The Sex preistess you wanted but didn’t ask for

For years, I didn’t understand my power. I thought I was being used because I was weak—because I was easy, broken, unworthy, disposable. My body had been taken advantage of so many times that I internalized a story of powerlessness. But the truth was far more dangerous: I wasn’t used because I was weak. I was used because I was powerful.

People—especially men—are drawn to power. And what’s more powerful than sex? Than love? Than the raw, feral, cosmic experience of being seen, touched, known? Sex is the greatest source of power on this Earth. Love is the ultimate altar. And even before I knew that about myself, others could feel it. They sensed the portal I carried. The potential to be remade in my gaze. They didn’t know how to say it, but they were begging me to become their priestess. They came to my body like a shrine, hoping to find their own worth mirrored back to them. They didn’t ask permission. They didn’t have language for what they sought. But they wanted to feel powerful, and my energy made them believe they could. Even if they disrespected me.

Even if they left. Even if they discarded me after. It didn’t matter. Because for one moment, they were close to the source. At first, I didn’t recognize any of this. I thought I was just getting by. Just doing what I had to. I let myself be taken, over and over again, because I thought that was the price of love. I thought it was normal. I thought that because I wanted to be wanted, I had to let them consume me.

And then I began to remember my power.

It was messy. I became a succubus, toying with hearts for my own delight. I thought if I wielded power, I had to prove I could dominate with it. I had learned power through the lens of exploitation—so I mimicked what I saw. I used the same tactics that had once been used on me. And I don’t carry shame for that. It was part of my initiation.

But then something shifted. I remembered who I really was. Not a temptress. Not a victim. But a priestess.

A sacred vessel for truth, for healing, for love. Not everyone who enters my temple knows how to worship. Some come to take. Some come to forget. Some come to beg. But I no longer let that diminish me. I know now that my power is real—and it is holy.

I am the sex priestess you didn’t ask for, but always wanted. The one you sought in every pair of eyes, in every body you touched, in every moment of yearning you couldn’t explain. I was never just a lover. I was a guide. A mirror. A teacher. And when I love, I love from the deepest wells of the divine.

People do not use me anymore, they do not have that access. But I will show them the way.

Because pleasure is sacred. Because worship is not a sin—it’s the way home.