I am NOT looking for an online Dom/Master. Please stop asking.
Sometimes she just needs to hear you say it...
That you think of her...
That you miss her...
That you need to feel her in your arms...
That she is beautiful...
That she is precious...
That she is your safe place like you are hers...
That you're sorry you disappointed her...
That you'll try harder...
That you'll make it up to her...
They say actions speak louder than words...
But God dammit, just say the words...
If only sometimes...
This lifestyle is hard.
It will test you, try you, bruise you, and beat you.
It may even leave a few scars.
It will make you question things it shouldn't.
It will make you question things you should.
Who you are, who you want, what you are and what you want.
Not to be confused with your needs.
Who do you need and what do you need.
It's easy to confuse the two; want and need.
While chasing what you need you may be distracted with want.
And when divulging in want you may find something you need.
Along the way you'll lose focus, faith, and maybe yourself.
But when you find her again; the girl who once hid in the shadows.
The girl who still retreats when she needs to regroup, look closely.
She put herself back together, differently, yet again.
The salt stains from her tears remain around the sharp crevices of her soul.
She'll show them to you if you take the time and if she feels you're worthy.
But first she'll test you, try you, lose faith in you, and not want to need you.
She'll consent to your limits, both hard and soft, and want you to break her.
It's the kind of break she craves, in more ways than one, the break she needs.
But she knows if she's not careful, the break could kill her.
Because hard limits have nothing on the reflection she sees in the mirror.
You want honesty
Here it is
I'm worried you'll break me
Break me in a way I can't come back from
I like having all the information
That's how I make decisions
I made one with the information I was given
More information has been presented
And I feel ill-prepared, misinformed, and lacking
I'm tough, at least I thought I was
But your blade may be too sharp, hit too deep
You scare me to death
But not physically
Mentally, emotionally, spiritually
I'm not sure which would be worse
Death by blade or death by deliverance
I believe in reincarnation, re-birth
But death by your hand may be too much
I want your...
I want your...
To be on my knees in front of you
To be used roughly by you
To love tenderly with you
To lay sweat covered with you
To smile knowingly at you
To have your hands mark my flesh
To have your lips suckle the welts
To hear your words taunt me
To feel your breath fawn over me
To breathe in your groans
To grasp you tightly with my release
To plead for you to give me more
To beg you to go harder
To hear you call me your good girl
You want to know the many facets that fuel my craving for submission.
It won't be pretty.
It'll be ugly, scarred, beaten, and bruised.
It will be beautiful.
Bright colors, glorious depths, and supple curves await.
An optical illusion to those unknowing.
The shards of my past have created a wondrous canvas.
I hide the pool of tears.
Behind bright eyes and a big smile, I'll play along.
You want to know me.
I'm a war ravaged country that has lost, yet I won.
But I will never be the same.
I'm rebuilding, uncovering secrets too dark to comprehend.
Myself, my submission.
It is mine, I control it, and I know you want to possess it.
I will fight you.
Prove your worth, your Dominance, and I will truly submit.
I am an eclipse.
I am rare, beautiful, but I will blind you if you're not careful.
So take my hand.
Play with my mind, caress my body, and guard my heart.
I will open up to you.
What I show of myself will reflect upon you.
A maze of mirrors.
Parts of us both will be revealed, a new exposure.
Not sure which is the madness.
That people keep disappointing me...
Or that I expect them not to...
Do thoughts of me consume you,
like thoughts of you drown me?
Do you crave my kisses,
like I need your lips on me?
Do you get lost in thoughts,
falling into the ethereal like me?
Do my eyes hypnotize you,
like yours intoxicate me?
Does my voice stir your insides,
like yours vibrates in my core?
Do you know that your touch calms my rage?
But its loss leaves me hollow and restless.
Is it normal to still feel this drunk on you after so much time?
Or did I fall into the madness of you, us, long before we met?
Do you have any idea,
because I feel clueless.
Do you know the secret to control it?
I would like the key to that lock.
Sometimes it feels like a sickness.
It's always there, even if you can't see it.
It lingers, hidden like my demons.
Flaring up unexpectedly.
It strangles my thoughts.
Lashes at my emotions.
Curses my flesh.
I need to be used.
Leave me sobbing and quivering.
In the puddle of our lust.
My body now a canvas of desire.
Welts, bites, bruises, the strongest proof.
You were here, attended to me like you do.
Only then will it go into remission.
But, for how long?
You are my medicine, my cure, and my disease.