Dominance

You’ve heard it before. But you’re wet, and you’re dressed as I asked, and you don’t see me yet.

Sometimes I don’t want to touch. I just want to sit across from you, hard, and tell you what to do.

I don’t want to bend you to my will. I want your will to curl into mine like shrink-wrap — no distance, no submission, just utter harmony. Maybe that’s not dominance. Maybe it’s just infantile.

I’m dominant, sure — but I can’t write about it without also writing about my doubts, my moods, my humanness, and I know that’s not always what you came here for.

I’m drawn to strong women who grant me submission, not to women whose submission I can take from them.

I like to say “please” the third time.

V called me out as a weak spanker. I took it personally.

Everything you have is mine. Shall we?

V recounts the first part of our evening — a jazz lounge, wet anticipation, and a dropped pen.

V documents a morning tryst far better than I ever could have – I just showed up and drank coffee.