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The Largest BDSM Community on the Planet

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Switch/Switch Couple, 34/34,  Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
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Update (September 2015): We're rewriting our profile to make it (hopefully) clear what we are looking for. You should probably read the whole thing, as there's some good stuff in there. WE ARE: a married couple in our early 30s. We both have a yearning to be submissive. I, the wife, submit to my husband regularly. However, he doesn't feel totally comfortable as a dom and would be more than happy to submit with me to a 3rd party. He's straight, I'm heteroflexible. I think women are gorgeous and would really enjoy being under the firm hand of a icy domme, but I'm more used to working with a man's equipment in the bedroom. WE ARE LOOKING FOR (in this order): 1) A bisexual or heteroflexible dominant or switch woman to domme us both. 1A) Same as above, but to domme only me while my husband watches/listens/finds out about it later. 1B) A lesbian woman to domme only me while my husband yadda yadda yadda. 2)A dominant couple with a bisexual or heteroflexible woman. In this scenario, we would submit to both of you, but we'd prefer his primary interaction to be with the lady of the couple. She'd interact with both. 3)A straight male to dominate us both. Sorry, no man/man contact and no playing with me alone. If we're playing with a man, my husband has to be present. WE LIKE: OK, we're really into capture/kidnap/abduction/home invasion scenarios. If you can combine this with superhero cosplay, then double bonus points. If you can dress up like Catwoman while we dress up like Robin and Batgirl, move to the head of the line. But any scenario that begins with us waking up at home in bed and ends with us trussed, blindfolded and gagged, being dumped in the trunk of your car, is just tops. For my husband, there isn't much sexier than a woman in tight clothes tugging a ballgag between my lips and then tying a bandanna over my eyes before doing the same to him. I love watching my husband watch me and seeing him vanish in the darkness of a blindfold. We like our play partners to be older than us. There's nothing like a lady saying to us "come for mommy." Sexual contact isn't our primary goal and must be worked up to. But we're into ass play, orgasm denial, facesitting, nipple play, foot/body/boot worship, forced sexual contact (with each other). We're interested in a lot and willing to try things, so just ask us. We also like threats and challenges. For example, "if you can't get untied in the next ten minutes, I'm going to lube you up and use the biggest buttplug I can find on you" is one of the hottest things ever said to me. And it was said while I was bent over, and then distracted with a pair of nipple clamps, a firm spanking, and an active hand under my panties. Be warned: I have yet to find a tie I can't get out of. Doesn't matter how much rope you use, if I really want to get free, I probably will. It took a pair of handcuffs and a pair of thumbcuffs to keep me in a tie that I did not want to be in. Armbinders and sleeves would probably do the same, but that's cheating. WHAT WE HATE: We hate when people tell us "you're not acting submissive enough. Stop telling me what you like and get on your knees." We're all adults here and part of a D/S relationship is what the S wants. Anything that ends with the word "torture." We don't want our sensitive body parts mangled unnecessarily. The universal dislikes/hard limits: scat, blood, kids, animals. Watersports. Don't pee on us. When a partner tries to change the rules on us. Being tied up by someone is an activity requiring lots and lots of trust. So if we say "don't pee on us" and you wait until we're helpless and decide to take a leak, all that trust goes out the window. For some reason, a lot of dominant people think a partner being tied and gagged means they get carte blanche. Don't be that person. Anything involving finances. If you get off on having someone buy you things and that's the only key to your castle, then pass us by. THE BEST EXPERIENCE WE EVER HAD: So even though we say our preference is a woman, the most exciting session we had involved an older man. We got a room in a hotel and left a key at the desk. Once we got into the room, my husband "remembered" that he left something in the car. As soon as he was out of sight, an intruder used the extra key to let himself into the room. I came out of the bathroom and was shoved face first onto the bed from behind. My screams were muffled by the comforter as my hands were pulled behind my back and the intruder used his knee to hold me in place. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back before stuffing a blue ball between my teeth and securing it behind my head. A zip tie secured my wrists, and then two more on my ankles and knees. I was flipped over and my shirt was tugged up over my breasts, the button was undone on my jeans and the zipper pulled down. Then, and this was awesome, he pulled the clips out of my hair, letting it fall around my face. He looked down at me and said "So, what shall I do with you next?" Just then, my husband tried to open the door, but he was having trouble with the key card. The intruder hauled me off the bed and stuffed me in the closet. My husband came in, calling my name. I uumphed for him, moaning out a warning from behind my gag. He opened the door and saw me. Before he could do anything, the intruder came up behind him and pressed two knuckles against my husband's back. "Hands up," he said and my husband complied. Soon my husband was gagged, ziptied and seated on the couch as I was retrieved from the closet, blindfolded and then tossed back on the bed. Now, if we had a longstanding sexual relationship with the intruder, this is where he might have had his way with me. As it was, some of our clothing was removed, I was forced to perform oral on my husband as the intruder taunted us, and then the intruder left, but not before switching out the zipties on our hands for some rope, which I was able to get loose from. So, can you top that?








 Cumberland County 





Gender Identity:










 5' 8"

 175 lbs




Gender Identity:










 5' 0"

 100 lbs



Actively Seeking:

Dominant Transgender

Dominant Female

Dominant male

Submissive female

Switch Women

Switch Male

Domme/Dom Couples

Femdom Couples

Male Dom Couples

 Lives For:

 Housework Service



 Movies (Expert)

 Hiking (Expert)

 Walking (Expert)

 Bondage (Expert)

 Domestic Service

 Gags (Expert)

 Gas Masks


 Masks (Wearing)

 Masks on Partner

 Massage (Giving)

 Obedience Training

 Clothing Selection


 Sewing (Expert)

 Intellectual Discourse

 Liberal Politics

 Cuck Options


 Art Galleries

 Fine Dining



 Anal Play (Beginner)

 Blindfolds (Expert)

 Breast Play (Expert)

 Collars (Expert)

 Corner Time

 Enemas (Beginner)

 Eye Contact Restrictions

 Being Massaged

 Foot Worship

 Hair Pulling


 Orgasm Control

 Sensation Play

 Maid / Butler Service

 Oral Service

 Pantyhose Fetish

 Role Playing


 Strap-Ons (Beginner)



 Board Games

 Card Games

 Science Fiction

 Art Collecting

 Cross Stitch







 1950s Lifestyle

 Polyamory (Beginner)


 Curious About:


 Body Worship

 Cane / Crop Discipline


 Erotic Hypnosis


 Outdoor Bondage

 Theatrical Scenes




 Fire Play

 Knife Play





 Conservative Politics

 Hard Limits:



 Genital Punishment

 Public Exhibition

 Public Play


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Journal Entries:
2/19/2022 5:55:55 AM

Update (February 2022): We wanted to make this change to our profile but based on how wonky it's been we're worried about it being down.

So we're still looking for everything listed in our profile and we're going to keep our old profile information because it's fun and tells you a lot about us. 

That said, we're ready to embrace our breeding fantasies. I want an older man (younger if you're VERY dominant) to take me for the weekend, tie me up, and knock me up. When I walk into your house for the weekend, you take my clothes away, collar me, take my cell phone away, and use it to document my submission for my husband back home. Sunday night you send me home completely full. We're ready.

11/25/2021 11:31:14 AM

Hey the journal function is finally fixed!! Time to write a story about one of my (our) experiences:

I shut the car door and wave goodbye to my husband, P. He blows me a kiss and pulls away. I wait until he's turned the corner and out of sight until I begin to walk up my master's driveway. It's a short walk, the house set back from the street but my path leads me into the open garage. Once past the threshold, I press the button to shut the garage door behind me. As it trundles on its tracks, I grab my sweater and pull it over my head in one quick motion. I won't need it again this weekend.

My shoes, jeans, panties and socks all follow. I savor taking them off and folding them neatly, making the moment last. My backside is still sore from the punishment I received one week earlier. It had been a maid week and I had done an inadequate job with the chores. My master did not let it slide and he wanted to make sure I remember. As I stroked my bruised cheeks, I hoped it would be a kitten week. Something nice and easy, where I could be cherished and all I needed to think about was pleasure.

The crate is open and I place my clothes inside. My cell phone follows along with my keys. With a sigh, I shut the crate and padlock it. Master will come and take my phone in due time, better to document my weekend for P's enjoyment and my potential humiliation. But the clothes are gone. Feeling the chill of the garage on my feet, I enter "the servant's entrance" as we jokingly call it. 

Three boxes await me in the foyer. Oh shit. This is different. Usually I have no choice in how I spend the weekend. It's always one box, with either the maid's costume, the cat ears, or ... the other. But with three gift wrapped boxes in front of me, it's up to fate. 

I can't open one box and change my mind. Not that disobeying master is ever an option. Whichever one I open is my weekend of service. 

Can I weigh them? As I reach for the first box, I see a string attached. Nope, he'll know. I have to pick.

Eenie. Meanie. Miney.


A cleared throat from the other room. I'm in trouble already. 

I make my decision and tear the wrapping paper off. Inside the box is ...


The slut this weekend, then.

I walk into the living room, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes down. Master is sitting in his chair, drinking whiskey and reading. There's a pillow in front of him, directly between his feet. Keeping my eyes down, I kneel.

He makes me wait, finishing this week's New Yorker. Occasionally my eyes flick up as I weigh my options. I could reach up and begin undoing his belt - the stretch of fabric in his lap tells me he's interested and excited for my weekly visit. I went for a wax earlier in the week and made sure to put my perfume on my skin so he could smell me no matter what I wore. And in my role as the slut, that would be in line with expectations. But I'm so conditioned to serve at command that I stay frozen. 

He shakes his glass and I spring up to take it from his hand. I walk to the bar and as I reach for the whiskey, he says "The drawer."

I open the top drawer. Inside is my collar, simple and black, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a red ballgag. 

"Shall I--?" I start to ask.

"Don't ask questions you should know the answer to," he says with disinterest. 

OK then. I put the glass down and pick up the gag. I push it between my teeth and secure the belt behind my head. Next, the handcuffs. Does he want them in front or behind? I wish I could ask. The maid gets handcuffed in the front, so she can work. The slut, behind, so she has no control. So I slip the cuffs on behind my back, hearing the satisfied clink. But in my haste, I forgot the collar! It takes me several tries, standing on my tippy toes, mmphing with effort, to pick the collar up with my cuffed hands behind me. I trot to master happily.

He finally looks at me. "My drink?" He asks.

Damn it. What to do?

I blink at him, fluttering my eyelashes. Push one foot in front of me and circle it back and forth on his loafer. Don't blame, I don't know any better?

He takes the collar from me and cls it around my neck. Seizing my throat suddenly, he pulls me in close.

"A slut does not mean you're stupid," he whispers in my ear. 

One of our agreements when I first began serving him is that he'd never call me a bitch. A slut is something a person chooses to be. It's a sigh of power, both mine and his. I feel my body warm at his words and I lean down to rub my gagged mouth against his neck. He indulges me for a moment and then grabs a fistful of my hair.

It's been a little while but I remember how slut weekends go. I'll be confined to the bedroom, chained to the bed most of the time. He'll film my submission and send it back to P. There's an entire box of toys for me to (mostly) enjoy, though the word "no" is gone from my vocabulary until Sunday night. My rest will be dependent on how often master wants me and how he wants me. 

It will be a long, fun weekend.

12/6/2017 9:03:25 AM
A recently shared fantasy:

You lead me back out of my bedroom. I still feel foolish for letting a repairperson in without checking that you were real. Now I've been stripped naked except for my heels, a fat ballgag is filling my mouth and my hands have been strapped behind my back. After you surprised me and got me tied up, you cut my clothes from my body with a long knife, slipped a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on me and dumped me unceremoniously on my bed. I was completely unable to tell what was happening let alone get free. You left me life that for what seemed like forever before taking off the blindfold and headphones, and dragging me by the arm into the living room.

There is a short post in the middle of my living room with a thick rubber cock strapped to it. I try to pull away but you grab my nipple and twist, forcing me into submission. You make me kneel before the cock. The gag is barely out of my mouth before the cock replaces it. "Now stay," you intone and I squeal at the indignity. You take a pair of nipple clamps out of your pocket and my body betrays me, my nipples stiffening at the sight. You hook one on my left nipple, run the chain around the post and hook the other clamp to my right nipple. I am forced forward on my knees, the cock pushing deeper into my mouth.

"Now, you need to get used to sucking cocks you've never seen before. If you're good, I'll reward you. Your husband will be off on that wild goose chase I prepared for him, so don't think you'll get rescued anytime soon." With that, the blindfold is replaced. I moan in protest but barely hear it as you slip the headphones back on my ears.

With no choice, I work the cock. It tastes like latex but also like salt. I slither my tongue around the head and can definitely taste precum, which is beyond odd. Suddenly, light music begins playing in my ears. It is bass and saxophone, slightly classier than average porn music, but that style. The sound of two people fucking gains in volume after a moment. A chill goes through me as I recognize it. It's the sound of my husband and I making love. You sicko, how long have you been spying on us?

As I listen to myself moan in my ears, I suck the cock harder and faster. It might be my imagination but the rubber cock responds, getting stiffer and lightly pulsating. I use every bit of guile I have and suddenly, a stream of cum shoots down my throat. I swallow it all, pulling every drop out with my talented lips.

I can feel a vibrator being placed between my legs and I spread to accept it. The cock is now flaccid in my mouth but I keep it there, like I'm nursing a pacifier. My hips buck against the vibrator and I wish there was a hard cock inside me. My wish is seemingly granted, but like a monkey's paw, not the way I expected. I feel a hand, yours presumably, slipping between my ass cheeks. I try to move away but the pain in my nipples reminds me I have nowhere to go. The cock begins stiffening in my mouth again, though I am sure it is inanimate. My body takes over as my lips begin to worship that cock again, my tongue frantically moving around the shaft. All the while, the vibrator between my legs is buzzing, pushing me towards orgasm and the lubricated finger is greasing my tight little asshole. By the time the wide buttplug begins to slip inside me, I want it and I realize I'm being conditioned to love it. As I feel my ass close around the hilt, the cock pushes down my throat and I cum, the first of many times that morning.

3/17/2014 2:32:30 PM

I had such a good time detailing one of our kinky experiences in our profile that I decided to write some of the fantasies I have.


It was a cold winter's day, with a few inches of snow on the ground. My husband had left for work several hours earlier and I was puttering around the apartment, slowly beginning my day. As I went to pour myself a cup of coffee, I realized that there was no milk in the fridge. Cursing under my breath, I put on my winter coat, snow boots, scarf, hat and leather gloves. My car sat in front of the building, which was broken up into four apartments. The lot was nearly empty, with most, if not all the neighbors, away at work. Still cobwebby from sleep, I forgot to put my purse in the backseat, like I usually did, and instead slid into the front seat with the purse slung over my shoulder. I shut the door and buckled my seat belt.


While my hands were still down on the clip for the belt, an arm slithered around from the backseat and across my body, pinning my hands down. A white cloth was clapped over my mouth, muffling my shriek of surprise. I tried to struggle loose but found myself in such an awkward position that I was unable to get any leverage. The hand covering my mouth pinched my nose shut, forcing me to inhale the cloth with my mouth. It tasted sour and I immediately found myself getting drowsy. My hands, which had been trying to get to the horn on the steering wheel or the mace in my purse, began to lose their energy. 


As my struggles subsided, my head was pressed gently back against the seat. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a female face looking back at me. The woman grinned a Cheshire grin and pressed the cloth against my face harder. My lids fluttered before closing and I passed out.


I awoke back on the couch in my apartment, still wearing almost all of my clothes. My coat and gloves were on, but I could see my boots by the door, the snow melting steadily. A pair of black leather thigh high boots were next to my own. My feet were tucked up under me and when I tried to sit up, I saw that they were tied together at the ankles and knees with bright blue rope. My hands were tied behind my back and when I groaned in protest, I found my mouth was stuffed full of something. After a second, I realized it was my own scarf, knotted and tied around my head with the knot wedged tightly between my teeth. 


Trying to reach the ropes around my wrists, I grunted softly. It must have been louder than I expected as in response I heard footsteps coming down the hall. The woman from the car came into view. She looked to be in her mid-forties, with straight blonde hair, so unlike my own curly brown hair, tied in a severe ponytail. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a white sweater, a wedding ring on her finger and only socks on her feet. A cell phone was pressed to her ear with one hand and in the other hand, she held a sickeningly familiar white cloth. I moaned in fear and scooted down the couch away from her, but she closed the distance quickly, straddling my knees and forcing the cloth against my face.


"Shhh, shhh," the woman intoned soothingly. Then, in response to a chirp from the phone, she replied "No, our subject woke up a little early. I'll just put her back down for a little while until all the preparations are complete." Unable to turn away, my head sinking into the couch, I passed out again. 


I awoke again to a chill and found myself face down on my kitchen table. My hands were stretched out ahead of me, tied together at the wrist, the rope disappearing under the table. My feet were on the floor, spread apart and when I tried to close them I found I could not. Now I was completely naked, unless I counted the collar I could feel around my neck and the ball between my teeth. Panicked, I began to struggle against my bonds.


The woman walked in front of me. She was dressed in a lab coat and blue plastic gloves. In one hand, she held a syringe and in the other hand a small canister, which she was filling with a white liquid from the syringe.


"You must be so confused," the woman said soothingly. "But don't be scared. I have a few minutes to fill you in before we have to begin the process."


Despite my fear, I stopped struggling and looked up at her. When the syringe was empty, she put it down on the table next to me and stroked my hair, plucking a few stray strands away from my face.


"I represent an ... organization," she began. "They call themselves a religion, you'd probably call them a cult, so let's just split the difference and stick with my definition. This organization has been watching you for quite some time, and thinks you'd make a perfect candidate for their program."


"Prrgrm?" I muttered around my gag.


"I know, it sounds so clinical. But I am a researcher, so I guess that's my nature. Anyway, I don't want to panic you, but this organization thinks you can give birth to their messiah."


I began to pull on my ropes frantically. I was able to rock the table slightly before the woman pressed my head firmly down by grabbing a fist full of my hair.


"Settle down," she commanded, her voice steel. She waited several seconds after I stopped struggling before letting go. "As I was saying, they think you'd be perfect. I'm here to do some initial research. I'm going to inject you with some semen from a donor and see how your body reacts. I'll wipe the memory of today from your mind afterwards and if all goes well, I'll be back once a month to give you more injections for twelve months. This is to prepare your body for an eventual pregnancy. Once we reach that point ... well ..."


She trailed off and as she did, she undid the buttons of her lab coat, letting it fall around behind her. She was naked beneath, with a strap on cock dangling between her legs. I was no stranger to them, having seen plenty in sex shops in my life, but this one was different. There was an exaggerated hole at the end of the cock and on the side, a compartment. It was this compartment that she placed the canister full of white liquid before sliding it shut. Once it was covered, I could barely tell it had ever been there. But the cock was huge, I realized belatedly. I tugged against my ropes and moaned.


"I could inject you lots of ways," the woman told me, smirking. "But this is my favorite. After all, if I have to do this twelve times, and you won't remember, I want to enjoy it."


With that, she walked behind me and rubbed her hand between my legs. I was ashamed to realize how wet I was. Desperately I tried shifting my exposed backside from side to side but there was nowhere for me to go. The cock entered me, slowly, until I could feel the woman's thighs against my ass. Her hands grabbed a hold of my hips and she began to thrust, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in to the hilt. I let my head drop down against the table, utterly defeated.


She grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back up. I could see out the window and in the distance, neighbors were in the parking lot, carrying groceries, getting the mail and going about their days. None of them could see me. In the glass, as if seeing a ghost, I could just make out the reflection of the woman fucking me, one hand in my hair and the other on my ass, her hips thrusting with increasing speed. For a moment I looked at myself and saw my wide eyes, the spit running along the side of the ballgag, how my body rocked back and forth with the cock thrusting inside me. I looked away, mortified.


"They say," the woman grunted between thrusts. "That having an orgasm increases the likelihood that the injections will take hold. Me, I'm going to get off from sheer enjoyment of seeing you like this. But you? I think you like the humiliation. I think if I do a little bit more, you'll go off like a rocket."


I tried to shake my head no, but her grip on my hair made it impossible. Against my will, I could feel my body enjoying the fucking I was receiving. My ass was arching up to meet her thrusts and with every slap of skin on skin, I moaned a little. As if reading my reaction for cues, the woman's hand wandered from my hip to the top of my spread cheeks. I felt her thumb slip inside my asshole. Meanwhile, a nub on the underside of the plastic cock banged into my clit with every entry and I knew I was close.


The orgasm rocked through my body suddenly and I pressed aback against the woman hard, pulling against my bonds as before but with a different purpose. As my body shook, I felt the woman's thighs tremble and she released my hair suddenly. I could see just over my shoulder that her hand flew to the belt holding her cock in place and pressed a button. A flood of warm liquid spewed deep inside as she shoved her strapon into me as far as it would go. As I gave in to the pleasure, I could feel her doing the same. She bent so her breasts pressed against my back and I could feel her erect nipples. She sighed in my ear, licking it once and giving my body an aftershock.


When she pulled out of me, the enormity of what had happened hit me. I had been raped, and if this woman was telling the truth, I was the victim of some strange experiment that could happen again and again. Tears fell from my eyes as I tried to comprehend the event. Just that morning I had been worried about buying milk and now this?


The woman walked into my vision, the cock dangling from her belt still slick from my orgasm. She smirked down at me and placed a gloved thumb, the one that had been in my ass, under my nose. I jerked away in disgust and she laughed.


"Knock it off, princess. We both know you get off on being degraded."


Several four letter words came out as "grgh bck grsf bckng cnt" from my gagged lips. The woman kept laughing and adjusted her strapon, slipping the now-empty canister out. I could see white liquid dripping from the end.


"You know, I hope we see each other again," she told me. "I like you, and I have a lot of fun ideas. I try to never do things the same way twice, so I'd love to have twelve shots to experiment on you before my employers kidnap you for good."


She reached into a bag that I hadn't noticed sitting on one of my chairs and pulled out another syringe. She tapped the end of the needle, prepping it. When she saw the panic in my eyes, she tilted her head.


"Would you like me to knock you out before I wipe your memory?"


"Ngh! Ngh!" I shrieked.


"OK, you're the princess," she smirked. In horror, I saw her grab a white cloth and bring it towards my face, filling my vision. For the third time that day, I fell into a forced unconsciousness.




The door slammed and my husband bounded into the living room, flipping through the mail. I was curled up on the couch, my hands under my head. I must have fallen asleep and taken a nap.


"Looks like you had a busy day," my husband smiled and kissed the top of my head. He went into the kitchen and called over his shoulder, "Oh I got some milk on my way home. I used the last of it up this morning. Hope that didn't ruin your coffee for you."


I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw something odd. My wrists were sticking out slightly from my sweater sleeves and I could see marks on both of them. Rope marks? How had I gotten rope marks.


"Hey, what's this X on the calendar?" My husband asked. I looked over and on our two month planning board, I could see a bright red X in the middle of the next month.


"I'm not quite sure," I told him. I tugged my sleeves over my hands selfconsciously.


"Well, I hope you remember," he said. "An X that big looks important."



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