The winds of change blow fast and far. New to the area looking for a new start. I will be very clear...again...I am not looking for a dominate man who thinks he is somehow a gift to all women. If you can't read and understand the profile please don't waste my time. If you tell me you are an expert at anything be prepared to demonstrate.  

You can call yourself whatever you like..however you will still be you. Perhaps in your next life you will be luckier.

The rain has come and with it a changing of the season. Washed clean by the harsh and brutal downpours life renews reviews and rewrites itself. Lessons are put to use and we move on.  May your journey continue.

It is very distressing when the people you feel the closest to are the same people who you can't trust to be real with you. Very very sad.

Some people never learn.

They say, “I want _________.” Without thinking about who or what they are or where they are in their development, then, when things don’t go the way they have envisioned,  they get all pissy like it is someone else’s fault that things did not turn out the way they really wanted.

Because I can teach, does not mean that you are ready to learn it.

Because someone else thinks you should learn, does not mean that you will.

Because you say you are learning does not demonstrate that you have learned the skill.

Take the time to think about what it is you really want and need in your life, your real life that is, because your fantasy is totally within your control and that need not involve me at all.

If I can make your fantasy real for you that is very nice indeed, but if all you really want is your own version of your fantasy please take a masturbation break and have your fantasy your way.

Step up and be real or sit the fuck down and keep your mouth shut!

I find it interesting how many “men” think that looking scary, having a motorcycle, owning some leather and chains makes them a Dom. It is not how many crops, whips, chains, dildos, vibrators, playthings you own that make you a Dom. It is not the tattoo; it is not the presentation of your cock for the world to see that make you Dom. You can post pictures of elaborate playthings, women sucking your cock, scary faces you can make and all the rest but that does not make you anything more than a person in need of a more fulfilling life. To be a Dom you have to have something more. Start with class and style, be able to give people what they need, be responsible for what you say and do and those you hold as subs/slaves, have intelligence and be capable in all ways. So for those of you who insist on sending me messages saying you are a Dom, I say prove it by showing me your mind not your cock/tattoo/toys. If you have nothing more than a whip and a chair go tame some pretend lioness and stop wasting my time.

Fresh from the hot shower, scrubbed to a beautiful, solid pinkness from top to bottom, the steam rises off his body. He works at drying himself as he has been instructed, soothing his tender clean skin with the towel. I can tell by the look in his eyes he is excited about his chance to impress not only my guests but me with his skills. He has been in training for some time now but this is his first opportunity to be displayed and available to my guests. He looks ready but I wonder if he is able to maintain his self control. There is little room for errors tonight.  I have promised my guests exceptional service; I do not make promises lightly.

Now to the dressing room, his collar already in place needs only the addition of his lead. His wrist cuffs are on the bed, the cufflink shapes locks waiting to put in place. He is eager to get them on but I have not given permission so he waits. His impatience is not a good sign. He knows better than to huff while waiting for my attention or command. He will wait longer and the rewards for such behavior are never to his liking. The opportunity to receive attention is slowly slipping away with every huff. He will be spending his time waiting while another takes his place in tonight activities. It’s a shame, as he is beautiful to look at and could have been enjoyed by many. I suppose he is simply not ready for this occasion.

As I turn to leave he throws himself at my feet and whispers an apology. It has little meaning to me. I walk away and do not look back, leaving him to think about his misstep and come up with a suitable way to demonstrate his regret.

Fresh from the shower, scrubbed to a beautiful, solid pink from top to bottom, the steam rises off her body. Her slender body moves in an appealing way as she dries her tender skin. Her breasts are small but beg to be touched, nipples erect from her scrubbing and the texture of the towel sliding across them. I think my guests will enjoy her. I can see she is happy to have been chosen as the replacement for her fellow slave. She looks confident and in control of herself. As her silver cuffs are locked, the delicate silver and gold bells shining as the swing at her wrists, she keeps her eyes down and assumes a thankful position. She looks out the corner of her eye at the one she is replacing for the evening and I can see her pride and pleasure. I have no doubt that she will make me proud and please my guests in any way they may desire.

She waits by the staircase as they enter the house, just out of full view, kneeling, naked but for her collar, lead and wrist cuffs, eyes down, hands at rest. She does not attempt to hide from their eyes but she does not attempt to get attention, she simply waits for my command with full control over herself, a complete understanding of her place and total willingness to provide whatever service my guest may require without complaint, without hesitation, without question and with every skill she has learned, used to the best of her ability.

A smile caught my attention today, a smile on the face of a beautiful girl walking on the street. She walked with her head down avoiding eye contact. As I approached her I wondered what she was thinking and where she was going. Getting closer to her she lifted her head and made eye contact with me and smiled. Suddenly her eyes sparkled as she recognized me for what I am, someone who could use her to her best advantage. I smiled in return and she said hello. A simple thing really but done sweetly and with regard. After a very slight hesitation she asked me if I lived in the area and could give her directions. Being happy to help someone with such a shy demeanor I agreed and invited her into my office out of the rain. She entered the office and I offered her a cup of coffee. As we settled into the chairs I asked what she was looking for and she replied that she was looking for the women’s shelter. She told me that her boyfriend had thrown her out with just what she was wearing and she could not think of anything else to do but hope for a night inside out of the rain. As she left to find shelter for the night I thought of all the ways I could enjoy this shy creature. I could see her not so comfortably chained to the wall, naked, shy, sad look on her face. I have been thinking about her since, maybe I will run into her at some point and make that offer. Life is good.

Waiting

It’s late. I should be sleeping but I’m not. I hear you moving around the house making sure everything is secure. Doors locked, blinds pulled, lights off. I listen and wait to hear your progress through the hallway. 

I pretend I am sleeping when you peek into my room. The streetlight sends a single shaft of light across the floor from above my window blind. Through slightly parted lids I peek back at you all the while waiting for you to decide if tonight is going to be safe enough.  

I see the indecision on your face, indecision mixed with desire and greed. No one else can claim to have touched me as you have. You want to explore my body again and I want you too.

 As you begin to move out of the doorway and down the hall to your room where your wife sleeps I turn and expose a bit of shoulder and push a leg out from under the covers. The blanket moves just enough for you to see the outline of my body. I can feel my nipples harden against the fabric. Your decision is made.

 Slowly you come into the room and close the door; you still don’t know that I am awake. But I am and I watch you. In order for this to work I know I must maintain my illusion of sleeping but I can not help a slight smile, knowing that I have influenced you in such a way that you are not as concerned about the consequences of our encounter. I know you are going to stay in my room for a while and I will again feel my body respond to your touch.

 I watch and wait as you look at me from the foot of the bed. I hear your breathing change; I see the brief look at the door as if you are trying to remember how you got to where you are now. I turn away from you so you have no choice but to move closer to really be able to see me. I wait. I am good at waiting.

 Cautiously you move to the bed. I feel you reach for the blanket, perhaps considering covering me up, I turn again. You can not stop the blanket from moving to the foot of the bed and I am looking at you. Waiting. I move my arms above my head so you can look at me fully. I hear your breath change again, slow deep breaths. Are you calming yourself?

 You touch me and I feel my nipple harden against the palm of your hand. I feel the texture of your hand, so different from my own. As you squeeze my nipple I sigh, I can not help it, and the feelings moving through my body are strong, tingling, pleasant and nagging all at the same time.

 You sit on the edge of the bed and lean onto me taking my nipple into your mouth, sucking while your other hand explores my stomach and between my legs before moving to my neck and collarbone. I can feel your thumb on my jaw. Can you feel my heartbeat? Can you hear my breathing? Are you excited about what is happening? Are you as excited as I am?

 I keep my eyes closed but continue to watch through my lashes. I know you know I am not asleep but I do not want you to stop so I must continue to pretend. You lean up and whisper into my ear. At first I can not hear what you are saying. Finally, I realize you are telling me to be quiet. Was I making noise?

 Your breath is on my neck and your hand has left my neck. I feel your hand move down my body. Your touch has changed. It is no longer soft and gentle. There is firmness in it now. You pinch my nipple and it hurts but I am quiet. You touch my pussy and at first it is gentle. As I start to relax and enjoy the feeling of warmth and wetness I am experiencing again you tell me to be quiet and this time your bite my neck when I begin to say I was not making noise.

 I feel your fingers rubbing and exploring my pussy. I feel you slip one finger inside me as if testing me. The wetness grows and I think that everything is ok, this will be pleasant. It feels good and I lift myself to your hand in the hope you will continue, that we will continue. You tell me to stop it and bite my neck again. It hurts but this time when you bite there is also a tingle of excitement and my desire grows. I do not stop; I lift to your touch again and feel your finger move deeper inside me. You remove your hand and grab my chin, turning my head and hissing into my ear that you said stop and you meant it. I can tell you are angry with me but I can also tell you are excited by what I have done.

 I can see your hand stroking your dick. I can see how big you are getting by the light from the street. I can see you sweating just a little and I can hear how heavy your breathing has become.

 I want more. My body wants more. You see me looking at you, watching your stroke yourself and you turn my head away, holding my jaw and pressing until my chin is on my shoulder. A shudder runs through you and I hear you as you’re cum lands on my arm.
After you are gone, when I am alone, in the dark, with your cum on my skin, I wait. I wait for my mind and body to slow down, for my body to stop nagging me. I pretend and I wait until my mind slows and even though I have not figured it all out yet I will. Until then I will wait. I am good at waiting, very good at waiting.

The Ungrateful Bitch

Have you ever been in a position to fill someone else’s fantasy only to find that once that was done they were ungrateful and nervy enough to act as if you somehow mistreated them?  I was recently in such a situation. For weeks Lisa had been talking about how much she would like to party with my friend and I.  Every time we went out she would ask about our adventures. My friend is a very dynamic man with great charm and intellect. Women find him more than simply pleasant to look at; they often find themselves drawn to him like moths to a flame. He is charmingly confident and a wonderful dancer not to mention his striking blue eye and wicked smile. In fact I find it hard to limit my use of wondrous words when describing him. So to keep it simple he is devastating to look at and delightful to know. I personally have never met a man who is more entertaining or that I would call a true friend, even when he calls me on my bullshit. It is safe to say that I love him as I have never loved another man. But I digress, so back to my story.

After many conversations about a variety of entertainment and the players my friend and I encountered in our adventures, Lisa pointedly asked to be taken out on a date. To be made the center of our attention as well as the center of attention for those who may be around us. So we set about the task of making arraignments with Lisa to go out with the clear understanding that we would protect her from harm and fulfill her desire to be the center of everyone’s attention, ultimately show her a great time, as long as she agreed to follow our lead and do as she was told. I want to be clear here, she also had the option of setting some limits if she felt she was in harms way or her personal boundaries were pushed beyond her endurance. Now we all know that everyone has boundaries that they believe define who they are and what they think, but we also know that most of that is bullshit that fades rather fast when they are getting exactly what they are or have been asking for. I spent a lot of time making sure that she had the opportunity to change her mind, change the ground rules and ultimately skip any public displays and play with us privately so there is no doubt in my mind that she was given fair and adequate opportunity to make the date whatever she wished it to be. 

The day of the date Lisa asked for assistance with her clothing choices and received it. Lisa asked for information about where we were going and a loose timeline for the evening and it was given. Lisa asked if she should wear panties and was told of course not. Lisa was never offended through out the day with anything she was told to do or any information she was given so my expectation was an exceptionally interesting and pleasant date night.

At first it seemed that would be the case. I was amazed at how quickly she was able to adjust to straddling my friend’s lap, in the large wooden rocking chair in my living room having her pussy played with. I was impressed when she was able to quickly and freely cum on my fingers when I put them in her already wet pussy. I was impressed with her ability to enjoy receiving attention from both my friend and I in an almost greedily excessive number of orgasms before we even left the house. A very enjoyable pre-function in my opinion and a clear indicator of the night’s potential.

One of the things Lisa had told me she had fantasies about was public bondage. In order to make that happen you have to plan, especially in a small, tight, and very white community, as I live in. After some discussion we determined that there was room and ability to tie her without too many people being able to see the process while allowing those that were more interested to see enough to potentially cause a stir of interest. You never know when your next playmate will come from. Above the alcove where Lisa was bound there is a bar that we frequent, we are known and others often find themselves wanting to either be a part of what we are doing or trying to separate us for their own amusement although I must say that my male friend is there more often them I even though I have an in with the band, the drummer has big hands if you know what I mean.  As we begin to lead Lisa towards the entrance she buckled and was not able to go through the door bound, because we are caring people and her terror was plainly visible we spent some time trying to make her more comfortable. This was disappointment number one. Untied she was given rules for the remainder of the evening as she was no longer physically bound, she needed to be one or the other of us at all times, with in reach, able to respond to any demands that might be made of her. I had hope that her agreement would make things better after her failure to enter the bar bound. I do not like to be disappointed especially after working so had to make her request a reality. My friend is much more forgiving.

As the night progress Lisa was able to allow some public touching of “private parts” while in the bar although she floundered when she noted that an older couple was upset by our activities. As far as I could tell they were the only ones who felt that way and they went home rather early anyway as for the remainder of the bar they we aware of her for the entire evening. Lisa was the center of EVERYONE’S attention. Men and women wanted to fuck her and would have if allowed, additionally, men and women wanted to be her tied to us as she was. After a few hours of turning heads and creating conversations that would carry over the next few weeks we returned to my home and my friend took possession of our attention seeking whore. She was beautifully flushed by this time. Her make up was not as fresh as it had been but she looked totally fuckable and I could not reasonably expect that my friend would go without simply because she did not behave as well as I had hoped. As they entered the play room and my friend began to eat her pussy I was amazed by his ability to bring her to forceful orgasm within about 3 minutes. To her credit she did not hold back, she rode his tongue and totally surrendered to his will as he moved her from one position to another bringing her over and over again to orgasm. As he fondled and manipulated her tits making her moan and squirm under his attention I watched him lavish her with his talented, sweet, caring attention. I counted no less than 14 orgasms over the course of the evening and was hoping that Lisa would take the opportunity to give my friend a blow job at the very least. This was not the case. After an hour Lisa passed out. Plain and simple, curled into the fetal position Lisa was no longer conscious.  

My friend and I discussed what to do with her. Let her sleep? Wake her? Wait and see if she would offer sexual relief for my friend? Bitch slap her awake and make her suck him off? We decided that we would wait and see what kind of whore she was. Even a half ass whore would make sure she at the very least gave him something in return for her evening of entertainment. When Lisa woke she did not offer anything to anyone. No gesture of thanks, no kiss goodnight, she just went home.

Now some of you may think that I am being unfair in saying that Lisa was an ungrateful bitch but think about it. How much would you give for the opportunity to have your public play fantasy fulfilled and experience multiple orgasms without it costing you anything except your time? To this day Lisa has not thanked my friend, not for the night out of her vanilla life, not for paying for the evening out at the club, not for anything and in fact has acted like somehow she was taken advantage of. So for all of you who talk about what you want to experience and how hard it is to find someone to help you fulfill your fantasy maybe you have been ungrateful. Fulfilling someone else’s fantasy is hard work and if you are lucky enough to find someone who is willing to meet that need remember to be grateful.

Dreams viscous, deep and dark around the edges fill my nights. Dreams shown in bits and pieces, one image framed by blurred pictures moving at the speed of light only to be interrupted by yet another still image.  Startled awake, I try to push the blurred pictures to slow, to give me some idea of their meaning all the while attempting to keep the still lives in focus. Night after night, dream after dream, slowly controlling the rate at which the pictures move I begin to see a whole, continuous story. Sometimes I do not like what I find once the pictures slow, but sometimes even the ones that are painful offer me solace. I become more in tune with who I am as well as who I want to be with each completed, recognized dream.  

Sometimes I am naked, in pain and fighting to live through the experience without loosing my mind, sometimes I am the rock others cling to, giving solid comfort and support. Sometimes I am the deliverer of mercy and charity. Sometimes I am the thief that steals away all that has value and meaning, leaving an empty place in my wake. Harsh lessons are learned but are balanced with gratitude and determination. As I continue to dig into the images I must face realities that I would rather leave undiscovered, painfully real even today. Sometimes they are painful because of their nature and sometimes they are painful because they so clearly define mine. I am the giver, the taker, the bringer, the thief, the warrior, the conqueror and the conquered. I am the one who is able to be whatever the situation requires but in being that one I find it is ever so difficult to say who I am. Perhaps that is the problem; perhaps it is not who I am in any particular area so much as it is who I am in all areas. To be a whole person one must embrace all of the “who(s)” they are and dream of all they will be, even those things that are not considered nice. To be able to say to another being, I am light but I am also dark and I embrace the god and the devil within me without self incrimination, without self doubt or distain.

As the last breath of evening slips away and night is fully in attendance I find my thoughts turning to things that do not like the light. Some of these things find me easily as if needing to be fed, while others have to search following paths that wind and turn unexpectedly through shadows. Tonight I am alone in the dark free to feed what needs feeding however I wish to do that. Free to think as I like; be as I like. Free to deliver destruction or to offer salvation. Free to be the power of change.

Throughout my life I have been subjected to many difficult lessons, some I still use. One such lesson still remains true. You can be the “unwilling” for only so long. Once you have reached the limits of your will power and self control you are at the mercy of nothing more than your own flesh and blood. Your body will betray you, your mind will stop its mad protests and you will begin to enjoy whatever is happening at the moment. It stops mattering what other people will think of you, it stops mattering what God or the Devil may have in store for you when you die, and it stops mattering that you were unwilling.

Tonight is that kind of night. Someone “unwilling” will find themselves lost in the pleasure of their own torture. They will begin to enjoy the feel of tight spaces and ropes, the feel of the hard wood on their tender flesh. They will find themselves waiting longingly for the thrust that causes wood to rub spots already raw and painful yet again. They will feel all there is to feel and they find they want more as pain becomes pleasurable and they loose their will to fight surrendering to the reality of painful pleasure.  

The light of a new day breaks; the shadows recede to corners, damp and quiet, to wait out the day. The not- so- unwilling bruised where no one can see, tender in those secret places, venture forth into their normal day. Today however things are different, now they are waiting for the night, wanting once again to feel everything there is to feel, without worry, without damnation and without self-doubt.