i think lighting does a lot to alter a man's behavior. when it's bright, and you can see him clearly, it's a lot harder for him to hide the truth. his desperation, his dependence, his need. they're laid bare. embarrassment, shame, and self-consciousness thrive in his eyes and in his cheeks when there's nowhere to hide, and i love it.
but i also love the dark. what a man is willing to take and tolerate in the shadows is so unlike him. there is a freedom in not seeing, and he knows it. what he might normally find downright degrading is suddenly all he can think about, all he can beg me for. maybe it's knowing he feels safe enough to let his guard down like that, or maybe it's seeing him suspend who he is entirely, but i love feeling him transform under me. i love how the cover of darkness turns him into a cock-drunk slut.
and i can't forget what happens in the in-between. when i'm fucking him and there's just enough light for me to barely make out the whorish contortions of his mouth. when he reaches for me and it's not just his grip that's slipping. when i can see enough to recognize the silhouette of this warm, writhing, submissive body under my control, but not enough to recognize the personhood of who it belongs to.
that is when i most easily mistake his pleasure for my own. that is my bliss.













