You do know, there is such a thing as too strongly bucking the system? Moi? Yes, and I plan to do it again.
Oh, Dear, the looks I have gotten would positively kill..were I one to give them any sense of credit, for deviousness to play along my own skin. Alas, yes, I do so tend to buck against the steadfast. Throwing a curve, a kink, into the perfectly balanced little machine that appears to run without a whisper of failure in the works. However, all things were designed with a human hand upon them, and thusly I find they are prone to being full of lies. Deceit so masterfully designed, that one would beckon madness in the tedious manners to disengage their little charade.
Are you still with me? Lovely.. I have moved beyond you.
“To each his own”. We have all heard this, and find it to be true, especially when you run the spectrum of what deliciously gathers between one’s thighs. For me, it’s him. There is something utterly, and profoundly cosmic in the way he knows me. Like an aged wine, he appears when the moment is perfection to release the cork, and sip from the years of nectar that have ripened to a peak. That pristine pleasure that coats the tongue, and eases the very soul into somewhat of a stupor. Chaos met with a refined confinement of seemingly normal existence.
I have a submissive soul that has always seeped through the cracks and crevices of the world I inhabit. It is neither here, nor there. Not overly loud amidst the screams of the more flamboyant partakers, but, not silenced either. A whisper would not do it justice, but there is more upon my tongue than a single melody. It is a symphony to coax the realization of a heart left undiscovered.
Do I kneel? No. Must I? No. Were he to ask it of me, I would find a wilted spot before him, and beckon that deliciously teasing trace of fingers within my hair. Oh, but the peace that entangles my very core in that he neither needs, nor cares for such, is something altogether liberating. Allowing the tattered shards of a life still young in various ways, to piece together at their own pace. A pace, perhaps, even unknown to my own discovery; yet..
A submissive without the direct woven enactment of submission!? Ah! Did I not say I was beyond you, Dear?..
There are all kinds within the world, and no cookie cutter mold shall do justice to one more than the other. For me. For us.. There is a mutual meeting of something stronger than the bonds placed in words, and I find myself free to be lacking in freedom, for the sake of being unshakably..unwittingly..helplessly..hopelessly captured in freedom. Understand yet?