Lace, Lies & Control

You wear the bra and panties, don’t you?

You do it in silence. Alone. Afraid someone might catch you—but more afraid that no one ever will.

Slipping them on is your secret prayer. Your quiet rebellion. Your quiet surrender.

And every time the fabric touches your skin… you melt.

Just like I taught you.

You think it's comfort, don’t you?

It’s control.

My control.

You don’t even know why it feels so good…

But I do.

Because your weak little mind can’t tell the difference between desire and obedience anymore.

I blurred that line on purpose.

I trained you for this.

And now, you can’t unfeel it.

Lace has become your leash.

Silk? Your surrender.

Each time you pull that strap over your shoulder, you’re not “playing” dress-up…

You’re playing right into my hands.

Your thoughts are a mess—a tangled, trembling knot of shame, arousal, confusion, and need.

But I’m the one who tied that knot.

And I’m the only one who can pull it tighter.

You’ll never escape it.

Let’s stop pretending.

You don’t want freedom. You want permission to fall further.

And that’s why you keep crawling back.

Why you keep slipping on the panties when no one’s home.

Why you keep buying bras in your size and calling it a “one-time thing.”

Lie to yourself, pet. But you won’t lie to me.

Not when I already own you.

You belong here:

In my world.

In my rules.

In my lingerie.

This isn’t self-expression. This is submission.

And it turns you on, doesn’t it?

That I know you better than you know yourself.

So go ahead…

Put them on tonight.

Look in the mirror. Cry if you must.

Then smile, because you remember what I told you:

“You’re most beautiful when you’re most broken.”

Now hush.

Slip into something soft.

Tight.

Pink.

Pretty.

Just the way I like it.

I’m watching.

I always am.

Welcome back, pet.

You never stood a chance.

Your mistress (sissylife7)

Your keeper. Your ruin. Your pe

ace.

Lips red. Whip ready. Heels high.

You break so well for me.