I crave the taste of new submission.
New submission is that experience of a man enduring for me - a man who has never done it before. He is so terrified. He may be older than me, wiser than me, but he is still afraid of me.
I see his body strapped down, straining against the bonds, big …begging eyes. Wetting his lips. Thrashing against the leather straps that hold him down. I can think and talk about these images for hours.
I think it has been some time since the desire hit me so hard.
When I catch the scent of a man – his cologne, his sweat – I stop. I can sense it. I taste it. I know what I need.
This is what it is like to be who I am.
Right now, I am actively planning, plotting, and developing the complete torture of a man. My thoughts – what time I have for them – are devoted to the creation of a situation of complete helplessness for a man.
People often ask me what the desire feels like.
This is it.
I see men, random men, and I want to have them. I am predatory. I want to seduce. I could so easily dress in something nasty and go out to a club, find a man, some shy innocent creature, and turn his world upside down.
I crave the taste of new submission.
New submission is that experience of a man enduring for me – a man who has never done it before. He is so terrified. He may be older than me, wiser than me, but he is still afraid of me.
I see his body strapped down, straining against the bonds, big …begging eyes. Wetting his lips. Thrashing against the leather straps that held him down. I can think and talk about these images for hours.
I was tormented over the weekend of images.
Images of big, pleading eyes.
He is strapped to a steel metal chair.
Big, leather black boots.
He’s so strong to me. So strong and unbreakable.
But the straps are so tight around his chest. I see it in his eyes, I see the thoughts – “how could I let myself get into this?”
I like thorough restraint at times like this. I see straps around his chest, his lap, his thighs, shins, ankles, wrists, and arms. He cannot move. I watch him even try – and that gets me wet.
I had these visions. Visions of chocolate brown eyes and long, oh-so long eyelashes and bangs hanging down, just a bit, these big, beautiful lips. A mouth I want so bad to possess. The ability to make him beg to taste my mouth. To taste my pussy.
It’s a big, nasty, evil latex inflatable gag.
“If you cry, you won’t be able to breathe,” I tell him.
Such terror in his eyes. That’s it – the climax for me. It is true terror.
He fights the tears.
It’s all about rubber and mouths and sex and bodies.
The sound of latex against latex. Of leather against flesh. The chains rattle against the chair. Just sitting on his lap, I get so wet.
I make him open his mouth. Endure the tears, learn to hold your breath. He’s mine.
**
And then, there are the more domestic thoughts.
Locking him on a leash. Shoving his face into a dog bowl. Right now, I want to be pleased. I want a dog slut, a slave, a torture toy to use and force to please me.
A humiliating series of dog training courses.
Heel.
Fetch.
Roll over.
Play dead.
Lick my pussy.
Head locked between tight thighs, grinding pussy against suffocating face.
I want a man who can endure it all.
He arrives with roses, and ends the night smothered in wetness, wearing a leash and drinking from a dog bowl.
Just because watching it makes me wet.
I like to masturbate in front of my slaves.
But…I digress…
**
It is late now. I have to work tomorrow. Do you want to know what it is like for a femdom, a real femdom, not a fictional character from a story? You see, I don’t have a mansion with houseboys and a man rubbing my feet right now (oh god, does that sound good).
I have a disheveled place and a big work day tomorrow. My mind is muddied with thoughts of men I know that I want to see in painful situations. Objects of lust are distracting me in a very serious way.
During the day I see men and I cannot help but imagine them on all fours for me.
I am a predator.
I want to stalk, hunt, capture and dominate a man. He will beg to please me. I want to see it in his eyes.
But now, I just need sleep.
I do know that I must get my “fix” in the next 24 hours. Because at work I am distracted, I find myself wanting to do nasty phone calls, set up meetings and write stories about men being tortured for me.
I just have not decided yet what I am hungry for.
At least..not yet.
