Lady:   Lady, oh Lady, so elegantly divine, With grace and kindness that wonderfully shine. Her presence like a gentle breeze, Bringing warmth and ease.   Her eyes sparkle with empathy and care, A heart so deep, willing to share. She walks with a poise so rare, A true embodiment of love and flair.   Her laughter rings like a soothing melody, Bringing joy to all, so effortlessly. A woman of strength and unwavering grace, A shining example for the human race.   In her kindness, the world finds solace, In her elegance, the heart finds its palace. Lady, oh Lady, a beacon of light, Guiding all with her radiance so bright.   May her spirit forever inspire, Kindness and elegance never to tire. For in her, we see a beauty so true, Lady, how amazing and kind are you.

Many people love the fantasy of Dominance. The commanding presence and the control. The title of Master just drips with power and for many, the image it conjures is one of unquestioned authority, luxury and being served hand and foot. Maybe for some it is, I know I definitely have that life most days. But here’s the truth most don’t talk about, being a Master isn’t just about being the king of the house, it’s about being the rock. The standard. The one who leads with clarity, compassion and an unshakable sense of duty. It is the responsibility of a Master to do the best for those in your charge. This is your cautionary tale, because once you accept the role of Master, you don’t just gain power, you take on the weight of someone else’s trust. Their safety. Their submission. And if you can’t honor that, you have no business calling yourself Master at all.

It appears part of our profile is missing our instructions for applying to be our slave so here is the first step again   TO BE CONSIDERED THE FIRST STEP IS TO GIVE A LITTLE INFORMATION ABOUT YOURSELF SO ANSWER THE FOLLOWING   WHAT PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE DO YOU HAVE IN THE LIFESTYLE? WHAT SKILLS DO YOU HAVE TO BRING TO THE HOUSEHOLD? ARE YOU EMPLOYED? IF NOT YOU WILL GET A JOB. DO YOU HAVE ANY HEALTH ISSUES?  WHAT ARE YOUR VANILLA INTERESTS? WHAT ARE YOUR KINKS? DO YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH SERVING IN A POLY HOUSE WITH MULTIPLE SLAVES BOTH FEMALE AND MALE?  DO YOU HAVE ANY LEGAL ISSUES TO SORT OUT?  ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS AND ONCE YOU DO WE WILL GO FROM THERE ANSWERING NONE TO Q1 OR YES TO Q4 DOES NOT HINDER YOUR ABILITY TO BE OUR SLAVE IT IS JUST THINGS WE NEED TO KNOW FOR YOUR SAFETY AND WELLBEING 

The pacifier falls from his mouth and even before I hear it hit the floor he says, louder than I expected, "I will never fuck you again, Kristen." And almost before he even gets the words out he immediately grunts and convulses. I know he's orgasming before I see the spurts of cum escape out the waistband of his white and baby blue diaper. He has been humping his diaper for less than two minutes, and his inability to last any longer drives me crazy inside. I can’t wait to find my hitachi. His mouth is open and he's breathing heavily. Now that he's cum, I want to drive this new reality. "Now, tell me again M, 'I will never fuck you again.'" He catches his breath, looks at me spent, like a puppy, a sad, broken puppy. Quietly he says, "I will never fuck you again Kristen." I'm not convinced and say, "up on your knees, and say it louder." It is taking all of my strength not to plunge my fingers under my dress and into my underwear as I watch him struggle from sitting to his knees, but I know that immediately post orgasm he needs to be made to understand. "Now, look me in the face and tell me you agree and accept that you will never have sex with me again." I see it now, conviction in his eyes, he has accepted it and the moment hits me like a ton of bricks. This feels more significant than when he said, "I do" years ago. He goes a step beyond...I am again so proud of him. So proud where I have been able to direct us.  M looks me in the face, crosses his arms behind his back grabbing his forearms, straightens himself...   "K, I willingly agree and whole heartedly accept that we will never again have sex. I fully accept that we have crossed a line and cannot go back. I am yours. I love you, I want this for you, I want this for us."  I can't stand it...I am torn by the most arousal I have ever felt between my legs and the bursting emotion inside my chest. I tear up, get on my knees with him and wrap my arms around him, we hug for a long time. When we let go we both have tears on our cheeks. "I love you" I say. "I love you" he says. 

  Why Submissive Men Are the Gift That Keeps on Giving Let’s be honest — submissive and slave men are deliciously useful, and if you know how to train, tease, and structure them, they become an absolute dream. I’m not just talking about the foot rubs, the spoiling or the delightfully desperate good-morning messages (though those do make my tea taste better). I’m talking about the deeper satisfaction of molding a man into exactly what you want him to be — obedient, structured, and operating on your rhythm, not his.A good sub craves rules. A real slave aches for structure. Protocols aren’t punishment — they’re a privilege. They weed out the fantasy-chasers and reward the men who understand that service is sacred. The way a slave kneels, the tone of his voice when he addresses me, how he waits for permission to speak or even breathe a little deeper… it’s not about theatrics. It’s about alignment. With my will.And let’s be clear: submissive men are not weak. It takes strength to surrender, discipline to follow, and real devotion to stay in service when it stops being about what turns them on and starts being about what I require.So yes, I like submissive men. I like using them to keep my space clean, my schedule tight, my life flowing in luxury and ease. I like protocols that make them think before they act, ask before they assume, and anticipate before I have to demand.   In this world? You don’t need 100 subs. You just need one who knows that protocol is his privilege — and obedience is his purpose.

It was a mixture of arousal, curiosity and his final reassurance that made her mind up. She knew she could say ‘Stop’ and he would, though that could be permanent, it was an instinctive decision that made her move towards the lift and later she realised why she made it. There was a logical progression to it. She was a stubborn person with a rebellious streak and a free will who made her own decisions and didn’t blame others when they went awry. Here she was reigning in her rebellious streak of her own free will and her natural instincts reinforced this. Her stubbornness would make her comply with what she wanted in this regard, even though it seemed counterintuitive.  Now it was a rush to the receptionist’s desk to get a pen, the envelope was already open and had the room number written on it. The contract was one piece of A4 paper and the male receptionist must have seen the bold type headline which stated ‘SUBMISSIVE’S CONTRACT’. She didn’t have time to read it all, her instinct told her that he would not put anything in it that he had not said. And what would be the point as it was a symbolic act, not a contract that could be legally enforced.  She hurried the short distance to the lift; the concierge seemed to have anticipated her need and he had pressed the button, she momentarily wondered if he knew. Once inside she selected the 4th floor. Her heart missed a beat when just before the doors closed a woman stepped into the lift causing the doors to recycle again and they selected the 3rd floor; she knew this would delay her further. She willed the lift to move faster but still almost in two minds about what she was doing, but she wanted to be the decision-maker on this and not subject to an arbitrary cut off due to time. Her pride ensured she used the time to check her hair and lipstick in the mirror as she would not countenance the thought he would not find her attractive.  The lift reached the 4th floor and according to the large sign room 417 was to the right, she almost ran, nearly tripping over her heels on the thick carpet.  The door to room 417 was slightly ajar, and a ‘do not disturb’ sign was hanging on the handle. She stood for a second or two to let her breathing steady, it seemed to take ages for her hand to travel from to the door, her knock was timid and her stomach almost jumped as she heard the noise her hand made.  A firm reply was forthcoming a few seconds later. ‘Come in Joanna’. She swallowed, took a deep breath and gripping the envelope, pushed the door open and whilst trying to look calm she stepped inside and the door closed with an almost imperceptible click.  The room was warm and gently lit from the lamp above the desk he was sitting at. His jacket was over the back of his chair and the few papers he was attending too were lying about.  Nonplussed for a moment she stood there waiting for some sort of guidance, she knew what she had to do but some sort of signal from him seemed essential.  He understood, or knew, and stood before quietly saying, ‘Come here Joanna’. It was about 4 steps and he stood almost impassively as she greeted him properly. Her arms went around his waist and she pressed herself against him until he said that she could stop. This time it seemed natural and gave a moment when she could do something that seemed familiar and that she was in control of. It also served to break some of her tension before she stepped back ready to kneel. Kneeling seemed a strange and almost alien act; she had been on her knees in front of a man before, but then she was in control of him, she forcibly overcame her rebellious streak and found it disappeared almost entirely.  Her eyes cast down she noticed her knees were together, it seemed inappropriate so she moved them further apart. Taking a larger breath she looked down at his feet and with the envelope in both hands, she held it up to him.  He didn’t seem to move for ages, and then he took it from her hands. He checked her signature was on the contract before placing it amongst the other papers on the desk. This was a small action, however, it made her realise that she had voluntarily signed this part of herself over to him. He had taken possession and she was now his.  He turned the chair to face her and sat on it.  She was on her knees only a few feet from a man she had just given her submission to in writing, she was no longer so nervous, it was now anticipation mixed with exhilaration and her senses were alive! She was now free to be what he decided. He leant forward and lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eyes, ‘Joanna, you are now mine’ he said quietly.  After a pause during which he just looked at her he then continued ‘The photography will wait until tomorrow as there are a few matters from earlier today I will address straight away.’ He wasn’t asking for a reply, he told her to stand and rest her elbows on the desk. She was a little taken aback, whilst earlier considering what might happen this evening she thought he might just photograph her. In a way that would be easier to contemplate, she could understand it would be a reasonable first private meeting, however, she knew it would disappoint her.  But now he was going to ‘Address some matters’ and that sounded ominous, it made the butterflies in her stomach come alive again. She did as asked, putting her elbows on the desk. He told her to arch her spine downwards, this meant she was bent over much further than she felt comfortable, it made her bottom more pronounced and her skirt was tighter. Her knees flexed as she tried to contain the nerves generated by her bottom being so vulnerable, he ordered her to straighten her legs and keep them so, as it tightened the skin of her buttocks. What he did next was unexpected, he ran his fingers around her neck gathering her hair into his hand at the nape of her neck. He expertly wound it into a ponytail using a band that must have been around his wrist. She now felt even more vulnerable without the usual shield of hair that would normally surround her face. She nervously moved her weight from one foot to another. He told her to spread her legs wider to shoulder width. She glanced up into the mirror above the desk; she could see him standing a few meters behind her, looking at her in a way few men had done. It was not simple lust, his face was almost impassive, she could see he was comfortable looking at the salacious view she presented.  His voice was calm as he told her that she had been disobedient when she broke away from the greeting before she had been told she could, she had also been demanding in their early email exchanges. For these, she was going to have her bottom spanked, he said it would be a ‘cumulative dozen’ and if she made any of these mistakes again it would be a stricter punishment.  He told her to raise her skirt over her back, this unnerved her more, it was one thing to have her skirt lifted, but another to do it herself! She thought she could not, but his curt statement of ‘disobey and I will use a strap instead of my hand’ encouraged her. She rested her forehead on the desk and reaching behind her with both hands she lifted the hem of her skirt until it lay over her back. He then described the view he had of her bottom in very basic language. His description of the way her swollen sex lips bulged into her panties was particularly crude and said with distinctive pleasure.  A short while later he moved to her left side. He reached over her back and pulled her right hip towards him, holding her still by trapping her against his thigh.

Newbies and their b.s about not wanting to go out in the real kink scene with reply as: A munch has no play, it's a drink in a pub. At a fetish club you can watch, you don't need to play, instead chat to other kinksters and familiarise yourself with the kink arena. If you feel the need to be discreet thrn you are likely cheating = no from me. Join Fetlife to chat in discussion groups if you wish to remain online. There are "roleplay" groups for Fantasy "play" = not my thing. I think my reply is clear. Experienced Submissive and Slave guys only who drive and go to munches and fetish clubs is what interests me.  Just because a newbie wants an experienced Dominant Woman doesn't mean he access to my time. I RULE me.

Had my first true taste of BDSM a few days ago.    I am not a person who likes pain, dare I say I avoid it at all costs, but it was My online Mistress “Ms T”, it was her will for it to happen.    The wonderful Ms T had her longest serving sub act out her wishes, as she watched on and directed via Skype text chat   I was flogged with a cat-o’-nine-tails from fully clothed , progressing to completely naked, the deep pressure resonating in my chest felt amazing, as I got more naked and the lashes kept coming I felt searing pain and a wish to stop, my mind refusing to utter the words…    I was here to serve my mistress and I was not going to stop until she gave the order..   As the lashes continued I looked forward to the pause between them, that brief moment when the pain subsided , it was the pains complete opposite, it was not just a pause but peaceful bliss and exquisite relief.   After flogging I was restrained to a bed, my eyes blindfolded and lying on my back completely naked, a sharp Dragon claw with tips like needles prodded and scraped down my skin, manageable I thought , until it reached my genitals, it tugged and pulled at my sensitive flesh, I writhed and tensed in shock as my veins filled with electricity from its action.    My buttocks tender from the flogging prodded and dug at by the claw , my body began to spasm and convulse, I forgot I could say stop at any time , I just knew this was making my Mistress Ms T happy and that was all I wanted.     I wanted to be worthy of being her sub her slave. I wanted to prove to my self I was capable of such.   Ms T’s proxy sucked on my cock as the claws dug and pulled at my flesh, I in no way felt erotic pleasure but here I was with a massive erection the like I’d not had for years.     Ms T enjoys forced Bi encounters and so blindfolded and beaten to my most submissive state, hands bound behind my back I was told to get to my knees and suck..  Her proxy let out the occasional audible mumble of pleasure as Ms T’s gratitude and love for me was re told to me as I still was blindfolded and couldn’t read the chat text .   Left after , kneeling blindfolded, in a state of complete nothingness, I had not thoughts, my mind empty, my body fatigued and occasionally twitching , I felt a peace and tranquillity like nothing I’d ever experienced before in the deepest of meditations or the most soothing of massages.   I think I am beginning to understand…!!!!   I had done it, I had made my Mistress Ms T happy. In a way I didn’t think I could.     Ms T , I may never meet you but I love you for this and for everything you’ve helped me experience..   For all the subs not knowing if Online Mistresses really work in reality,, I tell you now.. Ms T is the only one you need and will be the only one you want. !!! Thank you Ms T   Find her on FetLife MsT2011 or CollarSpace  mst2019

Question: I would be interested to hear about your journeys and how you navigated finding your D/s type. ANSWER: In my experience, it can be an occasionally rewarding, but largely difficult and frustrating journey. But then I guess a lot depends on who you are (I mean, really are as a person and what you expect/seek). At its best is more honest and intimate than anything else I know, but then it can also be hugely intolerant and judgemental too - something of an irony to my mind. There is such a broad spectrum of interests and needs that simple labels - no matter how many there are - are not sufficient. Unless you identify as a victim and ride like flotsam on the tides of kink, it is important to know yourself. If you don't know you, how do you expect anyone else to?? Mine has been a long journey, the most recent insight being that I am an empath, albeit an unusual one. Knowing this now makes so much sense of things in past, both in BDSM and vanilla life. But I know I am still processing it all and have a way to go. I will leave you with two thoughts: Through BDSM, one is made aware of who one truly is. This may not be who they thought they were, who they want to be or even who they think they should be, but it will be them. (and more controversial) Everyone (dominants and submissives) is damaged in some way - not always obviously and often not admitted even to themselves - and this will have bearing on how they contribute to and what they take from BDSM. The links are not simple linear ones, but they are always there. Understanding one's own damage is healthy. Understanding the damage of a potential partner is enlightening. And finally, when you find a place, however brief, you will feel with intensity and know what it is to be alive!

COCKSUCKERS PLEDGEby Jeremy C. Turnbull - As a Cocksucker, I realize that my place is at the feet of my Feeder; that my sexual fulfillment depends on the pleasure I give my Feeder, and his generosity allows me to gain nourishment from him. - As a Cocksucker, I realize that my only real sexual organs are my mouth, tongue, and throat; that my only need is to pleasure my Feeder. When I am at my true place between his legs, I have no need other than this.- As a Cocksucker, I solemnly vow, without hesitation or regret, to possess a willing mouth; to know I belong on my knees in the presence of a true Feeder; to accept my Feeder’s milk, his nourishment, his cum, in any manner my Feeder requires; to give my Feeder my best, because this is what he deserves for allowing me to nourish myself. - Furthermore, I vow to maintain such focus on his cock and his pleasure that it becomes the center of my universe; to suck, swallow, gag, stroke and choke when he expaspects it from me; to learn when he needs me to suck, swallow, gag, stroke, and choke without having him to tell me. - By this solemn pledge, I accept my place in the world; I love and embrace being a Cocksucker, as this is the only way I can perform to my Feeder’s satisfaction. I swear to make my Feeder moan. I accept that my Feeder is allowed to say whatever he wants or call me whatever he wants while I am pleasuring him. - I agree to show my addiction and need for my Feeder’s cock and cum by begging for it if need be, because a Cocksucker has no pride, he is a slave. I agree, obviously, to make my mouth a willing and anxious hole for my Feeder’s nourishing seed. And to be ready for my Feeder at any time, or multiple times. - It is my duty to learn every nuance of my Feeder’s cock and what pleasures him the most. I accept not to bite unless my Feeder desires it. I agree to surrender to deep throating, to face-fucking, to multiple cocks and being roughly used. I will never stop until my Feeder is finished with me and truly satisfied In conclusion, as a cocksucker, my sexual identity is tied to the cock of another Man. I know that in life I will only achieve fulfillment through the graciousness and charity of my Feeder and hereby vow with all sincerity to service my Feeder to the best of my ability and strive to improve my technique. The consequences in breaking this contract will result in my spiritual, sexual and physical starvation.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the American Dream. Growing up, I wanted what I assume most middle class people wanted. It never occured to me that there was something else to want. You get married. You buy a nice house with a garage and a dog, have a few kids, keep your yard neat, and work 9 to 5 basically forever.  It's not what I want these days. I love my house, but I don't need it like I used to. All of the things are suddenly just things. Well yes, okay, I have intense feelings for some of my clothes. Mostly though, I think I could take my dog and drive away. Shouldn't I want this more? Want more more?  I'm at a crossroads in my career, in that I don't want to be doing this anymore, but I don't know what it is I want to be doing. I am not independently wealthy and I never did nab that husband, so a job it is. I would like to work remotely so I can hang out with my dog, or work somewhere she is welcome. I'm not sure what's out there and what will pay the bills. Part of me wants to sell everything and move somewhere to lead a less compicated life. I'm not sure I'm at the point where that would be enough. Then again, I weeded and put down mulch the other day. Who is this person? 

Sissy Bimbo Journal Entry: Hello, darlings! 💕✨ This is your cute little bimbo sissy, just putting it out there: I’m ready and begging to be used in any and every way that pleases you! I’ve totally embraced my role as the ultimate sissy toy, and I am always eager to fulfill every hardcore fantasy you have in mind. My mind is nothing but pink, sparkles, and submission, and I’m craving the chance to be molded, trained, and pushed to my limits. 💖 Ultimate Bimbo Doll Training 💖 I’m fully ready to be turned into the perfect bimbo doll, trained to speak, move, and think in the way you desire. Take control of my wardrobe, my body, and my entire mindset—teach me to be the obedient, mindless bimbo you crave, with nothing in my head except the need to please. 💋 Public Play Object 💋 Imagine me out in public, dressed in the skimpiest outfits you choose, completely exposed to everyone’s gaze. I’m ready to be humiliated, shown off, and paraded around like the little sissy I am. I’ll follow any command you give me, no matter how embarrassing or degrading. 🔒 Chastity and Control 🔒 Lock me up and hold the key to my most private parts—I don’t deserve any pleasure unless it’s from you. You can decide when, where, and how (or if) I’m ever allowed to feel pleasure. Keep me teased and denied, desperate and begging, while you revel in the control you have over my helpless, needy body. 🔨 Degradation Play 🔨 I’m nothing but a sissy bimbo, ready to be verbally torn down and reduced to the lowest possible level of worth. Humiliate me, call me worthless, make me feel like the trashy toy I was meant to be, and I’ll love every second of it. I’ll wear any degrading outfit, repeat any humiliating phrase, and sink into complete mental submission under your control. 🩺 Medical and Sissy Transformation 🩺 Feel free to turn me into your personal project—use me for extreme body transformation fantasies. From forced feminization to body modifications, I’m here for it all. Shape me, mold me, make me the ultimate sissy that exists to fulfill your twisted fantasies. 🖤 Total Objectification 🖤 I exist to be used. You can treat me as an inanimate object—whether that means being your human furniture, your pet, or something more extreme. Use me however you want. I have no thoughts, no desires, no goals except to be a perfect plaything for those who crave power over me. So, if you’re looking for the ultimate sissy bimbo who lives to be used, abused, and degraded, I’m here, fully willing and desperate to be the toy you desire. Let’s explore your wildest, most hardcore fantasies together—I promise I’m ready for anything. 💄👠 Message me and let’s make your most extreme dreams come true. I’m here to serve, sissy bimbo style! 💕💋 Love and submission, Your Little Sissy

I am not ashamed to admit that this morning I was in a Neil Diamond mood. I have weeks where I am singing Cracklin' Rosie all day. Not so much lately, hence the need. I have my favorites and the songs I skip over. I play Forever in Blue Jeans twice. So I am driving to work, merging with people who don't know how to merge, and a song queues up that I would normally skip over. But I was clueless merging so I wasn't paying attention. And then I hear the words. Far. We've been traveling far. Without a home. But not without a star.  All of the sudden I start tearing up thinking about how people left everything and everyone for an unknown, optimistic opportunity. And the song goes on.  Free. Only want to be free. We huddle close. Hang onto a dream.  At this point I am full on ugly crying with red rimmed eyes, sniffling, trying to see because I'm driving around a bend, and I'm coming up to the parking lot a red rimmed, sniffling mess. Deep breaths. Composure. Skip Heartlight today and for all eternity. Head into work. Tell me it's not just me? If you say I'm hormonal I will deck you. 

There is a mystical moment when two men meet and sex is in the air. They both know what they want but one is a bottom he may or may not know it. Then there is a moment of hesitation when after looking the object of his desire the hand extends to feel what his body is craving. Still if there is a little presumption of an ill understood machismo that hand moves slowly for what feels like an eternity. After contact caressing the phallus is not sufficient, but how to surrender? Finally, the top takes over, and firmly guides him to acknowledge his place, kneeling; and having the object of his desires close to the parting lips... Sheer poetry, bliss, sweet hesitation, and the ultimate surrender to open his mouth and forgetting the world around devotes his energy to please the object of his desire, his top, who allows the bottom to taste him deep and completely. They are not strangers anymore, the bottom has found his niche in the order of things, kneeling and giving up any pretense of control. From now on his domination is in the hands of his top.  

Who’s time is it anyway?   I would not take to property any slave that was not totally My property.   On more than one occasion, I have had prospective slaves misunderstand time. The slaves in question have offered non specific time instead of a definite time I directed.    Some slaves are journalling at My request. I direct them to make daily submissions to Me at a specific time each day; a time of slave’s choice. Many respond by offering a non-compliant time. They might offer to obey direction for journal submission the morning or evening of each day.   That broad a time frame may be convenient for the slave. A non-specific time may work well in their life.    The basic problem is the idea that the slave has the option to arrange its life for its convenience. The slave seems to hold the belief that time belongs to it to manage. A total slave owns nothing, especially time. Time is one of the many things that are in the province of its Owner. Having it operate as a supplicant on My time frame teaches it the lesson about, “Who’s time is it anyway.”

In the tapestry of relationships, polyamory stands out as a distinct weave, one that has graced my life in unexpected ways. Today, I sit back to reflect on my experiences in MfM and fMf dynamics and the deeply transformative impact they have had on me.   Poly relationships, particularly those involving MfM or fMf dynamics, are not merely about the number of partners but the depth of connection, understanding, and mutual respect. I've always felt a special allure towards such relationships. It's an intricate dance of balance, emotion, and trust.   James, my late husband, played an instrumental role in my introduction to this world. He wasn't just my husband; he was a guiding force, teaching me the beauty of unconditional love, free from societal shackles. The way he introduced me to the world of BDSM, and by extension, poly dynamics, was subtle, considerate, and built on a foundation of trust. It wasn't about sharing for sharing's sake, but about expanding our horizons, about understanding that love isn't finite, and that sharing doesn't diminish but rather amplifies affection.   I remember our first experience. The trust between James and me was the anchor, holding us steady amidst the tumultuous waves of uncertainty. He would often whisper affirmations in my ear, reminding me of my worth, my beauty, and my agency. "You are in control," he would say, even when introducing me to a new partner. This wasn't about him, or even about the new partner; it was about *us*, as a unit, exploring, learning, and growing.   In an fMf dynamic, there was a certain softness, a delicate touch. The presence of another woman introduced a different layer of intimacy. It was in these moments that I found a sisterly bond, a deep understanding, which went beyond the realms of physicality. On the other hand, the MfM dynamic provided a sense of security, of being cherished, surrounded by an aura of protection from both sides.   But why do I like it? It's the feeling of expansiveness, the sensation that my heart isn't confined to a singular beat but reverberates with multiple rhythms. James ensured that I never felt ified. It wasn't about mere physicality but an exploration of emotions, boundaries, and profound connections. The journey made me more comfortable in my skin, understanding and accepting my desires, and seeing them not as taboo but as natural extensions of my persona.   James always reminded me of my worth. His unwavering support ensured I never felt "less than" or "used." Each experience was a shared one, a journey that we undertook together. There were moments of doubt, of course, moments where societal conditioning would seep in, whispering words of judgment. But with James by my side, those whispers were quickly silenced. His belief in the beauty and authenticity of our choices bolstered my confidence.   In the end, poly dynamics taught me the multifaceted nature of love. They made me realize that love isn't a zero-sum game. One can love multiple people, in varied ways, without diminishing the love for any single individual. It's about expansion, about realizing the boundless capacity of the human heart.   In these relationships, I've learned more about myself than I ever imagined. They taught me resilience, understanding, and most importantly, self-acceptance. Through the layers of shared experiences, laughter, tears, and deep conversations, I found a version of myself that's unapologetic, bold, and incredibly comfortable in her skin.  

No poetry from me today as I am looking forward to seeing Pretty Wreckless and  ACDC tomorrow at Wembley!!!  On a different subject those who apply to me who drive don't continue chatting. I have no intention of doing online sexting and expect ordinary topic style conversation which appears to beyond those submissive guys who message me 🤔  Okay they are not compatible so I move on. Though I wonder why they bother at all if they don't wish to make an effort to chat here. Of course establishing his intent is key. Most hold back on that using "boy speak" thinking creepy words which sound simpy will suffice= No. Honesty is key and attending the Munch I mention ASAP is the first step. Want to voice talk with me = it will be voice on Skype no you will not get my mobile number. No I am not interested until your location is near me. "Oh I will move for you" is declined/blocked. Reading other journals I see plenty of Dominant Women going through a similar problem. A guy who thinks he is interested and fits key points she seeks = submissive by his intent to please her and is ready to do stuff to show that. Like attending a munch as an adult and being a pleasant social adult. Why is being a social adult past his remit of what he can offer= his intent is to be an online wanker. That's blocked by me. Then I read one guy's journal about Dominant Women putting him, a round peg, into all sorts of bizarre shaped holes. Not reinventing the wheel here. Compatibility is first = outside of play and kink BEFORE play, kink and sex occur. Those fuckbois are a hard limit =oh fuck my ass"= that's anal sex. So they want a Kink dispenser ONLY=hard limit for me. Poof their gone. No problem my whips, rope, floggers and amusements will go on another. A whole adult strong submissive man intent on pleasing me, and accepting I am poly and being a grown up about it.

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