Pinching myself does nothing to awaken me from the current reality that has become my status quo.
I’ve somehow turned into a big giant pile of delicate feelings over a woman and it would be rather pathetic to witness in myself if I felt I had a choice in the matter.
Nevertheless, I saw what you did, little one.
My collared sub, ecstatically owned, the centerpiece of it all.
I am now but the world’s most perverted Prince Charming finding himself somehow thrust into the middle of an X-rated fairytale of Dominance and Submission, rescuing the damsel in distress each day from her own little aching pussy, soaked with liquid passion over the man typing these words.
Somehow in hindsight, it makes no sense yet it still totally does.
As you cum for your prince with the voice that plays in my head like church bells, I poetically remind you each and every day that none of this shit means anything to me without you as the muse behind it all.
The public love story that you and I now somehow find ourselves the stars of.
Still, nobody but you and I get to know the addictive taste of each other’s kiss. The scent of your perfume and the taste of your mints.
The feeling of my tongue rapidly bringing you to orgasm, the look in my eyes as I do it, or the delightful caress of your lips on the head of my cock.
No one but you and I know the connection our eyes make when I am inside you. Nobody else sees that expression you make when you are just about to cum for me. Nobody knows what I look like when I flood you with my seed.
How did we end up here, my collared angel? My commitment is to always keep you ecstatically owned.
Also published on Medium.