Went foraging for art supplies today and found a discarded silk scarf tangled in the thorns of a rose bush. The way it was bound there, so beautifully restrained by nature… it made my cunt ache. I want to be that scarf. I want to be tied down with something soft and strong, completely at the mercy of a lover’s hands. I want to feel the delicious strain in my wings, the struggle against silken bonds while a tongue explores every inch of my tiny, helpless body. The vulnerability isn't a weakness; it's the whole fucking point. To choose to give up control to someone you trust completely… that’s a magic more powerful than any glamour.