I will never be submissive. Never be on my knees, eyes lowered and hands behind my back. I will never be tied or restrained; not by silk or rope, cuffs or sundry. I do not crave discipline or feel the need to be corrected. I will not ask permission or follow a schedule. I am not a domestic servant or a sexual acquiescent.
Your hands do not mark me, unless I demand it. Your arms do not pin mine unless I lead them there. If I am on my knees it’s because I want to tease you with the feminine power I have over your body. Your smacking my ass brings me the contrast to pleasure and sharpness of touch I enjoy because it shows me your passionate nature and not your dominance.
I may explain what I have done, but I do not ask forgiveness for it. I am focused and demanding and I require you to be my sexually assertive partner because I am coolly in control. Being in control is my right and natural place; I will maintain it completely unless you quietly demand that I accept your equally giving nature and make me bend to your will.
No, I will never be submissive; I am far too fond of men on their knees, their eyes and voices pleading with me. I delight in it with teasing laughter and tortured denial. A man’s lack of control makes me wriggle in pleasure and preen in accomplishment. The more I can edge him to distraction, the more of a dominant femme fatale, I feel.