Kayden Kross Blog
Don't ask me what I want, I want dominant. I don't want to
be asked I want to be made. I want to be told and pulled throat first down on
your cock, hair in your fists, eyes watering and sated. I want to be brought
back up for air, briefly, back against the wall, back in your line of sight,
bowing, sweating, begging. I want to be held up by the neck, fingers pressed
against my lips sweetly and falsly. Shhhhh. I want eye contact that shuts me
Don't call me a good girl, I don't want approval. Call me a whore.
Call me all of the things you can't love on principal or in real life. Call me
over and over again to get me alone, vulnerable, knees down and dirty on the
floor of a darkroom, bloodshot. Call me because you know when you say jump I'll
offer you my spit and my face and a body to clean up on. Call me lowly because
you know I'm already waiting and I'll hear. Call me easy and whenever you like.
Don't give, I want to be taken. Mark me, up. Draw me in and
watch me strive. Put me down and in my place. Strike and render the blow earned.
Plunge and I'll relax back into it, arched, curved, twisted into what makes you
push yourself harder into me. Canvas and clay. Mold me into what suits you.
Give me a brush and I'll stroke.
Don't forget where I stand, below you. Make me something
from which you want results. Make me reigned in, collected, pooled effectively
at your feet, gaze wide and pleasing, cock in hand and wanting and speaking in
tongues that plead. Please and thank you make me polite before you, before the
thrust of a million submissions, a million perfect highs and lows.
Don't break. Don't break the dominance and don't give in.
Don't need rest. Don't untie unfasten unravel. Don't stop. Don't forget that if
you've got me here you've got me more than most. Let's pretend for arguments sake
that this is all for you.
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