There are times where I must consider myself a beast
To desire to obliterate your self to satisfy my need for your pleasure
That you desire this as well gives me pause
Because I must consider myself your champion
A dark soul, a brightly burning messenger of the night
Not as a blade because this is not your necessity
But your tormentor
I must consider the line to walk between the obliteration of the self into a object of control and service and lust
And my ability to bring you back from that brink
And whispers sweet somethings
Engage in passion behind mere pleasure
And sit reading a book aloud for storytime
You are a joy I never thought would be
I find the most interesting thing. If I am engaging with a submissive I almost can’t help but assume a Sir role. I’m not doing it deliberately, it’s just that their need immediately changes my behavior. I could be depressed or sad and if they need, I immediately switch to the caregiver/Sir role. It’s like all the bullshit slips away and I’m left with the simple desire to make their world work again. And afterwards, whatever negative feelings I had are gone. Call it a need to be needed or just a slip into the role that feels most right. But if I think of things in those terms, if I’m approached in those terms, the certainty of my place in the world makes me and whomever I engage with, have a better experience.
Just where my thinking goes this morning.
I’m staring at a blank screen, starting then stopping, erasing and trying to find words to describe this whirlwind of I don’t know and how to proceed and what am I doing and it’ll all be worth it and am I failing and not getting there and waking up early and she tells me I push and they say that I don’t and I am confused and I am certain and I want to move forward and I don’t know what forward is and it’s either falling apart or coming together and I can’t tell which and I am always strong but I’m not always strength and I seem silent but I need to speak and I don’t have any answers to the questions I ask and I’m waiting and I am impatient and I want the truth and I can’t seem to find it and I break but I’m not broken and I give in to my emotions and I can’t know what is the right time and I am embarrassed by things I can’t change and I hear Sir and I need it and all of this incoherence as I stare at the blank screen
Every thought, every word, every dream is of you
I seek the next chapter or next poem
and you stand, distant and close
your hand over my heart
feel it beating?
it beats with joy, a joy that is you.
My miss, it beats and I feel you, a deep connection
You have woken me from my long slumber
You are mine, my miss
I am yours, your Sir
I’m trying to write and thoughts of you slip in. I try to keep writing, but now I’m only asking myself, what are you up to. I’m thinking about what we can do together, what you think, what you’ll say.
The thrum like a plucked string when you call me Sir. How everything falls away, casual conversation and my day. One word and I am laser focused, need and desire building inside like a runaway thermonuclear reaction. The pain of us being so far from each other. I need you.
I’m losing my mind, out of control with desire. Want to throw you down and take you. Animalistic need drives through me like a flood. All controlled by the walls of Sir. Touch you to awaken your fire, burn with me. My dear, my little miss, mine.