Hi Miss Tumblr.
How’s the reception where you are? I have four bars, in case you are curious.
Bet you are dying inside to hear my voice, aren’t you?
Don’t worry, my arrogance is only deafened by my desire for you, so in some ways, my worship of you humbles me.
You see, I was fortunate I suppose in some ways. My voice is just one of those deeper ones. I hear that is supposed to be attractive to women, but I’m just not all that certain about that.
I’m just kidding. I totally know what my voice does to you. Soaks you as soon as I start to speak, doesn’t it?
But do me a favor. I want to imagine it for me, whispering in authority, right into your ear, as my bourbon-laced breath hits your neck and my Versace Blue violates your sense of smell.
I need your voice now, Miss Tumblr.
I need your moans. I need to hear you ask for permission to cum and I need to tell you “No, not yet.”
I need to edge you until it drives you mad. I need your orgasm teetering on my ego. I need to know that you are breaking inside, just falling apart waiting so impatiently for that voice to give you access to heaven.
I know you need my voice.
So I stay silent.
Turning you inside out and upside down as your fingers rub your clit into a frenzy, all the way to the brink, then stop, then start again.
You need my voice. Just two words. You need it so bad you are crying inside.
You beg me, one more time, and then you hear my voice, and the magic words are like a key turning a lock and the gate opens up when I say:
Also published on Medium.