A puppet [M/f, light bondage, blindfold]

There’s a point where the distance is too much and I need you inside me.

You give me an address and command me to arrive there at a particular date. You’ve been very specific – I’m wearing a black silk scarf, red dress, no pants, and spiky black heels. My hair is out and my lips are glossy and red.

I walk into the house and I see you. I see two of you actually. Your face is on a giant video screen, and I get wet with one look at that gorgeous smile. There’s another person in the room, he looks so much like you it’s uncanny. I smile, knowing but unknowing.

Your voice fills the room, fills me with desire.

“Baby girl, this is my brother, my twin. He’s going to treat you so well. His body is the same as mine, and he will only do what I tell him to do. You are not fucking him, you are fucking me. Is that understood?”

I don’t question for one minute that you’re in control. I submit completely. I don’t know if you were expecting your little brat to put up a fight, but you don’t seem disappointed.

A new sub breaks through [f, no sex]

This feeling isn’t a butterfly
Dancing on the edges of my stomach

This feeling isn’t a lion
Ripping out my heart with rancid yellow teeth

This feeling is a leech
that found its way under my rib cage
It’s found a home there
Feasting on my senses, and depriving me of sense

As it grows bigger
I don’t sleep
I don’t eat
It sits like a certainty
Heavy on my sex
It leaves me thirsty

This feeling is not a cuddly love
And it’s not a clean cleave of lust

This feeling is a release
A recognition
A remembrance of a person I never was able to become

Recall this not-me as a goblin on a rock
A queen, magestic in her dark beauty
A girl, a virgin sacrifice, a page torn from a book,
I become a slave to this dark parasite
My body is theirs for the taking

This slug, this bug, this black hole
Will I know myself when you’re done with me?

Send nudes (F, masturbation)

I send you photos, curated.
I’m a bowl of vanilla whipped cream
Sweet and insubstantial
A bubbly ephemera for your eyes

They’re lies
I wish I could send you photos of what’s actually happening to me when we talk.

My eyes roll back when you call me your slut.
I slip off the side of the bed, and I’m crouched on the floor fucking myself.
I’m sucking two fingers down to the bone.
I’m face down on the carpet, arse high in the air, breasts rubbing along soft carpet.
I melt when you tell me of my punishment.
I’m in bed again, pinching nipples, pulling hair, legs brought up to my shoulder.
My face is a crinkle of tension, and then finally release.
I bite the inside of my arm as I come.

I try to take these photos for you, one arm outstretched, contorted.
I can’t capture the wild beauty I feel with you.
These photos make me feel like the ugly awkward girl again, a diversion, a plaything.
They shake me away from my pleasure, the pain they bring is no fun at all.