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Waiting
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Waiting Waiting is not a Gemini trait she decided as she sat and checked the time on her cell one more time. It had been this way when they had met on a dating site, She would write something to him and then wait for days to receive a reply. She would check his profile and feel like a stalker, she wanted to know if he had visited the site that day and just chosen not to communicate with her. She was damed if she was going to contact him again, instead she took the desire and wrote or designed. He had sparked a curiosity in her to understand who she was, really. She was remembering that there were in her lifetime more than her fair share of encounters in which she could have chosen to play different roles in the relationship, she always chose the submissive role. Playing a switch was possible, but not comfortable. Giving a man what he wanted was her way. She enjoyed teasing and playing all of it designed to prolong his pleasure as well as her own. Now though she was in uncharted territory. Being submissive and being a submissive were very different. She was trying to understand terms like humiliation and what does it really mean? Is there more than being told that you are a slut, cunt, worthless and what was the purpose? She could not fathom the mind of a Dominant and had a feeling that could prove to be dangerous. She had been careful who she took an interest in, someone who was older and she hoped someone who had some experience, she had none. She was a bit fearful of those that talked about collars and cuffs, not that she didn't find them a turn on, but to be helpless and totally under the control of someone she was just meeting not only made her wet, but hesitant. She had never let anyone tie her up in a way she could not escape. It was a game, but one in which she had control. He had been very clear that control would be his and his alone. She had avoided those who talked of showing her off, she knew she was not a show piece. When she thought of a<b> man wanting </font></b>to do that, she saw a woman who looked fantastic in all ways, perfect hair, body. The scanty pieces she was allowed to wear looked better because she wore them. She had grown up the blue eyed devil in a family of dark eyed people. Her father's people were strong featured and she looked like her father in facial structure with eyes so deep set in the high cheekbones that it was easy to miss the slant that went with them. The skin colored in the freckles that her mother had called her private constellations. Her private dreams had included her being able to unzip her skin to step out with dark skin, that included shiny black hair---not the towhead tangled halo of her hair. She was built with the curves that would have made her a goddess in an earlier age, but she grew up in a time when being built more like a boy was the favored look. The idea that a man would proudly show her off was not really within her comprehension. He had made it clear that he was free to do with her as he willed. Was she looking for someone who could push the limits she had set upon herself? He had said that an interview was to be set up and so she waited to hear a beep on her phone that told her where she was to meet him. Everything would be of his choosing, from where, to how he would use her. She had agreed and now the gypsy part of her was questioning her sanity. How could fifteen minutes be so long a time? How could it stir all this in such a way? The answer was easy. She wanted it, needed it. Now had she chosen wisely? Beep. |
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nice text.....
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I'm not Spanish but Portuguese. You do not have to thank. Comment with great pleasure!
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These are magnificent blogs. I am an avid blog reader and love how you write. note, flirts are fun but being a lowly standard member, emails from niteowls make me smile.
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