I’m here to be used, owned, and completely broken in by a real dominant who knows how to take control. I’m a needy, obedient sub who gets off on giving up every ounce of power, every shred of control, and letting you take me however you want. I’m not here to be sweet and vanilla — I’m here to be used hard, trained, and turned into exactly what you want.
I crave it all — my body stretched for your pleasure, my wrists bound so I can’t fight back, my mouth used until I’m dripping and gagging. I want your hands wrapped in my hair, your grip tight around my throat, your voice controlling every move I make. Make me kneel. Make me crawl. Make me beg. Hurt me, praise me, punish me. Turn me into your property.
Anal, bondage, rough use, deep throatfucking, impact play — I want to feel it all. I get off on being nothing but a hole for you, an object to use whenever and however you want. Control my orgasms, deny me until I’m shaking, edge me until I’m desperate, then finish me only when you decide I’ve earned it. Tie me down, blindfold me, and take your time — make me feel completely helpless, completely at your mercy.
I’m into CNC, objectification, sensory deprivation, breeding, free use — all the filth, all the kinks, all the ways you can remind me I’m here for your pleasure first, mine second. I want to be taken until I’m ruined, marked, and still begging for more. Make me your toy, your slut, your property. Push me, use me, own me. I won’t just take it — I’ll thank you for it.
And if you want to know what I dream about? Picture this… I’m tied spread-eagle to your bed, blindfolded, unable to move, feeling your hands explore every inch of me while I squirm. You keep me edged for hours, using toys, your fingers, your tongue — but never letting me cum. I’m begging, whining, losing my mind… until you finally decide I’ve earned it, and you fuck me so hard I can barely breathe. Or maybe I’m on my knees, wrists bound behind my back, drooling on your cock as you use my throat with no mercy, holding me there until my vision goes fuzzy and my body shakes. Maybe you throw me over the edge of the couch, grip my hips tight, and breed me deep — over and over until I can’t take anymore, but you don’t stop.
I want you to use me in public, whisper filthy orders in my ear, pull me into a quiet corner and remind me I’m yours. I want the ache the next day, the bruises, the marks — the proof that I belong to someone who knows exactly how to break me in.
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