#tempter
If the past two weeks have taught me anything it’s that I’m made of strong stuff. I don’t fit the usual standards. My heart, the way I love, my kinks, the ways I like to talk and fuck. Even my body. Its an expression of my bigness. I’m supposed to stand out.
I push when things get hard and I cry when people read me poetry. I say ‘yes’ when my whole body is screaming ‘no’. I’m stronger than my loneliness because I wont let it compromise my values or what I know I deserve.
It’s really easy to write people off who treat you like shit. Hard is holding people accountable when you’ve taken on the submissive role. Hardest is walking away when the connection feels real and deep because your needs aren’t being met.
It’s strange, it’s impolite, it can be lonely.
But damn, guys.
There is power in your vulnerability.
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I knew it was over
after hours and hours
sometimes days of silence.
It was like he switched off the light and left.
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He asked me to meet him at our place. The place we first hypnotized each other on leather chesterfields with cocktails in hand.
I came in late and flustered, but the second I saw him standing with his head tilted, watching me, everything else just melted away.
He started the British way (with apologies). He called himself selfish and said he knew he had work to do.
He said he loved me. That he had been thinking of reaching out for weeks.
He recited all the things I had asked for before we broke up and said yes to each one.
He said he knew that being my Daddy came with responsibilities and that he was commited to honoring that.
I keep wondering if I’m dreaming or having some sort of of psychological break.
MaybeI’ve finally cracked.
Why am I not more worried opening myself back up to this man? Where is the resistance and resentment and anger I should have towards him?
Should I be scared or did I ask and receive an answer?
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I wonder what making big promises feels like.
Asking feels like dangling by your fingertips,
but some girls like that sort of rush.
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Henry & June (1990)
Daddy went to fancy schools,
has favorite operas,
his “casual” dress is what most men in the PNW consider dressing up.
I sometimes feel as if I have to reach just a littler higher to be on his level. It’s infuriating and intoxicating and I can’t get enough.
He never, ever makes me feel lesser. He lists my best traits, tells me he’s proud of me, and calls me his Princess…..but I’m curious how it would feel to be talked down to….just alittle.
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I was 10 minutes late because I couldn’t decide on the right bra and panties
and then I wouldn’t leave
because I couldn’t take a decent picture to tease him with on the Lyft over.
As the minutes ticked by,
I was increasingly excited and nervous.
“He’swaiting.
I’mmaking my Daddy, my Dominant wait for me. “
It was a bit of a test.
He knows I test him. I deny it.
Sometimes he lets me get away with my tests.
Last night……my perfectly chosen, pretty panties were stuffed into my mouth while he fucked me and slapped my face.
“There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.“
- Poe
If I had to describe Tempter with just an image I’d choose one of a man confidently leaping into the unknown with both feet.
The thing is. Those of us who think too much, who feel deep and rarely leap, are often drawn to leapers.
Moth, meet flame.
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