Thread: No one like you -CandyXAlan

'There's no one like you I can't wait for the nights with you I imagine the things we'll do' 'What would you do to me?' It was that very questions that was challenging to answer. One would think that someone with such an over active imagination would be able to conjure up a simple sentence of, I would do... and then continue on from there, but it was always the same with this damned question that got her so tongue tied. That was about the time the sub would stand up from their seat nice and slowly, take a long and calculating breath often times thinking of just how to insult her lack of dominance and then storm off as if they this tiny little girl had just offended not only them but also their mother and dead aunt. To put it simply it was mortifying, in every aspect of the word. Yet every weekend, Moira would return in her ridiculous, and incredibly uncomfortable dominatrix getup and try again. Call it persistant or foolish, but the fiery haired woman had something to show the world. What exactly was that? That she too could be like the men and woman in this club, the ones that walked with a snobbish air, the kind that commanded respect from the weak. 'I have to be like those woman in my books,' she would think bitterly, sizing herself up pathetically. 'You have all the makings of one of those woman, so why aren't you?' Another question in the logs in her mind that she could file under 'unanswered.' Moira knew why she wasn't like those beautiful heroins in her smut novels, in fact it was quite simple. She did not ooze dominance. How could she was more so the question than why. She was imperfect, in every form of the world, she was the epitome of it, and that frankness she would deny a hundred times and a hundred times more. Sadly, she knew it, even if it was denied and others knew it too. How were they able to tell? This question she could easily answer all on her own the way she carried herself or the small movements she often made when she was nervous. Exhibit A, she thought coldly, catching a glimpse of herself in one of the floor length mirrors that were randomly placed around the club, that wild mane she called hair. The fiery red locks that hung just above her shoulder blades was the first indication. Like most of the doms in the club, their hair was either pitch black, straight, or they had no hair. But she was like the red headed step child, almost literally in this aspect. Her hair was the polar opposite of what the others had, it was red, it was curly and it simply did not listen to a brush or any form of product known to man. It had occurred to Moira that perhaps, she should dye the locks that she hated so much to look like the others. This idea was quickly brushed aside, her hair would grow out, and the different between the seductive black and the eye popping red would be a obvious as day and night. Why not cut it off? Another answer. Because she could not imagine herself brave enough to cut the locks completely off. She would look like an albino hippy, with a large fluffy Afro. If her appearance now caused her to be self conscious, the latter would cause her to hide in her small flat for the remainder of her life, if at the very least hide until the unruly locks grew out to a manageable, aka, pony-tail length. This was just the start of her imperfections however, the list seemed to grow everyday, making that 'beautiful seductress' even more unachievable. The her hope and optimistic feelings were flickering slowly out like that of the fading candle light. Yet she stayed and subjected herself night after night by her 'peers'. Their words were what stung the most, and Moira would always leave feeling defeated, admiring the beautiful piercings that many of her dom 'friends' had. Oh to own a pair of nipple rings she would think longingly after she dressed down to a simple pair of shorts and a over sized T, oh what it would be like to have pair of nipple rings or if only I was allowed to have my navel pierced. To her these were just a pipe dream that would never be fulfilled. Still no sub hm Moira? A slender woman stood leaning on one leg, clad in leather, must like she was. The fiery red head gave quick nod of acknowledgment before she turned her gaze away, her cheeks already painted red with an embarrassed blush. Aw, look pet, Moira is blushing. You think that's cute don't you? The woman cooed almost kindly to the man who stood next to her, clad in nothing bit a pair of tight fitting white washed jeans. They hugged every toned curve of his well defined lower half, which made the crimson stain that much brighter. Yes Mistress, it is cute. So cute I could eat her up. In that moment, gold orbs shot to the dom and her pet in a sort of unspoken plea. To Moira, this meant a man touching her sex. She had had someone touch it before but...never before in public. I-well...I-the poor excuse for a dominatrix stammered out dumbly, feeling her tongue twist and fold into an impossible knot. The sound that had brought the woman reeling back to reality was the harsh 'SNAP' of something biting into skin. Oh you naughty boy,the woman growled through clenched teeth, a riding crop having suddenly materialized out of thin air, Moira doesn't want to be touched. The dom fell silent, her icy gaze now locked on Moira, Do you? It took the poor damsel a moment to respond with a slow shake of her head. The dom snickered beneath her breath, giving a shake of her own head, more so that meant 'Pathetic little woman. Spineless thing.' Or at least that was what the red head was thinking about herself. So many times had Moira wanted to throw herself at one of the male doms in the room, to simply say that she could no longer pretend to be something that she was not, yet not once had she had the courage to tell anyone the truth about who she was before she become the increasingly more pathetic dom sitting silently by herself in a huge booth. When the conversation eased to a dismal silence, the dom and her pet left casually, as if the conversation had not just transpired. Add another lash to the ones I've already got, Moira thought numbly, her honey colored eyes locked on the door, praying for a miracle, if one even existed.