Admitting Some Things

I’ve had regular sex for the past month, it’s good sex and with at least one partner it is evolving into something potentially better and kinkier. On that note, I am not a weak damsel and GORRAM IT I need to be fucked so long and hard I can’t walk straight. I need to be fucked so long and hard I have to fucking CRAWL to the bathroom when I have to pee.

I want to have to pound a gallon of Gatorade because I am so dehydrated from sex and then unapologetically eat an entire steak dinner to myself because I’ve burned off so many calories I make a weight lifter weep in shame. I want to feel used, abused, and beaten. Figuratively and literally. I want to have bruises from being bitten too hard, and an ass so raw from beatings that I can’t sit for a week without squirming from the delicious pain.

As much as I fight my submissive side I’ve realized that it’s something that will always be a part of me. Lately I have been craving the glare of a Master when I’ve done something to piss him off. I miss the chill that runs down by spine when that look tells me in no uncertain terms I will be over his knee by the end of the night. I miss the feel of a man’s hand at the back of my neck, telling me silently that I am his and indirectly telling other’s the same. I miss that floating on air, every nerve tingling, eyes glazed over, skin on fire subspace.

I want to find a man that encourages my headstrong ways but is stern enough to set me back to rights when I’ve toed that line a little too far. Someone who will let me have my cake and eat it too, and laugh with me when I eat that very same cake with the zeal of a child. I want a man who will embrace my kittenish ways, and appreciate that I am a snuggle bug but sometimes I just want to be alone.