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.

My interests are primarily psychological. I am a dark shriver, a compassionate abuser. I am not interested in being a sensual or playful domme. Nor am I a sadist. Simply put: I am the ultimate bitch.

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 do not offer a lot of physicality. I’ll rarely touch you. 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’ll 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, bring them to light and allow you to realize the truth of your basic worthlessness as a vain shadow of a man.