Confessions of a libra

The Divine Mother | Credit: Here

[ Erotic Interlude ]

17.06.25

He thought he could worship me without kneeling. Sweet boy. We fixed that. I flicked through the magazine with languid ease. My stool felt sturdy beneath my outstretched legs, adorned in fishnets. The steady hum of the aircon was the only other sound in the room. I rolled my neck to stretch it with eyes closed and a little moan for added effect. The stool stayed perfectly still. Another page turn. My thighs pressed together in delicious anticipation, but I wrangled them.

There was something so erotic in the excruciating wait. I always let myself improvise, to feed my creative beast. I reach for the gin beside me, swirl it for the shear pleasure of the motion and the sound of ice clinking. Another moan, this time longer and deeper. I snuck a peak and found my stool to be respectful in his gaze. His body remained still, like he was paying for every lustful thought he ever had in my presence.

“If only there was someone good and obedient to help scratch a special itch I have,” there’s a seductive edge to my tone and I have no regrets.

There’s a flicker of something in his face, but his body remains in place. A pillar of devotion to the thighs he promised to serve. Slowly, worshipful. Good boy. My legs gracefully lift and swing from their perch into a cross-legged stance.

“Are you ready to deepen your commitment?” I asked voice dripping in honey.

“Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress.” His tone effusive.

“Do you like it when I use you? Do you like being my little plaything? My favourite one?”

He nodded vigorously, “I live for it.”

There was something to be said about wrangling a tall, strong man and pressing your stiletto softly on his neck, theoretically or otherwise. I was slowly unravelling him, layer by layer. I was midwifing his shame like only a Priestess knows how. Here was a man who craved the taboo as guided by a woman’s touch, and her vision. Now, that is something I can work with. While he was still on his hands and knees, I traced a nail from the back of his neck to his lower back. He couldn’t withhold the shiver, and I watched the way he tried to control himself through his breath – but he stayed focused. Eyes trained down, body trembling with need.

“Come up here, get on top of me.” I command.

He stands without hurry, likely working through stiffness. I lay back, pre-emptively. He stalked up my body from my feet while my body responded with ferocious craving. He looked at me with big, soft eyes that craved praise. His body was everything I needed and more. He slid between my thighs, not take but to ground. He held me by the waist, choosing to cushion his face on my breasts. He looked up at me his mouth open, hungry.

“I think I love it more every time, somehow.” He admitted softly.

My heart raced, my stomach did some flips and wetness pooled below. My hand cupped his face and stroked high on his cheek, “I wanna give you something.”

He leaned into my hand and cocked his eyebrow in enquiry.

“I’ve always had this dream… Of pegging my favourite pet. I wanna be the reason for your complete surrender to pleasure.”

My words stood in the air between us, heavy and thick. I swallowed, hoping that my desires somehow matched his. He closed his eyes while still letting me hold his face. I held my breath. He opened his eyes and an easy smile spread over this face.

“I trust you, Mama. Take me, gently.”

Written under Lilith’s juridiction.

Signed in bone and brilliance.