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He rises early trying not to disturb her sleep. His heart pounds as images play of his debauchery exhibited the night before. He tries to blame it on the whiskey. That damn whiskey fucks him up every time. But he knows it only lowers the walls he wants to fall; running him head long into the depths of his perversion. Yes. True. But he trusts her with his cravings. The twisted mapping of his mind. She pushes him; lightly. It doesnít take much. A look. A smile that says she wants to see into his darkness.
Itís not that I donít think youíre submissive enough. Or masculine and muscular enough. I see the surrender in your smile and youíre a beautiful sight. Itís not that you donít posses the magnitude of power that I desire to be relinquished. I see it wrapped around you. Hiding you. Itís not the words you choose to share from your heart that are beautiful and sincere. I believe you. I truly do. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. I can feel you drawing closer to meÖI can sense your hunger.
She kissed him on his cheek, as she rubbed his shoulders, watching him work. Days had rolled into the other as his new project took his time away from her. Away from them. Watching him she loved his dedication through the long hours he invested and was proud of him. In that same moment, there was that other side of her thinking how good it would be to fuck his ass. To have him down with her hands gripping on his shoulder blades, leaning over him and deeply fucking the ass she had been missing. Big Red going as deep as she could thrust it. The inner urge inside her soul to completely enslaved him. To feed the sadist and masochist in them.
Your face is stern. I hate it like that. I know your heart is tender in places and sometimes without thinking something slips out of my mouth, knowing as itís on its way to you that it will be an arrow in your heart. Mentally Iím scrambling to take it back.
His wordsÖIíve heard them before from others. His desire to serve, to worship, to kneel, to obey, to give, to be denied. To suffer for me when pain is not his pleasure but pleasing is his driving force. His longing to surrender and release all of him (body, soul, spirit) to me. I listen and I wonderÖwill I be able to SEE him? Has he searched his own soul and discovered the ability to be vulnerable?
You know... sex voices... unf.
Play with all the stereotypes all you want, but for fuck's sake, don't be thinking that shit is good for relationships...
Do submissive men woo dominant women? Do dominant women WANT to be wooed? Why or why not?
Dominant women are supposed to be difficult aren't they? Or are they?
Link to sexy pictures of men in bondage
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