07 September 2009


I have this fantasy about you, about you kneeling at my feet. Your eyes are wide and a little nervous- you're not sure what you're doing here, at the feet of a woman you barely know. You don't know why you trust me, what blind instinct has guided you here, to this baring of your fantasies to me... but you're here now, and some part of you is trembling with fear.

I like it.
I like the trepidation in your eyes.
Such pretty eyes, they caught my notice as soon as I saw you.
I like seeing fear in them.
Fear of me.
I've stripped you naked, your skin as bare to me as your mind, every blemish and beauty clear to my eyes, and set you to kneeling at my feet. You love my corsets, love the restriction and the power they symbolize, so I'm wearing one for you- smooth, cool leather against my pale skin. I know that you can smell its rich scent, just as I can, and I know that it's driving you crazy.
And I love it.

You've bared your soul to me, and I'm going to use every drop of that knowledge tonight.

We'll start simply, though, since you're already so charmingly on your knees...

"Kiss my feet, boy..."

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I am just your ordinary average every day sane psycho supergoddess