In your mind am I, as a female dominant, wearing a red leather corset pulling me into a breathless 19 inches, a leather skirt cut just below my hoo hoo (it is mine I can call it what I want), thigh-high shiny black patent leather boots with laces criss-crossing up the back and heals that are 5 inches of devastation, and do I have a single tailed whip in one hand and a exquisite leather flogger in the other? Do you think that my lips are always juicily red, full and pouting, eyes rimmed kohl, hair flowing as if blown by soft and sensual winds, and is my skin milky white perfection? Okay boys, if you have a hard on now, girls if your sweet little pussy is wet… I do hope you will forgive me the next paragraph.
That 19” waist… not happening today, I don't think my bones are that skinny. Flip flops are on my feet, everyday, last time I wore heals was in Vegas going to a party and took them off after an hour. House security made me put them back on, damn them and their silly rules. I don’t own anything made of leather, no flogger, no whip (find my hand works perfectly well). My skin is tanned from being outdoors in the garden or from walking one of my three dogs or one husband and does tend to freckle… no, milky white perfection, alas. I have some red lipstick in the back of the makeup drawer, but I do think that particular shade makes me look slightly ridiculous. And my hair… it is a pretty shade of red. But seldom is it blown mysteriously by unseen winds. Okay... I have one perfection, I am vain about my fingers, they are long and have perfectly shaped nail beds and never have I even considered acrylics as my own are strong and shiny with just a little buffing and also proud of my pretty pedicured toes (forgive the alliteration)… which I have shared here in the past. But really, I am not some fantasy Domme. I am just me, Honey. Oh... I do have nice breasts... lovely cleavage I have been told, but those pesky freckles are quite abundant there.
I wear jeans and a t-shirt, or shorts and a t-shirt most days, well except for to work where I wear capris and a t-shirt. And probably wouldn’t consider changing into the leather (assuming I owned any) if I was going to put you over my knee and spank your bare bottom. My hope is always that if you came to me you would find my mind as sexy my physical self. That if you are ready to offer yourself, your submission it will be to the me that is real. And the real me... isn't that fantasy from paragraph one.
If you need all the accoutrements that is a fantasy Domme… that leather clad, ruby lipped, cinch waisted woman holding the flogger, well, I could probably dress up and play that part. But that is not my game, and would be for you. I have said in the past, what turns you on, turns me on and I can appreciate the wanting of something to fulfill a fantasy. Sharing a fantasy is a powerful thing. And so, if you need that… I might oblige. But understand it isn’t for me, it is for you. And is not the me that is here everyday. And in general this image, this stereotype isn’t 99% of those I have met that designate themselves as dominant or a Dominant (pick your capitalization and stick with it, Honey).
Why am I posting this? Why am I exposing myself as less then the perceived perfect Dominatrix? Because I hope that the reality of me, if you bother to get to know the real me, that you will find that is better than some kinky Barbie doll of a fantasy Domme. Maybe you won’t… and if not… I will try to cinch my waist another day. But today, you just get me… flip flops and all.
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