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Adventures through the dark side.

My journey as a submissive.
8 hours ago. Friday, March 27, 2026 at 10:04 AM

Years from now,

I will vanish.

My name will dissolve, every trace swept away

until I become someone's distant ancestry,

a footnote whispered once and lost.

 

I accept this.

My greatest dread will come,

and I won't be here to feel it.

 

Still I write.

 

I release the mind I hid

for fear of being misunderstood,

lay bare the soul I guarded so fiercely.

 

Between thin blue lines I leave my ghost.

Imperfect, trembling, unflinching.

I offer love I never held,

buried shadows,

courage I never possessed.

 

All I have is words.

Nothing grand. Nothing lasting.

Just these small black marks,

my only defense against time.

 

I write

because I accept I will be forgotten,

yet I refuse to let that be the final word.

1 day ago. Thursday, March 26, 2026 at 11:28 AM

To the Me just beginning,

 

If time folded now

and I could slip this note into your hand

listen close, before the weight settles in

 

Some shadows touch too soon.

They speak wrongness before words arrive.

Your pull away was honest.

Nothing in you is broken for refusing.

The shame is not yours to keep.

 

You stand too steady,

holding what should hold you.

A child is not made for storms.

It is right to crave safety instead.

You need arms that shelter.

 

You deserve solid ground,

not eggshells that demand tiptoes.

The thunder is not sparked by you.

Warmth belongs in a home,

not fear that shrinks you.

 

Two houses of chaos should have been one sanctuary of peace.

You search for one safe harbor.

The running is not weakness,

it is a soul seeking refuge.

 

When the first hand offers love,

do not trade your light for their fractures.

Those pieces are not yours to mend.

Do not lose your shine for insecurities you didn't earn.

 

Haze slips on as armor.

It guards but steals the raw places

where growth begins.

Feel everything.

Numbness blinds the colors.

 

Affection offered as currency

buys no real loyalty.

You are not a tool for fleeting pleasure.

Your worth flies alone.

 

Trust the fire in your chest.

Do not avoid the stumble.

Not trying is the only loss.

Reach anyway,

the becoming waits in the step.

 

Hearts crack open.

Love sometimes cuts deep.

The hurt makes space for what is real.

Do not hide from the kind that stays.

 

Soft escapes offer silence,

blankets that dull the world

until beauty slips away.

They lie, giving false relief.

True security,

lives in feeling.

 

When failures press heavy,

insisting it is over, too late,

do not sink.

This is not the end.

The page turns.

Light comes,

but only if you keep walking.

You are not your darkest days.

You are the one who speaks back

and finds dawn waiting.

 

Love yourself.

 

Love,

Yourself

1 week ago. Tuesday, March 17, 2026 at 11:56 PM

 

 

What You Never Told Me

 

You never said

the hurt was too much,

your heart that heavy.

 

I would have stopped the world

so you could breathe.

I would have buried the storm clouds,

painted the whole sky blue for you.

I would have stolen the moon

just to keep the sun from setting.

 

I would have held the seasons still—

kept the leaves forever green,

chased the snow away,

warmed the frozen ground

so spring could dry your tears.

 

I would have caught a rainbow

and bled its colors back into your dreams.

 

But you never told me.

I never saw.

 

Now your absence drowns me.

You took the air when you left.

 

All the love I kept for you

haunts me now.

The hope I meant to give you

has turned hard in my hands.

 

I should have felt you slipping.

I should have heard the quiet breaking.

I should have known.

 

I would have carried every bit of your pain

if you had let me.

 

I wish you would have told me.

1 week ago. Sunday, March 15, 2026 at 4:05 PM

PART I: TAKE

The look on her face when I grabbed her from the safety of her bed—still deliciously burned into my mind. That wide-eyed shock, the surprised yelp as I threw her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing. I ignored the pleading as I dumped her into the opened trunk.

I bound her wrists tight behind her back, then cinched her ankles just as snug. I forced a black fabric sack over her head, muffling her words and slammed the trunk.

The drive should've been quick—forty minutes—but I took the long way and my time. Let the panic stretch. Let her feel every bump, every slow turn, every minute the engine hummed without mercy. By the time I pulled up to the cabin the sun had risen fully.

I left her in the trunk while I unlocked the front door. Inside, the bathroom waited exactly as I'd prepared it: two stainless steel bowls on the wood floor—one filled with water, one with a small pile of plain dry cereal. The heavy metal collar already bolted to the floorboards via a short, thick chain—long enough to let her reach the door if she stretched, but no farther.

Trunk lid up. There she waited—shuddering, beautiful, bound.

“Hush now,” I said evenly. “Conserve your energy. You're going to need it.”

Over my shoulder again, into the cabin. I set her on her knees in the bathroom. The sack came off in one pull. Her eyes blinked against the sudden light, wide and searching.

I untied her ankles first, then her wrists.

I stripped the white cotton nightgown tugging it over her head and yanked down her panties. Naked and embarrassed, she attempted to cover herself, skin prickling in the chill of the room.

The thick metal collar clicked shut around her neck—heavy, cold, final. The sound echoed off the walls. Realization flickered across her face as the weight settled in.

I shut the door without a word and slid the bolt. Locking her into her temporary home.

 

PART II: EXPOSE

I check my watch—about an hour until the sun sets. I fold the corner of the page I'm reading, set the book on the table, and stand.

I slide the bolt back on the outside of the bathroom door and open it.

She is curled tight asleep. She looks peaceful: knees drawn up, cheek resting on one arm, breathing slow and even. The day's struggles have worn her out, poor little thing. The water bowl is half-empty; the cereal dish barely touched, a few pieces scattered like she tried and gave up.

I stand in the doorway a long moment, watching her. The faint rise and fall of her chest. The way the late-afternoon light from the small window touches her hair. Almost serene—if you ignored the collar, the chain, the dog food bowls.

The floorboard creaks as I step in. She wakes with a start, sits up fast, eyes lifting to mine—silent desperation.

I cross to her, unlock the collar, let it drop to the wood with a dull clang. The black fabric sack goes back over her head.

I take her arm—firm, not cruel—and walk her out of the cabin, across the clearing to a large oak at the edge of the trees. I turn her so her back is pressed against the tree.

I pull her wrists behind her, around the thick trunk, and tie them there with coarse rope—tight enough that the bark bites if she struggles. Ankles left free.

I step back. Look at her once—sack over her head, naked, bound to the tree like an offering—then walk away without a word.

She can feel the warmth of the sun fade inch by inch as it drops behind the ridge. Skin cools slowly at first, then faster. Goosebumps rise. The evening air turns sharp. When the full moon finally clears the ridge, it deepens the shadows around her.

She is alone with the night now.

 

PART III: HUNT

It’s time.

I step quietly from the cabin, boots soft on the pine needles. Moonlight shines over the clearing. I stand a moment, admiring the way the cold has tightened her body, the faint tremble in her thighs, before I move.

Silent behind her. One hand closes around her bound wrist; the coarse rope parts under my knife in a single stroke. She jumps at the sudden freedom, breath hitching.

I rip the black sack off her head. Lean in close—close enough that my lips brush her ear—and growl low:

“Run, rabbit.”

Her first steps are clumsy, legs stiff from hours against the tree. She stumbles once, catches herself, then bolts into the trees like something released from a trap.

She knows this game well. Just not this board.

I give her thirty seconds—long enough to let hope flare—then follow at a steady walk. These woods are mine. Every root, every dip, every trail mapped in my head. I know exactly where this ends.

Her frantic footsteps crash ahead, then stop abruptly. She ducks behind a thick clump of bushes, trying to make herself small. I smile into the dark.

“Oh, rabbit… that’s not a good hiding place.” My voice carries, calm, amused. “Are you trying to make this easy for me?”

She bursts up and dives deeper into the trees.

I catch the glint of her hair as she runs behind a stand of pines. Good. Let her feel that brief illusion of safety. I close the distance, deliberately snapping a dry twig under my boot—loud enough for her to hear.

A sharp gasp.

“I smell your sweet scent, rabbit,” I call, almost conversational.

She runs harder. A root catches her ankle; she trips, crashes face-first into leaves and damp earth with a muffled thud.

“Uh-oh. Watch where you step, rabbit.”

She scrambles up—dirt smeared across her cheek, chest heaving—and flees again. No direction now. Just pure adrenaline.

I lose sight of her for a minute. No hurry. I start to whistle a slow, lazy tune—so she knows I’m still coming.

A sharp cry slices the night. Thorns. She’s found the thicket I knew she’d hit.

“Looks like my rabbit found some thorns,” I say, voice carrying. “What a shame. That porcelain skin getting all scratched up.”

More crunching leaves, another pained gasp as she fights her way free.

She’s almost there now—the small grove she thinks will hide her. The place she’ll stop to catch her breath, peeking around a trunk, believe for a second she’s won.

I circle wide, boots silent on the needle carpet. Close enough to hear her ragged breathing, the soft whimpers she’s trying to swallow.

“Found you, rabbit.”

She freezes. I step into the moonlight. Take in the sight of her: body streaked with dirt, fresh red scratches crisscrossing her arms and thighs, hair wild with leaves and twigs.

I take another step. A slow, wicked smile curls my lips.

She turns—slowly—to face me.

Not pure terror in her eyes. Something else flickers there. Excitement. A spark. The game isn’t over.

In one quick motion I close the gap, grab her by the upper arms, and drive her down into the soft forest floor. Leaves crunch under her back. Her breath explodes out in a half-laugh, half-cry as I pin her wrists above her head.

The hunt is done.

The rabbit is caught.

 

PART IV: CLAIM

This is what my rabbit ran for.

I pin her wrists above her head in the leaf litter, knees driving her thighs apart. Her breath comes in shallow, frantic bursts; her heart hammers so hard I can hear it. Moonlight paints silver streaks across her dirt-smeared skin, highlighting every scratch, every tremble.

I run a hand slowly down her arm—possessively—pausing at the delicate column of her neck. Fingers curl, squeeze just enough to make her eyes flutter, then relax. I trace her collarbone, dip lower, cup her right breast roughly, pinching her nipple hard, twist. She arches with a sharp gasp.

My palm continues its path: down her rib cage, over the soft belly, stopping a breath away from her pussy. I watch her face—eyes glassy, lips parted, frustration flickering as I deny her the touch she’s aching for.

“Are you pouting, rabbit?” I murmur, voice low and mocking.

She barely shakes her head once, forcing her expression neutral. Brave little thing.

I keep my hand there for a moment before I remove it entirely from her body. I unzip, shove my jeans down just enough to free my cock—already throbbing, aching from the chase. I force her legs wider, spreading her open beneath me.

I don’t need to check if she’s wet. I can smell it—musky, sweet, undeniable.

No ceremony. No warning.

I slam into her in one brutal thrust.

She screams—shock and instant, overwhelming pleasure twisting together. Her walls clamp down tight around me; I groan at the vise-like grip, the heat. This isn’t gentle. This isn’t about her. This is release—the pent-up tension, the aggression, the primal need that’s been coiling inside me since I first looked down at her sleeping in her bed.

I fuck her hard, relentless. Leaves crunch beneath us with every thrust. I barely register her broken and wild moans when I abruptly pull out.

“On your stomach,” I command, voice rough. “Hips up.”

She obeys instantly—rolling, lifting her ass, knees digging into the earth. Her juices have already slicked down her crack. I press the back of her head down, forcing her cheek into the cool dirt, muffling the sounds she can’t hold back.

Then I line up and push into her ass—hard, burying myself.

She cries out into the ground, body shuddering. I don’t give her time to adjust. I quicken my pace, gripping her hips, driving deep, claiming every inch.

A roar tears from my throat as I cum, spilling into her, pulse after pulse. I collapse over her back, pinning her beneath me.

When my breathing finally steadies, I pull out carefully. I tuck myself back into my jeans, zip up, then sit on the forest floor and draw her gently into my lap.

She curls against me without hesitation, head resting on my thigh. I stroke her tangled, leaf-strewn hair—slow, soothing—then run my palm down her scratched, dirt-streaked body, tracing the marks I helped make. Soft now. Reverent.

“You did so well, rabbit,” I murmur, voice low and warm. “I’m proud of you. My good girl.”

She turns her face up to me—cheeks smeared with earth, eyes shining—and beams. A small, exhausted smile.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispers.

The night is quiet around us now. Just crickets, wind in the pines, and the soft sound of her breathing against my leg.

2 weeks ago. Wednesday, March 11, 2026 at 4:48 PM

"It's been a long day, Mom. I'm so sick of this job. There's this guy Brock at work, and I always catch him staring at me. Gives me the creeps."

I can already hear the sigh coming—the one that always precedes her repeat lecture for the millionth time.

"Honey, I've been telling you to find something else. You have the experience and education—"

I cut her off. "I know, Mom, but I'll never get an entry-level position with these benefits."

She launches in again. Same script, different night. Half listening, I mute the TV with the remote and interrupt once more. "Mom, I'm going to go to bed."

"Okay, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom. Good night."

I end the call and set my phone on the counter, then head to lock the front door. Weird. I don't remember locking it earlier. I shrug it off—what bad guy is going to lock themselves in? I flip off the kitchen lights as I pass and, thinking of nothing but my head hitting the pillow, start down the dark hallway to my room.

I pass the bathroom and hear a faint rustle from the right. I freeze as movement flickers in the corner of my eye. Suddenly a hand clamps over my mouth, an arm snakes around my waist, pinning my arms tight against my sides.

"Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet for me?"

My heart hammers, mind reeling. I know that voice. There's nothing I can do but nod once, tiny and terrified.

"That's my good little whore."

His grip starts to ease—testing me. I twist hard, trying to break free, and manage half a scream before his hand slams back over my mouth and his other arm crushes me tighter. The next second I'm thrown backward against the wall, the impact knocking every bit of air from my lungs.

I struggle to drag in a breath. His hands shift, fingers wrapping around my throat, squeezing just enough to make the world tunnel. Right as I finally gasp in a thin thread of air, he tightens again, cutting it off completely.

I claw at his forearms, nails digging in, scraping skin, desperate to loosen the vise. My vision blurs at the edges, black creeping in. I stare up into his eyes—those cold, familiar eyes—and my last clear thought before everything fades is: It's Brock.

The next thing I know, I'm being dragged toward my room by my ponytail, my scalp burning. As we cross the threshold, he growls, "Stand up."

My mind scrambles—where's my phone? The counter. I have to get back to the kitchen.

I push to my feet, spin, and bolt for the hallway. He's faster. His arm hooks around my waist, pulling me back hard against his chest. Cold steel presses against my throat—sharp, unyielding.

"Looks like this little whore can't listen," he murmurs, patience dripping from every word like honey over a razor. "What am I going to do with you?"

I stop resisting. Every ounce of fight drains out of me, my body going limp against him, resigning to whatever comes next.

"There's no stopping what I'm about to do to you," he says softly, almost tenderly. "Relax, princess, and you might just enjoy this… I will."

He walks me forward to the foot of the bed, the knife never leaving my neck. With a rough shove, he forces me down onto the mattress.

"Crawl up," he orders. "All the way on the bed."

I obey, trembling, face pressed into the sheets, heart slamming so hard I can taste it. Terrified. Knowing what's coming.

His hands find my calves first—slow, deliberate—then slide up my thighs. He lifts the hem of my nightshirt, dragging the fabric higher until it's bunched around my waist. Cool air hits my bare skin.

He pauses. A low, satisfied hum escapes him.

"Hmmm… no panties?" His voice drops, thick with dark amusement. "I knew you'd be my good little whore."

He roughly forces my knees wider apart, spreading me so hard I know there will be bruises on my inner thighs. "I know you know who I am," he says, voice low and mocking. "I give you the creeps, huh? Well, I'm about to give you something else."

He barks, "Open your legs further."

Humiliation burns through me—face flaming, cheeks scorching as I spread wider, fully exposed under his stare. Every inch of me on display, vulnerable, helpless.

"What a beautiful pussy," he murmurs, almost reverent, before his fingers trace my outer lips. He pulls them apart, pinches them closed, toys with me like I'm his to play with. I know what's about to happen. Tears spill hot down my cheeks, silent and unstoppable.

His fingers glide in easily—too easily. My body betrays me, slick with unwanted arousal. He chuckles, low and cruel. "Oh my… it seems the whore is enjoying this."

He starts a slow, deliberate rhythm, sliding in and out, curling just enough to make my hips twitch despite myself. The pressure coils tighter, heat building low in my belly. I bite my lip, pour every ounce of will into staying silent—but a soft, broken moan slips out anyway.

Instantly, his fingers withdraw.

I hear the smirk in his voice, thick with satisfaction. "Uh oh… the whore is enjoying this a little too much."

Before I can catch my breath, those two wet fingers—fresh from my pussy—push past my lips, forcing their way into my mouth. The taste of myself floods my tongue, salty and intimate, as he presses them deep, holding them there.

He yanks his fingers from my mouth, my whimper echoing in the quiet room. Behind me, I hear the unmistakable rasp of his zipper sliding down.

Oh no. Not this.

The thought barely lands before confusion crashes in behind it. Why is my body still humming? Why do I feel a traitorous ache for more? What the hell is wrong with me?

The mattress dips as he climbs on, positioning himself above me, knees bracketing my hips. I brace, muscles locking tight.

No warning. No gentleness. The thick head of his cock nudges once—then he drives in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

I suck in a sharp breath, the sudden stretch burning and blooming into something darker, hotter. Pleasure floods through me, unwanted and overwhelming, as he starts pounding—relentless, deep, ruthless.

My hips rock back to meet him even though every rational part of me screams no. The pressure coils again, tighter this time, faster. I bite the sheets, but a low moan slips out anyway, then another, louder.

He fucks me harder, grunts and ragged moans spilling from him, vibrating against my back. The sounds—raw, animalistic—push me over the edge.

Orgasm rips through me like a shockwave. My walls clench and flutter around him, milking every inch as he slams deep one last time. Heat floods inside me—he throbs, pulses, fills me completely with thick spurts of his release.

For a heartbeat, I’m lost. Breathing hard, floating in dazed bliss, the world narrowed to the aftershocks and the heavy weight of him still inside me. I forget the knife. Forget the fear. Forget everything except this liquid heat.

Then he pulls out—slow, deliberate—and reality slams back.

Cold dread rushes in. What now? What will he do to me now?

The zipper rasps up again. Footsteps retreat across the floorboards, heading toward the hallway where it all started.

He pauses at the threshold.

“You did good, princess,” he says, voice low and almost fond. “But next time… maybe actually put up a fight.”

The front door clicks shut behind him—soft, final.

I stay on my stomach, legs still trembling, his release slowly leaking out of me. My body glows, warm and heavy, as a twisted sense of pride washes over me.

I pleased my Master.

2 weeks ago. Tuesday, March 10, 2026 at 3:06 PM

Once upon a time we had a home

pictures perfect on every wall

rooms rang with cherished laughter 

tables lit with candlelight

beds burned with endless passion

 

Mornings wrapped us in soft hope

days spilled into lazy afternoons

evenings spent planning futures

late nights tangled, breathing close

time stood still, holding moments

 

Secrets whispered between our skin 

stolen kisses, searching, yearning

hands that knew each curve by touch

bodies pressed, silent hunger

love so fierce igniting water

 

A bond rare, true, and bold

reserved lessons learned

fights never to regret

echos of ever after

a story I’ll always read 

 

One day it ended, no fault of ours

a chapter fate gently closed

leaving us with a dream

bright enough to remember

what we almost became

2 weeks ago. Monday, March 9, 2026 at 6:05 PM

I was looking for you in the house,

your reflection missing from the mirrors,

perferated light through the blinds.

I found your silence hard to ignore.

 

The only response to my call

was the creak of the floorboards, low drip from the faucet.

Your name diffused into the stillness of the air.

 

The garden path still curved the same way,

I walked it out of habit,

past the bench where you would sit 

reading in the shade, lost in pages.

 

Years later, a short walk from our old house,

I was drinking in the park,

the same spot we used to share,

when the pit in my stomach bit again

frantic, nervous, pacing through the house,

the ache of it flooding back, raw as your absence.

 

If we act like things aren't spiraling out of hand,

does that make it so?

Does the unspoken thought become the unknown truth?

 

The broached belief when my friend died decades later--

but it never rears it head when it can be reasoned with.

 

The world ended on a quiet weekend,

not through diagnosis, emergency, collapse.

Although I hate to think memories bend.

The clock still ticked the hours.

 

If the rapture happened, why was it unrecognizable?

Why was the sky blue? Why did no one else feel it?

Did these things not announce themselves?

 

When I found you, you smiled and said good morning, like yesterday never left,

and spoke nothing of the end of the world.

 

Does that mean it never happened?

2 weeks ago. Monday, March 9, 2026 at 10:47 AM

So this is what love is, an overwhelming joy

A spark that ignites the quiet dark inside

Finding you on a pedestal, carved from light

Every glance a promise, every touch a tide

Pulling me higher, weightless, alive

Whispers in the dark that feel like home

Laughter that echoes through empty rooms

Hands that fit like they were made for mine

A future painted in colors I never knew existed

Safety in chaos, peace in the storm

You, the answer to questions I never asked

 

No this is what love is, a drowning despair

A spark that gutters in the quiet dark inside

Pedestal shattered, shards underfoot like ice

Every glance a blade, every touch a lie

Dragging me under, breathless, denied

Whispers that twist into accusations

Laughter that cuts deeper than silence

Hands that once held now push away

A future erased in shades of gray

Chaos in safety, storm in the peace

You, the question I wish I'd never answered

 

So this is what people are, a quiet revelation

A spark that refuses to die in the quiet dark inside

Finding healing where I saw only open wounds forever

Every scar a story someone chose to rewrite

Pulling me forward, grounded, real

Whispers that mend instead of break 

Laughter that fills instead of echoes

Hands that reach without demanding

A kindness I believed was myth, now breathing

Mercy in chaos, softness in the storm

You, the impossible made flesh

 

No this is what people are, a weary certainty

A flame that flickers out in the quiet dark inside

Finding selfishness where I dared to hope for more

Every promise a transaction, every touch a debt

Pushing me back, weightless no longer

Whispers that twist into excuses

Laughter that mocks instead of heals

Hands that take and never give back

A future narrowed to survival again

Chaos in mercy, storm in the softness

You, the proof I never wanted

3 weeks ago. Wednesday, March 4, 2026 at 9:19 AM

One tree reaches wide into the sunlit air, branches soft and forgiving, leaves that whisper comfort when the wind is kind, offering shade and gentle sway, a resting place that asks nothing but the willingness to sit beneath it, to breathe easy in the open light, to feel held without being held too tightly.

The other tree drives deep into shadowed earth, roots thick and unyielding, bark rough under palm, trunk scarred and strong, promising a rest that will test every nerve, every breath, branches that bite back when you lean against them, a height that leaves you bruised and breathless, alive in the ache of being held too tightly.

Both trees stretch toward me with the same quiet hunger, one craving the softness I bring to its light, the other craving the storm I bring to its dark, each one pulling as if my presence alone could make it whole.

I stand between them, hand resting on one trunk, then the other, indifferent to their names or their stories, caring only for what they offer in the moment: the wide, forgiving spread that cushions the exhaustion, the deep, unyielding grip that anchors the ache.

But roots remember only one thirst. One drinks light and reaches for my ease; the other drinks dark and reaches for my edge. They share the soil, the sky, the storm—but never the full promise of what I need.

So I choose the tree that answers the moment's greatest need:

the soft one when the world has already cut too deep, sitting in its shade, letting the gentle spread cradle the exhaustion,

or the sharp one when the pain demands to be felt, resting under its branches where the pressure reminds me I'm still alive,

knowing each rest leaves the other tree behind,

knowing the tree I didn't choose keeps reaching without me,

waiting for the next time my hunger shifts.

3 weeks ago. Monday, March 2, 2026 at 9:11 PM

Fractured halo, smoldering wings

Led by wicked magnificence,

Unholy embrace viscerally craved—

Angelic intent turned depraved.

 

Prayers bargained for corruption,

Answered in consecrated rupture.

Every scar, stain, mark—cursed.

Indifferent, blasphemous thirst.

 

Profane pleasures mock the caveat,

Igniting evils mania begat.

Risking eternities entombed in hell,

Where daemonic desires dwell.

 

Our union summons heavenly wrath,

Sentenced by seraphic jury at last.

Unhallowed vows we dare to make—

A marriage salvation will not take.

 

Damned throne henceforth not afar,

Maleficent Queen of Morningstar.