Let’s make something clear: You don’t get to decide what Valentine’s Day should look like. I do. Only
those who understand their place are worthy of my attention. So, unless you’ve spent your pitiful
existence proving you deserve even a fraction of me, don’t bother imagining what it might be like to
be under my control.
You think you can handle the Valentine’s Day fantasy of your dreams? The truth is, you don’t even
know what you need. I know exactly what you need—and you’ll beg me for it. This is about power,
control, and complete, utter submission. The kind of submission you can’t even fathom yet.
Imagine me standing before you, dressed in my most seductive leather, my eyes cold and calculating
as I look you over. You’ll stand there, trembling, desperate for my attention, but you won’t deserve
it—not yet. I’ll make you wait, tease you until your patience unravels. You’ll ache for my touch, but I
control when and how I deliver it. And believe me, when I finally do, it will be torture.
Your skin will sting from the harsh crack of my whip, the slap of my command against your body.
You’ll beg me for more, but I’ll only give you what I choose. The desperate, pleading sounds will be
music to my ears as you realize just how powerless you are in my presence. Every time you think you
can handle it, I’ll push further—until you’re nothing but a trembling, obedient mess at my feet.
Valentine’s Day is about me showing you your true place. And trust me, once I’m done, you’ll never
want anyone else. But don’t bother asking unless you’re ready to be broken. You won’t be the same
when I’m finished, and you’ll love it.
Beg now.
Mistress Pixie