Use and Discard
For as long as I have been sexually active, white women have wanted me to use them. Years before becoming a Master of Eros, porcelain princesses prostrated themselves before me without even asking, requesting to be used, degraded, humiliated and discarded—to be pushed beyond the often mundane + stultifying worlds these women occupy in their ordinary lives. The job, the significant other, the children, the rigorous academic program, the repressive provincialism + socially acceptable behaviors, the incessant monotony. I have always been an escape for white women, a pressure release valve, the big dick, dark goddess who will devour them totally.
It is the early afternoon. You have already pleasured yourself, but instead of quieting the urge, it has only intensified, growing feverish. You clear your schedule in search of relief—two hours is ideal, an hour works in a pinch. You message me a photos of each outfit that fulfills the requirements: easily accessible + a showcase that ass I refuse to keep my hands off of. You beg to be fucked, offering to send a car. I respond with a location and you know to arrive before I do, ready and waiting. Face down, ass up. You are not here for polite conversation. I arrive at the prescribed location without a word, and immediately being fucking you with mercy or decency. I exit as I arrived—without a word. You retrieve your clothes, reapply your makeup and return to your world, blissful and satiated.
Countess Hannibal, Lifestyle Domina
Bacchanalia Social Club || Alchemical Science + Service Training
For as long as I have been sexually active, white women have wanted me to use them. Years before becoming a Master of Eros, porcelain princesses prostrated themselves before me without even asking, requesting to be used, degraded, humiliated and discarded—to be pushed beyond the often mundane + stultifying worlds these women occupy in their ordinary lives. The job, the significant other, the children, the rigorous academic program, the repressive provincialism + socially acceptable behaviors, the incessant monotony. I have always been an escape for white women, a pressure release valve, the big dick, dark goddess who will devour them totally.
It is the early afternoon. You have already pleasured yourself, but instead of quieting the urge, it has only intensified, growing feverish. You clear your schedule in search of relief—two hours is ideal, an hour works in a pinch. You message me a photos of each outfit that fulfills the requirements: easily accessible + a showcase that ass I refuse to keep my hands off of. You beg to be fucked, offering to send a car. I respond with a location and you know to arrive before I do, ready and waiting. Face down, ass up. You are not here for polite conversation. I arrive at the prescribed location without a word, and immediately being fucking you with mercy or decency. I exit as I arrived—without a word. You retrieve your clothes, reapply your makeup and return to your world, blissful and satiated.
Countess Hannibal, Lifestyle Domina
Bacchanalia Social Club || Alchemical Science + Service Training
