There is a need I can sense in you — something I’m learning to hear even when your lips are silent. A desire not spoken, but aching in the way your body waits, the way your breath catches when my voice drops into command. You need me.
Not in a shallow way, or in weakness. Your need is sacred. It's in your surrender, it's in your kneel, and in the softness of your voice when you are at the edge with me and I cradle you there.
You need me through pain—not as punishment, but as prayer. Each mark I leave is a promise, shown in bruises and welts, in shivers and moans. They say: I see you. I hear you. I know you.
You need my attention like sunlight on skin. I know when you ache.
And oh, my words… how they anchor you. You awaken under my voice, don’t you? Whether I am sharp with command or soft with praise, my words create the place where you are safe to fall apart.
You may call it devotion, this ache you carry. I call it a bond so strong it sometimes makes me breathless.
And let me tell you something my little one: giving to you is not my duty—it is my joy. It is my art. It is my offering.
To take you apart, as you surrender your control, to deliver pain with love—not cruelty—this is where I come alive. This is how I say I know you better than anyone. This is how I give you back to you, raw and real.
To know you need this... to witness the strength in your surrender—it moves something deep in me. It’s not about dominance, it's about truth.
You are not small in your submission. You are vast.
And I am here, always, to give you everything you need—and more.
With all that I am,
Yours, in control, in devotion, in love—
Mistress
