(BDSM) The curse of the true Dominant and the Submissive…

Let me tell you a secret about a real dominant and submissive relationship, because there are a lot of assumptions out there that muddy the waters, but only one single, final truth. A dominant and a submissive may have many things in common despite their juxtaposition, his harsh overbearing presence, her blind servitude, but there is something that binds them together and it is not sex, it’s not even physical.

It is assumed that the dominant man wants nothing more than the raw thrill of harsh sex as he demands and that the submissive longs to simply please him, her soft, feminine temperament all encompassed by his masculinity. It’s true, in part, but not in finality.

The true dominant breaks her, because he loves her and he has no idea how to keep her, he has all the confidence of a lion in the bedroom and none when holding her meager little heart inside of his hand.

In secret, he hates himself for his inability to be with her, fully with her, despite owning every minute inch of her and his beautiful submissive giving it all over to him willingly. It doesn’t matter, because as he spurs her undeserved attention he knows that deep down he is the one who is undeserving of her.

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Categorized as Erotica Tagged

“Master, may I speak freely?..” (BDSM)

“You can tell me anything…”, I mused aloud, my pursed lips withering a peaceful, rotund essence of wise, but fractured worth.

She languished for a moment, heavy hearted, a decade of cascading dreams seemed to refract iridescently within her beautiful corneas, her eyes a world that I would live inside of, if I could.

Her ornate collar bestowed, gleamed against the ire of night light.

Her gaze bellowed south as she whispered, “I want to help you survive this… this, pain inside. These compulsions that haunt you are also mine to burden, my Master.”

Our time seemed to slow to a crawl in that instant, almost specially so I could see the heartbreak streak across within the air around her, aura forlorn as those same eyes glistened over… Things only glisten when they condensate, and eyes only do that when they are haunted beyond reproach.

My pain had become her pain, because she sacrificed herself in order to share it with me.

She reached down and took my hand, bringing it up to her chest as my face fell sullen and the demon inside of me ever vigilant against her touch.

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Categorized as Erotica Tagged