One thing that has struck me in the time that I have been practicing my craft is the number of would-be or trial submissives I've encountered or given the privilege of taking on for training who simply cannot accept what they ask for. It is one matter to write me an email expressing your deep, twisted desires. It is quite another to be bound and gagged with me standing over you, crop in hand. Do not be so surprised when I begin to toy with the perverse, delightful intentions you have expressed to me. If you cannot accept your subordination and the route my dominance will take, do not be so explicit in your communications.
I am not impressed by a submissive who can describe and imagine outlandish scenes of degradation and pain. I am impressed by a submissive who, inch by inch, week by week, crawls closer, stumbling over my heels and biting on the gag, toward the lofty heights of utter submission. I will tease out and craft your fantasy. I will not tolerate your fantasies of selfhood.
I have a submissive who, when I first began to meet with him, laughed in doubt at the equipment of torturous rapture in my space. As time has progressed, I find myself applying the whip to him, digging the sharp point of my heel into him to degrees he'd only imagined, dribbling chocolate and white wine off of my tongue and onto my stocking-clad feet to force into his mouth. He has grown as a kinkster and deviant in such delightful ways. And that, my dear sluts, pleases your mistress.
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