SERVING ME 101

I want you.

I want you to be mine.

I want you to *show* that you are mine, submissive to my every desire. Mine to do with as I please, to say yes as a good little boy should say to his Mistress, and never say no. To agree to whatever I want, whatever experiment, whatever position, whatever whim I might have in mind for you. I want you to agree that *my* pleasure is paramount, the end-all and be-all of your existence, and far more important than your own, to give me what I’m not getting elsewhere in the tedium of my life.

I want you to kneel naked before me, heels under your buttocks in that way you know I like, the way that spreads your ass cheeks just that little extra bit, making you hyperaware that your asshole is mine, too. I want your knees splayed wide, too, displaying the penis and balls dangling at the apex of your thighs–and that penis had better be hard; it’s disrespectful to be limp in front of your goddess.

I might want your hands clasped behind your back at the base of your spine, or I might want their fingers laced together behind your head, but either way, they will be out of my way, as you keep your head down and your shoulders back, displaying your chest and the nipples standing sentry there. You will not look up at my face, my breasts, or even my cunt unless I give you permission to; you are not worthy to gaze upon them without my will. I am a goddess, and you will show your devotion to me in the manner that pleases me best.

I want every inch of your body cleaned when you present yourself like a gift to me, scrubbed from head to foot, including behind the ears and between the toes. If I want you to wear cologne or perfume, I will let you know, but I do *not* want to smell your sweat until you’re bound and chained, and writhing in the ecstasy of the pain I can and will bestow upon you. I do not want to smell that stale cornchip odor on your feet, and I don’t want to smell stale urine on your cock—no, on *my* cock. If you are kneeling before me, submissive, then everything that was yours is now mine, and your penis is the most personal gift you can make. It will be mine.

Your armpits are to be shaved. This goes right along with the command that you must smell sweet and clean. So must your testicles. If I want hair on your ballsack, I will let you know, and give it time to grow. For right now, it must be as clean-shaven as your jawline. Possessing a beard and moustache are also out—they are signs of rebellion, of wanting to reassert your masculinity, and if you rebel, I will use my riding crop on the tender inner skin of your thighs.

I want you to worship me.

Are you worthy?