I keep picturing myself with your key around my neck. Your pleasure under my control. Your body submitted, surrendered, mine.
Wouldn’t it be thrilling? Intoxicating. To know that I hold your key. A pretty chain around a pretty neck where everyone can see.
See that you are mine.
See that your surrender is mine.
See that your trust is mine.
Can you picture me at lunch, at the salon, dancing, walking around the city, pressing a manicured finger to the key and smiling. Because it’s our secret and it’s out here for everyone to see. Because it’s a reminder of my power. A reminder of your obsession.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
That key.
That thread stretched taut between us, mistress and submissive. Goddess and worshiper.