Today I don't have much time - if any - so I'll write a nice story over here, instead of the usual go captions because reasons.
More after the jump
So 28 years, already, whoa, what it feels to be growing older by the day, changing a little by the minute, dying a bit by the second. Feeling none the wiser but reckless even, growing bolder, becoming more cunning and just learning to survive in the big ol' city. A pessimistic introduction, but Paul hadn't it all handed to him. He had to work for it. He couldn't stop one hour to think about, and weeks started to get pass behind him.
Faster than ever time was growing faster, months catching up. Death could be around the corner, but nonetheless life has to be lived, otherwise you'll become a husk. A memory of your own sorrow. 28 years of hiding things to his family, to his friends, and to himself. It was time to come out and show the world who he was. There would be no more excuses, no more hiding in a closet what he wanted to express. No more excuses, no more buts, no more emtpy thoughts. Just become what he wanted to be. What she wanted him to be. Such an important part of himself hiding, but in the open. Tearing up his mind, controlling him.
Telling him what to do, what to say, how to say it. She appeared one day, out of the blue, as a figment of his imagination. It was dangerous to let her take control, but it was fun, it was nice, it was right. He felt himself doing the right thing. Not a care in the world, nothing to worry about. It was intoxicating, he was losing himself. And then from that other figment of thought came the other.
A carefree girl, not very bright, but mannipulative on her own. Always getting what she wanted. Making ditzy comments, pouring frisky thoughts and riding on the back, sometimes on the front. She didn't care, she just did it for the fun of getting the other half pissed. It was her little game, but she enjoyed it. She fought for control one day and then they couldn't stop.
And there I was in the backseat, watching the battle of wills, an unending battle of corrupted thoughts and nice intentions but with evil sugarcoated thoughts. It felt strange and then it felt right
Sometimes the domme, sometimes the sub, sometimes me, and then not me but her. Crossing our paths, and she was getting more and more control. She was expressing herself through my actions. We were synched, we were one and the same. She complained, she moaned, ouh did she moaned but the other bitched about it.
Soon enough the closet was getting bigger and bigger full pretty dresses, coated with corruption, with evil wicked thoughts, pushing him to be more adventurous. She didn't want to be sometimes her, sometimes me, sometimes the other. She wanted to be her, to be me, and be herself.
And then one day, he looked at the mirror and he didn't find one place of him on the surface. There she was, with her racy eyes, her glossy lips and slutty mascara. A violet pink hair to complete her face. A mix of the two and none of him.
Following to the bathroom, full disrobed none of him but plenty of her. Long svelte legs, feminine curves and hourglass figure. Manicured hands and dainty fingers. A pretty fragile figure of a really powerful woman. A corny smile on her lips and a seductive tone on her voice. Enthralling eyes and glamorous tone. A giggle there and a giggle here and all would fall for her.
A full armchair dresser to be what she wanted to be. Striking a pose, rocking her outfit. And there she was and I was none. Soon enough a figment of her imagination. In bondage. Tormented, but allowed to feel, allowed to see, and allowed to be. But not to speak or think. Her thoughts were mine, and none of me was her, but I was all her. And I felt happy.
She was born into the world.
Hugs and Kisses Alectra