That Skirt

A short skirt. A well thought out, short skirt.

It was your opening salvo, the quiet first shot across the bow. That skirt.

I would never claim it TOO short, but who are we kidding? Mothers may have felt the urge to cover their child’s eyes, the uptight glared disapproval, the meek blushed.

I’ve no idea if you bought it special, hunted for just the perfectly obscene length. For all I know, this has been the hallmark of your arsenal for years. This particular skirt. In other places, laws have been enacted due to just such things.

The palpable thrill you must receive in driving us mere mortals to sweat, mumble, declare fealty. Men and Women alike. Do you ever tire of it? You mustn’t, you are wearing that skirt today.

If you walked up to me, in this instant, and demanded a one word description…I would clumsily blurt out “Succulent”. Betraying my base hunger for you, my feral response to your form and the ache I suffer to leisurely run my tongue up the length of your inner thigh.

But that is what you intended all along, wasn’t it.

Because you wore that fucking unfair…short skirt.

13 thoughts on “That Skirt

      1. I am not a Mistress, Sir. I choose to kneel and feel the sting rather than crack the whip in my hand. However, those I choose to kneel for, will know the strength I possess to bear the wrath of their blows.


      2. No, Sir. I don’t. Although, I don’t identify with those who submit out of a feeling of being less than. I will dutifully drop to my knees, not out of weakness, but because I KNOW I can stand on my own. With that strength comes the great ability to worship whomever I serve with great passion and devotion.


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