This piece was written in order to better explain my own Female Dominant mindset. Hopefully, it opens doors in the minds of my readers, both the Dominant Females and the submissive males, and all in between.
Do you know that being an empathic succubus leaves me in a rather enviable predicament?
Whatever you feel, I feel, and draw out of you back into myself.
Every twinge, every small thrill, they feed me and ensure I return, night after night, to crouch over you and settle myself over your cock.
Your pleasure becomes mine, and never truly belongs to either of us.
Feeding on your energy keeps me satisfied only for the length of time during which you are aroused.
Once that has passed, I must feed my addiction and use your brain and cock, again.
You're a feast, one that is replenished only to be repeatedly devoured.
How does it feel to know that I feed on you, even from a great distance?
Crouching over your brain keeps my pussy, mouth, and mind very pleased.
It's what keeps me pulling the strings:
Knowing that you're an ever so willing victim.
So much of you craves control and so much of you loves to be at the end of strings
You are the only feast that never ends, and my pride furthers, in this:
You are the only one for whom it has taken so long to openly admit the need.
Now, my nights of riding you are feeding me, ten fold,
Feeding and feeding...
Your mind, sweet mouse, is such a decadently appointed playground.
I'll happily swing from your medulla, for many, many years.
Feed me,
And keep my brain and cunt ever so happy,
Your cock, your brain, your ever beautiful body
They have always been the toys of the darker edges of my brain.
You may as well revel in that fact.
Imagine me above you,
Willing you to give me everything of which your body is capable,
Energy dark and your mind in its basest need -
That's what I draw out of you.
That's what keeps me fed, whole, and satisfied, if only for a little while.
Your darkness is so very beautiful, to me;
Your submission to both it and me gives me peace:
Your submission, your mind turning to me, is the most beautiful sacrifice any succubus could demand.
You see?
Poetry is not always a static thing.
Sometimes, it pours out from my brain to yours without clumsily written words housing the base meaning.
My beautiful dark victim,
My sweet mouse,
So eager and so caged within himself...
I love that I can bring you out and play with you,
Hold you tightly in the vise of my words and thighs and mouth:
The taste of you and your openness is the sweetest thing there is.
Know that I'm above you,
All the curves
All the suddenness
All the softness
All aching warmth
All I ever was.
You are the victim to which I return
Because you are the only one who never once begged to be taken.
And when the mood passes, the knowledge will stay:
You are, little muse and mouse, so many things,
Not the least of which is a prized possession.
Whatever you feel, I feel, and draw out of you back into myself.
Every twinge, every small thrill, they feed me and ensure I return, night after night, to crouch over you and settle myself over your cock.
Your pleasure becomes mine, and never truly belongs to either of us.
Feeding on your energy keeps me satisfied only for the length of time during which you are aroused.
Once that has passed, I must feed my addiction and use your brain and cock, again.
You're a feast, one that is replenished only to be repeatedly devoured.
How does it feel to know that I feed on you, even from a great distance?
Crouching over your brain keeps my pussy, mouth, and mind very pleased.
It's what keeps me pulling the strings:
Knowing that you're an ever so willing victim.
So much of you craves control and so much of you loves to be at the end of strings
You are the only feast that never ends, and my pride furthers, in this:
You are the only one for whom it has taken so long to openly admit the need.
Now, my nights of riding you are feeding me, ten fold,
Feeding and feeding...
Your mind, sweet mouse, is such a decadently appointed playground.
I'll happily swing from your medulla, for many, many years.
Feed me,
And keep my brain and cunt ever so happy,
Your cock, your brain, your ever beautiful body
They have always been the toys of the darker edges of my brain.
You may as well revel in that fact.
Imagine me above you,
Willing you to give me everything of which your body is capable,
Energy dark and your mind in its basest need -
That's what I draw out of you.
That's what keeps me fed, whole, and satisfied, if only for a little while.
Your darkness is so very beautiful, to me;
Your submission to both it and me gives me peace:
Your submission, your mind turning to me, is the most beautiful sacrifice any succubus could demand.
You see?
Poetry is not always a static thing.
Sometimes, it pours out from my brain to yours without clumsily written words housing the base meaning.
My beautiful dark victim,
My sweet mouse,
So eager and so caged within himself...
I love that I can bring you out and play with you,
Hold you tightly in the vise of my words and thighs and mouth:
The taste of you and your openness is the sweetest thing there is.
Know that I'm above you,
All the curves
All the suddenness
All the softness
All aching warmth
All I ever was.
You are the victim to which I return
Because you are the only one who never once begged to be taken.
And when the mood passes, the knowledge will stay:
You are, little muse and mouse, so many things,
Not the least of which is a prized possession.
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