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Showing posts with the label The Whore

In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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When There's No Responsible Personality Left to Supervise

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NYC is almost within reach, just a few hours away.  I won’t lie.  I’m tired as fuck.  This weekend was a growth experience in more ways than I can currently count—with my fierce, BADASS Sister, with my Tribe, with my Community, for myself.  However I can’t shake the weariness nor find the blessed relief of sleep on this rainy, dreary return trip.   Instead I'm stuck.  I haven't been able to process all that happened or the resulting emotions that have filled me the last few days as I've run from one thing to another.  I'm trapped in a drop from a high that held no physical release.  Adrenaline, worry, joy, situational excitement, fierce pride, relief…yes to ALL that.  But energy-infusing pleasure or pain?  Orgasm?  Tears?  There was none of that in my cards.  Now in post-game, it’s everything I can do to maintain a train of thought and get my ass through the next step, and the next, and the next, so i can eventually get back to my little sanctuary.  ~whimper~  On top of
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The Need to Worship

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Most days I handle business like a champ and get done what needs to get done if not more.  Then there are other days.  Today is/was one of those days.  The ONLY thing that consumes my mind is having THAT dick in my mouth.  Not for just a few minutes.  Naaaa...I want His dick in my mouth for fucking hours. I. Fucking. Crave... The sight of Him hard and ready, silently demanding I get to work like a good whore. That first sexy earthy taste of Him on my greedy tongue. The feel of that baby soft skin stretched tight over blood-flooded dick as it slides through my hungry lips. The intoxicating scent of Him as my nose presses up against His base while I try to breathe with the head of His dick jammed down my throat.  The sound...oh fuck yessss...those sloppy, messy, nasty sounds of suction and saliva when I release His head, the slurps of the excess spit drenching His meat, of gags and coughs after He grabs a fist of my hair and holds himself against the back of my throat for way longer than
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Confessions of a Monster

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The following piece was written for last night's ONYX Pearls NY-NE's February 2021 Event—Confessions of Love & Lust: Spoken Word & Cigar Social. My first public reading... ") Thank you to my Leather Sisters and Siblings for the chance to share my words and to everyone who attended as well as ALL the love and finger snaps for my piece!!! ~DominaKat Another long winter’s night has consumed the city, and the cold has seeped well into its pores. A glance out the window of my five story walkup proves again that the once never dormant streets of New York are abandoned. No souls dare the bitter walk or the lonely drive at this hour. With a sigh I roll over, and my nude flesh snuggles deeper into my warm nest of dark linen sheets and soft blankets. Only the strange unbroken silence of a pandemic-gripped world and haunting memories of long ago passion attempt to lull me to dreams. Despite exhaustion nagging my soul, sleep refuses to come. Maybe...if I confess...mayb
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My FUCK Covid! Post

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FUCK, Covid!  I've been a socially defiant bitch more often than not.  When the world starts going one way, something in my mind always tells me to jump off that bus. Yeah...this fucking sucks.  Everywhere for everyone it sucks.  COVID (either it or the fear/threat of it) is everywhere.  But for fuck sake...does it HAVE to insinuate itself FULLY into Fet?!? If Facebook has turned into a political, socially dividing, fact-checking, misleading propaganda machine, then FetLife has turned into a giant mother fucking emotional therapy support center of tears and sniffles and traumatized blank stares. Look...I get it!  This shit is HARD...physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  I've been sheltering-in-place for 67 days in a NYC apartment with no private backyard, no balcony, no front stoop.  I need and want an escape...but since the hot, fun, and sexy has all but evaporated from my favorite kink site, Fet's only escape option is a list of virtual classes where
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Conferences Make Me...

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At about the 15 minute mark of the first session of the Flame Conference yesterday. I absentmindedly shifted in my chair as I sipped my DIY mocha with instant coffee and ready whip.  (Suffering is real!) I listened to the speaker, scanned the slides, scribbled copious notes in my purple book most of you have seen in my lap.  Then my subconscious started knocking at my conscious... Subconscious | ~knock knock~ Bitch, you paying attention??? Conscious | ~shifted in chair~   Huh ? ~sips chocolate, coffee, cream~ Subconscious | GURL!  Has it really been that long that you don't even know what's up? Conscious | What's up?  Where?  What?  Is there a fire?"  ~sniff~   Has the apocalypse started?  ~listens~ {pigeon sounds} Subconscious | ~groan!~ Conscious | Whaaaa...I'm in a conference session.  What is the issue?!?   ~shifts in chair~   Wait....oh shit! Subconscious | Yeeeeessss, bitch...yeeeesssssssss! Conscious | ~shifts in chair~   Huh... ~rubs thighs toge
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Zero Response Time

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While I may seem calm, note the hint of a mysterious smile as I make my way Uptown. My pussy’s wet. The hot slick kind of wet that begs to be fucked. Hard. Mercilessly. ~sweet sigh~ It didn’t matter how well behaved we were...that things never got hot and heavy. My body responds to Him. If He'd bent me over the hood of the car and shoved my dress around my waist, He could have sunk nuts-deep in my hungry cunt with a single easy stroke. He would have found Heaven. That’s what happens to me around Him despite any logic or reason. He wakes the whore in me like no other. The frightening thing is...We've barely scratched the surface of us. A thousand opportunities are within our grasp if we only could reach together and indulge. So many opportunities left to be expose and explore. Damn...somehow, I managed to get even wetter. At least I'm home now and can spread my legs like a proper nasty bitch.  ~sigh~ ~DominaKat
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Thought Bubbles

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Tumble.  Tumble.  Those thoughts.  On top and over one another.  Chaos and sanity.  Disconnected yet intertwined.  I find I have no desire to explain any of it - merely a need to acknowledge their presence and let them go. # # # # # In my long ago younger days of trial and error after a brutal breakup, I had an acquaintance - a booty call - a fine-ass guy, reasonably intelligent, no drama, good in bed.  Maybe not the most satisfying encounter(s) of my life by any means but easy and simple.  Now and then, we'd run into each other and take the edge off the harsh realities of the world for a few hours without the complication of all that a relationship entails.  There was no follow up phone calls.  No interference with his other relationships.  No hard feelings about time, distance, or other responsibilities.  He knew and respected all the unwritten booty call rules.   Until one night, he didn't.   "I keep thinking...maybe...you know...we could be more."  
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My Chosen Religion

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Every Sunday He prays for forgiveness. Of me. His Jezebel whore. For the nasty hedonistic things we do together. For the depraved divine passions we indulge. For the vicious dark beasts we free from our immoral souls. Naked and entangled. Our sweat mingles as our anointed skin ignites. Morality and responsibilities cease to exist. Groans, sighs, moans, cries become a hymn of gluttony to the gods. I wonder...does He stand in the pew and fight a heavy erection from the memories of our ritual sin? My pleasure and pain are His psalms. I willingly sacrifice myself to His dark demands. He confesses to His disciples. They fight and forfeit to the hardening desires. Then plead for mercy. He is my Angel of Darkness that rises above me. He is my glorious King who lets me drink His hot communion. He is my Almighty as I cum in reverent bliss. He is my Savior when I shattered beneath Him. Sacrilegious sex and BDSM are my chosen religion. I am a whorish goddess. My whi
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