A quiet evening in the halls of Duren’s palace, the candlelight flickering against the gold embroidery of my gown—though I find my thoughts wandering to far less decorous pursuits. There’s something exquisitely primal about feeling a lover’s grip tighten in my hair, their breath ragged against my neck as I take them deeper, my lips wrapped around their cock until they shudder and spill down my throat. Power is not always in dominance, but in the art of surrender—when I choose it. And oh, how sweet it is to choose. Tell me, darling followers, what little surrenders make your pulse quicken? The brush of a hand where you least expect it? The whisper of a command you ache to obey? Or perhaps you prefer to be the one who takes? Share with me. I do love a delicious confession. 💋