BDSM Dating in Monett

Looking for someone to keep company and maybe play a little Saturday night. You, me, hotel room and as much time as you want!

I'm up for meeting, I don't own a car though and cat host ik it's inconvenient but I promise you won't regret me

I’m looking for someone to take care of me😉
I need someone that knows what they are doing and can show me the ropes! I’m not entirely sure what my kinks are.. can you help me figure them out?

I'm up for pretty much anything just hmu and ask

Looking for someone with a long one that will play with me and my other.

Looking for fun tomorrow, Monday the 19th. Somewhat local to me, preferably within 30 miles. We can get food and see where it goes. NSA…

The woods learned their names before the dawn did.

She ran through the trees as if the earth itself had taught her how—bare feet striking moss and root, breath breaking in silver threads. The chase had begun long before her legs moved; it started the moment she glanced back and met his eyes. There was no *** in her, only heat. Invitation disguised as flight.

He followed without haste. He always did.

His heart thundered in his chest, a living drum that matched the rhythm of her steps. Each beat carried her name, each pulse a vow he had not yet spoken. He was darkness shaped like a man—patient, inevitable, burning. The forest opened for him, branches bowing as if they, too, knew where this would end.

She wanted to be caught.

When he finally closed the distance, it was gentle. His hand wrapped around her wrist, firm and certain, grounding her like an anchor dropped into wild water. She turned into him, breathless, eyes bright, surrender blooming like fire under her skin. The world narrowed to the space between their bodies, to the way his presence swallowed the night.

“You always come back to me,” he murmured, forehead resting against hers.

“I always wanted you to find me,” she answered.

There was nothing violent in the way he claimed her—only devotion sharpened to an edge. He did not cage her; he chose her. And she, trembling with desire, chose him back. In the hush beneath the trees, he bound her hands not with rope, but with promises. With his name whispered against her mouth. With a ring pressed warm into her palm, as if it had lived in his heart waiting for her touch.

They married under the watching stars, the forest their witness.

The chase never truly ended. It lived on in their laughter, in the way she still ran sometimes just to feel his pursuit, in the way his heart still burned when he followed. But now, when he caught her, it was home.

He was tall in the way shadows stretch at dusk—unapologetic, inevitable.
A Scorpio man, they whispered, as if the word itself carried a warning label. He didn’t stalk his prey with haste. He never had to. He waited, watched, learned. And when he moved, it was with intention sharp enough to cut silk.

She noticed him before she understood why.

It was the stillness. While the world rushed, he remained—leaning against the bar, fingers curled loosely around a glass he hadn’t touched in minutes. His gaze wasn’t hungry. It was curious. As if he were reading her rather than undressing her. That alone made her pulse stumble.

Most men chased. He invited.

When their eyes met, he didn’t smile. He tilted his head, just slightly, like a question mark given human form. It unsettled her. Intrigued her. She felt seen in a way that felt dangerous—not because he might hurt her, but because he might understand her.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” he said when she passed him, voice low and unhurried.

She stopped. Turned. “You don’t even know me.”

His lips curved then—not kind, not cruel. Knowing.
“Exactly.”

That was how he lured her—not with promises or pressure, but with permission. Permission to be curious. To step closer. To test the gravity between them.

He never touched her without invitation. Never cornered her. He simply spoke truths she hadn’t given voice to—about boredom disguised as ambition, about longing mistaken for restlessness. Each word wrapped around her like silk cords, tightening only because she leaned into them.

“You’re not prey,” he murmured one night as they stood beneath a flickering streetlight, shadows tangled at their feet. “You’re a hunter who forgot she enjoys the chase.”

Her breath caught. “And you?”

“I enjoy watching,” he said. “Until you ask me not to.”

That was the danger of him—not domination, but depth. He didn’t consume. He claimed, but only what was offered. And what she offered was her mind first—her questions, her darkness, her hunger to be understood without being softened.

When she finally stepped into him—into the heat of his presence, the quiet storm of his attention—it wasn’t because she was caught.

It was because she chose to be.

And in his arms, she learned the truth:
The most dangerous lure isn’t ***.

It’s recognition.

Have older ladies take me to morning arcade in lingerie and tie me up and let all the men use me for a cum dump

Looking for a dom In the neosho mo area