Strong

I’m strong.

I’m a teacher, a coach, a mother.

I run a classroom, a team, a household.

I’m an athlete.

I run marathons.

So when I read stories about submissive women,

Downcast eyes, murmuring agreement in response to their lovers’ demands,

I’m angered by their weakness.

That’s not me.

But you…

With your sexy tenderness and solid character,

Your warm, intelligent eyes and gorgeous body,

Your honesty and generosity,

Your sweet words and loving nature…

You melted me.

You changed me without my knowing.

You demanded from me without forcing.

You softened me without weakening.

And now,

I want you to take control.

Use my body for your pleasure.

Rip off my clothes and ravish me.

Cuff my hands and pound your cock into me.

Tie me down and make me suck you.

Take me from behind, bent over the couch.

Finger me in public, putting my orgasm on display.

Just take me. Make me yours.

I know now that it’s not a sign of weakness.

It can’t be…I’ve never felt so strong.