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You. I know you. You were there the day I stopped being the sweet, innocent girl and realized what great power I had. The day I became a true bitch, a wicked, wild she-wolf, feral and free. It was the day I first truly knew the power in my flashing golden eyes, my cruel, pink Cupid's bow lips, and my luscious, fragrant cunt, that same, deep, hungry pink as my smirking, mocking mouth.
You were there the day I realized that I was the Huntress and you were my vulnerable little prey, like a tender, tiny pig, to be culled and devoured for my delight. It was your weakness, your pathetic nature that drew it out of me, inexorably, like the moon draws the sea. I sharpened my teeth and claws on your secret shame, that you may have been able to hide from everyone else, but not from me. I smell the stink of it upon you and I want to pounce!
You know your place in the natural order of things. Crawling, mewling, begging, fawning, offering your throat and belly to this force of nature shaped like a woman. You come to me, slithering like a worm, your insignificant cock clutched in a filthy hand, crabbed from constant, fervent masturbation, because no real woman wants that sad little mistake near her. You crave to know what having a real cock would be like and the delights a woman might know from that huge, throbbing, meaty monster, oh and I can make you understand it, and the thought makes you burn in terrifying and confusing ways.
Or you come to me to admit that you are a cosmic error and seek redemption through service, through emptying yourself of all of your foolish notions, possessions, wealth, relationships, self control, hah, as if you have any, and becoming a clean vessel for my will.
Or you come to me as a revenant, a devotee desiring to taste the power that wells from me, and I will make you over in that power's image, initiate you into the sacred mysteries of womanhood, until you are my delicate princess, kneeling sweetly at my feet.
I have plans for you. Maybe they involve crushing your face to the sweet musk of my beautiful hairy armpit. Perhaps queening you, smothering your ugly face beneath my huge, gorgeously fat ass, between these thighs that are like pillars of the earth. Maybe I'll torture that dangling little grub between your legs for daring to try to be the tool of a real man. I could force you to service my huge strap on, or my gorgeous lover's thick, 9 inch cock as we laugh and laugh, the ampalang bar through its hefty head making you choke pathetically until your learn to be a real, loose slut for me. I love the thought of you licking the dirt off the soles of my size 10 feet, glorious and naturally wide and strong from years of barefoot walking and running, I could crush you into paste with these feet.
But better yet, why don't we just start with a conversation. Let the honey of my voice lull you down and deep, like warm milk, like a fur lined cradle, until you just don't even know how I teased from you all of your most hidden, most repressed and depraved needs, and you find yourself doing things at my behest you never even knew you needed, but, deep down know that a creature like you has always deserved. Yes. That would please me. And you do want to please me.
These are just a few of the things I like to talk about, if you don't see it here, ask, politely. I love to know what personal perversions make little subs tick, and if you earn it and entertain me sufficiently, I may force them upon you.
Lifestyle Control (diet, sleep schedule, leisure time, and more, should
Whatever fiendish, creative things I can dream up to tease, test and torment you!
Lest you be confused, I am in fact a lifestyle domme in addition to pro-domme, and under no circumstances do I offer submissive conversation. You can expect to find me a delight to converse with when approached respectfully, but I will not alter my personality for anyone's whims. I'm a punk rock powerhouse, a clever bitch, and utterly unconventional. My style, my attitude, my tattoos and piercings, the shaved patch on my head, my hairiness, whether my nails are manicured or chipped and dirty, it's all to entertain myself and not to be some barbie doll for the male gaze. I'm not "sophisticated", or "classy", I'm wild, dirty, honest, open, pretty butch, pretty brilliant, and at all times, my own favorite flavor of sexy. Think you can handle that? Try me.