Lillinn
3 August
One day, I will show you Lilith. She knows your secrets, you see, she knows your true name, and if she wanted to, she could scream it to the heavens. You couldn't do anything about it—she's got you in the palm of her hand. When you see her, you'll go weak-kneed, and you'll know exactly what it is you want. Oh, you may resist at first, but once that's done, that coy little game, you'll fall on your knees and beg her to fuck you.
How did you think, after all, that it was a cock that ruled the world? Wave it around as you will, it's only in the end something that comes and goes at my discretion and valor, but the mysterious power of my femininity is something that stays with me all the time, tied to the inexorable cycles of the moon, the tides, the push and pull that is generative, germinating life itself. I hold those secrets inside me, and you crave them. You may have creative force, but without my mysteries, your seed would fall on fallow ground, the cum-drops, tear-drops of a lonely little god.
You will fall on your knees and worship that power that you do not, cannot, understand. It'll pull you from the base of your being, starting at the deep-seated shaft of your cock and dragging the rest of you screaming into the darkness. But you'll learn to love that darkness that I give you.
You will kneel before me, naked, stripped bare and mercilessly, I will allow you to squirm, a soft smirk curving over blood-red lips as you grovel. The pink tip of your soft little tongue will flick out and you will guide it along the contours of those boots you love so much. You don't even know why, but as you taste the synthetic smoothness of the vinyl, your dick will get hard, precum swelling to its tip, standing there in a tiny little viscous, salty droplet that will run to the ground, unused until I say it's used. Even if you won't lower yourself, your dick tells the story—it weeps for the wanting of me, for the fear that I will send you away from my presence.
You crave me, and you begin to feel it now. It starts in your belly and crawls along your thighs, where you close your eyes and imagine the touch of my crop, the biting sting of my displeasure if you fail me. You can hear me growling in pleasure as I watch you squirm; you're hard even thinking about my pain, and your lips press gently against my ankle. You can't help but moan softly, and that song takes on a life of its own, flitting out into the room. A whisper of the damned. I hear it and smile; my breath picks up to see you like this, a slut on his knees.
I tell you to look at me, because I want to see that desperation in your eyes, and you don't disappoint me. I turn, pivot effortlessly on the balls of my feet and tell you to get to work worshiping those long, milk-white legs that you say you love so much. I can feel the tremble in your fingertips as they run over fishnet and garters. If you were in a position to, you'd bend me over the bed and fuck me senseless right now, but you're not, and you know if you so much as think about it, I'll beat the need right out of you until you remember why you're here.
Soft, moist lips caress the backs of my thighs, the soft curve of my ass that peeks out from underneath the short skirt. Your fingertips clench into my thighs because you can smell it now, the wetness of my cunt, the scent of arousal pervading your nose as you draw in a deep breath. Oh god, oh god how you want it.
But it's not god you should be asking. You will witness the presence of Her Grace.
I see you overcome by your own desire. Now is the time to show you, to remind you that it is not your own whims that you should listen to, not the fickle god inside your cock that is directing this little soiree. I turn to face you, crook my gloved finger under your chin, and guide your face up to look in my eyes. You can see that I'm not pleased, and something inside you curls around itself in abject fear.
I grab you by your hair, and tell you to get to your feet. But I don't give you the time to think it over, and jerk with all my might. You're coming whether you like it or not, and I guide you the precious few steps to the bed with an iron grip. I force you to stand there for a moment and, looking down, you can see, for the first time, the graceful arc of my tits curving over the top of that vinyl bustier that you love so much. Oh, how you want to bury your face in them, have their weight hanging on either side of your face as you kiss the moon-pale skin, and flick your tongue on a taut-and-tightening nipple.
"You need," I purr, "to remember why you're here."
And I wrap my hand around your cock and squeeze tightly. You gasp. I grab your hair and pull you to me, taking from you a kiss with bruising force. I push you hard to the bed, and bark for you to get on your knees.
The crop fits into my hand like I was born to hold it. It arcs through the air with you unprepared and comes down on that white skin, striating it red. Red, white, red, white, red, white, as your blood rises to your defense, and I am cruel, cruel enough to continue to whip you as you moan, and squirm, knowing better than to jerk away. There's a spot underneath you on the bed, getting bigger, a dark wet spot. You can't hide it from me, how much you need me, and it makes me lord my power cruelly, bearing down harder with that whip.
"Why are you here?"
"For your pleasure, My Mistress, My Goddess," you gasp, the words coming out reflexively, like they are words you have always known and lived.
"What do you do when I want something?"
"Give it to you," the words come out uneven as I give you another slash across your ass with the crop. You push your ass out towards me like you'd really like for me to put some lube on these vinyl gloves, and jam them straight up until I find your prostate, rub it until you collapse in trembling ecstasy.
"What do you do when you want something?"
