My Selfish Lust

My sexual desire seems to have turned inwards recently. I’m feeling sexy, but not necessarily with or for anyone. Partly I feel I’m not getting it quite right with my sexual partners. I can’t seem to line up my desires with actual sex. Perhaps because what I want is so specific, or just because some days these things don’t come together.

What I want for myself right now is pleasure. I want physical sensation that overwhelms me and leaves me dazed, sticky and happy. I want delight, obsession and intensity.

I also don’t want to have to please someone else. I don’t want to have to work at bringing someone else off. I don’t want to have to do things to entertain them. I want to be the centre of attention. I want to be pleasured and adored all without having to lift a finger.

Perhaps you think, being a Domme, I should have all this already? But I don’t want to command obedience either, I don’t want mere mechanical service, that would be little more than masturbation and that I can do for myself.
Plus I don’t see being a Domme as the right to be selfish; on the contrary if my Boy gives up his pleasure to me then I am the more responsible for supplying it to him.

What I want is an unprompted desire to please me, the knowledge and confidence to do so without direction or prompting and an enthusiasm that allows me to relax, to let go, to float on waves of pleasure wherever they may take me.

Selfish? Yes. But that’s where my desires are taking me right now. So for now, they’re taking me there alone.

I Am Craving…

I’m craving submission; my boy’s submission to me.
I’m longing for his abandonment to his senses.
I’m dreaming of seeing him wild and passionate and lost in the pleasure of the moment.
I’m lusting for the feel of his body under my hands and the resistance of his boy-cunt as I push my strap-on deep inside him.
I’m aching to pin him down and wrap my hands around his throat and watch as he surrenders his breath to me.
I’m yearning for each whimper, each gasp he makes as I take him and hold him.

I’m wanting the rush of pleasure that comes from knowing he’s mine.
I’m needing the release that comes from being purely with him in the moment; his Domme, his owner, his lover.
I’m craving my boy.

I Want My Fucktoy

Waking up on Friday and I want my fucktoy.
I want him flat on his back, his cock erect; he is my slut and I will ride him for my pleasure.
I want to slap his face, again and again; he is my bitch and I will hurt him as I please.
I want to put my hands around his throat and choke him; he is my whore and his every breath is mine to control.

This is no gentle lovemaking. This is me taking what is mine.
Using my boy for my pleasure. Using his body to give me satisfaction. Oh I may even choose to wank his cock for a while, that can be fun after all, but it is my choice how I use him. It is my choice how I take my pleasure from him.
His cock is mine, his whole body is mine. Mine to use, abuse and enjoy.

He is my fucktoy and I want him.

Hunger

We approach each other cautiously.
Our words tempting. Our actions teasing.
Circling our desire like two hyenas circling a kill.
Slowly challenging, a dance of words and glances,
Touches that hint at lust.

Delaying the inevitable.
Building the tension.
Circling in the dust.

Then in a moment, one word, one touch, and our restraint is gone.
We move in to tear at the flesh of our desire,
To bloody our jaws with it, to lose ourselves in lust.

Animals unleashed, uncontrolled, unstoppable.
A force of nature we cannot stand against.
We sate ourselves on pleasure, leaving destruction in our wake,
Devastation in the dust.

At last we rest, gorged and satisfied,
Until the hunger rises within us once more.
As we both know it must.