madame-lunar - Tumblr blog

madame-lunar · 2 days ago

Text

DOM/ME VERSION ~3.885 words

SUBMISSIVE VERSION ~6.393 words

[INSPIRATION] ♡

I have you exactly where I want you, my sweet girl. You’ve been running on empty all week, haven’t you? Always so diligent, always so busy. I see it in the tightness of your shoulders, the way your brows furrow even in your sleep, the weight you carry in your steps. But today, none of that matters. Today, you’re mine to guide, mine to care for. I’ll take every busy thought and smooth it away until there’s nothing left but that sweet, quiet surrender I love so much.

When you wake up, the room is bathed in a soft, golden glow. The curtains are slightly parted, letting in just enough morning sunlight to warm the space without being too harsh. Our room is a sanctuary—a cocoon of comfort and intimacy. The bed we share is adorned with plush, cream-colored sheets and an oversized duvet that always seems to wrap us in its embrace.

A bookshelf near the window is crammed full of books—yours, mine, and the ones we’ve read together on rainy afternoons. A small jewelry tray on the dresser holds a necklace you never take off unless I do it for you.

On the walls hang small, meaningful mementos of us: a framed photo from our first trip together, a pressed wildflower you gave me one spring, and a hand-painted canvas with soft, abstract swirls you created one quiet afternoon.

Your favorite blanket is draped over the back of the armchair in the corner, where you love to curl up and lose yourself in a book, though today, you won’t need it. Today, there’s no space for you to get lost in anything but me.

I’m already awake, lying beside you, propped on one elbow as I watch you stir. You look so soft like this, your hair mussed, your lips slightly parted, cuddling your teddybear, as you begin to wake. I lean in, brushing a kiss against your temple. "Good morning, my love," I whisper, my voice low and soothing. You murmur something incoherent, shifting closer to me, instinctively seeking the comfort of my presence. "Time to get up, baby. I’ve got everything ready for you."

Your sleepy eyes blink open, and you notice the clothes I’ve laid out for you at the foot of the bed. They’re simple, soft, and cozy—your favorite oversized sweater, a pair of leggings, and warm socks to keep the chill of the wooden floors at bay. Everything has been chosen with you in mind, from the muted colors that suit your skin tone to the way the fabric feels against you. No decisions for you to make. I’ve already thought of everything.

When you come to the kitchen, the air is filled with the rich aroma of tea and food I have ready for us. The warmth of the morning sun is filtering through the tall windows. I’m already seated, sipping my tea, waiting for you. When you hesitate in the doorway, I glance up with a smile. "Come here," I say softly.

You sit, your eyes flitting over the table before meeting mine. You start to open your mouth, but I stop you with a gentle shake of my head. "Set the table for me, baby. No questions. Just do as I say." My tone is warm, guiding, and I watch as you move to obey. Your hands work with practiced ease, setting the plates and utensils just so, and I can’t help but admire how beautiful you look, even in such a simple task. "Good girl," I say, and the faint blush that colors your cheeks makes me smile.

You’re always so eager to please, my good girl.

After breakfast, we settle in the living room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a plush gray sofa piled high with soft pillows. A blanket is draped over the back of it, one we always reach for on mornings like this. The room smells faintly of lavender from the diffuser on the shelf, and the soft hum of a record player fills the space with calming music. I pull you into my lap, wrapping the blanket around us both as I pick your favorite movie. It’s one you’ve watched a hundred times, one that requires no effort to follow, perfect for letting your mind drift.

As the movie plays, my fingers find their way to your hair, combing through it in slow, rhythmic motions. I press soft kisses to the top of your head, the curve of your temple, the delicate slope of your neck. You melt into me, your breathing slowing, your hands clutching at the fabric of my shirt. Every so often, I catch your gaze flickering to my lips, my collarbone, the curve of my chest. You don’t speak, but you don’t have to. I can feel the way you’re sinking, deeper and deeper into the space I’ve created for you.

"Good girl," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "You’re doing so well for me. Just let go." And you do, your body going soft and pliant against mine, your eyes glassy with that quiet, blissful surrender I adore.

Later, in the bathroom, the soft glow of candlelight bounces off the tiled walls. The tub is filled with warm water, and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air. I guide you into the bath, my hands steady on your waist. The room is warm, intimate, every detail carefully curated to soothe you. My hands follow the water, washing you with slow, deliberate care. I linger just long enough on the soft curves of your body to remind you that you’re mine, and the faint blush that colors your cheeks tells me you understand.

When I murmur, "Do you want Mommy to dry you off?" your reaction is immediate—a sharp intake of breath, your lips parting in surprise. But you nod, your blush deepening, and I smile. "You know how to make mommy happy, don’t you, baby?," I whisper, wrapping you in a towel and pulling you close. You lean into me, your body completely relaxed, your mind quiet.

As the evening stretches on, I ask you to follow me to the bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the space. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, your body still wrapped in the towel I dried you with. The satin nightgown I laid out for you rests beside you, and I can see the faint hesitation in your eyes as you glance between it and me. You’re waiting for me, your mind already so far gone that even the thought of dressing yourself feels like too much. I love that about you—the way you look to me, the way you trust me to guide you, to take care of you.

"Stand up, baby," I say softly, my voice low and soothing. You obey without question, rising to your feet with a quiet grace that makes my chest ache. I pick up the nightgown, letting the silky fabric glide through my fingers before slipping it over your head. My hands move slowly, smoothing the material over your shoulders, your sides, letting my fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. You shiver under my touch, your blush deepening as you glance up at me. "Perfect," I murmur, tilting your chin up so I can press a kiss to your lips. "You’re absolutely perfect."

The bedroom feels warm and cloaked in intimacy. The soft glow of the bedside lamp pools across the walls, illuminating the delicate details of the room and the air carries a subtle mix of lavender and sandalwood, remnants of the bath we shared earlier, mingled with the unmistakable scent of you—familiar, grounding me in the moment.

I guide you onto the bed—And as you’re lying on your back, your satin nightgown clinging to your body in a way that makes it impossible for my eyes not to roam over you, I cannot do anything else than worship you. Your nightgown looks perfect on you—It’s a deep, emerald green, the kind of color that makes your skin glow and reminds me of how precious you are. The thin straps fall slightly off your shoulders, exposing the soft curves I’ve kissed a thousand times but never tire of exploring. Your thighs are bare, and the way the hem of your nightgown brushes just above them feels almost sinful. You look utterly divine, flushed and pliant beneath me, your eyes hazy with trust and submission.

I’m still partially dressed, though my shirt is unbuttoned, hanging loosely over my shoulders, exposing my chest, where your gaze keeps flickering.

You lie there watching me, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, your hands clutching at the duvet as though it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. I lean down over you, pressing my palms to either side of your head, caging you beneath me. My lips brush against your ear as I whisper, "Look at me, baby," my voice soft but firm. You tilt your head up, your eyes meeting mine, and I can see it—the way your gaze is hazy with subspace, the way your lips part as though to speak but no words come. You’re completely mine, completely in my hands, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

"Look at you," I whisper, brushing my thumb across your bottom lip. "You’re so far gone, aren’t you, my sweet girl? So soft, so obedient, just the way I like you." You nod faintly, a tiny, trembling motion that makes my chest ache with how much I love you, how deeply I crave you. "My perfect plaything," I murmur, leaning down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s soft at first but grows deeper, more possessive. Your body responds instinctively, your hands clutching at my shirt, your breath hitching as I press closer. My hand trails down your side, my touch light and teasing, and you let out the softest whimper—a sound that goes straight to my chest, making my heart ache with how much I love you.

„You don’t have to think about anything," I whisper against your lips, my hand continuing its slow descent. "You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you." You nod, a tiny, trembling motion that only makes me want you more. "That‘s good," I murmur, and the way your body shivers under my touch tells me all I need to know for now.

My hand trails down your side, fingers skimming the curve of your waist, the dip of your hip, teasing the sensitive skin there. Your body trembles under my touch, and you let out the softest whimper—a sound so quiet, so sweet, it makes my breath catch. "I‘m so proud of you," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to the hollow of your throat. "Always so good for me. Always so ready to give me everything."

I shift slightly, my body pressing against yours, grounding you in the weight of me. My hand moves lower, slipping beneath the hem of your satin nightgown, and you gasp softly, your hands gripping the sheets as though trying to anchor yourself. But you don’t stop me. You’d never stop me. You trust me too much for that. And I can feel it in the way your body responds, in the way you arch into my touch, your breath coming in shallow, trembling gasps.

"You’re so soft like this," I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear, my voice laced with quiet authority. "So pliable, so obedient. I could do anything I want to you, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you, baby?" You nod again, your blush deepening, and I smile against your skin.

Your breath hitches as I slip my fingers out of the hem, your body arching slightly, pressing against me as though trying to get closer. Instead, my fingers trail down your arm, light and teasing, before slipping under the thin strap of your nightgown. I pull it down slowly, exposing one of your shoulders, then the other, my lips trailing behind my touch. "You look so beautiful in this," I murmur, my voice low and full of quiet command. "But I think I’d like you even better out of it."

I sit back on my knees, watching as I slide the satin down your body, exposing inch after inch of soft, warm skin. The sight of you like this—bare and vulnerable, flushed and waiting—makes my chest tighten with love and desire. You’re looking up at me with wide eyes, your lips parted as though to speak, but no words come. You don’t need to say anything. I can see everything I need to know in the way your body trembles, the way your thighs press together as though seeking some kind of relief.

"You don’t have to hide from me," I say softly, sliding my hands down your sides, my fingers grazing the sensitive spots that make you shiver. "You don’t have to think. Just let me take care of you."

I lean down again, pressing my lips to yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, teasing and exploratory, but quickly deepens. My tongue sweeps against yours, claiming you, and you moan softly into my mouth, your hands reaching up to clutch at my shirt. I take my time with you, savoring the way you respond to every touch, every kiss, as though your body is made for me.

When I move lower, trailing kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your chest, I feel the way your breathing quickens, the way your body arches into my touch. My hands roam over you, deliberate and possessive, tracing the curve of your waist, the softness of your thighs. You whimper softly as I spread your legs, your blush deepening as I settle between them.

"You’ve been so perfect for me today," I murmur, kissing the inside of your thigh. "Always so eager to please. Do you know how much I love you like this?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you manage to say, "Yes, mommy." The words make my heart race, a thrill of power and love coursing through me. "Good girl," I reply, my voice low and full of promise. "I’m going to take care of you tonight. You don’t have to do anything but be mine."

I lean down over you, brushing my lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss, my hand trailing over your cheek. "Stay here," I murmur, my voice low and commanding. "Don’t move. Keep those pretty legs right where they are for me, baby."

You nod, a small, shaky movement, your hands still clutching at the duvet. I press one last kiss to your temple before I rise from the bed, watching as your eyes follow me, wide and adoring. The shift in power between us is palpable—the way I stand above you, gazing down at you with quiet authority, while you lie there, so small and soft and utterly mine.

I move to the corner of the room where the dresser is, opening the drawer with deliberate slowness. The room is silent except for the faint sound of fabric shifting as I pull out the harness and the strap, the subtle creak of leather as I fasten the buckles. I feel your eyes on me the entire time, your gaze fixed on my hands as they work, the way they slide over the leather with practiced ease. I know you’re watching me, your breathing growing heavier, your blush deepening as the reality of what’s about to happen sinks in.

The harness is dark leather, worn in all the right places, fitted perfectly to my body. It wraps snugly around my waist and thighs, framing my hips in a way that feels powerful and deliberate. The strap itself is sleek and smooth, the perfect size for you—not too intimidating, but enough to remind you of exactly who’s in control. I adjust the buckles, making sure everything is just right, before turning back to you.

When I meet your gaze, you’re staring at me with a look that sends a thrill through me—a mixture of awe, desire, and quiet surrender. Your cheeks are flushed, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, and your thighs shift slightly, as though you’re trying to press them together. I smirk, crossing the room back to you with slow, measured steps, letting you take in the sight of me like this, the deliberate power in the way I move, the way I carry myself.

I stand at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, and the way you tremble under my gaze makes my heart race. "I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?," I say softly, my voice low and steady, laced with quiet authority.

You nod quickly, your eyes flickering between my face and the strap, your blush deepening.

"You can‘t speak, baby?," I murmur, leaning down to trail my fingers along the curve of your thigh, watching the way your body shivers under my touch. "Do you want this? Do you want me to fill you, to remind you who you belong to?"

"Y-Yes," you say, your voice trembling, and I smile, my heart swelling at how deeply you’ve surrendered to me. I climb onto the bed, settling between your legs, the harness pressing against your skin as I lower myself over you. My hands frame your face, tilting your chin up so our eyes meet, and I lean down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and possessive, claiming you all over again.

"You’re mine," I murmur against your lips, my voice a quiet promise. "Every inch of you belongs to me." You nod, a soft, trembling motion, and I smile, pressing my lips to your forehead. "Good girl. Now, let me take care of you."

I guide myself against you, the strap sliding along your wetness, teasing you, coaxing soft, desperate sounds from your lips. Your hands clutch at the sheets, your body trembling beneath me, and I can’t help but smile. "So responsive," I murmur, my hand cupping your cheek as I meet your gaze. "You’re perfect like this, baby. Completely mine."

When I finally push into you, it’s slow, deliberate, every inch a reminder that you’re mine, that your body belongs to me. You gasp softly, your back arching, and I still for a moment, letting you adjust, my hands steady on your hips. "You’re doing so well," I whisper, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You take me so perfectly, my love."

I move with a rhythm that’s slow at first, deliberate and teasing, drawing out every little sound you make, every gasp and whimper. My hands grip your thighs, keeping you open for me, and I watch the way your body responds, the way your chest rises and falls, the way your lips part with soft, breathless moans. "That’s it," I murmur, my voice low and steady. "Let go for me, baby. Let me take you where you need to go."

As the pace quickens, the room fills with the sound of our bodies moving together, your soft moans blending with my whispered praise. I lean down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s possessive and deep, one hand tangling in your hair while the other keeps you steady beneath me. "You’re so good for me," I whisper against your lips. "So perfect. My good girl."

Your moans grow louder, more urgent, filling the room like music I never tire of hearing. My hands slide up your body, my fingers grazing the curve of your waist, the swell of your chest, before resting firmly on your hips. I hold you steady, keeping you exactly where I want you, as I drive into you with purpose, each thrust deliberate and claiming.

Your head tilts back against the pillows, exposing the soft line of your throat, and I can’t resist leaning down to press my lips there, my teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. "I love you," I murmur against your skin, my breath hot and unsteady as I lose myself in the feel of you—soft, warm, and utterly mine. "You’re always so good. Always what I need."

Your hands reach for me, clutching at my back, my arms, as though trying to ground yourself in the storm of sensation. I can feel the tremble in your fingers, the way your nails dig into my skin, and it only makes me want you more. I tilt your chin up with one hand, forcing your hazy eyes to meet mine, and the sheer vulnerability in your gaze makes my chest ache with love and pride. "Look at me," I command softly. "Don’t look away. I want to see you when you fall apart."

You nod, barely, your lips parted as though to speak, but no words come. Instead, you gasp as I adjust the angle of my thrusts, finding that perfect spot that makes your whole body arch against me. "There it is," I murmur, a satisfied smile curling my lips as I watch you unravel. "That’s my girl. Take it for me. Let me see how good I can make you feel."

Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps, your hands clutching desperately at the sheets as I push you closer and closer to the edge. I can feel it in the way your body tightens, the way your legs tremble around me, the way you whisper my name like a prayer. "You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?" I ask, my voice low and filled with promise. "Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart."

With a shuddering gasp, you do. You’re completely mine in this moment, and the sight of you like this—flushed and vulnerable, wrapped in the trust you’ve given me—fills me with a love so deep it’s almost overwhelming.

Your body tenses, then melts beneath me, your soft cries filling the air as you reach your peak. I hold you through it, my hands steady on your hips, my movements slowing just enough to let you ride the waves of your release. "That’s it," I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear. "So beautiful. So perfect."

You’re trembling when I finally still, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, your body soft and pliant beneath me. I press a series of gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, my touch tender as I help guide you back down. "You did so well for me," I murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I’m so proud of you, my love."

I pull out slowly, careful not to disturb the quiet bliss that’s settled over you. You whimper softly at the loss, your hands reaching for me instinctively, and I smile, gathering you into my arms. I hold you close, wrapping the blanket around us as I settle back onto the bed, letting you rest against my chest. "You’re safe," I murmur, stroking your hair in slow, soothing motions. "You’re mine. You’ve always been mine."

88 notes · View notes