Earthgoddess
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2000
- Posts
- 1,676
softly
That combination of a little bit of panting and the subservient whimper, oh so much easier with the head drawn back. Interesting how the sounds made are similar to the yielding of pack animal to the alpha. The show of throat alone is a submission to the dominant wolf, and the whimper, that small sound of almost terror and pleading, that follows to ensure the signal of submission is clearly known.
For me it has always been about that perfect moment when I let slip the virtues and social contexts that cloak that raw want. My whimper is a signal to myself that my most base female, my wanton, has risen to the surface. I would suppose that the whimper is my gift, my release of control, that sound torn loose as my need to serve roils to the top.
And that whimper, seems to lead to the begging, the sounds that always serve to humiliate and entice me. The edge gone to my voice and all there is is that childish tone that rises up, the natural voice that makes me sound decades younger. And yet that younger voice begs for such unspeakable things, such inappropriate things, such a quandary.
So for me that whimper, that sharply drawn breath is actually a submission and a slight challenge. Draw more of my want out with your hands in my hair, let your voice lead me deeper into the wanton. Let the desire for the taste of you grow into a consuming hunger for your cock. You need not "make" me beg, just lead me into the craving and begging will unfold. In truth that whimper is the least of where I will go, yet it marks the defined beginning of this journey.
That combination of a little bit of panting and the subservient whimper, oh so much easier with the head drawn back. Interesting how the sounds made are similar to the yielding of pack animal to the alpha. The show of throat alone is a submission to the dominant wolf, and the whimper, that small sound of almost terror and pleading, that follows to ensure the signal of submission is clearly known.
For me it has always been about that perfect moment when I let slip the virtues and social contexts that cloak that raw want. My whimper is a signal to myself that my most base female, my wanton, has risen to the surface. I would suppose that the whimper is my gift, my release of control, that sound torn loose as my need to serve roils to the top.
And that whimper, seems to lead to the begging, the sounds that always serve to humiliate and entice me. The edge gone to my voice and all there is is that childish tone that rises up, the natural voice that makes me sound decades younger. And yet that younger voice begs for such unspeakable things, such inappropriate things, such a quandary.
So for me that whimper, that sharply drawn breath is actually a submission and a slight challenge. Draw more of my want out with your hands in my hair, let your voice lead me deeper into the wanton. Let the desire for the taste of you grow into a consuming hunger for your cock. You need not "make" me beg, just lead me into the craving and begging will unfold. In truth that whimper is the least of where I will go, yet it marks the defined beginning of this journey.