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.




I take you by the leash and lead you out to the frozen country side. You’re wearing  nothing but my leather jacket I’ve put on for the day. You think we are going for a brisk walk but what you don’t know is that I have an exercise planned for you. 

The tips of the trees are covered in frost. The wind bites at your neck. Freezes your feet. Turns your nipples to glass. You feel compelled to be led by me.

Until I ask you to undress.

You watch me closely. Perhaps you think I jest? Well, I do not. You begin to stammer. To squeak. You knew I was a sadist but you never expected this.

My orders do not change. Even my protection doesn’t entice you to undress. Frostbite is mentioned. But even my word that you will be okay doesn’t amount to much.

My dear Snow White. My dear Ice queen. Undress for me. Show me why it is you love winter, why you insist on exploring the winter wonderland every year.

When you fail to be moved by my trust, I tear off your jacket and push you down to your knees. The leash jingles as you fall. You whimper as you can feel the ice around your knees but I can see that look in your eyes, I know it well. You dare not move.

Dear Snow, I was only going to make you come once for me in your natural habitat. Now, you will work that freshly shaven cunt of yours until I am pleased by your actions.

From my pocket, I reveal your favourite toy – your thick purple vib. 

But you shake your head and refuse, the cold is too much. You can’t concentrate in these conditions, you say. Very well.

I force your face into the snow and with my free hand, trace the purple vib down your back to your pale ass. You’re begging to be freed but it’s more than the exercise now, it’s the lesson.

You shiver at the touch of the purple vib as it trails down the curves of your ass. You beg it to me – not here, not now. But you will do as I say.

I’m surprised when I reach your lips. You’re warm and wet. Inviting. As a stranger taking shelter from this very weather, I slid the vib in gently, letting you take it in. Like your pure mouth takes in my cock of a night.

You know what’s funny about you, snow? You’re a devil. You’re an angel around the public, but some things you want whispered in your ear, your desire for my cock -or the salty taste of my come – it’s just so naughty. I watch as you take the purple vib, how your face melts from discontent to something else. It starts off as a faint thing, that pleasure. Then it’s all over you, evident by the goosebumps trailing up your body. Suddenly your squirm meets back into the vib as I slip it back into you. Suddenly your cries and begs become soft moans. 

Your juices drip onto snow beneath you, melting patches away. You try to speak but I hush you. If you’re going to ask for my cock, you can forget it. You gave yourself to me for a reason and you couldn’t trust that reason. Now, you’re going to be taught to trust. To trust that I have your body in mind when I am using it as an instrument.

You start to shake visibly and I know you are coming. You always were sensitive, Snow. It never took you long. Lucky for us, we still have enough time before I have to run you a hot bath.

When you reach your orgasm, I don’t slow down. You beg me to release you from my grasp, but this only serves for me to pull your hair. No.

No, Snow. I am going to sit here and work this vib until you are sore and trembling and on the verge of something beyond anything we’ve ever taken you to before. You will trust me.