The lost girl
she drifts… like a pretty fall leaf, wafting along on the wind… no real direction.. no place in mind to finally settle. her fear though, is being crushed, shattered, and torn apart beneath the boot of a strong Man, that could – without effort, within moments.. do so.
In contrast , she yearns to be trampled, to feel the boot on her face , her head, trapping her hair beneath the leather. to feel her body smushed, held captive. A scarier thought, grips and claws at her mind.. the foot against her throat. A Dominant’s hands around her throat, and even more sensual…. a black leather belt…controlling her breathing. It is possible for her to give that total control, the complete and utter surrender. But she fears it. It petrifies her.
People ask her all the time.. ‘why.. aren’t you owned? collared? branded?”
She could say .. “ohhh i was, in the past, and it didnt work out..” or.. “i am a better submissive free and able to serve” … “i am a man’s fantasy…someone that a man goes to.. to fulfill desires even while He is with someone else… ”
Those are true answers. But doesnt explain why she aches so badly for those things (being owned fuckflesh.. branding.. a knife carving into her flesh)….. and then runs from them, at the same time.
Perhaps while she is drifting along in the wind…. she will find a place to settle. For answers to flood her mind, to calm all of her racing thoughts. To bring peace to her slaveheart. But what lingers in her mind… Who is the Man with the black boots standing on the side of the road, watching and waiting?