❛𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄...❜ | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟎𝟏 | 𝑃ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡...

༺ 𝙿𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢... ༻
༆𝙿𝙾𝚅: 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚡༆

"Dom." how many times have I rolled my perfectly cautioned baby blue eyes into a deep, tantalising abyss now? I annoyingly decide to repeat the endless cycling action anyway, my ocean-coloured pupils skimming under the smooth crest of my lids, casting the tired action toward my obviously ignorant lover, who is willingly perching her ample, dexterous body on the circular obsidian table below us, the intriguing position showing off all her more than edible curves, several snacks that I've sampled many times in my young life. "Sub." I persistently argue back, strongly insisting my rebuttal is of a stronger meaning than her reasonless one. Of course she's a sub...every inch of her capable, round knees are clouded with the impeccable willingness to drop to them at the moment of a sharp, hard command, a command she wouldn't dare waste a petty second in obeying with fast urgency.

Our focusing gazes have been occupied for the past time now, staring scarily closely at this divine, brunette creature for what feels like a while: watching every minuscule move she makes, every minor twitch she twitches, and every small breath she intakes and releases with a widely, yet somewhat creepy piqued interest, nestled deep in our already dark consciences. Any slight thing this woman does fascinates us to the very core, a dangerous ploy that we hope doesn't escalate for fear of loosing ourselves in the heat of each and every moment slowly passing us by.

If she's not struck down, bounded on the 'X' cross that takes place in our private home dungeon, as naked as she was the day she came into this world by the time the clock strikes midnight, the possibility that we may loose our minds in the dirty, dirty gutter accelerates drastically, as does the shallow pool that is forming in our underwear at the mere thought. We want her.

But that means we have to work for her. Owning the heavy title of 'dominant' has little to nothing to do with the business of how we claim her: in the beginning, we have to earn her trust, earn the right to pleasure her, and respect each choice she makes. You'll find me and Sloan reasonable domme's...until you sign on the dotted line, the line that determines the well-being of your sexual soul as you know it. Common decency and gaining the solid right to be trustworthy costs nothing, and in the BDSM community, it plays a noticeable factor in our day to day lives. As mine and Sloan's jobs both include working with people, and if there's anything this crude life has taught us, it's that trust is the hardest quality to attain from another human, as we're built to be skeptical of every other anatomy we meet, constantly cautious as to how our lives will end up after we open the golden doors of trust.

"If you're so sure, big mouth, go up to the damn woman and ask her." I cackle loudly at Sloan's completely ludicrous suggestion, finding it intellectually impaired...at best. 'Go and ask her'...what a stupid thing of her to say. The concern of the woman's feelings taking a harsh dampening inspires my mildly amused response, the words stuttering out of my mouth, yet flowing so easily out of their hot little exit. "Are you kidding me? We'd eat her alive...do you really think she can take us at our best?"

Whilst our powerful names strike the sturdy resemblance of dominance, fear, and sheer control in the people of Chicago's fluffy light souls and eyes, the mere thought of that that is all we're know for, is a harsh and blunt sting on our feisty souls, because what people see is only the tip of the mysterious iceberg our hearts hold. We can be much more than tigers at the dinner table...although, we won't be afraid to take a bite at you. Or leave a lasting mark...