I don’t want a dom
with rules like a leash,
checklists and cold commands
that stop at my skin.

I want a Daddy—
a man carved of storms and steel,
a king of his own desires
who bends me without breaking me,
who shields as fiercely as he claims.

Not a game, not a pose,
but a temple I kneel within,
where his hands are both altar and anchor,
where surrender feels like freedom
because he has earned it.

Let his voice command like thunder,
his gaze a tether pulling me.
Let his touch write the language
I’ve always longed to speak—
owned not as an object
but as a chosen devotion.

I don’t want a dom,
I want a Daddy:
a man who leads
with teeth and tenderness,
who takes control
not to crush,
but to crown me in his keeping.