Financial Domination Sensation

The Art of Seduction The Burn of Posh

I adore my own seduction, its so easy to fall into the trap of admiring my own sexuality. People assume if you’re a “Domme” that you don’t enjoy sex. Domination is not the lack of sex, it can be a personality trait but it can also be a sexual experience. I don’t understand that mentality.

For me its highly arousing when I make men feel weak. Sure, I enjoy vanilla sex. I’m just like any other woman, I have my own desires and fantasies. But what I really enjoy, without having to think about it, without realizing its happening until I’m already into it, is men who crumble to my will. It wasn’t something I grew up fantasizing about. It just happened in every day situations where a man would take a different approach towards me than he normally would have because of his attraction, and I realized during those times that it was him becoming weak and me becoming powerful. That is a turn on. Its erotic.

Obviously there is the exchange of power in there, but for me its more than that. I have this sadistic mentality that completely collides with the rest of me. I’ve always been so compassionate and thoughtful. I care about the world around me, the environment, animals, children, the elderly. I really have a very gentle nature, most of the time. It seems though that some part of me seeks out to cause destruction, chaos.I get off on it.

When I was 10 years old I was sitting in a circle of kids, we were all crossed-legged working on a project. Suddenly I had this urge, and I took my pencil and stabbed it into this boys leg next to me, right into his thigh. He immediately began to cry, and everyone in my group was really angry, they were yelling at me “What did you do that for?”. I can’t explain why I did it, I don’t remember anything unusual leading up to it. All I knew was that it made me laugh. I sat there trying to stop myself from laughing as he was in pain, but I couldn’t. I was actually holding my stomach in laughter. It still makes me laugh now even as I write about it. I never understood that about myself until I was in my early twenties. It was then that I realized I found pleasure in the pain men experienced from MY HANDS.

It has to be MY HANDS. But it wasn’t just my hands causing pain that I loved. It was pain coming out of nowhere. It was pain when it was least expected. How I love to toy with a boy.. mmmm.. doesn’t that just sound so yummy? I loved to bring him into a complete frenzy of lust and love for me, making him worship the ground I walked on, make him bend over backward trying to keep me happy before suddenly stabbing him in the leg with a pencil. Only now, now that I’m an adult, I don’t just use a pencil. I use words, they are so much sharper. I use sweet sharp words, because they cut like a knife. How they wound even the toughest of us. Even I have cried over words. Haven’t you? Why do I like to sashay into a room and draw every eye to the curve of my breasts, to the roundness of my hips before taking my heel and stomping on some poor helpless guys ego?

My tongue has lashed much more than any whip I’ve had. They could come out for a little play once in a while, but it never aroused me so much as making a man cry because he was reduced to a fragile and helpless creature. Maybe I like to nurture them back afterward, but no, I am often too busy laughing for that.

Maybe they are right, and seduction is an art. Maybe I can paint myself into your mind, colors so rich and vibrant left there as a distant memory and a future event, tempting you, teasing you. Maybe I can carve myself into your heart, leaving my mark on you as a constant reminder of how weak I make you feel. Maybe I can write myself into your soul, directing your life into the cusp of my palm, where you will forever stay on the edge between being crushed and being loved.

Some people are artistic, and others just appreciate beauty. My beauty is art, and you’re here to appreciate it. You can say its my eyes, my face, my breasts, my feet, you can say what you will. I know however it is my mind that seduces you, entraps you, its my mind that pulls you into my world and keeps you here. It is my mind that wishes to enable your addictions, to tempt your dark desires, to drown you in lust. Its my mind that wants to bring out your every weakness, to seduce all resistance, all restraint, all doubt from your very core. Its my mind that wants to reduce you into a reflection of what you once were, to make you tear off your mask and face yourself in the mirror, to force you to let out your inner demons and see how much of a perverted freak you really are. And its my mind that wants to punish you for being so weak, for being so helpless against something as beautiful yet as shallow as my eyes, for being so helpless against my creamy complexion, for being so damn pathetic over a pair of breasts.

Seduction might be an art, but with me it is a slow and deadly one. I will reach into you and crush your heart, so slowly, so tenderly you will think you’re having an orgasm. You will think you’re feeling the pangs of love. When I am done you will feel my hand print burned into you forever. Because you are so shallow, because you are just like any other man and give in to a woman over something as simple as how she looks, because you base your actions on appearance, I have this urge to burn you, and I will.

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