People like to say that in a dumb sub-dynamic, the submissive holds the real power.
It's not that simple, though, is it?
I remember when I first realized the power I had of a man, unlocking that secret strength,
understanding that I was desirable, that I have something that men respond to, as if it's somehow in short supply.
I like to tease and toy with men a little. I think they deserve it, generally.
I like to make some remarks that could be passed off as innocence, but then make that unflinching eye-contact that says it really wasn't.
Most of the time I give off a quiet, unassuming sort of energy. That makes it even more fun, keeping them guessing, playing with that good-girl-gone-wild fantasy.
But I've perfected my opening play, a tone of voice, a knowing and mischievous smile, a raised eyebrow that says,
yes, this is an invitation to fuck me. Let me lay just enough cards on the table,
just enough for you to see the likelihood of me folding, surrendering.
Oh, honey, I like to tease you, sit on your lap facing you. I fit there perfectly, your hands holding my waist, straddle you, rise up on my knees so my breasts are pressed against your face.
Let you cup them, kiss the top of them, scratch me with your beard or stubble, flick your tongue over my nipples.
Then I curl away when I think you've had enough. I grind a little on your thigh, let you see how that makes my face flush, my breath slow.
Rub you a little through your pants, make your cock twitch. My gentle hands, these nimble little fingers, they make you feel huge, don't they?
I love the power that I have to make you lose control a little, when you whisper in my ear, warning me of the danger I'm in.
God, I love to pretend you might mean it, you might really lose control and use that raw primal energy to show me the natural order of things.
That idea makes me melt for you, flood for you.
I love it when you do try to wrestle the power back from me. Oh, I know you're stronger than me.
I know how exactly you can pin me down, how my delicate wrists and ankles are just like kindling in the furnace of your grip.
But I wrote this story, honey. And the dramatic arc, the escalating tension is going exactly the way I drafted it.
Even when I'm on my knees for you, I like to lick you from base to tip. I like to flicker my tongue and swirl it around your head.
Take just a tip in my mouth, apply some pressure on that little spot.
Oh, you know the one I mean. And you know that I know the effect I am having, gazing up at you, giving you that same angelic smile that lured you here in the first place.
You take charge now. You grab my hair, guide my head up and down the way you like it. I want you to show me that you own me, that you can use my mouth the way you choose.
So when I take your cock tip in my throat, I like to grip the bags of your size. I like to press my nails in a little so we can share that intensity.
I show you how hard I'm working for you. I like to fill you tents up. I like to hear you groan, because you can't even form words, can't you?
And I think we both know I could stop this. I take my power in choosing to give you everything you want, because that makes me so happy.
I like to be your good girl, sweet and obedient, the best and most desirable version of myself I can imagine.
That's what I offer you too. I make you feel so big, so powerful. I'm a mirror for you, reflecting back the way you see yourself in your wildest fantasies.
When I've had my fun sucking you, I say the things I know you like to hear. Take me. I'm all yours. Or tell me how you want me.
Now you throw me on my back, force my legs open. I think you're going to fuck me, but what you really want is to taste this cunt.
Okay, I'll let you reclaim this narrative. Lick me, tell me to keep still, not to moan, not to come until I have permission.
It drives me wild, such bittersweet possession. And the payoff will be so heavenly.
Now fuck me, thrust into me, slap me and call me your little whore. Yes, I know you love that. The taboo, the passion, so potent that normal rules cease to exist for us.
The way I indulge your basest instincts and still respect you. That I love it and don't apologize for it.
So fuck me like you want to break me, but we'll see who cracks first.
Mouth locked, ravenous, lips entangled like vines that choke each other, competing, flourishing even without daylight.
Bite me, mark me, bind me. No one knows who's really in control now, because it's both of us and neither of us.
That power flows like electricity between us. You give. I take it. You feel my suffering and my ecstasy.
I offer myself. You take me. You give. I take.
We soar together in each other's slipstream, both our needs and desires mirrored in each other's minds, echoed in each other's heads.
We collapse, weakened and vulnerable together. Your stronger arms soothe me, protect me, while I reassure you that I still feel safe in your possession.
We cling together, dripping, melting, murmuring the words we need to say and hear. Our lights and our darkness diffuse to a twilight glow.
This is powerful. This is trust.