I Need A Handsy, Jealous Sub Who Can’t Stop Herself From Touching Me, Nuzzling Me And Kissing Me Anywhere

i’ve come to the conclusion that a hot femme holding me down and saying ”shh baby… let me take care of you, okay?” in a soft voice would probably do more for me than therapy ever could

”my daughter is fine”

your daughter dreams of a middle-aged woman taking advantage of her and using her whatever way she wants to and then praising her for being a good girl

it's about the small acts of intimacy... forehead kisses, putting jewelry on you, rubbing your hand with their thumb, putting a jacket on you, touching your necklace, running your hands through their hair, wiping away their tears, peeling them an orange, un/zipping their dress, tying their shoelaces, holding hands, removing an eyelash from their cheek, washing their hair, putting an anklet on them, tucking their hair behind their ear, sorting out their collar, untangling their necklaces, drinking out of a cup in their hands

yeah sex is cool but have you ever felt worthy and wanted and enough the way you are

The little demons of grief came to live with me, in the space between the shadows and the floor.

I can't hear what they're telling me, even though I try.

Duomo Milán

Non-sexual dominance is so cute-

"Come here, baby"

"Let me help you"

"Be careful"

"Come lay here, Princess"

"Sit on my lap, kitten"

"Come cuddle"

"Hold my hand while we're out"

"Mmm, look at you," I coo, my voice thick like honey as I curl my fingers under your chin and tilt your head back, just enough to make you meet my gaze in that dazed, blissed-out haze. "Such a messy little slut. Can’t even stay still, can you?"

You swallow thickly at my words, but your body leans in instinctively, hips shifting, thighs trembling. Hungry. Needy. Mine.

But inside, what I’m really thinking is: You’re divine. Absolutely breathtaking. You ache so beautifully for me. I’ll never get tired of this view… of you.

"My pathetic little thing..." I whisper next, my fingers dragging across the slick heat between your thighs. "You’d do anything for Mommy, wouldn’t you?"

You nod fast, frantic, a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. Your lips try to form something like a 'yes,' but it’s lost in the moan that spills out instead.

Your tears are threatening now, clinging to your lashes, blinking fast as if your body can’t decide if it’s overwhelmed or overjoyed. Probably both.

And I think: You’re so trusting. So brave. My perfect girl. You don’t even know how much I love you for this. I don’t take it for granted, not for one second.

I press a kiss to your temple. Just once.

Then I pull away again, drag my nails down your spine slow and sharp, just to watch the ripple of your back, the way you arch into the sting. Then before you even know what hit you, I deliver a hard slap. The sound echoes and you cry out, but you don't move away.

"Does my baby feel a little dumb tonight, hm?" I purr as I deliver another sharp smack, watching your body jolt. Your back arches for me, your hips twitching for more. "You’re really are too far gone to even think now, aren’t you?"

You moan. Just a sound, so raw, so open.

"Say it," I order with a drawn out croon. "Say what you are."

Your voice is nearly a whimper. "I’m… I’m your dumb little baby, Mommy… s’too much— but I like it, I like it, I—"

"Shh, I know." I stroke you tenderly, then strike again. Your thighs twitch, your knees buckle slightly, and you sob so prettily.

But in my mind, I’m holding you close: You’re not dumb at all. You’re clever, intuitive, emotionally rich. You let me take you to this place because you know I’ll bring you back. I’ll never let you fall alone.

"Pathetic," I breathe, slower this time, drawing the word out as I rake my nails lightly down your back, over tender, already-reddened skin. I lean closer, tongue trailing your jaw, and murmur against your cheek, "Dripping just from my voice. How filthy is that, my little slut?"

You moan again, helpless. "Mmm… yes... yes... so slutty for you… can’t think, Mommy… just wanna be good…"

I groan softly against your ear. "That’s my girl."

Another slap, and you whimper. Another, and your knees give, but I catch you, always. One arm loops around your waist as I press your back firmly against my front.

"This is what I do to you, hmm? Turn that sharp little mind to mush with just my voice, my hands."

You whimper, voice slurring. "Yours… all yours…"

"Yes, you are," I groan, dragging my hand between your legs again. So wet, so swollen, perfect. I push two fingers in without warning, and you cry out, your body gripping me tight.

"You were made for this," I murmur against your temple. "Made for me."

You nod, whining, "I—I can’t think, Mommy—"

"Good," I say, curling my fingers inside you. "Don’t think. Just take."

You fall apart so beautifully, loud, messy, soaking my fingers as I press my mouth to your neck, whispering filth and praise in the same breath.

But inside, my heart aches with how much I adore you: You're my treasure. My good girl. My everything. You crave the sting because you trust the hands that deliver it. And I will never stop cherishing that.

I slow the pace, fingers still deep inside you, but softer now. I kiss the side of your face, damp with tears.

"You did so well for me," I whisper. "Mommy's so proud of you."

You’re shaking in my arms, lips parted, dazed and spent, and I hold you tighter. Your body is mine to break, yes… but your soul is mine to protect. Always.