Giiiiiirl. You sent me a similar message 4 times. Is you smoking the mary jane? Tapping into that egg nog? Spiking your coffee? I hear you. ‘Tis the season. But let me clarify:
1. I wear a fur coat and heeled Timberland’s to work out, actually. Think Beyonce. Who run the world?!
2. Cloth(e)s. Words are hard. That red squiggly line you see usually means something is misspelled. Happy New Year.
3. Feminism (Google it; see above statement about the difficulty of words) is a woman’s right to chose to be whatever the hell it is she wants to be. And if that means one day she wants to be owned and used and called a dirty little slut while on her knees in front of a man – and the next, a powerful, take charge, career driven alpha, welp, she can. Preferably without judgement.
4. I think one of the traits that a strong woman encompasses is her ability to be self aware (to assess, analyze, and evolve). Part of that is the bravery to tap into the darkness of her own mind and seek out what she needs. To be vocal about what excites her, thrills her, and to take action to pursue it unabashed.
5. There are many well written articles/thesis’ that explain the “Daddy” and “Sir” dynamic and appeal (www.askjeeves.com). Those terms are most commonly used to show respect. It is a submissive and endearing term to illustrate that “he” is in charge, the boss, the protector. To surrender power and to show adoration and affection. To each their own, I say.
It may be part of your body, but that is Mine too. It may give you orgasms, but those, yeah, those are Mine too.
Don’t you fucking get it?
You are Mine, Kitten.
When I grip your cunt like I am mad at it, I want you to understand you are Mine. I want that feeling you love to mean something. I know you love it. Don’t you?
Squeezed. Gripped. Pulled.
Mine.
When I hold you down by My neck, and drive my fingers inside you, I want My orgasm to rush from your body like a Volcano erupted. I want that pussy of yours, that is really Mine, to squirt like a fountain.
I want My Kitten, to fall apart under my grip.
Bury my face deep inside you. I will not come up for air until you collapse again for Me. Then again. And again. Crumble. Just fucking crumble.
My dick deep inside that pussy on your body, to pull another orgasm out of you, for Me. All for Me.
It was always different with him, the way his words pierced her soul and his presence made her yearn for something animalistic that had laid dormant for years. He looked deep into her trusting lust-filled eyes without saying a word as he secured her hands in the restraints. As he lifted her bound hands above her head, she felt the defenses that she often relied upon lower. She felt different with him … she felt safe. He slowly and strategically moved the crop over every inch of her yearning and neglected body. Her breathing quickened with every stroke; inhaling new life and exhaling fear and insecurity.
“Every inch of you is mine” he said as he moved the crop over the contours of her body. “You belong to me” he continued, moving her legs further apart with his feet. “I’m going to take and devour every inch of you … you are all mine” he whispered into her ear, moving the crop slowly and delicately over her glistening inner thighs. Her mind was blank and quiet … her body responding uncontrollably … she was no longer in control; she had submitted.
D.I. (Dominant Intelligence) thoughts and feedback welcome.
Sir's submissive 