| |
|
|
Home |
|
|
|
|
Browse |
|
|
|
|
|
Live |
|
|
|
|
Join |
|
Collarspace |
|
|
|
|
Dating |
|
|
|
|
News |
|
|
|
|
Glossary |
|
|
|
|
Mobile |
|
|
|
|
Alt |
|
|
|
|
Safety |
|
|
|
|
Toys |
|
|
|
|
Live BDSM |
|
|
|
|
Resources |
|
|
|
|
Welcome |
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Login |
|
|
 |
|
 | |
|
|
|
|
Female Dominant, 40, nepa, Pennsylvania
|
Male Submissive, 28, West coast
|
Female Dominant, 27, Kitchener
| | |
|
| Back |
| KPM |
| Directory |
| Interests |
|
|
|
| |
|
| |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
| |
About REDVELVETDOMINA
"And the day came.....when the risk to stay tight in a bud, was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" ~ Anais Nin~
Picture a single red rose placed carefully in a crystal vase.....enveloped in a dark room.....with only a misty white light shining down upon it....the rose is all you will see......no matter where you try to look......your eyes will always lock upon it....trying to tear them away is an effort....I am that rose....I am the type of Domina who does not find pleasure in abusing or humiliating My subs......the irons I place are upon the heart and minds of them.....once those are in place.....the devotion is unsurpassable....the three most erotic places a person can be touched are the heart, mind and soul.....I want respect not fear.....a Domina cannot have both....I want to bring My subs to the highest level that can be reached as an individual.....which evolves into better service for Me......I am a very erotic Domme and have a talent for using My words and body language to enslave a man.....I am petite....curvy.....have short black hair........amber eyes....full lips.....straight white teeth.......and a lovely smile.....I am told often that I am beautiful......I am in no way however a push over......do not mistake My kindness for weakness......I can be stern and aggressive when pushed to that limit...I am forgiving yet firm....I will enmesh Myself into My subs pysche...I am all he will think about....all he will dream about.....all his efforts will be for Me......and he will endeavor to deserve My love and attention.....when he looks into the mirror....he will see Me standing next to him.....the wind will whisper My name to him.....the moonbeams will emulate My touch upon his body.....and everytime he sees a single red rose......he will not be able to tear his eyes from it.....the beauty....the power.....the mark of this Dark Lady.....and the capture of his true soul ~ |
|
|
|
|
'Beauty was darkness till She came. Then paint Her eyes, whose active light shall make the former shadows bright, and with their every beam supply new day, to draw Her picture by.' ~ James Shirley ~
~ A rare silent beauty stealthily glides through the darkness of night, the melantistic black Panthera is hidden within the shadows of the forest; She is on the hunt, Her clear, light yellow eyes only to be seen glowing like two round glistening orbs. The humidity along with an insatiable hunger encourages Her to press on and find what She so desires to overpower and consume. The grass beneath Her massive velvety paws willingly gives way as Her stride becomes more methodical, and then proceeds to spring back as in divine worship of Her greatness. Her blue- black hide reflects the moonlight like a liquid mirror in motion, muscles twitch in Her strong back and Her ears rotate with any minute sound. Nostrils flaring as She catches a scent on the wind, this Dark Huntress in all Her nocturnal glory is at Her most sublime, Her low crouching stance moving along in silent anticipation. Her whiskers jut forward to sense the world around Her when the ebony night envelops Her sight, yet She proceeds without fear or apprehension to indulge Her primal urge. Her body quivers as She is slung close to the ground becoming almost one with it, Her prey is within Her sights as She licks Her lips with Her great pink tongue, from one side to the other. The scent within Her olfactory in conjunction with what Her eyes are focused upon propels Her to strike at just the precise moment. There is a fire in the distance and the silhouette of a lone man, he is indeed a large, solid built specimen and looks to be strong. She knows She is more powerful and silently inches forwards step by step, Her shoulder blades change alternating positions like two pitched tents. Huddling behind some tall grass, She shifts Her body weight from the left, then to the right and keeps close watch upon him. This obscure Feline knows he can sense Her as he occasionally stops what he is doing and looks over his shoulder. This reaction only provides more of a glint in Her eyes as She can almost taste the tension, the attack will commence soon, for She cannot hold back much longer. Hunching down to the ground, She proceeds in a very deliberate manner. A few steps taken and then stillness mid stride, She repeats this process until She can get as close as possible without notice. The fire once in the distance is now reflected and dancing in Her eyes. She curls Her lips revealing Her ivory carniverous fangs in complete silence. The blackness of night and sounds of the jungle still hide Her, the stalking and salivating anticipation of the hunt is what thrills Her, the attack a prolific end to Her means however satisfying. Lying low, She watches the man from behind remove his shirt as he prepares to retire for the night. The muscles in his back are defined and plump with skin taught stretched over them, equally the same are his arms, shoulders and his tapering waist, which trails a defined groove down his lumbar. He becomes still once again, his head to the side balanced on a massive neck as he stops mid unbuckling of his belt. He turns around and realizes he is being watched, She sees this man from the front and his body is equally balanced and defined yet he poses no threat to Her. Still he stands his eyes shifting slowly, his chest beginning to heave slightly as the tension mounts, for the time has come to make an acquaintance of the most unusual kind. Her instincts propel Her now as She lunges out from the darkness all claws and teeth, to reveal Her all too close, escape is now impossible. The eyes of the man widen as his body bends forward involuntarily, arms extended to brace himself for this charge. She is all muscle and pound for pound outmatches this man and proceeds to knock him down as She leaps on him. Total and complete fear consumes him yet he tries to fight Her off instinctively but She covers him with Her body and has him pinned. Her great paws bigger than his own hands stand on either side of his chest and feet, his arms extended to the sides so as not to touch Her nor provoke Her any further. She is panting letting a low growl escape from within Her as She makes full eye contact with the prey beneath Her all the while flicking Her massive limber tail. Chest heaving yet very still the man looks upon his fate; he comes to terms almost instantly with his defeat. He looks upon Her dark exterior, strength, and Her rare beauty and thinks there is no better way to perish; he surrenders unto Her. Within that exact moment, She morphs and exchanges Her luscious black pelt for flesh and the Panthera becomes a Woman still above this man, full eye contact not broken. Her full bosom now heaving beneath the black satin gown She wears, a smirk forms on Her crimson lips, those same yellow eyes reflecting his own image back at him. Her form as sleek as the Cat is subtlely outlined within the confines of the dress. He stares in complete disbelief and mouths words that never erupt from his lips; She puts Her finger to his mouth to silence him. She sits upright now straddling him, Her hands on his chest as he slowly brings his hands to Her gown, which pools on the ground longing to feel Her form beneath it. She sees the desire in his eyes and indulges him for a moment, allowing his hands to glide along the slippery satin cloth over Her legs to Her ample rear end; a small moan escapes him as he stops at Her waist holding it. His jaw extends forward slightly then back as his breathing increases and She can feel his manhood harden beneath Her. She begins to rise and his grip tightens, She gives hima warning look to release Her and he automatically does so. Standing upright, with the wind catching Her gown blowing it furiously as if a tempest itself has whirled past Her in complete adoration. She looks like a mystical being from his dreams, obviously present yet would deny palpability if he had not touched Her himself. He proceeds to get on his hands and knees and begins crawling toward Her, humbly, slowly, and methodically. Using his peripheral vision he dares not make eye contact, however, he can feel Her predatory stare sear right through him. He gets close enough and reaches for Her gown as it puddles upon the ground and grazes his fingertips at its hem. The fabric along with Her presence makes him feel liquid and not taking any shape except for the one She commands him to take. He inches closer clutching at Her ankles beneath the gown, a smile erupts upon Her face She reaches down to stroke his closely cropped hair. Before he can respond in apparent adoration, She takes several steps back; his eyes look desperate yet he dares not proceed to move toward Her. Farther from him She moves toward the void from whence She came. With Catlike movements She recedes enmeshing with the ebony veil of the jungle with only Her yellow eyes glowing, which after some distance finally disappear. ~ |
| |
| |
|
|
~ 'All men whilst they are awake are in one common world; but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.' ~ Plutarch ~
~ As candles flicker within his room....the outside thunder continues to boom....rain pelts the windows at a constant pace....the lightning flashes exposing his face...standing at the foot of his bed She waits...for his deepest dreams to open their gates....for then She will enter and find Her place...to bring forth the craving and thirst She makes haste....consuming his thoughts She will reel in his head...a deep, dark place that is indeed not dead...he begins to toss and turn in his sleep....for this is the time to enter him deep...silently floating She begins Her descent....the degradations he harbors he will not repent...he begins to calm as She takes Her place...swirling like a vortex, increasing Her pace...breaking on through interrupting his dreams...softly She whispers, She's not what She seems...bringing forth all of his wicked desires...he is defenseless against what transpires...slowly She speaks in a sweet melody....is She a phantom, an angel, or some deity?...running a finger across his heart....the intrusion and release is about to start....sweeping away what was previously inside....She exposes his longings with no place to hide....enmeshing with him until they become one....She lowers Her body on top of his tongue....he does not try to fight nor utter a sound....She moves with him as he laps all around....before he can feel one ounce of joy....She rises up and snarls in his ear 'good boy'....sliding down his body the Serpent She snakes....Her mouth on his mouth She greedily takes....his breath increases, he gasps for air....She sucks it out of him while stroking his hair....moaning, groaning, and writhing in pleasure.....She places Her hand on his groin for good measure....his eyes roll back in apparent ecstasy....She wickedly smiles at his expectancy....back and forth Her hand does move....She brings him to the edge of the abyss too soon... She only stops briefly to gaze at the moon....and then begins to hum a familiar tune.....the song with Her touch is too much to bear....he gnashes his teeth and pulls at his hair....She quiets him leaning down toward his ear....and softly says, 'I'm here to possess you My dear.'....laying now silent his body is steady....kneeling above him She is now ready....slowly She impales Herself upon him...hearing him moan She does evilly grin.....moving and grinding She quickens Her attack...as She consumes him there is no turning back....'Tell Me what you want!' She hisses through clenched teeth....he whispers, ' To be able to lust and sin without grief.'...a fire in Her eyes, Her mouth forms a smirk....'Then I invite you to come, to the shadows where I lurk.'....nodding Her head and dismounting Her steed....She grasps a fistful of his hair warning him to take heed....lowering Her face She can see his distress....'Your soul is now owned by your acknowledged Mistress.'....eyes closed he rapidly motions his head 'yes'....leaning back She is pleased with another possessed...Her thievery of souls has only began....to be the sweet seduction of every sleeping man....he reaches for Her, She will no longer stay...receding on darkness's mist, She vanishes away.... ~ |
| |
| |
|
|
' I shall be as secret as the grave.' ~ Miguel de Cervantes ~
~ From shadow to shadow a dark figure She moves....Her silhouette carved out by the pale white moon....a Creature of the Night, She searches with hunger...compelled to hunt, proceeds without slumber....a circumference of black hair crowns Her lovely head...Her amber eyes imposing, filling Her victims with dread....a true dichotomy of great beauty and beast....once within Her arms there is no release....gliding smoothly on darkness' grey mist....Her fangs white glimmer show through parted red lips....beyond the shadows stands a man, his back turned....he knows nothing of this eves' lesson to be learned....within seconds and silence She is right at his side....Her hand on his shoulder, his eyes meet Her eyes....instead of fear there is now hypnotic gaze.....Her finger traces his most masculine face.....lost in Her essence, he drops to his knees....standing above him, She hears his soft pleas.....whispering slowly She reveals Her intention....his eyes grow wide with apparent apprehension...with a melodic voice that could soothe a savage beast....the man falls prey to it and his fears are released....with a handful of hair, She leans his head back....licking Her lips, sharp fangs She does not lack....he moans in ecstasy with his mortal life exposed....extending his arm he presents Her a rose.....accepting the token of his sacrifice....soon Her vicious bite will grant him new life......She moves ever closer while wetting Her lips....he draws Her in, placing his hands on Her hips....with Her palms on his face a sweet smile appears....his new existance will wash away the previous years.....She lowers Herself pressing Her flesh against his flesh.....Her presence overwhelms him as he's instantly enmeshed....close to his neck he can feel Her hot breath.....he will give Her his all till there is nothing left.....parting Her lips as he closes his eyes.....his life as he knew it slowly fades and dies....feeling the instant pain of first bite....his grip on Her body becomes clenched and tight.....he moans and screams Her name in the night....Her sucking and licking take him to a new height....finally, pulling back and releasing Her grip....looking upon him wipes the blood from Her lip....he is weak and tired yet still willing to serve....a calmness surrounds him, no twitch to a nerve.....She begins to rise and extends out Her hand...he grasps it knowing hes not the same man.....both now stand to face one another.....together for eternity to be immortal lovers....to travel together, to hunt in the dark....She touches his neck and feels the bite mark....this life is now his new destiny.....to walk bathed in moonlight endless eve after eve.....he will follow Her lead to the ends of the earth....he now has a purpose, a new life, a deep worth....he extends his arm to take Her pale hand.....She smiles at Her servant, Her lover, Her man.....together they fade into the shadows of the night.....to walk through the darkness until dawns first light.......~ |
| |
| |
|
|
' Let guilty men remember, their black deeds do lean on crutches made of slender reeds.' ~ John Webster ~
~ She burst forth from a lush, evergreen forest upon the back of a large, muscular, ebony stallion....She had rage and fire in Her amber eyes....a curled snarl upon Her full, red lips....She nudged Her escorts sides with Her shiny, knee high black boots....he obeyed and put his head down, snorted and increased speed....She leaned forward and low so he could move faster...to handle injustice was Her mission.....to smite down the wicked one with Her own hand....for he has betrayed Her confidence in him....intent in Her eyes, She seeks the offender.....the thunder of hooves echos the pounding of Her heart in complete unison.....then, the image of a man appears in the distance....as She gets closer, he is revealed to be a crotchety, old, worn, man...once young and strong, yet now seemingly weak and pathetic....She quickly swings down off Her stallion, grabs Her sword and confidently strolls toward the man in Her clingy, short, burgandy dress....Her eyes narrowed and She sneers, breasts heaving under the outerworn corset....pointing the sword at the mans throat, the look in Her eyes dare him to make one false move....he steps back mumbling something, looking down......pleading with his hands up in obvious defeat...should mercy be given when no mercy was received?...She steps forward again...he drops to his knees ragged and exhausted....for he tried to run from his sins only to have them manifest and come after him at full speed....it has aged him significantly....the look of anger in Her eyes has changed to become a view of pity.....She lowers the sword shaking Her head.....a man not even worth spilling blood over....a non entity....a pitiful excuse for a male....to take him down would not even be a challenge....plunging the sword into the ground, She instead curses the very premise he will walk on for eternity....his deeds will haunt him..he will feel the pain of Her absence......and the agonizing cold of not being in Her light....he will remain alone for the rest of his days....never knowing love again......his bitter tears will weep for a memory of Her....She will be gone from his life...but not absent from his mind....he will gnash his teeth at his stupidity......rip out his own hair......claw at his chest...and She will relish it....enjoy his immense suffering....knowing he will wallow in it....for the mercy of the sword was given...yet a greater punishment was imparted..... to be bound by the cries of his soul.....to be chained to his missgivings....to feel the lash of his own tongue .....shackled to his lonliness.....the shell of what was once a man will be all that remains....She gains power from releasing him.....standing tall as his suffering makes everything right....balance has again been made....one last long look She gives him as he cowers and sobs uncontrolably.....he is indeed completely removed from Her....the bond has been severed.....he has been released to the wind and the elements to do with him what they so wish.....tempests sharpness and turmoils tossing.....plunged back into the hell of solitude....purged by dispair....over ridden by grief......grasping the handle of Her mighty sword, She pulls it from the ground with a silvery, metal sound...twirls it cutting through the air making a whistle...She does not look back.....the stallion stomps at the ground with one hoof and nods his great head while snorting....he blinks his large, gentle brown eyes at Her....he is ready to carry his Queen once again...She approaches and strokes his velvety nose softly and smiles....he quivers under Her hand...She walks to his side....and slides the sword into its sheath with a clang....raises Her foot to a stirrup and pulls Herself up upon his mighty back...as She goes to turn him round.....reigns in Her hands, She reflects on the thought of a beast being more loyal and devoted than a man....She must share this knowledge with others....Her destiny is now reformed to face an uncertian future....yet She will go down fighting at the hands of insolence and betrayal as there is no tolerance for either....the great orange sun is kissing the horizon....creating a long shadow.....She nudges Her consort gently, leans down and whispers to him calmly......making way against a blood red sky....returning to the dense, unenclosed, woodland from whence She came.......~ |
| |
| |
|
|
' Sometimes what seems like surrender, isn't surrender at all. It's about what's going on in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the pain of not being true to it is far, far greater. ' ~ Nicholas Evans ~
~ She enters Her luxurious master suite followed by a very handsome older man carrying Her things...he sets them down gently and proceeds to approach the Lady from the back as She stands waiting....there is complete silence....he helps Her undress....unzipping Her little black sheath slowly, he lowers himself down to one knee so that She can step out of it.....She is left in Her black, fine italian leather mary jane style heels....black boy cut french silk panties with baby pink ribbon corseted up the sides....and the same black, french silk rutched corset with straps pushing up Her ample breasts...baby pink ribbon in a delicate bow in the center with a small dangling pink crystal...She steps out and makes Her way to the sitting area of the room....he gathers up the garment gingerly and disappears into the massive walk in closet to hang it up.....the sitting area is very luxurious....a gold silk overstuffed chair with burgandy demask pillows and red chenille blanket casually hanging over the arm....there is a mahogany end table next to it with various things upon it.....picture frames containing photos of Her on travels....candles in decorative votive holders..... a small lamp, and a stirling silver bell......there is also an ottoman of the same fabric to place Her feet upon should She so choose.....large black iron floor candelabras protrude above the height of the chair.....there are five thick red pillar candles upon both of them......various period paintings adorn the walls.....all of this in front of a huge floor to ceiling window with a beautiful gold silk swag puddling on the floor to accent the gothic architecture of the wood trim....She moves the various items off of the chair and proceeds to sit down.....stretching Her arms out on the rests and crossing Her legs, She reaches for the bell......shaking it three times, She sets it down and leans back to relax....no sooner than the echo of the bell ends, the man appears.....he is dressed in only black leather pants, no shirt and no shoes and socks....he stands in front of Her and She makes a motion to the end table with Her index finger....he bends slightly at the waist, opens the little drawer within the table and takes out some matches......hearing the scratch of the box and the hiss of the flame...he begins to light the candles one by one....the soft yellow glow flickers then becomes still....he then puts on Her favorite classical music to soothe and relax Her further....once again he stands before Her and She nods Her head making full eye contact with him...he slightly bends at the waist again dismissing himself to exit the room....She sinks into the chair, letting the comfort envelop Her and closes Her eyes to take a moment of rest.....She is mid thirties, petite with very strong features.....amber eyes....short jet black hair....red full lips.....a curvy frame.....and a highly intelligent mind.....the creshendo of the music makes her even more comfortable...beethoven seems to calm the savage beast that lies within Her....She opens Her eyes after a few minutes to see the man standing before Her holding a cherrywood tray.....upon it is a tea kettle, a hand painted porcelean cup with delicate pink flowers on it, matching saucer, honey and fresh lemon slices in clear small bowls and a single red rose in a crystal vase......She looks directly into his eyes without uttering a single word.....he nods and sets the tray on the unoccupied ottoman and drops to his knees...She brings Her hand to Her jaw as if in deep pondering.....watches his every move...all the while kicking out Her leg gently back and forth....he begins to pour the steaming hot tea into the delicate cup...he is very good looking....early fifties, head is almost shaved...just stubble, watery blue eyes, muscular build for a man of his age and the most beautiful hands She has ever seen....masculine yet gentle.....impeccable.....he takes great care to lift the cup to Her....already having added the perfect amount of honey and lemon to the tea.....She raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet Hers.....cup in Her right hand, saucer in Her left under the cup......She opens Her legs as he scoots closer in between them....the candlelight and music intensify the moment.....he begins to run his strong hands up and down Her thighs as if to massage them......he stares at Her adoringly....pleadingly....She continues to sip Her tea.....he leans into Her and his hands slide up to Her hips.....the glass and saucer clink....and She sips.....he slides his hands under the sides of Her panties and then makes a fist.....his skin upon Her skin...he is bound by his own devices....bound to Her by choice....Her panties being the ties that forever connect him to Her....he places his head in Her lap clutching onto Her....She places a hand upon his head stroking gently......tonight is a good night for devotion and tea.....for now both are in complete contentment.......without having said a word.......~ |
| |
| |
|
|
' I learned it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is only to be expected from the strong.' ~ Leo Rosten ~
~ A chariot races across the desert sands.....long leather reigns are within Her hands.....the stallions charge with all thier might....the sound of hooves pound as She takes flight.....Her amber eyes are rimmed with black...they hold no fear, there is no looking back......Her thighs stand strong, Her shoulders square.....raven hair blows everywhere....the burning heat, the smell of horses breath....as She rides into uncertian death....She is gentle, yet so very strong....speaking softly, now it won't be long.....through the sandstorms eye She charges fast.....Her lover waits, She's here at last.....he gazes upon Her, he is so proud.....stepping down Her feet touch ground....She walks to him with desire and joy....he is Her one and only boy.....into Her arms he feels hes home....and with Her love he's not alone......~
|
| |
| |
|
|
~ Descending from the heavens arrives an Angel dressed in black......Her toes touch ground as She steps down.......great wings behind Her back....She carries a torch which lights Her way.....so stumble She will not....the soft amber light which illuminates Her face.....burns long yet is not hot...She begins to walk Her destined path.....searching out a kindred soul....through briar brush and bramble...a distant bell begins to toll....the night is dark the stars are bright the moon is at its peak......listening to the world around Her...the blackness begins to speak....beware of those who make it thier goal to not portray what is right.....search for one who knows himself and whos heart is filled with might.....and on She goes Her face a glow the search continues still....through the night She shines Her light reflecting Her bold will.....and if by chance the moon pulls back to reveal another day.....Her torch goes out Her wings will twitch and She knows She cannot stay.....this Dark Angel on a search which only begins at night .... the light of day the suns first ray.....for now She must take flight.....~ |
| |
| |
|
|
~ The heart of a raven is pure...... it is free and soars just as She does.....Her glossy black feathers protect the innermost contents of it......Her clear amber eyes watching for one who would try to senselessly injure it.....Her beak ready to pluck out the precious orb of the one who tries to break it......but even though Her heart is a paradox of strength and delicacy.....She seems to find it shattered continously...... She has flown from one withered tree branch to another....searching for truth and honor yet finding emptiness and disappointment....however Her ravens heart desires to take flight involuntarily......and She perseveres once again spreading Her mighty ebony wings.....leaping from one of the lifeless branches under Her feet She does not look back.......upon the wind She searches for the perch that is strong and full of life with lots of emerald leaves......one that will uplift Her and show Her might......one that will suspend Her above the world to announce Her magnificence......one that is content to be the force beneath Her....this is the place where She can find Her peace.....to give Her ravens heart a home....to have hope once again......~ |
| |
| |
|
|
~ Great charcoal storm clouds begin to roll in as the rumble of thunder bellows from a distance....She stands on the precipice of an immense seaside cliff.....the wind blows Her raven black hair and Her red gauzy gown behind Her.....whipping side to side dancing as if She has commanded it to do so......Her presence is so demanding......its as if the invisible wind and the strong waves pay homage to Her and are ordered to obey without a spoken word....the elements are here to worship Her..... She tilts Her head back and stretches Her arms out to the side to encompass what She feels and hears.....returning to face foward position......She lowers Her arms to embrace Herself.......there is a chill in the air....yet it is not the weather that makes Her shivery.....its the standing at an immense chasm of a dark abyss....Her Sacred Heart needs someone.....for right now its realms are dark and empty.....a crown of thorns encircles it......with each passing day......the grip grows tighter piercing its tenderness causing it to bloodlet.....Her benevolence seeks mercy......without kindness or compassion.....yet She holds sensitivity....affection and love....narrowing Her amber eyes She anticipates the time when a worthy man will hold the key to Her heart....a man among men.....one who elevates Her to the place where She belongs....gives Her what She needs......delivers the notion of what She is born into......to grasp Her true nature......the sky is growing darker and lightning darts between the now immense clouds.....the warning of thunder cannot be suppressed........She can feel the rumble within Her whole being.....Her arms once again surround Her body.....however this time there is a warm aura about Her.....coming from behind She can feel a great burning......a smile erupts upon Her juicy ruby lips......Her eyes close.....on the surface of Her delicate arms.....are wrapped those of a strong man with dark hair.....he inhales the essence of Her ebony crown......and whispers into Her ear.....the Dark Lady has come home....~ |
| |
| |
|
|
~ Lightning rips through the darkness tearing the ebony veil of night away.....the silouette of a Woman appears.....the sudden, deafening crack of thunder does not slow Her confident stride....for She has walked one dark night after another.....the wind begins to pick up and Her hooded cloak blows back revealing the curve of Her hips......the ride of Her breasts....and those unmistakeable amber eyes which seem to reflect the least bit of light like a cat on the prowl....and She searches.....storm clouds give way to the moon.....the pale light illuminating Her dark crown of raven black hair.......within Her arms is a boquet of the bloodiest red roses which complement Her equally luscious ruby lips.....the sound of leaves blow in the wind......and She approaches a male form......dark, tall and strong he stands.....and She slinks up to him....agile as a jungle feline.......movements so fluid as if She is not actually human.....he descends to his knees without thought......She narrows Her eyes and licks Her lips.....all the while clutching Her roses.....to present them would be a great sacrifice for She has carried them for what feels like an eternity....waiting for the worthy.....and Her arms would exchange the boquet for his heart....for a pure heart....a heart of immense proportion.....a loyal only beating for Her heart .......looking upon his form.....She begins to pass him the bundle delicately......his arms outstretched.....the full moon etching his muscles......and reflecting the need in his eyes.....She warns him of the sharp thorns entwined within the beauty of the flowers.....and to not be hasty in taking them.....delicately and ever so gingerly he recieves them......not drawing blood upon his hands.....for he realizes to be as gentle with Her as he is with Her gift.....to not be fooled by beauty....as it can house sharpness if not cautious.....She puts Her trust in him to not fail Her.....that he is deserving of Her heart.....and will not be cruel enough to impale it with harshness nor neglect.......and to always be conscious of the divine gift of this Dark Lady......~ |
| |
| |
|
|
~Through the mist and the fog this Dark Lady appears....bursting forth upon the back of a inky black stallion....She looks around as Her steed flares his nostrils and stamps his hooves....a muffled bellow erupting from his throat....She touches his neck gently.....assuring him .....calming him.....whispering to him.....and he proceeds to carry her.....She depends upon him for his strength.......his protection .....and his loyalty....to ride upon his mighty back when She is too weary to walk.....and he seeks Her for guidance.......direction......compassion....and honor....to interject his life to protect Her at all costs.....the two are in complete harmony ~ |
| |
| |
|
|
For those who have not spoken to me personally......I am a sensual Domme....I am not kink or pain driven......I have a unique method of control.......it is mental and physical......My eyes will level you to your knees with one glance.......My lips will make you have an unquenchable thirst.....My bodys gestures are like moving art.......My words will unleash your innermost desires.....I expect my potential sub to be able to converse on a deeper level than is expected......to delve into the blackest realms of the heart.....to have high intelligence.....a need to put Me on a throne and lay his head in My lap......clutching My thighs in desperate need......to serve....to adore......to worship.....to love......for there is no greater gift than to love and be loved in return.... |
| |
| |
|
|
| |
|
Male Dominant, 45
|
Male Dominant, 49, Denverish, Nevada
|
Male Dominant, 40
|
Male Submissive, 47, Glasgow
| | |
Male Submissive, 26, Wading River, New York
|
Female Submissive, 45
|
Female Dominant, 30, North Carolina
|
Female Submissive, 32
| | |
Male Dominant, 43
|
Female Submissive, 22
|
Female Submissive, 30, temple, Texas
|
Male Switch, 31, Manchester
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
