Desire is not always sexual but the willingness of the pet to satisfy my expectations makes it so for me.
You have always sought to make me happy and serve me but I never thought of in in that light until now. Our lives have been entwined for the longest time.
You made me want you by knowing just how to approach me. Sitting at my feet and taking them into your hands. Slowly massaging them as you look into my eyes and confess your desire for me to control your body. How your mind is already mine and your body craves to symbolize it through following the sound of my voice wherever it may lead you.
I’ve heard such words before of course. What woman hasn’t. Maybe it was the way you looked at me and kissed my toes. Or the smile you gave when you said I could own you if I chose to. That you were waiting or me but would happily spend any time you can proovimg yourself until you are my favourite.
I lifted your head and kissed your lips. You opened your mouth and sighed. I bit your lower lip, you thanked and kissed me more. You are so soft with me so careful.
I am not gentle with you and yet you honour every touch. Those eyes, so inviting, almost innocent.
I pull you closer with my legs wrapped around you. I wonder if you remember what you said to me the first time we connected in this almost primal manner.
You said you had never been owned before yet were already mine.
The following day you told me that my prescence was still with you. The bites, scratches, scent and taste makes you feel marked and you are not ready to lose that sense by showering and washing it away. Again I am surprised at how I have never noticed your now obviously submissive traits. I’ve seen you around other women. We have been friends for a long time.
Black men have enough contradictory expectations of them, without adding the stereotypical dimension of submissive male to the mix. I can understand why you kept it to yourself. It made me realise how we hide elements of ourselves even around friends.
Sometimes I forget our days are made up of the masks we wear and it takes time to unveil our true selves to others.
As you lay on your back and I ontop of you I could feel you respond when I told you what I wanted and confessed how difficult it is for me to not just take you at every opportunity. The sight of you at my feet makes me wet every time and I adore you for returning my gaze no matter how many times your face is slapped. These things signify devotion in a way words can not. I need it.
I like that your locs are almost as long as mine and I have something to wrap around my arms like rope and hold onto when your mouth is on me.
It feels so natural as if it was an inevitable closeness, a moment already existing that was waiting for its time.
It’s been a while since I let anyone in like that. I have been guardimg myself. I think its not always clear that the domme is also vulnerable at times having shared their most intimate thoughts to the tiniest detail. The agreement is mutual afterall. The submissive gives themselves as a willing slut to the lustful nature and desires of the dominant. Desire is not always sexual but the willingness of the pet to satisfy my expectations makes it so for me.