Fuck Me, for Christ’s sake. Why do I have to write this god damn essay like I’m applying for college. Well, here it goes. The Oscar-Meyer-Biggs test told me I was an INTJ or was it LMNOP? Anyhow. That stuff is super valid and important, so you should totally take it to heart, because you know, super vague, over-generalized bullshit perality tests matter once you've surpassed the age of 14. Despite my penchant for coming off as rude, I have quite the fan club. They write love letters, make me hand-knit scarfs, and bake me pies. If that isn't *the* life, Kanye was talking about. I don't know what is. Look, fuck it. I definitely lied about the fan club, but I promise baby, I won't lie to you again. On to the fun stuff! I enjoy not camping, day-trips, backpacking. I also desperately love the indoors. Reading, movies, and napping because I never seem to have the time to actually obtain a full night's rest. I try to avoid trendy places and things at all costs! I'm very selective with the people I surround myself with, but when I like you. I'm very loyal and will be there for you. So…Anyway, please love me forever and ever. PS. I k how men can't read BUT IM NOT GAY! I DONT WANT YOU TO SUCK MY DICK.

Mijn Ideale Persoon: Here, you are cuffed, snugly gagged, and gently blindfolded.

You’re unable to move, unable to speak, unable to see.

These bonds are entirely comfortable. And inescapable.

You’re completely safe.

This is not the ordinary, everyday kind of safety where you’re safe as long as you don’t make some mistake. Safe as long as you don’t forget to look before crossing the road. Safe as long you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Safe as long as you don’t go to the wrong place at the wrong time. Safe as long as you don’t do something that someone somewhere has decided is offensive.

No.

This is *absolute* safety.

Here, you can do nothing. Say nothing. See nothing.

You can harm no one. You cannot harm yourself. And you can come to no harm.

And you have no choice, no option to stop, to escape, to become unsafe. You have no choice *but* to be safe. This is your captivity, your imprisonment, your sentence.

As you lie helpless I may play with you, tickle you, spank you, torture you, ravish you, dominate you, hypnotize you, or, perhaps, if I choose, leave you alone. Anything and everything that I might wish to do.

And you will be safe.

I may temporarily take off your blindfold if there’s something I wish you to see. I may temporarily take off your gag if there’s something I wish you to say. I may temporarily remove your bonds if there’s something I wish to make you do.

And you’ll be safe.

And then you’ll be cuffed, gagged, blindfolded again. This is where you come back to, your default state.

Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to see.

And, you’ll be safe.

Completely.

Absolutely.

Safe.

You can do anything you want. Struggle, try to escape, cry, fight back. Or do nothing.

And you’ll be safe.

You can feel any emotion you feel. You can hate me or love me, be happy or sad, angry or delighted, bored or excited, desperate or blissful.

And you’ll be safe.

The duration of your captivity is up to you. Like going on a roller coaster ride, you can choose if you want to go on a ride, you can choose whether you want a long ride or a short one.

And then you’ll have no choice. You’ll be safe for the duration you’ve chosen.

How long do you want to be safe for?

Deel één van uw favoriete seksuele fantasieën. Houdt u niet in!:
I have this image in my mind whenever I hear Pachelbel's
Canon. I see a dark haired brunette. Wrist tied. Ankles
tied down to the end of the bed post. She is wearing a nice
little garter belt. Beautiful stockings. Legs wide open.
Laying her stomach flat on the edge of her bed. <br><br>
As she bends forward over the bed, she recognizes the surge
in her belly. It is the main reason why she loves this game,
the feeling of muscles tensing and relaxing as her nervesk
and body prepare for the assault, no matter how consensual
the act. My hand, stroking up over your ass and hips became
the center of the surge, the conduit of tension, and she
straightens her legs, parts them even more to give me a clear
view of her thighs, ass and slit. The submission of being
exposed does nothing but heighten her sensitivity, skin
aching in a desire to be touched, kissed, even slapped and
mangled. Her heart hastened at the sound of my voice as I
bend over her. <br><br>
I put my hand on her ass, feeling the rounded form, softly
at first, and then kneading harder and harder until the
flesh reddens, white marks turning to a blush as my hand
moves. She lets out a sexy whimper. It feels good to hurt
her, to be just the slightest bit too hard on the hand, causing
her skin to sting. <br><br>
I can't help but to knead and pinch her skin harder and
harder, pushing the limits for what she can take without
screaming. When I see her biting her lip, eyebrows twisted
in pain, I give her a hard slap low on the cheeks, watching
her skin deepen to an unhealthy red as all the blood rushes
to the point where her cunt disappears down between her
legs. <br><br>
My hand strokes her hair now, comforting, whispering sweet
nothings in her ear. <br><br>
"You can take one more? Good girl. You're such
a nice little slut, very pretty. Quiet, my little bitch,
this is going to be so good."

Over welke locatie voor een seksuele ontmoeting fantaseert u?:
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