Mistress,
I didn’t expect you. I wasn’t even looking for a Domme like you. Your rope drew me in… initially.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you existed, it’s that I never imagined someone like you would look at someone like me and see this. See me. You, a strict, nurturing Domme. One who’d only handled men before. And me… an alpha submissive, a masochist who only knew how to break with pain.
Our first conversation was a gamble. Your world, your presence, your certainty… it all felt just out of reach. And still, something sparked. Immediate. Charged. Like we were speaking a language I’d only ever dreamed of understanding.
You’d never considered someone like me before. A masc woman. submissive. But you didn’t flinch. You paused. You looked. You responded. And something in me shifted. I think it shifted in you, too.
You hold me in ways no one ever has. Not just in how you guide or command, but in how you see. Your tenderness isn’t soft. It’s precise. Deliberate. Earned. And it cuts deeper than any strike. I didn’t know that was possible. But when your voice drops in those quiet moments, I don’t fall apart, I become. And Mistress, that’s been the difference.
You’ve collared me. Claimed me. Not with ceremony, but with certainty. And I am Yours. Fully. Obediently.
You hold me through the weight of your own world. Through grief. Through the chaos of life and motherhood...for both of us. You stay. You lead. And you never let go of the string between us.
I’ve served others. I’ve been broken, used, shaped. But never kept. You know this...You know I can’t turn from You now. That I no longer remain, that I’m Yours, exactly as You have made me.
And You keep me.
And I would kneel through fire to stay worthy of that.
Eighteen days before I kneel before You and worship You in the ways You deserve.
Eighteen days until I feel Your flogger. Your rope.
Eighteen days before I break again...for You.
Yours in name...in soul and devotion -Talu