If you ask me what my fetish is, the answer is simple. Despite the varied activities, the accoutrements are in service of but one master- control.

I love control. Micromanagement and macro, every single facet. Taking a self-sufficient, confident woman and using her own desires and needs against her, using her need to give up control to slowly take over her life, until every decision is based on my inputs. Until my programming and training has left her my puppet, responding without thinking.

The tears. The humiliation. The suffering. It all leads back to control.

And that's what you want to give up. You want to be powerless and have no control.

Maybe “want” is too soft of a word. Need. You need to be powerless and out of control, even though you hate it.

That works well, since being handed the reins to a life without it being exceptionally conflicting is no fun at all. Well, it is... but it’s a fleeting version. It’s much more satisfying to know how deeply it twists and tears at her psyche to not set her own bedtime, or to have to ask permission before eating, for example. And that burning self-loathing mixes so nicely with obedience. If you hate it as much as you crave it, there’s a smile on my face.

It's so stressful, isn't it? Hiding what you really are. Hiding that you want to break down and sob, hiding your need to be used and abused. Hiding your pathetic, pitiful need to be controlled.

Don't hide from me.

I see through your show. I see through your masks. I see the scared, needy, clingy little slut inside you. I see the desperation in your act, and I am not impressed.

You don't want to be in charge anymore, and you just want to obey. You just want a strong, confident, evil man to use and degrade you.

Come and play, toy. Let's start tearing you down so I can rebuild you. Tell me about yourself in your first message. Tell me about how desperate you are for control. Entice me.