The Living Embodiment of Snow White

Before you begin – full disclaimer – I woke up just now from a nap – and I’m feeling drunk for no reason. So the following is a drunken-tired ramble and therefore may make zero sense. Have fun if you dare attempt! I wrote this disclaimer long after I re discovered the ramble in my notes.

She has deep dark brown eyes – eyes that seem to expand and enlarge when she smiles. This is a smile that lights up the whole room – you think this is a metaphor? Or just semi cliched writing but no – when she smiles, the room seems filled with light, right? All dazzling and brilliant and hearty.

But her eyes – her eyes lift with her face. Her whole face just beams wonderfully. It’s a smile that makes you wanna smile and go – boy howdy, look at that lady there. She is smiling something wonderful.

But here’s the thing. Though this women is the living embodiment of Snow White – and I shit you not, right? Pale skin, like snow covered ice – and then ruby red lips, so deep, so Scarlett that it’s almost like it’s a layer of lipstick when it’s just her natural look. It’s like – whoa.

And then there is her jetblack hair. It’s sometimes done up, I would say because she doesn’t like it getting in the way of every single thing she does – but when she’s feeling less drawn to things by way of mechanical reaching, she lets her hair down to feel more like herself. Like she is more than her business, more than her work, she is part of the forest, part of the earth and the world and the moss on the trees and the animals being all busy and stuff.

So. Yeah. Snow White.

But here’s the other thing, there’s this duality that no body but her knows about. It kinda comes out when she’s in the shower and her is all freshly wet and there’s water beading on her breasts and her nipples are being slashed by the water, still coming on hot.

She feels like a Slave in the context of bdsm. She wants to kneel, right there in the shower and feel the water lashing at her, marking her, scalding her, giving her some sort of rebirth that will make her feel whole.

She has this whole idea in her head of a man rushing in and begging to her for her own release, desperately needing her in some sort of ritualistic slavery so that HE can feel complete right? He so desperately needs her to feel complete – THAT is how powerful she is, how powerful she feels in a moment like this, and yet. This isn’t her.

And that’s the fascinating duality there. That’s the sadness there. It’s a conflicting ball of psychology and behaviourism and then there’s this wonderful beautiful expression of love and a Master and Slave dynamic there too.

I know that mindset well. I know it because I dreamt her. I dreamt her – why? I don’t know. Maybe because the M/s Dynamic fascinates me, maybe because it is truly embedded in my subconscious. Maybe because I know a person like that – maybe it’s a women I’ve met or know of. And this isn’t me being coy like hehehe I know something you don’t – no! This is me wondering and digesting. This is me realising that maybe this woman – this living embodiment of Snow White – is a theoretical woman I know and maybe it’s a reader or a person I met on Fetlife or a tumbler anonymous writer or maybe it is the Slave in my subconscious that acts as a mediator between my mind and the Master in Me.

Then again – maybe – I don’t know, maybe this woman is something that belongs to the people out there, that I would love to protect even though I can’t preach about my life and what worked because everybody has different backgrounds and experiences and methods that work for them. And not everybody needs to hear my own bullshit right?

Maybe this Slave-like embodiment of Snow White just needs to stay in my subconscious for a moment so she can help me. Kinda like Alice with Lewis Carroll only not brilliant.

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