I’ve never actually had an opportunity to train as a Domme, and honestly I’d rather not. But in an effort to anticipate Her wants and to be pleasing, I’ve tried to put myself in Her head and see myself as She might see me. This great piece of art just got me thinking about those exercises. So I thought I’d share. 😉

Thanks for posting this @thesmartfox !!

TEXTURES

Made docile, arms folded up and tucked away behind and beneath her, the damsel is little more than an object for my hands to explore. My hands and, well…also, the rest of me.

I love the textures! The longer expanses of flesh are initially soft but offer a taught resistance to prodding. Almost like the skin of a drum pulled tightly. Just the right resilience. Just the right give.

Smooth and warm, depots the chill in the room. Different than the coolness of the equally smooth sheets we both lie on.

I find a new sensation in certain explorations. The breasts are firm but large enough to roll over my fingers as I tickle them at the base. I can feel her breathing pause as I watch my finger disappear under the gentle fold of flesh.

Then the hard nipples. Almost sharp at the point. The objects thighs grow stiff as I linger on those tiny nubs. I close my eyes so I can enjoy the touch that much more. I press it together between my thumb and index finger. I’m not quite gentle as I stretch her boob around in slow circles, testing the length I can extend the supple tissue.

Her firm belly is the perfect place to rest my head. Her long hear tickles my shoulder. I feel her weight shifting, responding to my touches. Everywhere i touch there is a response. A rise into the pressure. Or a recoil if an area is particularly sensitive. Like her clit. I can reach under the leather strap and find her hidden treasure or simply pull against the strap to give her a harder deeper touch.

Her toned legs are an abundant garden. I can grope with both hands! I work on her thighs more like a massage. Only, I use the texture of her body to massage my palms rather then digging my fingers into her tissue massaging her. Firm to smooth to sharp as I pass over muscle, then flesh the bone. The varied sensations my powerless toy offers brings me to smile.

She doesn’t know what’s happening and she’s been mine for long enough that she is fatigued emotionally. I’ve only been gentle. Except when I’ve been hard. And a few moments where my explorations caused pain. The pain was not the reason but an unavoidable consequence of going places I needed to go.

She’s mine. Oh yes. And that is how it will remain. She wanted to try it and I told her I might not let her return. She may have thought I was joking.

If so, that was her mistake and not my concern.

God her textures are amazing. Every pass of my hand is different depending on her responses. This object is like a living universe of sensory input. It’s everything I need. I’ve been desperate for this. A bit of steel and leather and now I have it all.

I roll off her body and miss her warmth but relish the instant rising of goose pimples all over my own skin. I feel her wince when i giggle over the funny way my newly textured legs feel against each other.

I pull the heavy blanket up over us both and wrap a leg over the object sharing my bed with me. I stroke her silky hair allowing each strand to pass between my fingers.

I relax against her. My breathing slows but hers does not. It’s ok. Her heartbeat is a texture I can get used to. I’m going to discover every single way she can feel.

In time, we will even invent new ones. We have as much time as we need and the combinations are infinite.