts to rhythmically chew, like the waffles were gum, in time with a grind against his face. From his sounds, she knew it was working for him. "Please put your finger back in, Daddy." He stops licking. "First of all, if you're talking, you're not eating. And if you're not eating, then I'm not eating. And I told you, you lost finger privileges for not doing as you were told. Do you want to lose tongue privileges, too?" She absolutely did not want that. Strong hands on her hips have her firmly in place, she can't go anywhere, so Princess noisily cuts herself another bite of waffles and ice cream and chews loudly, breathing hard as he goes back to gorging himself on her. He is touching her all over, putting his fingers everywhere but inside her as his tongue dances with her clit. She keeps chewing but can feel it building inside her. Her breathing picks up and he tightens his grip on her hips as he works her over. She slams her cutlery down and prepares to lose herself over the edge, to roll back her eyes and tumble through the blissful ecstasy his mouth is sending her to. Until he stops again. Like an engine losing power, there was still momentum, there was still time to get it back. "Oh fuck, no, oh fuck, please, please, oh fuck you, seriously, please, fuck..." she pleads, her glistening eyes drowning in tears as she struggles to catch her breath and her thoughts. A few more rubs would be enough and she moves her hands beneath the table, the gesture already impotent and lacking confidence, desperate, as her wrists are tightly gripped and pulled well away from her clenching hole. "Well, well, well," he chuckles to himself, "you were about to cum just now, weren't you Princess?" "Oh god, please Daddy, PLEASE!!" This wasn't the type of screaming she wanted the neighbours to hear. "Not a chance." He quipped, cutting her off. "You broke the rules, I warned you. I told you that if you stop eating, I stop eating." "But I *was* eating!" She pulls her hands free and loads her fork again, hoping he'll go back to it. "Not when you were about to cum, you weren't." She pulls up the tablecloth and stares at him, that fucking look on his face, so pleased with himself all slicked in her pleasure. "How am I supposed to keep eating while you're making me cum?" "I'm not sure, but that's really more of a *you* problem." That fucking grin. Princess was sulking. He came out from under the table and sat on his chair next to her. "Now, do as your told, eat or you'll be punished." "I'm already punished!" Her arms crossed, her brow furrowed, her eyes twinkling with tears and hatred. He tilts his head in reflection. "No, now you're *even*." He raises his eyebrows and she thinks about slapping the smirk off his face, but that would be a far too vulgar display of power. Plus she probably won't be allowed to cum for a week. "You were ahead before but you fucked up so now you're even. Well actually, counting the waffles you're still up, but whatever, from here on? Disobedience is going to get you in trouble." He looks her dead in the eyes, like he wants an excuse. "Eat." Princess pushes her plate away, her sulk turning to smugness. "I'm full." If only she was. He looks at her then at the plate. She hasn't eaten very much and she knows he's going to tell her to keep eating. She would, but she's got blue ovaries thanks to this punk bitch and just wants to go masturbate loudly enough for him to hear her from behind a locked door. The waffles would still be good cold, or warmed up again with fresh ice cream and syrup after a day of being thoroughly hatefucked. Either/or. He leans towards her and whispers "then be a good girl and do the dishes." His eyes look to her mouth for a moment then back to her eyes. "Please." He moves in until they're almost touching, then stretches up to kiss her on the forehead, before sitting back in his seat to observe. "Why do *I* have to do the dishes?" "I made the food, you do the dishes." "Okay." Her eyes stay locked on his. He seems so fucking satisfied with himself. It's not quite smug, but it's almost smug. Smug-ish. She hates it, whatever it is. Keep smiling motherfucker, she thinks to herself. She doesn't react, there's no expression or concern. Just staring at each other. It takes him a while, but Daddy eventually breaks the silence. Her feintest smile expressed everything she was thinking: eat it, you fucken pansy. His words came out crunchy, a low rumble. "Can I ask what you're waiting for?" She acts like she wasn't aware anything had happened. Her smile fades, she stares at him dumbly and grunts. "Huh?" "Don't "huh" me, I asked you to do the dishes." "Yeah, I know, I heard you." Princess shimmied, turning her sass up to 11. "I'm not deaf!" "Well?" "Well *what*?" She asks, feigning innocence. His hands gesture that she should move to the kitchen but she just stares at him. "Use your words," she says, as if speaking to a toddler. "Why aren't you doing them?" Princess curls her fingers and plays with her nails. "I'll do them later." He took a beat and she relished all of it. "When I asked you to do the dishes, I meant now." "Oh, you wanted me to do them now?" "Yes." "Cos you didn't say." She remembers to smile at him. "Okay, no I didn't -" "Cos, like, if you'd said," she continued, beaming, "I would've known." Not a real smile, a customer service smile. "I think it was implied pretty clearly -" "Well not clearly enough, so it seems." "It is inherent in the request -" "I don't understand why you'd think that." She could do this all day. "Because when else would I want you to do them?" "Why is that for me to figure out? Be more specific next time." She's only getting started and his face is already flushed and flustered He's got nothing, she's sure of it. "I'm digesting over here," she says as he gives her the daddy glare. Fuck it, go all in. "You give me fucking blue ovaries then tell me to do the dishes? Fuck you." Daddy waits, lets her sit in the pregnant silence a moment and then speaks low and factual. "If I were you, I'd watch my attitude." Shit, that was like the pinch threat. Drenched. "I'm just saying that if you have a preference Daddy, then simply specify it." "You are to obey all of my instructions immediately, anyway." "Well I disagree." "In any case, please do the dishes now." She actually wants to eat more of the waffles but she can't give him the satisfaction. At least by going to the kitchen she'll be able sneak another mouthful. She gets up and carries her plate to the kitchen, muttering under her breath as she moves "well in any case, fuck you!" "What was that?" Daddy demanded. "I said *in any case, anyhoo*, its a little song I was singing to myself." It was effortless, Princess was in the zone. That little punk bitch didn't stand a chance. Out of sight in the kitchen, she tears off a chunk of waffle, wraps it around a pinch of ice cream like a taco and crams it into her gob. Her fingers are sticky with sweet syrup and cream and it occurs that if she can hide this from him then she could hide other things too. She looks around to make sure he can't see and then reaches beneath her dress for relief. Goddamn, it was like Niagra Falls. No sooner has she touched herself than he calls out that if she wants to avoid a proper punishment, she'll stop whatever she's doing and come out where he can see her. She freezes. She doesn't want to but her hand stops mid rub. A silent exhale. Just slow, quiet. Make me. Say it. Say make me, then go for it, make a loud mess in the kitchen until he comes in to punish - fuck, he's already there... Princess snaps to attention, her hands by her sides. He glares at her. "What were you doing?" "Nothing." she replies, forgetting she has a mouthful of waffle. Hopefully he'll think that's what he caught. "Show me your hands." Daddy commands. Say make me! Princess does her best to hide the fire burning through her cheeks and look sheepish. Her better sense tells her not to say that because he looks like he's in a spanks-with-no-cumming-punishment kind of mood. "Why?" He continues to glare and reaches out his palm. Say. Make. Me. She can't help it, she reaches out her left hand. He grabs her wrist and pulls her to him, his tongue cleaning the sticky sweetness from her fingers. He releases her. "Now the other one." Fuck. Make me. Just say it, distract him. He stares at her, the eye contact doing nothing to ease the tension in the room. She acquiesces and holds her hand out for him to taste. "Hm", he groans, pulling at her wrist for a second lick of her fingers. What she wouldn't give to wipe that smug look off his face. "Now who could have seen *that* coming?" Goddamn this arsehole, this fucker. She presses her thighs together and imagines riding his face violently until she'd gotten what she needed. Even in that imagery, she knew as soon as she slumped off of him, he'd still have that fucking grin on his face. Goddamn him. "Turn around, do the dishes," he commands her. She turns back to the sink and pours in the dish soap and runs the warm water, feeling him pull her dress up over her bare bum from behind just to stare at it. She steels herself, don't give him anything, not so much as a jiggle. Then she has a brilliant idea. She can't help but smile to herself as she pulls the dress back down and tells him she's cold. That makes him mad. Good. The dress comes back up and her ears ring with the crack as much as her arse burns from the ***ful smack, only to be followed up by two more. "That's for disobeying me." She thought to argue but couldn't help melting as the *** faded into nice feelings, aided by his hand rubbing gently over the spot where he'd spanked her. God, she just wanted him to make her cum for fuck's sake! He kisses her on the shoulder softly and moves away to lean against the bench and watch her. This fucking guy. She was sweating a little, perhaps from the sugar rush from breakfast or the work of cleaning the kitchen, or it might have had something to do with world class head that ended a second too soon. The bright orange flowers of her sundress reflect in the sink, she wishes he would tear it off her. She knows he is watching. Don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at him. She arches her back a little, her soaking pussy aching and she lets out a sultry sigh. Fuck you, Daddy, she thinks to herself. Like he'd heard her thought, he moves towards her but stops to open the fridge, Don't look at him, don't give him the satisfaction. He pours himself a glass of juice. Don't acknowledge him. The fridge closes again and he swallows a sip. Just pretend he's not there, do not look at him. No sooner has Daddy put the glass on the bench than he is at her entrance and her ear. "Don't you dare cum without asking, do you hear me Princess?" And he is inside her. She tries to catch her breath as he pushes himself all the way in, stretching her and grinding her against the sink. She desperately wants to break his command, she can feel him, deep, slow and deliberate but she can't bring herself to defy him like this as much as she wants to. His hands, his mouth, they're everywhere. She can barely contain herself. He wraps his hands low around her hips and pulls her back into him, fingers pressing deep, hurting her in the best way. He holds her in place, squeezing her perfectly around him so that every thrust sends ripples through her body. His audacity, the relief in fullness, his hands on her body, these are all just choppy seas compared to the behemoth swell that was forming beyond the horizon with his relentless pounding. A tidal wave, slowly building and with each sigh, each moan, she urges it to grow and surge, not to rush but to thrive and compound until it's arrival completely devastates all brain function, at least for the next little while. She yearns for it, to let go and drown in it, but not yet. Not yet. Still, even choppy seas can make your legs wobbly. She looks into the sink, bubbles reflecting her contorted face back to her and it occurs to her for a moment that this would be a perfect time to accidentally rip the dress but the thought is quickly drowned out by the siren warning of an imminent flood that involuntarily comes from her mouth. He's only just started and she is begging Daddy to let her cum already. He takes a moment to answer her, like he's deciding whether to grant her request. His voice low, he asks "who's my good girl?" "I'm your good girl, Daddy." she feels herself clench around him as all of the choppy seas are sucked out into the ocean and the wildlife run for high ground. "And what do good girls get?" She is so happy he said that. "They get or-" Princess's knees buckle as her mind has a little vacation and he lowers himself down to keep her standing, pushing up into her and fucking her steadily through it. As it washes over her he smacks her arse, hard. Delicious ***. He rubs her gently right where he whacked her, contrasting the *** of his powerful thrusts and she knows a welted handprint is developing like a polaroid on her bum. "You need to speak more clearly when you're talking to me." She responds with a very unladylike grunt and she swears she hears him chuckle as he slams into her. The dress, like the ends of her hair is wet with dishwater but it's nothing compared to how wet she is between her thighs. This had been a long time coming. A long morning all around, just relentless and unyielding and so veiny and thick and holy shit, here she goes again. "I'm going to cum again, Daddy -" the words have barely left her lips and she is empty again. Her mind, a rush of rage, of disapointment, of utter confusion, while her voice can only shudder a desperate "noooooo!" He's rough as he pulls her hair and man handles her to the kitchen floor on all fours. "If you're going to act like a greedy whore," he spits between gritted teeth, pushing her face onto the tiles, "you'll be fucked like one." Piercing cracks as he spanks her hard and she is full once more. Her head is pulled back by her hair and she is about to catch up to where she'd been a minute earlier. "Yeah yeah, I know", he growls, "but you hold it! I'll tell you when you're allowed." Her knees shift on the tile, trying to find comfort against his onslaught. "This pretty little slit, it's wasted on you. It deserves better than belonging to a needy slut." Goddamn, when was he going to say yes!? "It's mine now, you hear me slut? It's mine." The way he draws out the last word - mine - it feels almost as good as his dick. "Say it!" "It's yours Daddy! Please!" "Yeah, mine." "Pl -" she gasps, not sure how much longer she can hold out. "Pl- it's yours Daddy, always!" "Good girl." She takes it as permission and lets go. The world vanishes. She sees nothing, hears nothing, there is only ecstasy as she falls through her climax. She comes to, taking a moment to register that the screaming is actually coming from her. He keeps fucking her like that until she is spent, then withdraws. She collapses to the floor, breathing heavy and unable to speak. Sharp coldness on her lower back shocks heras he pours syrup on her, letting it run down her crack. She can't form the words to ask for time and then his mouth is on her, his hot tongue focused like a laser on her clit. "No," she pants, "I'm too sensi-" He runs his tongue up and over her holes and smacks her, nailing the same spot as before. "This isn't for you," he grunts, "don't enjoy it." He persists, sucking her into his mouth and grinding his tongue against her. It was too much and she was relieved when he moved up to tongue her arsehole instead. "I make you a delicious breakfast" he says before lapping at her again, "and what do I get in return?" More feverous lapping. "Cheek!" Smack! Right on the same spot. "Nothing but cheek." "I'm sorry Daddy, I'm sorry Daddy, I'm soooo-" her voice breaks into a fluttery whimper as she feels him push his rock hard thickness into her arse, slow, but persistent. "I'll show you cheek." She has nowhere to move, sprawled out like a sticky ragdoll on the tiles. Goddamn he was good at this, pushing in just hard enough for it to take her the limit of her *** threshold. Being used by Daddy, her happy place. She moans and drools on the floor, barely registering her surroundings as she can feel another wave forming with his rhythmic fucking. "Look how pretty you are being fucked like a whore?" His deep voice, barely a whisper, husky in her ear. She couldn't move with his weight on top of her, not like she would want to anyway. "Where's my cock, Princess?" "In my arse" she slurs between thrusts, barely there. "What's that?" She half expects another smack, given his tone of voice but her punishment is just to be thrust into more ***fully, pinning her in place so she could do nothing but take it. "Who's arse is it?" "It's yours Daddy!" She whimpers on the verge of tears, blissfully giving herself to her beloved. "All my holes are yours." He groans with approval. "Good girl." Oh fuck, she could feel it coming on again, a planet destroyer of a climax. "I'm going to use this hole to make myself feel good, I'm going to fill it with cum and you're going to lay there and take it, do you hear me Princess?" She can only moan her consent into the tiles. "My pretty little whore, my filthy little cumslut, so fucking greedy." Goddamn, she can feel him getting close, she only has to hold on and they'll finish together but the filth in her ear, him taking her and using her, holding on was too hard. "My holes, mine. And you'll take my cum in all of them, understood?" Jesus Christ, this was fucking torturous. Hang on, just hang on. "Picture me leaking out of you -" Nope, that's it. Consciousness, abandon ship. Her eyes roll back in her head and her groan is deep and low, primal, as her climax takes hold. He doesn't stop, she can barely make out his own sounds of pleasure but feels him swelling and his thrusts stutter as he explodes inside of her, sending lightning aftershocks through her whole body as he pumps his release into her for what seems like forever. He collapses onto her, practically deflated, neither of them able to speak. He can barely move to gently kiss her, panting and spent. As the world returns, they take in the mess they have made and are both covered in. They giggle and kiss, holding each other in all their sweaty, syrup coated glory. "I'll make you more waffles after a shower," he pants. "I'll need a nap, first!" she laughs. "Yeah, fair." he chuckles, helping her up and leading her to the bathroom. She snuggles into his arm as they stagger together hand in hand, then perks up at a thought. "Can you make us fried chicken, instead?" "Sounds good." he replies, blissfully. "And don't worry, you can finish doing the dishes after our nap." He looks at her with that grin. Cheeky fucker.
Recommended Posts