The Bitch Domme

I am not here because I need to make money. I am here because I am aware of this facet of my nature.

I do not respect men. Not in the least. There are very, very few men worthy of my respect. If you’re here drooling over me, you’re not one of them. Not that I expect you to be worthwhile anyway.

I have no interest in the physical act of domination. I am perfectly happy to never touch you. Not with my hand, not by extension with a riding crop. I could care less about toys or BDSM paraphernalia. I have zero interest in your piddling idea of fetish or boring fantasy. What interests me is the rot between your ears. I have no doubt you have a mind. I’ve met many intelligent men and I like intelligent men.

This does not mean I respect you. This does mean I will not bother to hide my contempt. I will not censor myself in your presence, like your wife or secretary or daughter probably do. They hold you in contempt too but since you have some marginal power over them, they keep their mouths shut.

You have no power over me and I will not restrain myself. I’ll talk to you like a normal person and get to know you. I’ll be engaging and smile. You may even believe I genuinely like you.

There is one reason for this: so I can discover your flaws, laugh in your face and allow you to realize the truth of your basic worthlessness as a puffy shadow of a man.