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So You Want to Call Me Mommy?
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com
That's not so simple, sweetheart. You see with that comes a promise.
Not something spoken, but something in your eyes. I demand a lot
from someone who will get so close. My anger will be something
that should cut you right though, not something that will make
you laugh. I want to feel a shiver under the surface of your skin
when I touch you. I want to feel your hunger and your lust as
it follows me around my day. Your honesty will be a cloak that
shields me from doubt and loneliness, not something that I have
to question or beat out of you.
I should be able to exhale and feel safe when you are near. I
should be able to sleep without nightmares when you are far from
me. When you have something to say, you must not worry and fuss
and measure your words, it must go from mind to lips without hesitation,
for that is trust.
What I will give back to you, will be something quite rare. My
love is harsh. My expectations are many. I couldn't be perfect
enough for myself, yet you expect to be perfect for me?
I think sometimes about hurting you. Suffering cane strokes across
your bottom will sooth your guilt for all your moments of doubt.
Knowing there are marks will make you still and your silence will
amplify the swishing and crackling of the cane. I won't stop until
I am satisfied, and every inch of your bottom is battered and
mine.
When you are well punished and sore, you will dress to please
me, a little girl with legs bared and skirt a bit too short to
follow me adoringly around doting and hoping to please. You will
worry like a child about the spankings you might get, the cane
marks making your bottom as tender to my hairbrush as it would
be to a girl of ten.
I'll pull you across my lap at bedtime, holding you close to me,
and lowering down your panties. You will squirm and beg, crying
as I gently lay the hairbrush against your tender cheeks. I will
breath out a sigh, and above you will be a momentary smile before
my lips harden and the hairbrush rises and falls. Slowly, methodically,
with no end in sight, as you kick and cry and squirm and try so
hard to be brave. My heart will beat quicker and stronger and
fill to almost bursting with pride. I'll pull you under the covers
with me, and hold you close.
I will give to you myself, to admire and adore. This should be
all you seek, for it is not about you any longer, it should be
about me, once you call me mommy.
© 2004 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed
without permission |