When He...

I love to make him hard.
To see him long and thick for me.
As I whisper all of the nasty whorish tricks he craves from me.

My mouth serving.
My cunt begging.
My ass swallowing.

He was hard and ready for me.
In a public parking lot yesterday.

Mmmmmm...
So naughty.
So fucking sexy.

Yes. Baby...take it out for me.
Show me that fat, beautiful dick of yours.

I love it when he strokes himself for me.
After he watches me squirt streams on the camera.
After I text him how much I want to slip my tongue in his tight ass as I stroke him.

I love to listen to him beat his throbbing cock in his office.
Like he just did.

His dick pulsing with need for his Domina.
His nuts aching for the sweet release I give him.

Yes, Baby...give it to me.  Take it nice and deep for me.

I love to see his cum spill from his thick juicy head for me.
Hear his groans of pleasure and release.

On camera.
People only yards away.

But he needs and wants his whore.

Mmmmm...so naughty.
So fucking good.

Yes, Baby...cum for me.  Let me have that sweet, hot cream.
~A Hungry Lioness

The Wet Heat

As they have for so long, my thoughts drifted to him.
To us.
To the unrestrained moments that could have been.
To the breathtaking moments we did share.

I could see him.
I could smell him.
I could taste him.
I could hear him.
I could feel him.

I saw his eyes fill with passion and fire.
His body bare to my touch.
His dick hard and ready for me.

His scent filled my nostrils.
His neck.
His chest.
The sexy musk smell of his dick and nuts.

The taste of him exploding on my tongue.
His full firm lips.
His strong demanding tongue.
His sweet earlobes.
His smooth skin.
His begging nipples.
His long, powerful fingers.
His thick hard greedy dick.

I heard his voice.
A kaleidoscope of tones.
A harsh demand to Thais.
A warning in our battles.
A whisper to Katherine.
A plea for more from his Domina.
A shout.
A cry of pleasure so profound he would finally abandon all his restraint.

The feel of him.
So many ways.
As I submitted.
As I controlled.
As we fought each other in heated passion.

Fragmented pieces of what could have been and what was.
I closed my eyes and experienced it all.
My fingers a poor substitute for his touch.

My passion rose.
A sudden spike.
The quick, harsh release only he inspires.

And the wet, heat.
Of my tears as they slide from my eyes and soaked my pillow.
~A Kitten Licking Her Wounds

A Whore's Mask

Few can touch a whore's heart.
Far fewer can touch her soul.

Her strength.
Masks the fragile pieces she shelters deep in her core.

Yet provides a convenient excuse to inflict selfish wounds.
A perfect reason to shrug off a careless blow.

So strong, she can take it.
So cold, she doesn't feel it.

Few hear her cries.
Far fewer see her tears.

Some may take joy in her pain.
Some look on and do nothing when she falls.

Bleeding and bruised.

Stumbling and shattered.

A fleeting glimpse before the curtain drops.

A brief opening before the door locks tightly shut.

In the end.

All she has is her courage.

In the end.

All she has is her strength.

In the end.

She holds up her mask.

And she smiles so prettily.

~A Kat Thinking Too Much

A few comments over the last couple of months and another this evening reminded me of the general rule that the strongest are treated more often like shit, while the weakest are often more cherished and coddled.  Why is that?  I've seen it over and over again.  I've experienced it more than I can count.  People typically admit that the strong one is typically worth soooo much more, yet it seems to be the weakest are given more.   

Give Me Freedom

Please.
Release me.
Take me where I long to go.

For a moment.
Give me freedom.

From the pain that forever haunts me.
From the sorrow that never leaves.
From the slow flow of blood that never stems.

For a moment.
Give me freedom.

A battle of wills.
The force of your strength.
My ultimate surrender.

Yes.
Oh fuck yes.
Take me away.

The grip of your fist.
The sting of your slap.
To fullness of you in me.

Beneath my fingertips.
Your muscles clenched.
To seize control.

To force.

To seduce.

My submission.

For a moment.

Give me freedom.

A flogger's first bite.
Again.
My thoughts fragment.

Again.
My tender ass.

Again.
My soft thighs.

Again.
My full tits.

For a moment.

Give me freedom.

I want to feel.

I want to be here.

Now.

With you.

Until all that chokes me disappears.
Until all that is narrows to the next strike.
Until all I know is you.

Please.

Release me.

Take me where I long to go.

I am yours.

I am nothing.

But yours.

For a moment.

Give me freedom.

~A Restless Kat

Sire's Whore

Meant to serve.

His need.
The desire.
To fulfill the darkest fantasies.

To be taken.
Forced.
Shown my place.

My need.

To feel his strength.
To serve his command.
To bask in his unrestrained passion and desire for me.

To drowned in the brutal power that devours us.

Claim me.
Push me.
Take me.

Bind my will.

Trust.
Honesty.
Respect.

Make me surrender.

Take all that is your right.
Show me what I am capable of.
His final acceptance of all he can be.

Deep.
Hard.
Nasty.

It calls to me.
I ache for it.
I beg for it.

I crave to be at his mercy.

Commanded as he sees fit.
To suck.
To lick.
To tongue.
To fuck.

To carry all that he gives.
Bruises.
Bites.
Marks.

To take his discipline.

His hand's slap.
The flogger's sting.
His belt's lash.
His hot rain.

To accept.
To surrender.
To be his.

Shove.
Force.
Demand.
Stroke.
Fuck.

To take it all.
To let go of everything.

My mind, body, and soul.
His to take.

No restraint.
No caution.
To abandon the rules that restrain us.

To serve.
Bound.
His nasty slut.

My Sire's Whore.
~A Very Greedy Kitten

I Accept

Nothing to say.
Nothing to give.
Simply empty.

His hand.
Hot.
Strong.

Slides up my thigh.
To do what I can not.

To make me feel.
To make me breathe.
To make me feel alive.

A tease.
A touch.
A stroke.

I stop thinking.
I stop considering.
I stop wondering.

I accept.

Silence.
But for the echo of a slick caress.
But for a catch in my breath as I respond.

To feel.
To breathe.
To be alive.

He lays next to me.
Pulls me close.
Shelters me beneath his embrace.

I accept.

His heat melts my chill.
His strength I surrender to.
His gentleness comforts my soul.

His lips scatter butterfly kisses.
His fingers dance between my thighs.
He slowly nurtures my desire.

My response thickens.
I moan.
I arch.

I accept.

His tempo speeds.
His embrace tightens.
This is his to command.

I cling to him.
I beg him.
I surrender to him.

I lose myself to him.
My passion floods his hand.
My cries echo in the night.

He pulls me closer.
His lips hovering over mine.
My tears slide down.

The first words.
The only words.
The last words.

He whispers...

"You're mine."

I accept.
~A Wounded Kat

The Complications of a Switch

A switch.
A combination.
A vortex of the chaos that is a dominant and a submissive.

Me.

Both work in tandem.
Each battle the war.
A balance of extremes.

Me.

My Domme.
That wicked bitch.
Protects my sub.

My Sub.
Warm and giving.
Keeps me human.

Balance.

Both thinly veiled.
Hidden behind silence.
Yet comprise my core.

Me.

Some suspect.
Few see.
Fewer experience.

A Mistress.
A Lover
A Whore.

Me.

Too much.
Not enough.
Always.

Me.

To pay for my sins.
To soothe my soul.
To excise my demons.

Joy and freedom.
Pain and anger.
Love and despair.

Me.

Layers.
Evolving.
Complicated.

Me.

~sigh~
~A Lioness Chasing Her Tail