One of my friends is a personal trainer, but his waistline got lost in an alternate dimension next to his forgotten biceps. He’s the least fit fitness expert in the city. I’m hardly into muscle men, but if mastering bodies is your career choice you should prolly demonstrate your command over your own. The same is true of dominance. If you’re a hedonist, I’m good with your average maturity and greying principles. If you’re a dominant, though, I’ll be looking for a little more self-mastery because I don’t submit to a man’s sexual preferences, but his character. If you can’t master yourself, you’ve no hope of mastering me.
Character and principles sound as boring as missionary sex in the dark, but in practice, they’re sexy as hell. Without them, your dominance will be as successful as my friend’s personal training racquet (read: not a fuck). If you’re evolved enough to make me feel safe, please hold back my simmering libido before it drowns you. We’re going to have some seriously hot sex, and all it’ll take is a little accountability and compassion.
Respect is the fuel my lust runs on. I’m hardly immune to a hawt mouth or sexy eyes. I watched an entire season of Daredevil just to see Charlie Cox’s mouth do ordinary mouth things. That’s 13 hours spent solely on lips. Still, if your character is as evolved as Matt Murdock’s abs, I’ll fall in love with your mouth no matter what it looks like.
In 2001, researchers ran a study of whether professional wine tasters could really assess the quality of their beloved beverage. They found that they rated cheap vino well because it was red, and not because of its taste. Aesthetics are just as misleading in men.
I can appreciate a good Daredevil mouth with the best of them, but D/s has made me a connoisseur of all things abstract. It’s taught me to see what’s behind the shell a little more accurately. It’s turned honesty and sensitivity into aphrodisiacs because I know what kind of dominant those traits create: the hot as fuck kind.