I Want the Version With Fingerprints: A Past Worship Confession From a ADHD Soft Dom

There is no blueprint or secret to discovering you have a past worship kink.
It started because I asked a question I wasn’t supposed to.
We were lying there
naked,
not just in body, but in breath.
And I said it like a curiosity, not a threat:

“What did he do that you liked more than me?”

And I felt her flinch.
Not because she didn’t want to answer.
But because no one had ever asked her like that
with reverence.
with patience.
with permission.
She looked at me like I was about to punish her.
Like telling the truth would break something between us.
And I just whispered:

“I don’t want your highlight reel.
I want the version with fingerprints.”

That’s where this post came from.
From every story that was never told
because someone didn’t know how to hold it.
From every bruise that made you feel broken
instead of beautiful.
From the moments you came when you weren’t supposed to
and never told anyone because you didn’t want to be seen as dirty, or worse… disloyal.

This isn’t about comparison.
It’s not about jealousy.
It’s not about control.
It’s about the way I want to love you through what already happened
not what you pretend never did.

This kink has a name.
And now, finally, it has a place.

“He held me like this.
And I still feel it when you do.”

I’ve heard it too many times:

“You really want to know that?”
“That’s private.”
“You’re going to use it against me.”

But I don’t want your highlight reel.
I want the outtakes.
The bruises.
The part where you came even though you weren’t supposed to.

I want the version of your sex life that still clings to your body memory.
Not to compete.
To connect.

Harder. Every Time.

Every time she told me about her past
what he whispered,
how he held her down,
where his fingers slipped when she didn’t expect them

I got harder.
Not because I wanted to dominate her history.
But because I wanted to feel where it still lived inside her.

I didn’t want to be the first.
I wanted to be the one who held it all without flinching.

It Has a Name Now.

I didn’t know what to call it before.

Now I do.

Past Worship.

Not despite the mess.
Because of it.

It’s a kink built on curiosity and clarity.
It’s arousal built on acceptance.
It’s trust spelled in memory, not control.

It’s when you say,

“I’ve never told anyone this before…”

and I say,
“Tell me slower.”

This Is What I Want to Know

Tell me where his hands were.
Tell me what he did better than me.
Tell me the thing you liked but felt too guilty to want again.

I don’t want to erase your past.
I want to kneel for it.

Because if you give me the full truth
and I still want you?

That’s how you’ll know I’m safe.

Worship Doesn’t Rush

You don’t have to give it all at once.
You don’t have to make it pretty.
You don’t have to say it without shaking.

You can stutter.
Break.
Cry between lines.

And if you can’t say it yet?

I’ll wait.
I’ll worship the silence too.

I Want the Version With Fingerprints

When you’re ready

Give me the story that makes you clench.
The one that made you ache before it ever made you cum.
The one that stained your memory and still lives in your thighs.

That’s the one I want in my mouth.

Not the clean one.
The raw one.

Not the safe one.
The sacred one.

This Isn’t Obsession. It’s Devotion.

This isn’t jealousy.
This isn’t performance.
This isn’t manipulation.

This is what it looks like
when a praise-kinked, memory-anchored Soft Dom
stops pretending that erotic storytelling isn’t sacred.

I don’t loop to relive.
I loop to remember how to love you better.

That’s not control.
That’s curiosity in command.

Let Me Worship Who You Already Are

I don’t want you to be brand new for me.

I want you to be fully you
already touched, already shaped, already craving more

and finally being loved like the entire story was worth telling.

TL;DR Manifesto:

This isn’t obsession.
This isn’t manipulation.
This is a praise-kinked, memory-looping, emotionally tuned Dom
who finally stopped pretending he doesn’t care this much.

Confess this to me:

What part of your past are you still afraid to say out loud…
but secretly wish someone would touch with reverence?

Say it.
Even if it’s messy.
Even if it’s quiet.

I’ll wait right here.
Hard.
Open.
Worship-ready.