Delectable Deviants

All in the eye contact.

A contract as much ‘I adore what you do to me’, as it is ‘I dare you to break me’.

My gaze in return will show you nothing, for my secrets are locked away.

in the back of my mind. Coursing through my veins to tempered hand, vivid and vicious imaginations. tantalising caresses to bring forth your most scintillating sighs. Then strike after strike after strike.

Lay there, bound and still attempt to underscore that you’re the master of your own destiny. That you own the rules by the devilment of such a stare.

But make no mistake as to whom is in command of the entire situation, Miss. For your delicious prettiness matched with the tempestuousness of your gaze makes for quite the concoction within my oeuvre.

And each underlining machination thereafter will be livid lightning upon your sexuality, your being, vivaciously melting at all aspects of your universe. 

The heroin chic tears of your mascara falling, I will adore. As the pain gets too much. As it seeps into sheer wanton as you year to be touched, fingered, fucked. To mess up such blissfully painted puckered lips with my cock, as such a sinful red smears up and down my command to use your mouth. Struggle. Go on, struggle.

And when I see you shattered and wanting me. To undo your binds, to be deep between your legs - as my design is to cover your face my the heat of my anger and lucifer overtones.

Where will that defiance be then, Miss. 

Will it be throbbing at the tiops of your thighs, begging me to lick it.

Will I get bad girl turned to obedient at such a point.

And at such a point, will I consider you deserving?

(via themostdangerousplaything)