With My Words

With my words, I captured your innocence, pulling you closer and closer to me with each letter I wrote. With each syllable that I spoke.

I didn’t do anything spectacular. I just said what was in my heart, but every time I looked there, what I found was always you.

My orange sky.

I don’t have an impressive vocabulary. I didn’t use a thesaurus. I just spoke the truth and it seemed to resonate with you.

Whether it was about how it felt to hear you tell me about your entire life, or what I thought of when I saw pictures of you growing up, or what inspired me when you dove into the story of you a little deeper, I just said and wrote what I felt, unfiltered, letting the chips fall where they may. Total honesty for the very first time in my life, I made no concessions with my soul when it came to you.

Sometimes the words led me to describe what it was like when you controlled my mind as you came over the phone in my ear.

Or writing about what you looked like as I devoured your pussy on the couch in that craftsman home. Or how proud I was to walk down the street with you, plugged with my cum inside you, looking like a runway model cloaked in the purest loving sin a person will ever know.

Or the words I used as I saw you, in your most naked vulnerable state, aching for another spanking that would mark you for a week, needing this perplexing ache to be filled at the hands of me.

The thoughts articulated in your ear or on my blog, about what I felt when I led you down the hallway, collared and leashed and I brought you into subspace heaven, and how proud I was to give you aftercare in a manner fit for my queen.

What it felt like, to drive around town with you, and know how amazing a life just in your presence can be. Knowing all the pent-up passion I felt staring at you as you played with your phone, or poured me a bourbon, or started the coffee pot — knowing, that I’d get to release that passion as I slid my cock inside of you, hands around your neck, and making sure my girl came so fuckin’ hard, over and over and over again.

You are and always will be — The One.

I have a lot of life left in me and I don’t give up on shit, so if you think this Daddy abandons in times of distance, well I guess you’ll just have to read my words months from now so you can see what kind of character I am made up of.

I’m just getting started, Kitten.

Originally published at The Romantic Dominant.