I’ve known sub j for 10 years but because of this pandemic we had not played in sometime. One of the qualities I adore most about him is that he loves to make me laugh. Using his creative kinky ideas, I was delightfully surprised to find these lovely temporary tattoos all over his body. Some great dedication to entertaining his Daddy.
Reflections from sub j with consent:
Ten years. A decade. I’ve eagerly attended to Mistress Lucy’s whims for slightly longer than that. Ten good years.
I prepared myself as well as possible for our session—special outfit (worn through the streets of New York under a long coat); temporary tattoos, one of which was of her gracious face, placed hither and yon on my body; special underthings; an orb of surgical steel secreted in a place favored by drug mules; and a gold “Bitch” necklace. All carefully curated with one aim: to please Mistress Lucy.
Mentally, I rigorously chastised myself. In my EBL (Everyday Boring Life) I can be unemotive or stoic. Not during our session. No. The importance of communicating to Mistress Lucy my abject and total adulation of her Goddess presence reigned paramount. Not relaying it in words, but body language and gestures.
Kneeling at her feet, her knee-high boots glistening, I kissed and licked, slathering devotion, gazing up along the dizzying op-art of her sensuous curves encased in fishnets. I banished my EBL taciturnity, and adored Mistress Lucy openly, without reserve. This is something she never has to ask for, but which I am compelled to offer—adoration as a tribute, or a tithe. In causing me to banish my taciturn persona, Mistress Lucy sets me free.
The Lady smiled down on me, and my heart swelled. Here is the key ingredient to our magnificent feast of the senses: cherishment. I can only surrender my body to the sadistic whims and amusement of one I cherish, and who makes me feel cherished in return.
Mistress Lucy satisfies on all counts. The four hours flew by, and she abused me coquettishly, yet fiercely, to the cusp of my fantasy horizons and beyond. So much so that I still break into a smile when an intense flashback seizes me, much like the aftershock of an old acid trip. My smile prompts my EBL companions to ask, “What are you thinking about?” To which I must reply: nothing. Not only do I cherish Mistress Lucy’s divine form and presence, but I cherish the memory of basking in her aura of confidence and guile.
Some things are too precious to share, especially with the vanilla EBL crowd.
***Note to readers: I like to write in a free flow manner without editing much***