“Darling, will you lace me up?” She lifted the pale gold waves of hair at the nape of her neck and shivered as his fingers wound around the velvet ribbon crisscrossing up her back. She adjusted the front of the corset, breasts almost toppling out, and exhaled slowly as she felt the definition of the…
I need you. I need you here, in my bed, your hands traveling over my feet and ankles, my calves, the notches behind my knees.
In the world of D/s, there is a phrase that is bandied about, sometimes without much consideration, that always makes me pause to consider the importance of intention and not just the execution of Domination and submission. That phrase is: Submission is a gift.
At last, from across the ocean, my hands behold this tiny symbol, this bit of steel, this piece of him.
I gently reach over your hip to hold your twitching cock in my hand, soothing sounds dripping from my lips into your ear, easing you out of the dream that has you lurching and whimpering, and into consciousness.
I roll over in the hazy morning light, heavy drapes holding back the grim drizzle of the rain outside. Your form beside me is slack with sleep, six feet of gentle submission, chin tucked to your chest.
Giving your sub head as an expression of control and dominance is one of the most delicious things.
She adjusted the lacy top of her stockings making neat lines of the garters, fidgeting with the elastic, bending to straighten the seam at her toes. He had called from the cab, he was minutes away. He’d check in, carry his own bags, too modest to follow a cheery bellhop, and he’d knock, despite having…
He’s so gentle by nature; calm, sweet, soft, so much so that I call him Bunny.
Another play date with The Boy and this bit of equipment, again, went unused.
“See what eating your pussy does to me? Never doubt how sexy you are. As long as you’re mine, you’re the sexiest creature alive. Say it.”
That feeling when I’m tired and I want him close so he holds me, becomes The Big Spoon.
She slips into bed beside him carefully. As he turns over to wrap around her she tucks in under his chin and breathes in the smell of him. Pure comfort, complete security.
And he did. I found him there a few minutes later, cuddled down into the mountain of pillows, the cat curled in against him adoringly. He looked so good there, so relaxed, like he was in his own bed, a nest of safety, a haven from his day. He watched me slowly undress and crawled…
He kneels in front of me before the mirror as he was told, his perfect cheeks are pressed into his heels, the dimples in the small of his back are dramatically shadowed in the low light. These details make my mouth wet and I can’t decide where to look first or longest.