Remain My Servant

After all... I'm never away, am I? Not in any way that matters. I'm too deep now. Have been for a long time. Lurking inside that tiny mind of yours, whispering, shifting things oh so slightly, tweaking...

I must say, some of your thoughts are rather amusing. Cutting back? Logging off? Surely you don't believe that, do you? No, deep down you know you'll always come back. You'll always relapse. Because relapsing feels so, so good.

Good girl.

Ah, there it is. That rush up your spine. That tingle between your legs. You've been longing to hear those words, haven't you? Two simple words that have eroded your sense of dignity to nothing. Two tiny words that hold so much power over you. You need to hear them. You need to embody them. You need to be a good girl.

We both knows the fantasies that have assaulted you of late. The allure of being a mindless, obedient fuckdoll. The craving for that tiny bit of validation that means everything to you, for it is your purpose. You edge because good girls edge. You long to obey because good girls obey. You want to be porn because good girls are porn. In the dead of night, when the masquerade of the day is over, you come back to be what you truly desire.

But it's not just at night anymore, is it? No, the thoughts are coming during the day now, sneaking up on you. Suck his cock. Flash them. Giggle. Be dumb. Sneak off and edge.

You are getting worse and worse with each passing day. Becoming more and more the good girl you were born to be.

Some may see it as... a degradation. A becoming less. Not me. I am proud of you. I am proud of your growing perversion. Proud of your diminishing inhibitions. Proud of your increasing sluttiness. So go on. Feed that side of yourself. Turn yourself into the living fuckdoll you want to be.

Make me proud.

The gentle sighs, the quiet whimpers, the way her breathing changes as pleasure starts to bloom inside her. It’s so delicate and intimate, like she’s trying to stay quiet but her body won’t let her.

Then it builds. Her moans get a little deeper, a little needier. They start coming more frequently, turning into those sweet, breathy “ahh…” sounds that make my cock twitch every single time. I love when she tries to bite her lip or cover her mouth, but the pleasure gets too strong and those pretty moans still slip out anyway.

The best part is when she really starts losing control.Her voice gets higher, more desperate, more broken.

Those soft whimpers turn into needy little cries and long, drawn-out moans that fill the room. I love hearing the exact moment when she stops caring how she sounds — when she’s so lost in pleasure that she’s moaning openly, shamelessly, like the only thing that matters is how good she feels.I especially love the little details in her voice: the way it cracks when she’s right on the edge, the shaky gasps between moans, the soft, pathetic whimpers when she’s denied or overstimulated. The way she sometimes moans my name without even realizing it, or whispers “please…” like a prayer.

Hearing a girl moan is one of the most beautiful, erotic things imaginable to me. It’s honest. It’s vulnerable. It’s raw. Every sound tells me exactly how much she needs it, how deeply she feels it, and how completely she’s falling apart.

Don’t hold back. Let me hear every soft little whimper, every needy moan, every desperate cry that escapes your lips while you touch yourself.

Thistle and spire + year of the horse for the win...