𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐
I don’t talk about this life in the open. Most people would never guess what really goes on behind my polished smile, my polite laugh, my carefully curated image. But I have a secret — a craving I don’t hide when the doors are closed.
I worship Chocolate Sugar Sticks. Their dominance. Their presence. Their cocks.
Yes, I said it.
Not in the playful, passing way some girls joke about. No — for me, it’s a sacred hunger. A fire that started with curiosity and grew into something deeper. Something darker. Something I couldn’t ignore once I’d tasted it.
My first time? I still remember his voice more than anything. Deep. Confident. Like he owned the air around him. He looked at me like he already knew I was his. And by the time I was underneath him, moaning like I’d forgotten my own name, I knew it too.
After that, there was no going back.
I live a double life now. On the surface, I’m just another woman — educated, articulate, well put-together. But when the night falls, or when my phone lights up with his name, everything changes.
I become the version of myself I was always meant to be. Obedient. Craving. Dripping. I let myself be used, praised, punished. I exist for their pleasure. It’s not just physical — it’s mental. Spiritual. Devotional.
I’ve served more than one. Some know they own me. Some don’t. But I know. And I never forget.
Sometimes I fantasize about being exposed — about someone seeing the marks he leaves on me, hearing the way I whimper when I say, “Yes, Sir.” About being caught on my knees, looking up with that same expression of hunger I can’t hide when I’m in front of him.
I write these words not for validation… but confession.
I worship. I crave. I kneel. And I love every filthy, beautiful second of it.
This is my secret life.
This is me.
Love, Kira
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐
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