The Wandering Mind

It feels like it comes when I least expect it. Almost like…waves of the ocean. Hard. Soft. Ebbs and flows. 
I sit here, in the middle of my day, and Dommy feelings overwhelm me. Pull me into a dreamscape. 

All of a sudden I want to create a realm of  our own, a realm in which we can strip away societal conditioning and masks and false pretense and chase the feelings that swirl within us freely.

Somewhere in my twenties I looked back on my teen self and realised I was primal - drawn to being animalistic and naked and free. Now I look back on my twenties and realise just how captivated I am by pet play. Primal energies. Free spirits inhabiting an animal they are drawn to.

So now, nursing a coffee and a racing mind, the realm I illustrate with the colours at my disposal is this: We’re sitting on the couch watching a movie. I’m thinking Labyrinth or Hook or The Dark Crystal. Something fantastical and wonderful.

Maybe you (I say you not for any one soul but for the hypothetical submissive in this here dream realm ) are naked, collared and leashed. Maybe by my feet on your own little pillow. Maybe beside me, what are you drawn to?

Maybe you’re wearing cat ears or a tail or something else that scrubs away at shame and expectation and lets you simply exist and feel in the moment. 

I write all this and I feel an overwhelming pull to reach down to your head and give you head scritches. Feel your soft strands of hair slip through my fingertips. Hear you coo happily or nuzzle my knee or shoulder or wherever you want to be. Whatever pulls you forward. 

Maybe that night will end in jizz-soaked, sweat drenched bliss - where cum and drool and biting all create ecstasy together — but right now, for the next length of the film, this right here is the moment that comes to my heart and mind first. Two animal beings that found each other, happy and finally at peace.

 
 

Just A Quick Note: Hey-Ho. The following contains the theme of degradation and humiliation and the thrills we get with probing at our boundaries together. I know it’s not everyone’s cuppa so I thought I’d preface it as such.

I wrote this free-form. No looking back, no edits. Naked adventures with words to tap into that primal part of my brain.

The result is just one long piece like we, the reader, are eavesdropping on one side of a telephone call to a lover. I found it sexy. I hope you do too.

 

 

——

 

Hey you.

I’ve missed you all day.

You’re knocking off early?

Have you left the car park yet?

Do me a favour? Take off those work pants of yours.

Yes.

Yes, you’re driving home in those lilac lacy panties that you know make me fucking, achingly hard.

They’re what?

Violet? Don’t you be a fucking sassbrat — take off your pants. I’ll wait.

Are they off?

Good.

Because I said so.

Because I like it when you squirm — and you like it too, so stop giving me cheek and run that hand along your adorable fucking slit.

There’s a good pet.

Oh goodness. Someone sounds a little soaked and turned on. Is it the rain outside? Does pup want to get naked and dance out under it?

I tell you what. You can when you come home.

Now, you’re going to pull that delicious fabric up between your slit. Good pup.

I’m going to be vulgar because that’s the word that comes mind — coat hanger that gorgeous cunt of yours on those panties.

I can’t keep my hands off my cock.

Thinking of how I want to suck on those smooth lips of yours.

God. Do I want to devour you.

Oh please. Feel free to moan.

And get driving. Traffic might be crazy.

I’ll be here in this realm of ours, I’m not going anywhere.

Oh my hand is on my cock, don’t you worry.

I think I’ll edge till you come home and—-

—- People might be looking?

How exciting. Let’s hope there’s no big fuck off cars then hey? Keep posting for me, pet slave.

Let me tell you how it’s going to.

You’re going to glide those lovely fingers of yours under your panties and along your slit.

You’re going to play — best you can, I know safety is paramount – until you pull on our drive way.

No, they’re not home.

It’s a quiet street.

When you get home, you may put your pants on but when you get to that front door, where that pillar hides us away, you’re going to undress and walk on through.

Then and only then will you be able to come for me.

After I come over your tits myself.

Oh please. Keep whining like a needy, greedy cumslut. It only makes me want to tease you for longer.

Pout all you like, sassbrat. But tell me this?

Who owns you?

Louder.

LOUDER. Who. Owns. You?

There’s a good pup.

 

———

 

Tell me. Did you like plugging your mind into mine? 

 
 

 

I know. The title sounds like the name of a track lifted from a prog metal record. But it’s a title that came to me and I thought: You know what, I don’t mind that.

This might be a bit of a ramble post so if you’ve opened this and you’ve just got in the car after work or you’re out in the midst of life, wait till you’re home – in bed, in the bath, on the couch — whatever your comfy realm is.

So a lot of my upbringing – the parenting style of my parents, how they raised me Catholic – would go on to play its role in my sexuality. Or coming to terms with said sexuality. I talked a bit about this during my 30 Days of Dominance, how my upbringing may have informed my dominant style.

One thing it did influence was how I approach nudity. Nudity felt sexual, taboo. Dangerous. I wasn’t naked for myself until I was 13. I didn’t start sleeping naked until, I wanna say, my early twenties. I’ll get back to sleeping naked in a bit. But BEING naked, just in a regular, mundane setting was unheard of. Until I got the urge out of nowhere to strip and go running through my parent’s acres of land.

Out amongst the trees, with the wind whipping my legs and a breeze teasing my cock, I felt wild. Untamed. And probably more important, not belonging to religion or strict parenting. I was so giddy I felt kinda queasy. Like I was a newborn animal drinking greedily from a spring.

In my twenties I’d find out I was primal. Which is to say, for those unfamiliar and those passing by the blog, belonging to a state of mind where I think less and feel more. I act animalistic. I let all the thoughts in the moment – love, lust, goofiness – come to me and I give it a big ol’ bear hug. I love storms and I love being out in the rain and now I’m naked a fair lot in my day.

I HAD TO REWIRE MY MIND. Because being naked felt taboo it made it feel wild. Because it felt wild it made it slightly sexy. Because it felt slightly sexy I grew to discover I enjoyed exhibitionism sometimes. The IDEA of getting caught. And because I enjoyed exhibitionism, I felt shame. Which stopped me from exploring being naked.

In my twenties I began to sleep naked. I loved it. It was peaceful, relaxing. It made me realise just how much I hated the feeling of clothes choking on me and not letting my skin breathe. It was no longer a thrill thing, it was a thing of comfort. An act to decompress after a stressful day by eschewing clothes and my societal mask to be ME.

I realised that nakedness was something that relaxed me.

So I took it outside of the bedroom.

I did mundane things around the house. I did the washing. I did my writing. I did various household things while naked. And piece by piece, it chipped away at – not only this feeling of shame residing in me, like I was a pervert – but my insecurity. I’m my own worst enemy. The way my ass looks, the shape of me. I was lanky and gross and looking like…well, bad mouthing me doesn’t serve anyone.

I still have those moments where I feel insecure. I don’t think those go away. Not always. I think you just become more of a warrior in managing them.

Being naked more has also just made more aware of my mind as well. Aware of all these little pieces that make me primal or dominant. I feel at home being naked. I feel relaxed and calm. It makes me realise just how much I grumble when I have to get dressed and play the part of me to society and friends. When, really, I’m at home best curled up somewhere naked and reading.

I have so many thoughts and can talk / write about this till the cows come home.

If you’re of a similar background to me and thinking you’d like to be naked more – try it slowly. See how you feel. At a pace that makes you comfortable. More than this, be kind to yourself. Love yourself. Let that inner nudist or primal be free in their own space. You might be like me, you might never go back to sleeping in pjs or something.

 
 

 

Clawing.

Clawing.

Clawing.

His fingertips scrap along her ass.

Underneath.

Needles of pain.

He’s lifting her up.

Feasting upon her.

Damn it all, she’s doing her best.

Meeting His eager mouth eagerly.

Fucking His mouth.

No.

Offering her cunt.

Folding underneath His probing tongue.

That makes her whole.

And marks her slit.

Assaults her clit.

Assaults her sense of self.

Thoughts come, feral and filthy and frantic.

The light in her was but a candle flickering in the wind. By the jagged, scattered edges of its light lay her sense of self.

Her work clothes.

Her dresses.

Her bra and panties.

Her work-phone voice.

Her society smile.

Somewhere on her naked flesh was a loose thread.

He pulled it and she unravelled.

Spilling her secrets.

Her guts.

All that she is.

On display for Him.

He snuffed out the candlelight.

Tugged her by the hair into the dark.

She is but a toy.

An offering.

A gift for His feast.

For that’s what you do, right? You offer a gift upon entering someone’s home.

Somewhere there is music.

Moody.

Warped.

Like a revelation revealing itself in a nightmare.

Scattered demon eyes in the dark.

His moan between her thighs is a buzz that tickles her lips.

Is she pleasing Him? Is she a worthy gift?

Something nips at her nipples.

Ever so gently.

Butterflies tickling, prickling her bare breasts.

No. That’s her hand.

Pinching.

Pulling.

Pinching.

Pulling.

Stretching.

Brutalising.

The breeze comes snaking down her torso, coiling in what feels like spirals. Marking her flesh, claiming her for the dark.

One time she was home for Christmas and was put up in her old childhood bedroom and during the night listening to the whispering trees she pulled aside her summer-sweat-soaked shorties and furiously rubbed her clit.

Not just that. She rolled over to the dressing table, grabbed her hair pins and placed them on both nipples and continued.

She came hard on her tum, grinding, gushing onto her fingers.

Try as she might - did she really, did she really try? - she let out a single startled cry as she came. A cry that would keep her furiously blushing at the thought of being heard for the remainder of her stay.

Pull, she seethes.

At her seams.

Until she unravels in the dark.

A useless, needy bitch.

She doesn’t want to think.

She doesn’t care for the light.

She wants to chase feeling right through the forest.

Resistance comes in goosebumps sizzling down her body - past her shoulders and along her stomach to the tips of her toes.

Her mouth opens, words forming on her eager mouth — I don’t want to be a good girl, I want to be a bad thing.

I want to be a bad thing.

It’s her orgasm that lifts her hips higher, cuts the words in half in her throat.

He doesn’t stop.

God fucking dammit, He doesn’t stop His assault.

And she doesn’t recognise her whimpers.

Her stomach flips.

Her bedroom roof becomes the night sky.

Humming.

A nude woman lays before her on her tum, grinding into the piles of leaves around her.

Somehow in the frenzy of her multiple orgasms, her own eyes travel over the curves of the woman’s pale ass, lit by the glow of moonlight.

Golden hair partially obscures her eyes — but not her luscious lips that lower themselves to her left breast.

But her mouth, it hovers agonizingly close to her desperate nipple.

We know what she wants. We know what she craves..

The words attempt to come.

‘P-please…’

Something searing hot and wet smacks against her cheek.

Spit.

She will not speak unless allowed.

She can barely nod because she’s desperate for the spit to roll down her cheek and hit her tortured nipples.

He accepts her offering of flesh, of sweets, of want and of need.

The golden woman lowered her mouth to her tortured nipple and sucked greedily, moaning around it.

You are His…you are ours. Body and soul. Flesh and nectar. 

‘Body a-a-nd soul.’

The golden woman giggled. Welcome sister.

Her ass clenched.

Her back seized upward.

She screamed out a guttural, unraveling wail that shot through the trees as she squirted into His mouth.

Her dumb, overstimulated self.

His.

 

All my life I’ve been dominant. In charge.

Setting the orders.

Making the decisions.

Until now.

‘On. Your. Knees.’

His voice was commanding, laced with an edge that makes my impossibly hard cock ache for release.

We’ve stolen a moment, while his roommate was out, to take a shower together.

My first time seeing him utterly naked.

Seeing a man utterly naked.

Where did it come from? This need?

One day we’re gaming together then the next it changes everything.

It happens as a joke that becomes serious.

Now, here we are.

The words ‘Yes Sir.’ are a weight off my chest.

Anything goes.

There will be time for analysis later.

As I sink to my knees, feeling the water lash my ass, pool around my knees, I can’t pin a memory on the mind board, can’t trace it back to a moment I realised I wanted this.

Submission.

A man.

More than anything in the entire fucking world I want his cock in my mouth.

I want to please.

‘Gods, are you beautiful.’

Why does it hit harder hearing a man call me beautiful? I don’t know.

I just know my heart races wild at it.

‘Is your dominant mind wrestling with control?’

A gentle tease in his voice peppers the rushing water of the shower.

We’ve talked BDSM here or there in our 6 year friendship but it was only a few weeks ago he admitted he wanted to try dominating men too. Course, I let slip I was intrigued as a joke. But how much was it really a joke?

Really, wherever we all go are we not simply animals?

A spasm rocks sizzles over my cock as His hands cup my face. Gently. Cooly.

Nevermind his well-trimmed cock is inches from my face. Hovering there, teasingly.

‘On the contrary. I salivate.’

Gods indeed. I can hear the lust in my own voice.

But it is true. I feel my mouth water.

‘Oh I’d ask you to dribble but I’d rather fuck your wet mouth now.’

‘Why don’t you then?’

He steps closer, his cock now brushing against my lips. Tickling.

Fuck.

‘I’m enjoying how eager your eyes look. They really darken when you’re horny, you know that?’

Before I can stop myself I lunge for his cock with my mouth. Like a greedy pup that’s just had its dinner put down.

It’s only when he fills my mouth that I realise I am nervous. He’s thicker than he is big but I don’t know my own mouth either.

There will be time for analysis later.

He stumbles against the shower wall as he moans but I stay with him, wriggling forward on my knees.

The little pond of water around my ass  teases me. All of a sudden my face is buried down in his pillow, inhaling his scent. I’m desperate for him to take me.

Claim me.

My hair being tugged takes me out of it. He controls me. Owns me.

Gods, now I want to fuck HIM.

This doesn’t make sense.

All I know is I can’t get enough of that taste of him. I can’t describe it. I just know my mouth waters for more as his tip slips out of my mouth.

‘Gods.’ I hear him murmur. ‘Fuck you are delicious.’

He drowns himself out with his moans. Fuck, that makes me insatiable. Keeps me going.

Pumping his cock like a good eager boy.

This feels different. This feels amazing.

Is this me? Is this really who I am?

His moans are lighter than his speaking voice. Cute.

‘Fuck, I’m going to cum. I don’t want to fill your mouth, I..’

Stay, I wanted to growl around his cock but all that came out was a moan.

He was pulling out. He was…

My heart leapt up into my throat. Got lodged there.

A spray of his load dribbled down my lips.

I lapped it up — again, indescribable. I couldn’t think of a word to frame it.

Another spray smacked against my cheek. I could feel it roll down to my chin.

Another smacked against my chest.

Laughter.

Mine.

I’m being baptised. Born again.

An eager submissive slut.

That’s all me.

‘I’m sorry.’ He was panting through the throes of his orgasm. ‘I didn’t know if you wanted to swallow me, I didn’t..’

‘Come here.’

My mouth sank over his cock and I lapped up the rest of his cum pumping out.

Short spurts into my mouth.

‘I didn’t mean to come so early.’

‘Hush.’

This I said, hopefully not too unkindly, and went back to cleaning his cock.

He retreated from me.

Around us the pipes began to whine.

Wait. That was me. Whining at him because his cock isn’t in my mouth.

He slid against the shower wall and came to sit on its floor, eyes dotted with water beads and looking lush.

He was beautiful himself.

‘Gods I’ve made a mess of you.’

‘Am I not yours to be made messy?’

‘I’d like you to be.’

Then he smiled and became all the more beautiful. ‘My stomach is so giddy. I’ve never done anything like this.’

‘Neither. I feel — ‘

‘High, right?’

He blushed. Sitting there, water pouring from him, he was gorgeous. I loved that he was still hard.

I resisted the urge to bend down and taste him once more.

‘Anything else…Sir?’

This came without thinking.

I had yet to come. I was ravenous, in a frenzy. My cock ached for relief.

‘Come for me.’

‘You want to taste me huh?’

‘Oh I’m going to. As I’m going to fuck your pretty little ass.’

A moan spilled from my wet lips coated in him and my hand was there, on my cock, jerking fast.

He shifted closer to me, spreading his legs around mine. He kissed me…tentatively at first…then hungrily.

Something brushed against my cock.

His own.

‘I’ve never said this before but…anyone ever tell you have a gorgeous cock?’ His voice was a pure, his breath tracing my lips.

‘No one that mattered.’

Frenzy.

‘Good boy.’

Those were the words that put me over the edge.

I couldn’t contain my cries as my orgasm came out in thick, short spurts over his chest and thighs.

I was still coming down from it as I watched him scoop up my cum and taste it hungrily.

My laughter bounced off the walls.

Pure.

Unadulterated.

Bliss.

It is insane to me - INSANE - how instantaneous the effect of a storm is on my state of mind. I’m trying to get some writing done this cloudy Australian Friday — and I hear the rumblings of thunder. 

Instantly my breath is affected. Shaky. Instantly I want to slip out of my clothes and be naked. Instantly I want to BE NAKED in the rain. And as I write this, that is exactly I’ve done in my backyard. I stood in the storm and let out the biggest sigh. It’s been a week. It’s been a hot day. And I feel unbound and unrestricted in the storm. 

And then my demeanor shifts. I want to fuck. Not make love, I want to give in to the moment. To that unfettered state of mind. I want to fuck until I ache. Until we are spent. Down in the mud, on all fours. Claiming you as a my play thing and using you as such in an unbridled wrestle until my load is dribbling out of that gorgeous pussy of yours. Every last drop is yours. 

Fuck. The transformation, I feel it shifting my bones as I stretch. I’m no longer me, I’m something only the trees can pronounce.

I want to run through the forest. 

This piece is about Primal Play and two primal beings in a dynamic together and features themes of CNC – consensual non-consent. As such, it may contain imagery that may be triggering. There’s no rape but there’s no holds barred with this couple and I don’t want to upset anyone.

On the other hand, if this piece strikes a chord within you in a way that arouses – but also confuses or scares you — please don’t slip into a cycle of despair and self loathing. If you need to discuss certain things about this piece, you are always welcomed to message me. 

———

 

Let me sketch an image for you.

And I invite you, as always, to bring your own brush to the drawing and paint in what you’d like alongside me. Do let me know how you find this.

Wind rushing all around you, plants smacking at your bracing arms, you run from me. I’ve given you a head start. I’ve counted at the top of my lungs and you’re far away enough now that you hear my voice on the very wind that drums on your ears.

Your heart is in your throat, your blood is thunderous in your ears.

And the forest betrays you. The trees watch your every move, marking your footprints in the mud, reaching out and clawing at your skin so that I may find the faintest trace of your blood on their fingertips.

Can you feel my heart racing? You must. We’re linked, you and I. Some strand of symbiosis. Like the goosebumps from the wind hitting our sweat-coated bodies, we feel each other through the shivers. I sense you as you sense me. I catch your scent on the wind and follow as you run from mine.

I do enjoy your panting on the wind.

Of your footsteps splashing in fresh rainwater puddles.

I’ve hooked my fingers around the straps of your dress just as you spot me. You tear from me – in a display of strength I admit catches me off guard – and though I’ve loosened the lace around your dress and your tits threaten to spill out, you giggle and run from me, further into the thicket. My growl reverberates after you. It catches up with you before I can even give chase. Are you soaked, I wonder? How badly do you want to be claimed? I’d ask you but you’re not going to make this easy for me are you?

I like that.

I don’t want easy.

I don’t want you to hold back.

I want to howl through my bite into your neck – Gods, how I want to sink my teeth in your skin. So badly my cock aches.

You come to the end of the paddock. A fence blocks your way. I know it because I’ve been there many times before on this land. Question is, do you climb in between it, hands stretching apart the wire like I’m going to do to your pretty little cunt when I catch you?

No. You squirm under. Wrong choice, kitten. It slows you down. All you can do is think of all the other ways you could’ve gone as I drag you by the ends of your dress back under. Goodness me. You’re wearing no panties. Tsk. Tsk. You’ve been a bad little pup, haven’t you?

You struggle at my hands – fuck, did you just try and kick me? That was on the table I suppose. I won’t hold back if you won’t you told me the weekend before, hands intertwined, us in the midst of what you giggled and called a cuddlefuck. And here we are, breathing hard.

You’re squirming and struggling so much I have to put one knee on you as I tear your dress apart like a kid opening up gifts on Christmas. I jump forward in time — to when we walk back to our tent, back to our parked car with one strap of your spring dress hanging open and your tits exposed. You might read this back and think I’m coarse and unrefined with my language but this is what comes in the moment, this is what nature does to me.

This is what you do to me.

So I hold you down by the knee to your back while I tear your dress off. We’re both panting hard by the time I wrangle it off you, till you’re a naked, wriggling animal covered in the fresh mud from the rain last night.

You look back at me, spit at me – but it misses. Nice try. But it just gives me a look at those enormous eyes of yours, glazed by the thrill of the chase.

It’s only a heartbeat before I have you overturned on the ground under me. Leaves in your tangled hair, face down in the mud as I pull you to your hands and legs.

I can see your pussy glistening between your thighs. You want this as much you wanted the chase. And you lost.

Thunder crackles above and rumbles across the sky and the rain begins to fall.

Smacks our hands and then pelts our bodies.

Assaults your tits.

I pin you to the earth, one knee on you, the other beside you as I pump my cock over your ass.

You’re going to cum when I say you can cum.

But here, amongst the trees and the wildlife and the rain, while you squirm and shout and act feral I am going to pump my load into your pretty pussy until I’m satisfied I’ve bred you like the feral little fuck you are.

Now. How does that make you feel?

She digs deep down into the darkness — and lets herself go.

Her name is not her name anymore. The letters on her work ID that rests between her tits make no semblance of sense.

The woman that looks back at her from where she sits on the edges of a bed is wild. Unkempt. Raven hair frames her face with curls. Her dark eyes are huge but…unrecognizable.

Yet she feels the touch of the woman..pulling aside the unbuttoned blouse, unclasping her bra. Peeling away her black slacks to reveal soaked black lace underwear.

She vaguely recalls something…something about being home from work, getting undressed, but it feels like a memory.

A lifetime ago.

Instead…she watches the unnamed woman reach for the bedside drawer to her left. Watches her rummage around inside, pull out a thick, purple vibe.

The hand that rolls her nipples between its fingers is not her husband’s.

The voice that tells her to take off her panties right fucking now is not her husband’s voice.

He’s downstairs doing the dishes. She can hear him humming to himself.

While she’s up in their bedroom.

‘Who do you belong to?’

It makes no sense to think the voice in her ear is impossible but it is. It’s deep. With an edge but also somehow a softness.

The answer comes to her but she struggles to make it real. To give her voice to it. It’s there, it’s so fucking close, but it takes her a few tries to get it out of her dry lips.

‘Y-y….Y-you, Sir.’

‘So why do you deny me? Why do you deny what you are….my whore…’

‘I..I don’t..’

‘On your knees.’

The bed makes her wobble but she’s on her knees now, facing the mirror across from her. Once upon a time she didn’t like her tits, their size, their shape, the way they came to rest out of a bra. Now she feels a smile touch her lips as she looks back at the naked woman tracing the purple toy along her slit. She’s goddam gorgeous.

 

‘You don’t want to be my whore?’

The voice comes from behind her. Breath hot on her neck. She’d sell her soul to feel his hard cock against her ass. She’d do anything…

‘I do - no, I do.’

The desperation stains her voice and words.

‘Then SAY IT. Say it, you fucking bitch.’

The words cut through the air and mark her bare back, clawing down to her ass.

At the tail end of the sentence the toy leans into her clit, buzzing hard. She stifles her cry.

He doesn’t need to hear.

Is it he doesn’t need to hear or he doesn’t get to hear?

Or both?

This is for her Master.

Her mind is running away with her thoughts. She lets it go.

‘I am…I want to be…your whore.’

‘Louder.’

‘I am your whore, I am! I am!’

She’s whimpering in hushed tones.

‘Slip that toy inside yourself and tell me who you belong to.’

Her body jolts, her legs tremble, as the toy spreads her lips apart and slides right in. Her breath lodges in her throat. She has to remember to breathe.

‘I belong to you.’

Sweat glistens on the woman’s forehead. Her eyes flutter through the sweat as the toy inches a little further. The sight is knotting her stomach, turning her on.

She feels sick but…elated. High?

‘Make no mistake, my little slut. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. I own you.’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Master, am I? What a delightful slave you are. Put on those clamps.’

She throws back the sheets with her free hand, finds the clothes pegs buried there and slips them on both of her nipples within seconds. Pain shoots through her, startling, pinching. Blissful.

Why was she ever worried about the pain? It seems so welcoming now. Warm. Delightful.

‘Pull them, bitch.’

The noise that comes out of her is guttural, strained. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows to be quiet. To hide from her husband.

As she pulls them, the pain increases, gnawing at her, stretching her tits to what feels like fucking oblivion. Where does it stop, where does it stop? Keep going, keep going.

 

She catches herself falling, shoots out her arms. Is on all fours now, her ass up in the air.

‘God, I want to devour that soaking cunt of yours…that needy fucking cunt.’

‘Please..’ She hears herself beg. Her heart is in her throat, blood pumping in her ears. She’s panting hard as the toy pummels in and out of her.

‘Listen to how wet you are.  Listen to how fucking much you want me. And not your husband down stairs…’

A stab of guilt. Her stomach’s twisting but she cannot stop herself.

For the love of God she cannot stop herself.

‘This is who you are. This is what you are. Don’t you run from it.’

She can feel his breath on her thighs. Fuck, she’s actually lifting her ass to him. Her hubby never fucks her ass.

‘All your life, that little cunt, those gorgeous tits, that ass, your fucking mind — all of you. You’ve belonged to me. You just didn’t know it. All your life has led to being owned by me…’

 

She desperately shuts in her moans. Lets them buzz on the back of her lips - fuck, she wants to taste him. Wrap her mouth around his cock and taste him. Better yet - show how much of a good slave she is.

Is she…a slave? Truly? Fuck.

 

She can’t get enough of the toy. Rising her hips only to glide down into it, feeling it buzz around her lips. Knowing he’s behind her watching her drip onto the bed she shares with her husband.

She’s lost in a daze, tears in her eyes, when she feels the hand around her throat. Panic comes - then dissipates. She’s falling back on her ass but he has her in his lap, guiding his cock to….

Stars. Shining bright above. Specks of light shooting across her bedroom like the cosmos is all around. He fills her completely, all consuming, all around her. Owning her.

‘Renounce your marriage.’

 

Her stomach plummets.

‘What?’

She can’t think.

‘Renounce your fucking marriage — ‘

— All she wants is his cock —

‘- and my load belongs to you.’

‘Fuck..’

She grips his thighs to maintain some sense of fucking him for herself but she can’t. He has her held tightly.

‘Now. Repeat after me. I….’

Shakily she does. Lays her full name out into the wilderness. Lays her husband’s full name out into the wilderness.

‘I fucking renounce my marriage — and I…and she belongs to her Master.’

Third person feels right somehow.

Lifts a weight she didn’t know she had around her neck.

They find a rhythm together, the heat of his chest to her back. His hands flicking her sensitive nipples like some sort of sadist.

‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’

She swallowed. Her throat clicked.

‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’

‘Her ass…’

‘Her ass..’

‘is His..’

‘Is His…’

‘As is her body, mind and soul.’

‘As is her body, mind and soul.’

His grunt was hot on her ear, rattled in her brain.

His cock twitched around her — and then she knew…she felt it. His load…pumping into her. Her lips split into a grin…

And she was there, laying on her stomach, her ass in the air.

‘My naughty girl, look at you…’

His cum dripping out from her lips and down her thighs.

The thought sent her over the edge.

She bit her tongue shut, guilt and lust and hunger and sluttiness  - words lose meaning, become strings of nonsense as the world around her flipped and twisted and she crashed into the bed, ass in the air, toy gripped around her eager cunt, thighs clamped shut.

‘My naughty girl…look at you…who are you? What are you?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘We’ll have to name you.’

Her chest heaves in and out. Her breath seems impossible to catch up to.

‘I’m yours. I don’t need a name right now.’

‘You will in time. So long as you never forget this..’

 

The dishes clatter downstairs.

Her head swims.

Alone in their en-suite bathroom, she cleans her toy, splashes water on her face and lit up by the coolness of the approaching evening she slips into her shorties.

She’s half tempted to leave the clamps on under her singlet. A reminder of her self.

But after pulling them off, she realizes she’s made the right decision to remove them.

The pain is delightful and worth it.

She packs her toy away and takes a look at herself in the mirror.

She’s a fierce spirit.

Before work I want you to do something for me — I want you…to take off all of your clothes…and tell me, in that moment, how you feel standing there…

Her Master’s text played like a voice on repeat in her mind as she stood before the mirror. Her honeyed hair was a mess, her eyes were still sticky with sleep. She needed a shower…but excitement was bubbling in her chest, coursing through her veins upon reading this message.

Admittedly her mind initially wrestled with this, with the fatigue in her bones. It had been a long day previous and she hadn’t had enough sleep – she wanted to stay in bed, wanted to sleep for days.

But something about this text turned her on.

She let out a shaky breath, grabbed her oversized red plaid pj shirt and pulled it over and off. Without looking up at her reflection, she slipped out of her matching red pants and kicked them aside with her pale legs.

Hm. She wrote back to her Master, looking herself over.

What?

Well, I mean…

She paused to consider this. A nude woman looked back at her. A submissive slave.
She knew this deep in her heart just by looking at her.

Honeyed hair draped over her shoulder, the curls of which ran down over her piercing grey eyes.

She’s cute.

Yeah?

The corner of the woman’s lips curved into a half-smile. Her cheeks turned red at this.

She does have a pretty smile.

She certainly does, at that. I would love to ruffle her hair.

The woman in the mirror blushed further.

Oh, she’s pretty when she blushes.

Mm? So say that to her.

There was a click in her throat. 

‘Hey, uh, so - I think you’re gorgeous.’

The slave in the mirror smiled wide.

Her heart began to race.
Cool morning air tickled her nipples.

What else do you like about her?

She thought.
The woman in the mirror pondered. 

I like her eyes. They’re a cute colour. 
Omg – and she has the cutest smile.

The best.

She just has such a lovely smile..

Mhm, she is very beautiful.

Her fingers hovered above her phone. 

Before she realised what she was doing, her hand was creeping up to her nipples, pinching them softly and rolling them between her finger and her thumb.

Her tits were bigger.
Had grown a cup size recently.

Words popped right into her mind uninvited – plump.
Somewhat triangular in shape.

But…

She scooped up her tits with her hand and squeezed gently.

…so much fun to play with.

The slave reddened by the minute.

And she felt compelled to write to her Master-

She has these cute little pink nipples.

She does, does she?

Yep!

She looked down, the slave in the mirror looked down with her. Down her stomach.

She has a few belly folds.

Everything about her is gorgeous.

She looked at the slave’s creamy pale thighs.

Marking the edges of her hips and forking across her stomach were…

She has stretch marks. I like them though. They’re fun to trace.

Yeah?

They’re like battle scars! I took on a werewolf and I might’ve got turned but don’t worry, I tracked down the head wolf and reversed the curse! 

She IS a complete badass.

The slave in the mirror turned.

Laid eyes on her ass and giggled 

I like her ass. It’s cute.

Very cute.
Very slap-able.

Do you think this slave would mind if we slapped it?

The slave moved like lightning.

The crack of skin on skin echoed in the bathroom.

And she could feel it…pulsating almost. A tiny bit of pain there. It was turning her on.

Did the rest of the house, her roommates across the hallway, hear it? It made her excited. Nervous, but excited.

Did she smack her ass?

Mhm!

And she enjoyed it?

I think it’s turning her on.

Good! You know…we haven’t given her a name yet. That could be fun?

The slave in the mirror seemed to agree. Her grin widened, flashing her teeth.

What would we call her?

Let’s see. She’s fierce. Cute.

She’s devious.

Oh, she definitely is.

But sweet.

That as well.

Little monster?

No, she’s too cute for that.

Star? Shining bright?

The slave scrunched up her nose. Too corny.

She agreed.

What about leopard?

Her heart fluttered. The slave’s eyes went wide. Her smile went just as wide. That was perfect.

Leopard. Fitting.

She felt light as a feather, as the saying went. Weightless. Free. Primal.

She wanted to fuck…more than ever. Wanted to bring out her vibe and…strangely wanted to watch the slave in the mirror play with herself.

But she had to get to work.

Sigh. And now I need to get ready for work! I love you, Master. She wrote.

I love you too, leopard! Have a most beautiful day!

 

———

 

I am my harshest critic and undergo an imposter syndrome moment with everything I write. This one came to my mind like a flash of lightning. There was something raw about it. Beautiful. Human. It felt like a snapshot into a moment, pure and spontaneous and lovely. And so I hope you enjoy it as much as I have writing it.  

 

What do I get out of being dominant? I’ve been asked that question here or there over the years. Every time I smile as I recall memories and feelings and the little things in life that have filled my heart with love and yearning - and the moments that have led me down a path of growth. 

Its become such a huge part of me that answering it, well - to be dramatic it is like glancing up at the stars in the night sky and getting so carried away and overwhelmed with strands of thought that I don’t know where to begin.  But sitting in the peaceful 3am of my Monday Morning here in Australia, soft rain gracing my windows, I thought I’d try.

I think, ultimately, it’s that I get fulfillment from my being Dominant. My needs, my love language, on both a primal and psychological level, is that I like control. I love the non-sexual aspect, of setting tasks and having that dynamic in place in a 24/7 aspect. Of dressing a submissive, of being granted control in matters in and out of the bedroom. It feels like a multi layered need and want in me. My love language. Romance, in a way. It satisfies my heart and mind.

But it goes deeper.

There is something truly, absolutely special about earning that dominance. Not taking, not unless that’s a part in the play we are both acting out, but also…there’s just something really beautiful about getting to know someone in such a deep, intimate way. Not just sexual. The conversations you have in light of the morning. In the dark of night. Out at dinner where sight and sound around you melts away and it’s you two in the moment.

There’s something beautiful about forming a bond. A bond that sets friendship alight and evolves into D/s —- and through that, there IE something beautiful about exploring a submissive’s desires and fantasies and taking your part in bringing that to life so that, together, you are living and breathing them in a way that satisfies both of you in different and beautiful ways.

So it’s about finding fulfillment in taking part in that dynamic. In leading and assuming / earning control but it’s also those small, yet gargantuan,  moments as well. Her giggles, her playfulness and pleasure (or pleasure in pain) — and then building a realm and getting lost - or found - in that realm together. Our cabin out in the forest in our Mind Place together. Where we can be free to shed our clothes, decompress after a long day or week, fuck completely like primal beings, whatever it is that we want to explore we can do so in company.

Nothing makes me happier as a Dominant then to see her in her element. Relaxed and happy, naked and collared, exploring whatever she’s always wanted to – the freedom of submission, meowing like a cat, drooling like an animal, kneeling like a slave, whatever magical it is, it is that joy in seeing her that way that fills my heart with peace and contentment. And through that, it’s wondrous to that other side of me as well.  

It also gets me incredibly, achingly hard. But that’s not quite as important in the grand scheme of things…

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for coming to TED Talk. I appreciate you reading my words. Have a lovely day!