There’s a certain spark I get when I hear that tone in His voice. You know the one, the one that drops into something darker, something deeper. The one that tells me, playtime is over and I am His to mold. That’s when everything in me stills. My sass shuts up. My mind stops spinning. And all that’s left is obedience. Sweet, aching, beautiful submission.
God, I live for it. I crave it. I bloom in it.
I know it might sound strange to someone outside our world but when He takes the choices away from me, when I am not given a single inch of wiggle room, when I have to do what He wants. It is like everything clicks into place. My world becomes perfectly ordered, perfectly simple. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to fight. I don’t have to guess.
I just obey.
And that, that is where I melt. That is where I become what I was meant to be. Not a girlfriend. Not a partner. Not a girlfriend playing pretend. But His. Entirely. Unequivocally. Unapologetically.
There’s magic in that kind of control. There’s madness in the way He rewires my thoughts, how His rules become my truths, His desires become my needs. Call it brainwashing, conditioning, training, whatever word makes you squirm. All I know is, I love it. I need it. I worship it.
He snaps His fingers, and I drop. He gives a look, and my breath stutters. He whispers “good girl” and I’m dripping before the words even land.
There’s no high like it. There’s no drug that compares to the cocktail of dopamine, surrender, and mind fuckery that He stirs up inside me. He turns my resistance into obedience. He turns my sass into silence. And somehow, impossibly, He makes my entire identity a devotion to Him.
And let me tell you something when I feel that leash, even metaphorically? When my knees hit the floor without hesitation? When I hear His commands echoing in my head even when He’s not around?
That’s when I know I’m His perfectly trained, completely obsessed, deliciously fucked up little slave puddle.
No choices.
Just His.
And I wouldn't want it any other way.
Record A