22, Academic looking for a new stress toy

Truthfully, I’ve found that my favorite toys tend to be those pretty sluts too nervous to reach out first, so I figured I’d say hello. Just as a bit more context and what I’m generally looking for

Personally I believe there’s a lot of power in submission when it’s done right. Not the bullshit kind people typically shoot for, but the kind built on trust and respect. I like playing with that line, that space where someone chooses to give up control because they realize how good it feels to be understood. I want you to submit fully to me, not because I’m forcing you too, but because you fucking love it. I like training my pretty toys to explore that part of themselves.

For example, It drives me a fucking crazy when you sit there sending me message after message just hoping I’ll answer. There’s something about knowing that pretty little head is stuck thinking about me and running away from yourself that I really enjoy. Wondering what I’m doing. Wondering what I could be doing with you. That kind of attention is very addictive. I love knowing I can occupy your thoughts like that, that’s how you should feel 24/7, you no longer own your thoughts.

I want you catching yourself thinking about me during the day. Wondering what I’d say to you. Wondering what I’d make you do. That slow shift where it stops feeling like effort and just starts feeling natural is one of my favorites to watch.

You’ll be mine because you’re going to fucking beg for it when you realize how good it feels to belong somewhere intentionally.

Attention is a very funny thing. People love to pretend they control it. They tell themselves they choose where it goes, what it lingers on, what it ignores. But that isn’t really how it works, that’s why you’re here isn’t it?

Attention wanders. It lingers. It circles back to the things that unsettled it the most, often long after we’ve convinced ourselves we’re done thinking about them.

Right now you’re simply standing at a comfortable distance, peeking over the fence and telling yourself you’re only there to judge what’s on the other side. My love this is simply the illusion of control.
Maybe you truly are strong enough that it will always stay that way.

But more often than not, people who linger at the fence aren’t really there to criticize it.
They’re there because some quiet little part of them is curious about what it would feel like to step through. You’ll dismiss this conversation soon enough. You’ll tell yourself it was arrogant, ridiculous, maybe even a little embarrassing that you bothered responding at all. You’ll close the page and move on with your day.

But something small will stay with you.

A line. A tone.

The way it felt to read something that irritated you just enough that you couldn’t quite ignore it.

Maybe nothing ever comes of it.
Or maybe one day, perhaps after a particularly exhausting day, or a glass too many of your favorite silky red wine, or just a quiet night where the version of yourself you perform for everyone else gets tired; that sharp little defensive voice in your head softens for a moment.

And suddenly that pull is back.
And the argument you tell yourself doesn’t sound quite as convincing as it used to. That’s the part people rarely admit out loud.
Like I said before, this was never really about me.

It’s about the fact that something in you paused long enough to push back. Because pushing back is often the first sign that someone felt the leash tug.
And when that moment finally comes, when curiosity wins over pride and you decide to accept my helping hand to step over that fence, you won’t think of it as losing control.
You’ll think of it as relief.

And when you finally find the place you were pretending you’d never want to be, you’ll probably look up with that same stubborn little expression you have now.

Except it won’t last very long.

Because once you realize how comfortable it feels there, you’ll do what people always do when they finally stop fighting it.

You’ll stay.
Proudly.

Like a loyal dog that finally figured out where its owner was standing the whole time.

If you’re good and did what I asked, I’ll reward you a little but it comes at a cost. You can ask me one question, completely guilt free. Anything you want. Personal, academic, physical, whatever you’re curious about. I’ll answer it as seriously or as playfully as you want me to.

I wouldn’t just make you leave your dignity at the door. What I want is for you to completely fucking melt, you don’t have dignity anymore, your sole purpose is now to be my full time cock warmer. The idea of me having to jerk off to porn should make you physically fucking sick, you are my new toy, take pride in it. If we were together in public I’d want you strong, independent, composed. Someone nobody would ever guess about. I like intelligence. I like competence. I like someone who can stand on their own.

And then the second we’re alone… I’d want to feel you just melt. That moment where you stop pretending you have to hold everything together and just collapse into me because you want to be handled.

Not because you have to.

Because you trust me enough to let go.

You don’t lose your thoughts around me, you just don’t need them for a while because I’ll think for you. Let me set the direction. All you’d need to do is exist there with me and focus on how good it feels to be exactly where you’re supposed to be, and focus on every bit of my cock.