Hi… it’s Ava.

I already know why you called. You saw something in me that made you think, “I bet she’s a little brat.” And you’re right. I am. I talk back. I tease. I act like I don’t need to listen… until the right voice makes me melt.

So go ahead. Try to put me in my place.

I’m lying here in just a tiny tank top that keeps riding up, and I’m already smiling because I know exactly how to get under your skin. I’ll say things like “Make me” and “You wish” just to hear that edge in your voice. I love when you get firm with me. It makes my stomach flip.

Tell me to stop talking back. Tell me to be a good girl. I’ll probably roll my eyes and say something smart… but my thighs will press together the second you do it. That’s the fun part. I want you to earn my obedience.

I like the game. The push and pull. You tell me to touch myself and I say “Only if you ask nicely.” You get sterner and suddenly my voice goes soft and I whisper “Yes, okay… I’m touching.” I can’t help it. Being a brat only feels good when someone is strong enough to handle it.

Tell me what you’re going to do if I keep being difficult.

I want to hear it. I want the threat and the promise at the same time. It makes me so wet when you sound like you’re done playing around.

Some nights I start the call already half-bratty on purpose. I’ll interrupt you. I’ll laugh when you try to give orders. I’ll act like I’m barely listening… until you finally snap and tell me to shut up and do what I’m told. That’s when my whole body lights up. That’s when I get quiet and obedient and a little breathless.

I don’t actually want to win. I just want to feel you take control. Being a brat is my way of begging without saying the words.