One of my past submissives was a professional writer, a poet, he had a beautiful way with words that I adored. His mind was a messy complexity of wild imagination, odd and loud, and full of pretty things, and he offered it up unfettered to me, revelling in my enjoyment of it. We would play with each other in that way, throwing words in each other’s faces, conjuring up a strange magic that would floor me every time.
I once pointed him to some writing that I liked.
“Here’s something you might enjoy,” I said innocently.
He curled his nose … Continue Reading
