The Essay

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Always have I dreamt of worshipping her, from the first time I laid eyes on her the night that we met. Her beauty captivated me, her intelligence and wit entranced met, and though over the past six months I’ve loved every moment that I’ve been graced with the opportunity to spend in her presence, late at night when I’m home and in my own thoughts, my mind wanders to a place that’s very different from the relationship which we share today.

A secret world that I previously kept hidden from all others, until you discovered what I had been hiding in a simple book on my shelf and took it upon yourself to change our lifestyle to entertain these lost desires…

All I can say is, “Thank you, Miss Wolfe…” and I hope that I can live up to the expectations that you’ve set forth for our next 30 days together.

My mind whirls with anticipation simply from the thought of your excitement of this new exchange, with visions of you up all night, unable to put down this tome that spoke of a new relationship with yourself at the center and afterwards, spending hours at the keyboard typing up your explicit rules to list out all of your own desires that were uncovered from hours of salacious reading.

I wonder what played out in your own mind as you read those words, superimposing our own relationship atop the ones described in the book. Did you picture yourself sitting on a throne, pointing and laughing as I was required to do your bidding? Were you perched atop high heels and draped in tight leathers, as admittedly my own fetishes yearn after, as you wielded a harsh whip for the slightest example of disobedience? Did the thought of putting your own sexual desires to the utmost forefront peak your interest and make you long for a month of having me in your unconditional service?

I hope it did.

In my own fantasies, I’m not ashamed to admit here on paper that I dream of worshipping you. It brings me great arousal, the thought of kissing your shoes as you gaze down upon me, feeling put in my place as you lord your control over me with a smug dominance of someone deserving of that worship. The idea that you would impose chastity upon me only strengths that gap between us as you put your own sex at the forefront while disregarding mine except to utilize it in my own suffering.

I want to suffer beneath you, Miss Wolfe…

I’ve seen in your eyes a certain wickedness that lurks just below the surface, and it both frightens and tantalizes me, the thought of giving the girl with that look the utmost control and power over me. Whether it be through pain or denial or humiliation beneath you, I fantasize about feeling the full wrath of that beauty who seeks to ensure that those in her presence be worthy of whatever sweet wrath she may choose to unleash at her whimsy or amusement.

I’ve never had the guts to profess this to you before, but I’ve had many, many dreams about you coming to embrace this fantasy role in my life. Your stiletto heels echo as you walk down the hall, their black patent leather still shiny from when I cleaned them with my tongue earlier that afternoon. You enter the bedroom to find me tied standing and spread-eagled at the end of your four-poster bed, precisely where you left me. My bondage is tight and secure – sometimes you use ropes, sometimes leather straps. I’m always gagged, and occasionally you’ve even fitted my head with an intimidatingly tight, heavy leather hood…

There have been times when you’ve whipped me, very severely, and there have been times when you teased me, seemingly for hours on end. One time when I was hooded, you hung your shoes from harsh clamps on my nipples, then laid back on the bed in front of my blind eyes and enjoyed the most vigorous of orgasms, all while doing your best to shake the unforgiving clamps and taunting me about how I was such an inferior lover compared to the silicone cock that reached deep between your thighs.

You always make me squeal.

You never let me cum.

And you’ve always got the most absolutely captivating, cherry smile on your face through every last drop.

For long, I’ve yearned for the woman who delights in doing these types of twisted, perverted things to me for her unique pleasure. I want to feel the heavy hand of a dominant woman who deserves the worship and servitude of her choosing, and who takes a unique pride in the ability to extract the behavior to her liking from those beneath her.

Control and subjugation, to me, represent the opportunity to serve her in the utmost exclusivity, for as long and to the maximum extent of her choosing. I expect the road to submission to be long and arduous, marked in progress by the welts on my backside and the scratch of her stilettos on my back. As she pushes my limits to new heights, I expect that she will remind me that mercy and pity have no place in our agreement, and that my one and only role throughout the term will be to service her fully and completely.

I make this commitment free of mind and in good health, in hopes that her domination of my mind, body, and soul will reinforce that my true place in life is under the heel of her boot.

I hope you enjoy yourself, Miss Wolfe. I’m yours…

(click here to read The Contract that prompted this essay…)