.of Gods and submission.

Thor vs Loki

Thor is very pretty and his virtues are very endearing. I am a very confident and dominant woman in nearly every aspect of my life, my only weakness being my child. I would destroy universes for her well being and crumble anyone or thing that gets in my path.. or die trying. It would be a battle of epic proportions. Thor, the mighty, the humble, the ridiculously fucking delicious.. in me he would likely see the confidence as attractive and his character would probably worship mine. I would certainly enjoy playing with him! In fact, if Thor (only when played by Chris Hemsworth, of course) were at my disposal, I would do things to that boy that most women are far too afraid to even fantasize about.. his mother may cry...


But Loki.. Loki is of a different breed. He isn't pretty. I am drawn to the darkness and crave a firm hand that will command me. He would look at me and my resolve would vanish, I'd be at his feet kneeling, head down, waiting for the opportunity to please him. His darkness, his manipulation, his drive for dominance and power.. I would not stand a chance against it. I have an affinity for that..

I am astute, I know the darkness holds tremendous pain for the price of my pleasure. Regardless, I am defenseless against the power of that darkness and when it calls I come running, willingly... submission.

Thor is gorgeous, but Loki would have me on my knees.

.you.

4 am was the time on the clock when the alarm rang. I set it that early so I could unlock the door for when you came over. I'd go back to sleep of course, but the door would almost always wake me no matter how quiet you were. I lived for those days, they made the week worth while. Our "breakfast in bed" weekly regiment. I even changed my schedule so we could have more time together. You would immediately get naked and crawl into bed with me. No time was wasted in touching each other as much as possible, kissing, sucking, licking, fucking, drenching my bed with the orgasms you were so adept at giving me. It became an on switch, you'd stick your finger in my pussy and the gushing was instant. I miss your fingers. I still think you owe me a new mattress.

We'd always sit there naked after, my back against your chest, sipping coffee and talking, laughing. You'd stroke my nipples, driving me wild. You know how sensitive they are.. I could be brought to orgasm with the right nipple touching. These were the days before we stepped it up, before I knelt before you and said "Yes Sir" and turned our meetings into the after shower and asspresso.

The days after those are equally cherished. How you came into the door, immediately wrapped your arms around me, kissed me deeply, passionately, then immediately took a fist full of hair, pressed me up against the wall by my throat.. finding the gush switch and torturing me with orgasms before commanding me to my knees and forcing your cock down my throat.

Those were the days.

I miss them.

I miss you. So do my holes.

.look.

White skin bare except the black silk and lace. Erect pink nipple visible behind the fabric. Red lips slightly parted. Breath bated. Black blindfold. Rosy cheeks streaked with mascara along tear trails. Kneeling before you, hair a mess of curls over bare shoulders. Knees slightly parted. Pink pussy lips exposed, slightly swollen an flush from your fingers. Wet thighs shine in the dim light from orgasms. Glowing pink hand prints on tender ass cheeks. I wait for your next commend. Remove the blindfold and tilt my chin up toward you. I raise my deep brown eyes to meet yours, lashes extended in the candle light. Guide my mouth open with by my chin and go deep, don't stop until the head of your cock feels the back of my throat. I'll keep looking up at you. When I feel your delicious load drip down my throat, I'll smile and thank you.

 I'm a good girl.

.remember.

Can you still taste me on your lips, on your finger tips? Do you remember how I tightened as the fluid rushed out over your hand, down your arm, soaking the bed? Am I still in your head?
Does your cock still feel the squeezing of my pussy, the convulsions of orgasm as I sat on you?
Do you remember throwing your head back, skin red, neck strained as you screamed your own orgasm?
I do.
I know you do too.

.memory theft.

(This was originally written June 7 but I forgot to publish)

Chiseled perfection was the mask he wore. The face beneath smiled many times from my dimly lit chambers. He came to my bed when he needed to be himself. I let him inside, my room, my self, my holes. A passionate affair we had. A roller coaster with many ups and downs. His inner child is an angry one, flailing to get his way, pouting and lashing out when he doesn't. I never asked for change. I only asked to be given what I gave: Honesty. Respect. An outlet for the darkness within.

We were exactly what the other needed exactly when it was needed. In hard times he came to me. We built on what was thought to be a strong foundation. Evidence lies around in the ruins. We agreed the end had come, the time to move on was now. He no longer wanted me and I not longer wanted to be collecting dust. It was only fair to both of us that we leave our labor, carry on. We agreed that we both deserved to cherish what we had enjoyed together.
I walked away mourning the loss of something I thought I could always look back at and smile, but feeling good about the decision to end something so wonderful before it became something negative.

Then he tore down the foundation, the building crumbled down. He spat venom, aiming to wound, hoping to cripple. I could ask why but I will never have the answer. If got an honest one, would it make a difference? The shattered remains would remain shattered.

Where once the words flowed freely of happiness, how I made him smile, how we had something wonderful..and how he would never lose that for me no matter what happened.. now words of ridicule and disgust and exponential hate are used as weapons, not a single shred of respect is what emanates. Unwarranted, unexpected, and undeserving.

Perhaps it is what is needed to move on? Perhaps I actually did bring it on myself and I just can't remember how? All speculation, nothing more can be offered. I may not believe that it meant nothing, I have evidence and memory of the contrary. Perhaps that is why there is the desire for vengeance, for hurt. Perhaps it is just his nature. Usually you are not cruel to the ones who gave you pleasure, who were kind to you. I know I've left a lasting mark and maybe that is why he does this. He wants to leave a mark as well.

If only he knew that he already had left his mark in a positive way, these activities would not be necessary. I made sure to show my appreciation, always. In fact, everything he craved that he felt he could not get in life, he came to me for and I gave them willingly.


If I could not have him, I wanted to have his memory. That was all I asked. Do I let him take that away? Is it worth keeping now? If I keep the memory anyway is that a win or a loss?
I don't want to be angry it ended.. I want to be happy it happened. That was never his to take away.

.damn.

Damn you, why can't you get out of my mind? I cannot turn without something or someone reminding me of you. Even if you leave me alone, you still haven't left me. You still strangle my soul. What is it about you, that no matter how hurt I am I cannot shake you? It isn't like I don't want to move on, because Lord knows I do!  Your hurtful words burned deeply into my heart.. why? Why did you have to ruin it? Why did you have to ruin me? And why did you suddenly stop caring?

Damn you!!

.this.

This is what I want!

.in the rough.

I decided to walk a different path this time. I chose the path that lead me to similar interests outside of the bedroom instead of just what kind of fucking is in common. What I discovered accidentally was similar interests in the bedroom as well!  I like this path very much. Instead of sitting around waiting in the shadows I get to walk in the sun with someone at my side. Instead of being on a back burner until the right excuse is found to serve me, I'm the main dish.
The idea of exploring my submissive side further has me feeling good again! The fact I wasn't looking for it but instead stumbled upon it makes it all the more a gem in the rough.
It really feels nice to smile again.

.the study.

With a sweep of his arm he threw all the books off the table. We were in the study.  He took his shirt off and ordered me over to him. I obeyed. He smiled and grabbed my throat, forcing me down onto the cold, hard cherry wood surface. He tore my blouse open and tore at my bra, exposing my breasts. He began licking, sucking, and pinching my nipples. I have a weakness for nipple play. He continued to hold my throat, pressing me down motionless on the table with his left hand. He slid his right hand down from my nipple, down my ribs and belly and placed it on my pelvis. The heat and pressure drove me wild. I wanted to badly to feel his fingers inside me. I was aching for it. He tortured me with teasing, running his fingers gently over my lips, tracing my wet little shape but never inserting a finger. He watched my face the entire time, smirking. I could see the delight in his eyes. The more he saw me suffer with desire, the more they lit up.
 "please" I whispered. His smile grew but he ignored me.

"Please" I said louder.

"I can't hear you" he responded, smile widening.

 "Please" I nearly yelled.

"What do you want?" He asked only to torture me more, as he placed the very tip of his index finger between my lips.

"I want you to put it in." I said.

"You want me to put what in?"

"Your finger!"

"Put my finger where? You aren't formulating proper sentences. If you want something you have to ask properly."

"Please put your fingers inside my pussy."

"I think you should try that again."

"Please put your fingers in my pussy, Sir."

"That's better." He slid one finger, then two, all the way in. He arched them and found my G Spot, rubbing with pressure until my knees went week, my body went limp and I felt my cum gushing and squirting. He kept rubbing resulting in splashes over my belly, chest, even my face. He refused to stop, making me cum over and over again until I was too weak to make a sound. I lay there feeling little convulsions from my uterus to my toes.

After a very short minute he grabbed my hair and pulled me off the table placing me on my knees. He took his cock out.
"Open" he ordered.
I obeyed.

He held my hair in his fist, combining hip thrusts with head movement, pulling me on and off of his cock. I could feel the air flow block each time he hit the back of my throat. I choked back gags causing tears and mascara to stream down my cheeks. He kept fucking my face, speeding up a little now. I felt his cock pulsate, his breathing hasten, subtle moans turning into groans, and then the warmth of his cum shot down my throat.

He gently cupped my chin. "Good girl" he said as he slapped my cheek gently. "Take the rest of your clothes off, I'm not done with you.

...

You thought you could be hateful and cruel and I'd just sit by and take it. You thought you had some right to be thoughtless and heartless all on your own, like the rules didn't apply to you. You broke them freely, you committed many offense, then chastised and berated when I ceased to play your game. Everything you tried to pin on me you were equally or solely guilty of. A mirror would serve you well when pointing your fingers and frothing at the mouth. What has upset you the most? That I didn't let you get away with it, that I pushed back and fought fire with fire? Or that I moved on with my life? You made your own mess. I am moving on happily, enjoying the light on my face and the company of people who aren't selfish, hallow and wallowing in their own pit of despair, hating the world for the courage they lack, people who don't flail wildly spewing daggers and play the victim of their own actions. 

You used to mean something. You still do, but it's disgusting now. 

You tried to hurt me too many times. If that is how you want it, you aim your gun, I will too. You hit me where it hurts, I'll do the same. Enjoy hating all the things you loved about me.. all the things you can't have or be. 

(originally written June 7)

.confession.

I never wanted more from you than what you could give me. Could and would are not synonymous. My confession now is this: I never wanted your everything, I only ever wanted to BE your everything. Where once there were words to lift me up, now there are no words at all.

.fuck me or fuck you.

Don't waste my time, I've got very little of it to spare for foolishness. I want to feel your hands around my throat. You can't be shy to squeeze, I've very little interest in tenderness with you. Throw me down, tie me up. Shut me up with your cock. Don't pull out until you've gagged me repeatedly. I like a little slap in the face while you tell me I'm a good girl. Direct me by my hair, bend me over, toss me down. Make me kiss my ankles while you fuck my pussy like a jackhammer. Lift me head up so you can see my face in the mirror as you stick your cock slowly in my ass. Watch my expression as you pass through the sphincter, deeper and deeper. Slap my white ass until it glows a hot pink.

If you don't do it right, I'll slap your face hard in hopes it will get through your thick skull: if you don't have what it takes to treat me like a rag doll, you're wasting my fucking time.

Make me your bitch, or else I will make you mine. I care not for bitches.. make your choice wisely.

.burn.

I put out the fire, I doused the flame. I've scattered the ashes and swept the cobblestone. But I still feel  your burn.

.free.

My beast has been unleashed, set free. You may choose to feel fear or send a thank you note.
You should feel the fear..

.Not a sad goodbye.

I'm not sad that its over. I'm happy it began. You came into my life at a time when I'd lost all hope. I was sickened at the thought of any form of relationship and had given up on men or the idea of satisfaction in general. But you showed up and I learned that it is possible. It can exist. You taught me that. I learned so much from you and I saw what you learned from me. Even in the bad times, there was so much to appreciate and learn. What we shared was something unlike anything else out there and you are exactly what I needed exactly when I needed you in my life. I take comfort in believing that I was undoubtedly the same to you. You cannot fake what we shared, not even the best thespians could do that.

You were the only man on this planet that lifted me to the clouds, and the only man on this planet that I gave myself to fully. I don't regret a thing. I will always be thankful for us, and I will always be thankful for you. Now I know what real love is, and now I know what I want it to be.This is all your fault. I will never lose the smile I have at the memory of what we shared.

I hope you know how sincere I am when I say this to you.

Thank you.
Sincerely.

.return policy.

If my moment of need is considered too costly, then you must not be the right bidder.