I’m fucking horny, ya’ll. But not even in like, a sexual way. That doesn’t even make sense, right? I just feel, I don’t know … ripe? Not in a fertile way but in a sort of succulent way. My body feels like a peach, sun warmed and sweet. I feel like my blood is a bit thicker, my skin is a bit more buttery, my eyes are a bit heavier. I just feel primed and ready for touch and taste and heat and lust at any second. The Duchess (that’s what I call my pussy – what do you call yours?) is on the prowl.
Perhaps it’s the surge of mojo I’ve felt this week, unfurling my FemDom wings again for the first time in months. Yes, yes, I know, I had “hung up the Domme hat” but some itches just can’t go unscratched. I spent Monday, all day, with The Cop, getting to know him more and feeling things out in person, or as he put it: “Experiencing the electricity.” And electric it was. I’ve written before about how enjoyable the process is exploring and discovering new things with subby guys and Monday did not disappoint.
He was as advertised which is always a good start: Handsome, with kind eyes and a calm confidence that was lovely to be around. It was 8am when he arrived and he’d just worked all night before he generously appeared at my door, tired but smiling. The first of many lovely moments was a long hug. I say long, but I mean long. So long in fact, that it should have been awkward but it wasn’t. We fit together nicely, he smelled excellent and it was completely comfortable. A strong start.
I wasn’t the only one who was comfortable. He declined a tea but joined me on the couch, immediately sitting quite near me. His body language was clear and open and he, not surprisingly considering his career, had a very solid feeling presence.
But in amongst that calm all essence of authority was folded neatly and put away. He was effortlessly submissive in his energy. I’ve been fooled before but I can tell an innately submissive man from a charlatan now. It’s always in the eyes. It’s nothing obvious or overt, it’s not theatrical or expected. It’s a softness, a willingness behind the eyes that gives it away. We talked and held hands and he began to watch my mouth as I spoke and I asked him what was on his mind. He smiled and fumbled his words and I teased him, knowing what was coming. He paused, I waited. I have all the time in the world to watch him squirm. I may have even bitten my lip coyly just to be cruel. The inevitable kiss was perfection; slow and lush, soft but eager. He murmured into my mouth “I love your kisses.” and I about lost my mind. He let me in during that first kiss, and it felt wonderful. I could feel my pulse between my legs and the hot wetness of desire. That first kiss lit the match that started a fire that is still smouldering days later. Yes, The Duchess has spoken, and The Duchess never lies.
But more on that tomorrow …