Pawpaws

The sub that craves the lack of choice- being taken and thoroughly controlled and used with no say in the matter at all. The only thing he can do is endure. What he's enduring also contains this enjoyable sexual experience. A passive psychology coupled with a body that is wired towards a more intense physical sensation - and he's the result.

He wants to submit, he wants to perform as expected, he needs to please and to be sure that he has. He is willing to go to great lengths to demonstrate how completely eager he is to give himself to another along with a deep need to be taken to that level.

He is a slave who craves the intense sexual sensation, the knowledge that he is giving great pleasure to another and to satisfy all the needs of the other, and through that he gains his satisfaction, pleasure, gratification and the positive sense of self as well as the ease and peace that comes from total surrender.

A Masochist's Dream

She does not speak at first.

She doesn't need to.

The silence is the command.

I'm already trembling before the first touch,

but it’s not fear —

it's worship.

Her fingers are the storm before the pain,

tracing the outlines of where I will break,

where I want to break,

where I need to break…

just to be remade again beneath her will.

The first strike is a kiss I’ve waited my whole life for.

It lands not only on skin,

but on soul —

and I open to it, gasping,

grateful.

Every mark she leaves is a word written in a language only we speak:

a dialect of fire and obedience.

My moans are not protest —

they’re prayers.

My tears are not weakness —

they’re offerings.

And when she stops —

when her breath slows,

when her eyes soften but her grip stays firm —

I lie there undone,

not broken…

but finally whole.

Because in the ache, I feel seen.

In the bruises, I feel known.

And in the surrender,

I am free.

To the One who commands the storm,

I am but a quiet breath in the dark —

a lamb once lost, now kneeling, waiting,

trained in stillness, shaped in fire,

taught to serve not just with hands… but with heart.

Four years ago, the path found me.

Led first by leash, then by longing.

I have tasted both the light of loving discipline

and the dark ecstasy of surrender without question.

Pain, I learned, is not punishment —

but the key that unlocks the soul.

Submission, not weakness — but devotion in its purest form.

Now unclaimed, I wander in soft silence,

a collar-shaped echo around my neck,

longing for guidance, for purpose,

for the gaze that sees, commands, and owns.

Should You find use for me —

to kneel, to serve, to obey —

I offer not just my body, but all I am,

wrapped in reverence,

and bound in faith.