A collar isn’t just a symbol… it’s a question What does your collar mean to you? Is it ownership, trust, devotion, identity… or something else entirely? For some, it’s a sacred vow. For others, it’s a promise to themselves — a reminder of who they are when they give themselves over.   I want to hear your thoughts. When you see or wear a collar, what stirs in your heart? Is it pride? Submission? Comfort? Or maybe a little fear that makes you more alive?   Let’s open this dialogue. Share your experience. 

A typical day requires service at almost all times. I am served tea in bed as we begin our day, and meals are all prepped and planned. You wake first, fetch me my tea, a few digestive biscuits, and the paper, and then join me in bed to read me an article of my choosing while I sip. Some days when it is warmer, we take this outside, but most days it is in the comfort of bed while we are nude.   After this, we both have breakfast together. Usually you will cook, but some days I will announce that i feel like it and cook. These are healthy meals that focus on protein and good fats.   Then, we both work from home. I enjoy my work at a non-profit, taking breaks to to be with each other (lunch, walks, or you kneeling in prostration/worship as needed, etc). In the evening, we order in, cook, or go out. These all have rituals associated with them that are meticulously refined for both our benefit - what we eat, how we look, and what happens are important metrics of keeping you thoughtless and spotless. You represent me, and I will NOT be embarrassed.   We play board games,read, or watch a program as the evening draws to a close. Then we head to bed, where I do my beauty routine and have you serve me as part of it. This means providing hot water, ice, and towels as needed.   We head to bed, with me getting in bed first and you being caged, kneeling, or joining me if I decide to use you for my pleasure. I do like to be warm and to cuddle, so some nights I require just that and you serve me admirably.

The Yearning for Grounding: Finding Purpose in a Dominant Dynamic.. We all possess hidden desires, yearnings that often simmer beneath the surface of our carefully constructed personas. One such yearning, perhaps more common than we readily admit, is the desire to be truly seen, and subsequently, guided, challenged, and even, in a sense, controlled. This isn't necessarily about literal ownership, but rather a deep craving for structure, direction, and the secure boundaries offered by a strong, assertive presence.The idea of being objectified, used for amusement, might sound unsettling at first glance. But on deeper reflection, it can be interpreted as a desire to be a source of light and joy for someone else. To be valued, appreciated, even celebrated for what you bring to their life, even if that role is perceived as subservient. This isn't about self-degradation, but rather about finding fulfillment in serving a purpose, in bringing happiness to another.The reality of a superior mentor, a "Guiding Lady" as it were, nurturing and shaping your path, speaks to a fundamental human need for guidance and direction. In a world often characterized by ambiguity and overwhelming choices, the prospect of surrendering to a trusted individual who can provide clarity and purpose can be incredibly appealing. It's a desire to be molded, refined, and ultimately, helped to reach one's full potential. Finding such a person provides a safe haven, a space where vulnerability is not a weakness, but an opportunity for growth.The cornerstone of any such dynamic is trust. It's not merely about submission, but about placing your faith in someone who will act in your best interest, even if that means pushing you beyond your comfort zone. The hope lies in finding a true, committed partner who understands the nuances of this dynamic and can navigate it with integrity and respect. This requires open communication, clear boundaries, and a shared understanding of expectations and limitations.Ultimately, the yearning for a dominant guiding force speaks to a deeper desire for purpose and commitment. It's a search for meaning, for a role that feels authentic and fulfilling. It's about finding someone who can not only appreciate your offerings, but also help you to become the best version of yourself. This journey may involve vulnerability, introspection, and a willingness to surrender control, but the potential reward is a profound sense of belonging, purpose, and unwavering connection. The key lies in finding that "true trusted superior person" who can provide not just direction, but also unwavering support and unwavering faith in your potential.

Farewell to Autumn - Witkiewicz He penetrated more and more violently the mouth, which now only gave way little by little to the pressure of his lips, his teeth and his tongue. It opened completely, transforming itself into a wet swamp and burning with incredible sensuality, it took gigantic dimensions, it was the only thing really existing. Hela's tongue slipped like a flame out of that slimy, mollucoid mass, touched her lips and tongue, and began to suck, irritating her mouth madly... The pleasure, which flowed through her whole body, seemed already peaking, and despite that it intensified more and more, becoming of an intolerable force, which bordered on pain. The contact of this tongue which seemed conscious of his actions, he felt it everywhere in the spine, in the kidneys, and there, where billions of beings conceived in him rushed towards life, without paying the least attention nor to his great love, neither to the meaning of his existence, nor to any metaphysics. In the darkness of the body, in the swollen glands, at the complicated crossroads of the nervous pathways, everything pressed with elementary force towards a single goal: the only reward of the duped mind was an inhuman pleasure which destroyed it, giving it loneliness. unconsciousness of the moment.

THE NIGHT I MET BRIAN, part 1   Towering over most people at 6'8" (in boots), he was hard to miss. Every time I looked at him, he was already staring at me. Due to circumstances at the time that I'd rather not get into, we'd nod an acknowledgement to one another, but never spoke. Tall, skinny, a bit on the younger side, he bordered on awkward, yet simultaneously confident. Our first real conversation happened online, on a BDSM board called Recon. I didn't realize I was chatting with him at first, though the height in his description made me wonder. He was polite when he contacted me. He used complete sentences and asked thoughtful questions. Once we traded photos, we both had a kind of "wow, it's you" moment. Then the conversation turned to what we were there for. Are you interested in doing a scene? What kind of scene? He told me he'd already had fantasies about tying me up and making me worship his (size 14!) boots. He certainly knew how to talk to me and keep my attention. He'd observed me several times observing his boots, a very astute observation for a 25yo. (Even moreso for someone his real age.) We discussed what we wanted in a scene, what we didn't want, as well as sexual fantasies, past experiences, things we'd like to try eventually, etc. We agreed on a scene that would involve bondage, humiliation and boot worship, but not sex. Although we were not averse to sex (and were very much sexually attracted to one another), we agreed that focusing on our mutual interests in S&M would be more than enough to satisfy us both. After some discussion and negotiation, I was ordered to show up at a designated address (later in the week, following more nodding and flirting and anticipation), wearing head to toe leather. Once admitted inside, I was to kneel submissively before him and let him take it from there. As when I saw him before, he was dressed in military fatigues and combat boots, which I would come to learn was his everyday look. He started off by admonishing me for being late. I wasn't late, but I also wasn't inclined to start off the scene arguing with him. He reached down and with a single finger, pulled the collar of my leather shirt away from my body, not-so-subtly surveying what would be his for the next few hours. He asked me a few innocuous questions while cuffing my hands behind my back. He made the cuffs tight enough to be unforgiving, but not so tight as to lose circulation. He picked up my backpack and asked if I'd brought everything we'd discussed. He dumped the contents on the floor and picked up the leather slave collar he told me to bring. He held it up to my neck and said, "I like it." He made the collar as tight as the cuffs, but not so tight that I couldn't breathe. He definitely knew what he was doing. Next came the blindfold, something we hadn't discussed. After a momentary freak-out, I decided not to protest. Aside from being against the rules, I really wanted to see (ha ha) where this was heading. He had given me a vague idea of what was in store, but left the details to my imagination. I'd entered his house through the back door, which was closer to the basement. Bound and blindfolded, I was led carefully down the 4 stairs to the awaiting basement where I'd spend the next few hours under his control. He sat me in a chair and proceeded to bind me, fully leathered, in layers of rope. Rope around my chest, around my legs just above the knees, rope around my ankles. Tight, restrictive and unforgiving. He knew how to tie a good knot, later revealing that he honed this skill during his time as a boy scout. ("Yes, I did learn something useful in the scouts!") What he did next was unnerving. He pulled up a chair and sat right in front of me, staring in silence. For the longest time, I could feel his eyes burning into me, but he said nothing. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Now that he had me all tied up and helpless, was he reconsidering? Time seemed to stretch on forever. Just how long had we been sitting there? I couldn't stand it, and finally spoke up."Sir?""SPEAK!""Sir? What can I do to please you, Sir?""YOU CAN SIT THERE AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"Now, I've known since birth that I'm different. But I cannot describe how turned-on I was by being told so forcefully to shut up. I briefly considered apologizing for my transgression, but that wouldn't have been shutting the fuck up, now, would it?He continued to stare at me silently, then abruptly stood up and said, "I am very disappointed with what rung my doorbell. I'm going to let you sit here and think about that." I could hear him walk slowly up the stairs, turn off the basement light and slam the door shut, leaving me, leathered and bound and blindfolded, alone in the darkness. Left alone for what seemed like an hour (it was actually 20 minutes), my imagination ran wild. I could hear him walking back and forth upstairs, possibly to taunt me? At one point, I started to wonder if he'd forgotten about me. But then I could hear the distinctive sound of his boots hitting each step as he re-entered the basement. Each step made me hornier with anticipation than the last."Miss me?" he asked as he rubbed my leather-clad crotch, running his strong hands firmly up my chest, and then through my hair. He asked me a personal question, which I attempted to evade, until he grabbed my hair and jerked my head back. "Michael, when I ask you a question, you answer it, promptly and honestly. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir!" Surprised to learn that despite all the rope, I wasn't actually tied to the chair, he lifted me out of the chair and gently set me face down, still blindfolded, on the concrete floor. After a brief pause, he ordered me to lick his boots. My cock lurched in my leather pants at the command, but no sooner than I laid my tongue on his boot, he pulled it away and walked to the other side of the room. "I'm over here, Michael," he taunted. Still fully-leathered and tightly-bound, I started to wriggle my body across the hard, unforgiving concrete floor, thankful for my leather padding, toward the sound of his voice. Moving was laborious and exhausting, but I eventually arrived at this awaiting boot. He moved a second time. I hesitated. "MY BOOTS AREN'T GOING TO LICK THEMSELVES, MICHAEL!" Right. So, I once again wriggled across the concrete floor in the general direction of his voice.He didn't move when I arrived at his boot for the third time. Humiliated and horny, I ran my tongue along his size 14 with greedy hunger, coating it in a thin layer of my saliva, only able to imagine the shine I hoped it left behind. I switched boots when he commanded, and having coated the foot portion in my saliva, was running my tongue up the boot shaft when I noticed that he'd started breathing heavily. Was he jacking off?  Had he abandoned our "no sex" agreement? As if reading my mind, he said in a clipped and mildly breathless manner, "I want to fuck you.""OK," I responded. "Do you want me to fuck you, Michael?""Yes. Yes, I do." I could feel my precum slickening the thong I wore under my leather pants.He pressed his size 14 between my shoulder blades. "You mean, 'Yes, Sir, I do.'""Yes, Sir, I do." I was about to fucking burst!"I need you to say, 'Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me.'"I knew he was asking for consent. Although I would've enjoyed it either way, I was relieved that he asked for consent. This meant that he was not a psychopath."Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me." Things hadn't gone exactly as planned, but flexibility is a crucial life skill.   continued

I want to be a sissy house wife, something like a 1950's household but maybe the clothes might be updated, but the dresses are really cute, or domestic discipline, 24/7 TPE I believe in a male dominant house, a gurl should be a slave/servant to her man/master/daddy. Her mind should be on how to please him and care for his needs, her pleasure coming from being in his service. I want to serve a man domesticly, it is the job of a sissy housewife to keep the house how her master/daddy wants it. I also believe a gurl is a slave to her man/daddy/master. He should pick out her clothes for the day, give her a list of chores he wants completed, and train her on how he wants her to be, rewarding her for good behavior and punishment for bad behavior. A gurl should wake up somewhat earlier than her daddy/man/master. She should shower, shave and clean here before making him coffee/breakfast. She should be completely naked accept for her collar and cuffs, and wake him up with a blowjob. After swallowing his gift, she needs to prepare to be his urinal and swallow his pee. After this, she should help him shower if he wants, or wait in the bedroom on her knees for him to get done. Once done, he will pick out what she wears and she will put it on before serving him breakfast, blowing him if he wants it. She will see him off as he leaves the house and then complete the housework. She should then greet him on her knees as he comes home, at that time she should perform any tasks he commands before he inspaspects the house and punishes for anything not done or not done properly. Dinner should be prepared for him and served to him. At night, she should perform all tasks he gives her before bed. Her body and mind is her gift to him and she gladly gives it to him, this means he uses and trains her as he wants. Pain or pleasure, a good sissy housewife accepts both eagerly and enjoyment. I hope I find my man someday.

I Wonder Who We Are... I often look at myself thru the eyes of my mind. Who do I **think** I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? I wonder how many others take the time to self-reflect like this? I try to do this weekly.  Sometimes late at night as I bask in the quiet night’s arms I find my mind drifting to the day gone by. I replay the days events and scrutinize my actions at times.  TODAY, did I live my life to my best potential? The gift of life I was given is a treasure that we so often under value. It's easy to get caught up in the daily struggles that inflict us as we sometimes dredge thru the day thankful it's over.  Guilty! After all we are all human.  In a world filled with hate, selfishness, struggles and woes sometimes its all we can do not to scream. Allow a blood curling sound to exit our lungs, travel up our throats picking up momentum as it exits our lips with a shiver echoing thru the darkness to find no respite.  A primal sound that perhaps evolved from our primal ancestors to never develop or change in the millions of years gone by. Signaling our frustrations and every other imaginable negative energy that exists within us today. As we yearn to release it all allowing them to somehow be absorbed into the cosmos, never to return. A cry for help perhaps? Perhaps.  Perhaps it's just an evacuation of all that we resent exiting us hoping we can fill the vacancy with the positive. I like to think that's the case with me. But as I look around each day, looking for positive energy, from my fellow man I am left starving. Wanting to see more beauty I can absorb to act as my muse. Guiding me to be a better me as it motivates me to want to feed love back into the world.  But alas, it has become a daunting task. Disappointment abounds the empty caverns of my heart and mind. Have we become so shallow as a society that the only thing that now defines us is instant and momentary self gratification? Often at the expense of others. Is this what thousands of centuries of evolution has led us to? NAY I say! Not I today! Unable to find it readily at the hand of my two legged peers I turn to nature. I find myself being blindly led to the pasture where my four legged friends reside. I hear their whinnies as they see me approaching. Running towards me anxious to see me. Besides me walks my fury four legged best friend. My canine soul mate who has dedicated his life to unselfishly and unconditionally love me. To never leave me no matter what I do or how I treat him. He is bound for life to me. Arriving closer to the gate a thunderous echo of stampeding hooves envelopes the air. Filling my ears with its roar as it approaches closer. Standing on the lush green carpet of grass I am surrounded by these four legged majestic creatures that so easily could do me harm. My smaller companion eyeing them carefully under his protective gaze.  Wet nuzzles against my hands searching for treats. This action is common place here. All fighting for my attention as there are so many and I am only but one. The creative one among the group, finding no need to challenge the rest for the position of my hands. He quietly walks up behind me. I am made aware of his presence among the distraction as I feel rubbing against my back. His side turned head using my back as a scratching post to satisfy his itch?  No my friends that is not the self centered case of this half ton creature. He is saying, "Daddy I am here. I missed you. Where have you been?" He is most certainly not the alpha but nor is he the omega. He falls somewhere in between the alphabetically defining realm of personality letters.  Turning to let him know I acknowledge his presence with rubs I manage just a few. The other horses quickly pushing him away to look to my moving hands for what they desire. Treats and rewards to fill their already fat full bellies. Yet he stands alone a mere stones toss away watching. Reaching into my pockets I retrieve a handful of treats. Allowing the surrounding herd to acknowledge them with their keen sense of smell I toss them in the opposite direction of my inamorato who stands there with no desire to chase such petty treats. The rest of the herd now busy vying to retrieve the hand tossed delicacies he approaches me. I hold his head against me with love and affection. It is as much his fuel as it is my own. I turn to exit, followed at a respectable distance by my adoring and adored friend.  Holding it open signaling him the permission he seeks to exit the field and the others who physically resemble him. As the three of us stand there, me enjoying and soaking up the moment, I can't help but observe. Acknowledging and absorbing the actions that just took place.  My plotted journey observed and responded to. The actions and reactions as I entered. The easily manipulated distraction I created that all but one fell prey to.  His dedication to follow me outside his defined boundaries and the company of the others physically like him who have near matching DNA. His choice to leave the safety of his peers signals to me that he finds safety and comfort in my company. His trust in me that I always have and always will be his caregiver, his provider, his protector fills my now empty heart.  The many journeys we have traveled together since his birth are safely tucked away in my mind. Easily retrieved to reminisce upon when needed. As I stand there admiring this majestic creature of God before me my mind retrieves from the filing cabinet labeled with his name. Quickly sorting thru day 3 of his birth begins to play.  He is laying curled upon a stack of hay within a stall of the barn. His protective mother standing guard over him. Her ears pinned back warning anyone that intends to do him harm to stay away. Her eyes soften and ears relax as she recognizes me as the source of the sound. Carefully not to startle the sleeping foal I slowly approach. His mother content with who the human visitor is allows me safe passage.  I find myself first sitting next to him admiring his beauty. Astounded by the miracle of birth that he is. His soft breathing seen in the way the straw beneath his nose moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales so gently. Leaning in closer to touch him I look at his guardian looking down at me as if silently asking for her permission to get closer. When I see no warnings of alarm in her I move my hand gently running it across his neck.  His days old fur so soft I am jealous not to have something as comforting as this to sleep upon myself. He releases a soft sigh as if finding comfort in my loving strokes.  Now realizing that the submissive love his mother has given me extends to the trust of her new born, I inch closer. Soon I find myself laying along side his tiny body. Curled up next to him I drape an arm over him. Another soft sudden exhale of breath reaches my ears. Is he communicating his pleasure in feeling my warm body against? Is he capable of such a thought process? I lay there for what feels like hours pressed against him. Only to realize as he begins to finally stir that it’s only been 10 minutes by my watches time.   Emancipated from this world lost in head space I return the the physical by his movement.  He turns his head, in what seems to be, a search to find the source of his sighs. I softly look into his eyes hoping he can peer into my own and see the love and adoration I have for him. THAT moment etched in my mind forever more NEVER to be lost or forgotten.   Slowly he rises as if not to harm me and stands over my still prone form. I find my heart overflowing with love. If only I could find this form of love in my own breed. His mother content that no harm will befall him under my watch, complete and loyal trust bestowed upon me finds comfort in our bond to now lay down herself.  Obviously exhausted by the ritual of birth and having to provide  protection to her child. Her 1400 lb mass taking up much of the stall but careful not to invade my space. Suddenly I find myself lost in thought. Who do I think I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? To THEM.  A brushing against my calf returns me to the world of today as the drawer filled memories are closed. In the universe of my mind I lost a momentary connection to this plane of existence.  My canine comrade standing now by my side waiting for direction. He looks at me then glances to the tack room and back at me. As if he is asking me, in the best way he knows, “Are we going for a ride?” my eyes look down at him as I rub his head. “Not today good boy. Today daddy just needed affirmation to who he is. My hearts full again. Thank you.” “Go get him and let’s go back in. Daddy has work to do.” Doing what he’s been taught to do under my caring tutelage he bounds off to bring back my blessed 4 legged gift. A simple double click from me, seeing his adopted brother heading his way, he knows its time to go back. With the look of a bowed head he walks to me as I rub his face and ears. I whisper in his ears, “Good boy.” As if content to hear these words he heads for the gate. Opening the gate I let him return to his pasture mates where he looks like just another horse. “Come on dog. Daddy has to go search for someone! “ he says as he turns to go back into the house. Because now I know who and what I am. I know what I was meant to be.

I am not on your schedule! You would be lucky to be on mine, period! If you send me a message, I will reply on my own time and accord. If you are so impatient that you will delete the msgs sent to me, please keep that same energy!  If there are so many options out there, that you squander an opportunity with me then know.... I don't give second chances!    I easily get anywhere from 20-30 msgs daily, which makes it easy for me to get inundated or have lost msgs. So be patient, and possibly send a reminder to bump your msg or you can find me in chat and ask to speak with me there.      

I’m looking for good little subbies and sissies to be in pictures and videos for My fan page content & social media. You will receive in person domination, humiliation, worship, chastity teasing and other fun. Meanwhile I’ll be giggling and snapping pictures of you! I also love showing the pictures to my Girlfriends and tweeting My fav   You must be in good shape, fun, obedient, open-minded and local to me/Able to travel .   I’m in the UK. SOUTH WEST  

Adding a journal entry because updating my profile takes forever. I might add or update these as I go. Also, I hate the formatting here.  I get a lot of messages from potential submissives, so I thought I'd make a little FAQ to help all of us out. Please read before messaging.  Can I be your sub? If that's your first message, no. I'm looking for local or nearish subs for real time interactions. I'm also looking for a specific arrangement. Most importantly, I'm looking for subs I can have a vanilla connection with. If me being human is a turn off for you, then I'm not the Dominant you should be talking to. Do you have a screening process?  I do. I can provide more information if you're interested. If you're not willing to screen, don't message me.  Why haven't you answered my message? There are many reasons I won't answer a message. Your profile has no picture and your bio is empty. Your message is a request of some sort. Your message is just "hello". You've said something I find offensive.  But my message was a compliment! Why won't you answer that? Very likely because you've sent something like "you're beautiful" or "I love your feet". And that's it. It's what I call a bait message, where you throw out a one liner statement and I'm meant to respond either with a compliment or by starting the conversation. If you can't be bothered to write a thoughtful message, I can't be bothered to respond.  I'm not on here much, can we talk elsewhere and get to know each other better? I will not give out any information about my socials or other profiles until I feel like there is a connection and I'm interested in getting to know you better. Until then, yes, you will have to log in here to talk to me. If that's too much to ask for, well.  *shrug*

damn got it all wrapped up....this is talking about the imagery and also the real life of us that are dark goddess priestess vibes...those who either have their warrior/men of action dark dudes or who are holding out for theirs to come to them...and then girlies like me who are naga the serpent who ejected themselves from the entire equation.   this talksssss about mature topics of power dynamics, what the issues are on both sides, why opposition both in real life and in media keeps us seperate, what happens when/if one of us comes together..and the wildness of ladies like me who are on the roam by ourselves. sooooo warning placed.haha.   for this deep dive we are going back to the classics of anime. especially a classic that was brought to american back in the 00s.   gundam wing(i could've added gundam 08th ms team for that jungle vibe because the main couple is a similar vibe but i didnt)   and slayers   from there we are going to specifically look at three romantic couples that despite enough evidence or direct source material that shows these couples are romantic based the entire fandom tends to question if they are 'legit' or not.   we are talking about:   1.xellos and filla   2. zelgadis and amelia(this one grinds my gears to the end of time that the fandom continuously rejaspects them and falls for the okie dokie bait and switch that zelgadis deserves to be with the good easy docile girl??? we'll talk about that more..this is literally cannon...it's literally in the original work, this isn't fanfiction???)   3. heero and the queen herself relena    talk about a whole ass power couple of infinite strength and finesse that so much of the fandom just can't handle.   the finale person that is not in a couple that i'll be talking about is the one and only naga the serpent. as a young lady who matured physically very early seeing women with big breasts that were often sexualized, tried  to be shamed for how their body is, their innocent and playful and wild nature being taken advantage of, and their loud boisterous ways...and yet they always stand on top..they were confident, they leaned into the sexuality that naturally forms from a body like that and make it look good for them. they wielded the sexuality that was given to them in a way that the men and women around them couldn't stand. and only the bad bitch pack could handle it...the archetype of naga tended to never have a man..but if they did the man was a wild one that let her be free and didn't try to cage her and was the supportive ground to her wild nature.     OH HO HO.   and you know a bitch practiced that daily as annoying young otakus do and perfected it.    and you know a bitch practiced that daily as annoying young otakus do and perfected it.   now that the scene is set, we are going to discuss a few topics.....how ameila and filla are literally high priestesses and while they are the light, the are fiery spunky and have a dark goddess vibe.....they have a side of them that the love and light people are often shocked, embarrassed, and disgusted by. and naga is the straight up dark goddess.   we have the men zelgadis, heero. and xellos the man of action. the warrior men, the dark brooding dark gods on display. the men in the fuckin trenches who aren't sweet, who aren't tender but are highly emotional and empathetic due to how life has shaped them.   and then we have the whole juxtaposition.   all of these people are not average people..they are cosmic beasts. powerful, agile, stronger, and more competent than the average person in their world. and the men and women tend to be engaging in their flirting, push and pull, dynamic, and attraction in a subversive power play due to the intense immensity of them.   vanilla people cite that heero trying to kill relena is a reason they can't be a couple. every either part time, fantasy, or someone like me who is a innate lifestyler where it's apart of my natural personality knows that when relena looked at heero with that face they were simply flirting and we knew it was over for her. it was the combo of the thrill the intrigue and the emotional oh hey there good lookin. i'd say if anything besides the fact that vanilla people were looking at it in a normal romance context the clunk was that they were so young. give it time for heero to cook and he'll get that devious dangerous flirt more refined.   u/littletwinstarspeace - the power of 3 will set you free? 3 priestesses and 3 warriors get together..or do they? how does their union which can totally be romantic, but often doesn't, transform the world? how does this work out in real life? and what about the dark goddess who ejaspects herself from… u/littletwinstarspeace - the power of 3 will set you free? 3 priestesses and 3 warriors get together..or do they? how does their union which can totally be romantic, but often doesn't, transform the world? how does this work out in real life? and what about the dark goddess who ejaspects herself from… u/littletwinstarspeace - the power of 3 will set you free? 3 priestesses and 3 warriors get together..or do they? how does their union which can totally be romantic, but often doesn't, transform the world? how does this work out in real life? and what about the dark goddess who ejaspects herself from… and well naga being so powerful and without a dude is she realllllllllly running into those dangerous gangs of men where she usually gets some sort of kidnapped or tied up just for shit and giggles?   u/littletwinstarspeace - the power of 3 will set you free? 3 priestesses and 3 warriors get together..or do they? how does their union which can totally be romantic, but often doesn't, transform the world? how does this work out in real life? and what about the dark goddess who ejaspects herself from… so we'll be talking about their relationships as the man on the ground the dark goddess priestess, their power dynamic-y ways....why so many especially traditional people don't see these people as actual romantic husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, lovers, partners, what keeps them separate, why even when they are clearly the pair they tend to be tempted by women who aren't on their level such as lena or distracted by the young lady in kingdom waltz, why it seems in spite of the obvious synergy between these that these men tend to end up with the more docile mismatched woman that they have sexual and fleeting passion for, what the challenge is for the woman, what the challenge is for the man, what happens when these power couples never get together and why in writing and story they do everything in their power including insert some mismatched woman that they usually end up with instead to keep them away, when someone like naga says fuck the system i'm ejecting myself from all this storyline and paving my own way   AND HOW THIS TRANSLATES TO REAL LIFE.   because for some of us bdsm and power dynamics are real.   magic is real.   esotericism is real.   there are real dark goddess vibes, high priestesses, knights, men of action, warriors, and though we don't see it as visual as the media we have our own magic that we wield. and these pairings and the entire thing is a very real real world issue. or situation.   my answer is riding with naga to all this conundrum, peace out and jump off the plane with no safety net or par

A slave define destiny ; A slave surrenders all its human rights and civil liberties and indeed it has no real need of them. The slave is after all just a mere nonentity that is the owned property of its lawful owner. A slave is not its owners spouse, lover, friend, associate, colleague; it is its owners owned property...period. The slave cannot say what it pleases, do what it pleases or go where it pleases. It can only do what it is told and go where it is told.  Being a slave is by no means an easy option in life. A slave must have plentiful labor to keep it busy during the day so it’s never really idle.  Some owners require it to endure painful suffering in order to alleviate their own stressful anxieties and/or to enhance their three dimensional cathartic euphoria and improve and maintain their general well being. Even when safety is ensured it is no easy task for the slave to endure.  it has been the custom and tradition for a slave to be kept completely in various types of restraint to restrict but not prevent movement. Such restraints have varied but included shackles, locked or soldered collars, locked chastity restraints. These have served a purpose of demonstrating to the slave and to others that it is property that owns and has access to nothing of its own and that it is completely owned and under the absolute power of its designated owner. It also additionally served to reinforce the slavery through humiliation, degradation and subjugation.    When it comes to clothing there is little room for compromise. Clothing for a slave is a privilege and slaves clothing is chosen for them, they embrace the Masters desires plain and simple . Failure to adopt this simple rule will give the slave ideas above his station.    A slave belongs to its owner and is on the periphery of its owner’s life, not at the center of the owner’s life. It places a servile and support function role only. Its conduct in slavery must be impeccable and it must never ever let its owner down.  A slave is never allowed to look at its owner's face.  A slave should never ever have access to the same luxuries that a freeborn person has. It should be housed in a small locked room or a cage when it is resting or sleeping or otherwise not required. Adequate heating and ventilation provided along with food and drink and mobile toilet facilities during its confinement stay.  Once owned the slave should not have any further contact with family or friends nor should it watch television, listen to the radio, read newspapers, periodicals, books, use the computer, or telephone and write to anyone. It also has no right of complaint about its treatment as a slave or any right of appeal to a third party.  It is property that is owned and so it must remain. Once negotiations have ceased and agreement reached about the parameters of the said slavery, the slave itself must offer itself unconditionally and not place any hindrance in the way of its owner’s legitimate right to use her owned property as she herself chooses within the agreed parameters.   

So journals are back! Giggity! I remain frustrated in seeking out anyone who can discipline me, use me in whatever way they wish and break down my barriers by simply forcing me to confront them. Where would I like to be tonight? I would love to be between the legs of a dominant, serving them...servicing them, swallowing what they want me to swallow, sucking what they would have me suck, licking what they tell me to lick. All night... And when they were sated, satisfied and had used me in exactly the way they wanted, they could reward me...or they could choose not to. They could give me release...or they could refuse. They could drive me right to the edge, or they could put me away with nothing until they were ready to have me again. They would be completely in control. Their satisfaction would be my goal and my reward their choice. It could be a woman...it could be a man (a man would be a new experience and another barrier broken down. I do not care...it's not mine to care, only to lick, suck, swallow and bend over.

In shadows deep where secrets lie, A man of strength, beneath the sky, Dominance etched upon his face, Yet hidden yearnings seek their place.   He walks with power, commands the air, Yet dreams of moments soft and rare, Of tender hands and whispered might, Of yielding to her gentle light.   She stands before him, eyes aglow, A force of nature, soft and slow, In her presence, he finds release, His iron will begins to cease.   For in her gaze, he finds his home, No longer does he need to roam, To her, he gives his crown and throne, Under her strength, he's not alone.   He surrenders all, his power and pride, And kneels before her, nothing to hide, In submission's sweet and tender grace, He finds his true and rightful place.   Her touch is soft, yet holds command, A gentle force, a guiding hand, She leads him to a world unseen, There is strength and softness and inbetween.   In yielding to her, he is free, A paradox of strength to be, Her words, a balm, her voice, a song, Under her power, where he belongs.   Sometimes bound by iron chains, He feels the strenght of her reign, In her dominion, he is whole, She claims his heart, she owns his soul.   For in her power, he finds peace, A harmony that will not cease, In sweet submission, he is known, Her slave at rest, underneath her throne.    

Picture it Feb 14, 20?? (to protect the innocent). A friend of mine was getting married. I always had a little crush on his girlfriend but I would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship. Little did I know that she felt the same way about me, and I was about to find out. The day before of the wedding she called me up and asked if I could help her with a few things.She gave me the address and told me to stop by. When she opened the door she was wearing a robe and holding two wine glasses. She invited me in and we sat on the couch. We started talking about tomorrow's events and she said her feet were killing her from practicing walking around in the high heel shoes. She asked me if I could give her a foot massage. I rubbed her feet and I could tell she was really getting into it. She was at the nail salon earlier and didn't want to chip a nail and asked me if I could help her at a shower. So we went into the bathroom and she took off her robe. Now up to this point we only gave each other hello or goodbye hugs, and now she is standing in front of me naked. I am trying not to stare but she is in great shape. She told me to get undressed and into the shower with her. I washed & conditioned her hair, washed her body, shaved her airpits, legs, and pussy too. She asked me why I never made a move on her and I told her I didn't think she was interested in me. She said that's too bad, after tonight it is going to be to late and I will never have this chance again. We kissed a litttle, I got her dried off and into bed and I went home. I saw her the next day at the wedding and she was beautiful. The wedding went on with no problems and as far as I know, my friend has no dea how she spent her last night as a single woman.

100% Master 100% Sadist  100% Daddy 100% Degrader  94% Rigger  93% Dominant  92% Experimentalist  84% Primal (Hunter)  79% Brat tamer  71% Owner  56% Switch  38% Non-monogamist  36% Voyeur  33% Submissive  5% Exhibitionist  0% Ageplayer  0% Brat  0% Degradee  0% Boy/Girl  0% Masochist  0% Pet  0% Primal (Prey)  0% Rope bunny  0% Slave  0% Vanilla   

Master's WritingsSubmission, as I see itSubmission comes in many forms and on my journey different subs have approached it from different angles. Some see it as service, some as opening themselves up to another, and some even see it as a rejection of the world with it demands and requirements. Over the years, I have trained several submissives to reach greater depth in their submission and I’ve tried to work within their mindset, helping each to reach their potential in a way that is honest, true, and unique.At its core, submission is and should be a genuine reflection of an individual’s inner truth. A sense of their own purpose and way of life they choose to accept. It comes from a place within each submissive that reflaspects their own nature, and their most authentic expression of self.The nature of any true “submissive training” should and must be focused on helping the submissive connect with their nature, create the pathways to more fully access their own unique form of submission, and then finally build on that to blend it into their daily life. All the tasks and sexual acts, the “yes Sirs” and downward glances of respect, mean nothing and are worthless self-indulgent Dominant games, if the goal of these acts are not designed to deepen a submissives connection to their own beautiful, natural, and authentic submissive self.Submission is a gift. This single phrase bears repeating, because it is so very true and frequently overlooked - Submission is a gift. When fully developed, submission is a powerful and sometimes spiritually beautiful thing to behold. It is never to be taken, coerced, or forced. It is not for role play or pretend, Of course one could act like a submissive as if putting on a costume, but not with me as their Dominant. I hols submission, true submission in the highest regard. And to pretend to be one only cheapens the gift of those who truly feel its calling.As a Dominant, I see my role as helping others in any way I can on their journey, as their guide, nurturer, and mentor.

**Journal Entry for jloveslut:**   I’ve been reflecting a lot on the journey of self-discovery and exploration that led me here, to a place where I can openly embrace my authentic self. My experiences as a switch, and my desire to connect with others who understand the nuances of my gender identity and orientation, have been pivotal in shaping who I am today.   In the realm of BDSM and kink, finding a community where I can express both my dominant and submissive sides has been incredibly empowering. It’s a space where I can explore, learn, and grow without judgment. I’m continually learning about what it means to be part of a community that values consent, respect, and communication above all else. These elements are at the core of the connections I’m seeking, and I appreciate how spaces like this offer that opportunity.   I’m looking forward to meeting others who share similar values and interests. Whether it’s engaging in conversations about lifestyle choices, exploring new dynamics, or just making friends who understand this part of my life, I am excited for the possibilities that lie ahead. Here’s to continuing the journey of exploration, growth, and meaningful connections.   Thank you for reading, and feel free to reach out if any of this resonates with you.   — J

It's amazing how quickly your priorities change when death comes knocking on your door.  A couple months ago, it kicked my door down.  I found a tumor in my neck and it was cancerous.  And all of a sudden, all the plans I had, all the priorities, all the needs and wants which drove my decisions, all got pushed into the background, and my only need and priority became don't die.  This is a really nasty cancer.  Both because the treatment is so invasive and damaging, and because it likes to come back. I read everything I could find about it as I was going through all the tests but the information I could find sucked.  It was contradictory and very little of it applied to my particular situation.  Plus my Dr. was feeding me sunshine and rainbows and wouldn't give me a straight answer.  Fortunately, the tests showed I had caught it really early and it hadn't spread, so it was still stage 1.  But I needed surgery on my neck and throat, and this time everything I read was in agreement.  This was the most painful surgery there is.  But, gotta do it before it does spread, and hopefully they would get it all and I would not need radiation and chemo.  So surgery was last month, and they were not exaggerating about the pain. Plus it left half my face either numb or paralyzed though the Dr. says that will fix itself with time.  But unfortunately, the pathology from the surgery wasn't good.  And I will need 6 weeks of radiation, which starts in a couple weeks.  And that fucks you up far more than the surgery did.  Yay me.  And even if I get the radiation, there is a 15 percent chance the cancer comes back, and a 10 percent chance it kills me if it does.  But probably not for 3-6 years and maybe they will have a cure by then.  So I am really looking forward to them frying my face off with radiation. But this is not my first time I have faced death and kicked it's ass.  Twice in the military, and one previous go round with cancer.  This one feels different though.  The two military brushes with death were instantaneous type things and either kill you or they don't.  The first cancer never really caused me to fear death, though it easily could have been fatal had circumstances been just a little different. All of this has given me the time and motivation to reassess what I am going to do with the rest of my life after getting this radiation. What I decided is that I am going to keep living it, but maybe with a bit more urgency, because I truly do not know how much time I have left. But my intention is to beat this thing just like I beat the last one, and live a great many more happy, healthy years. And I also realized, they whether I have 6 years or 60 left, I do not want to live them alone. Which does not mean I am going to lower my standards a single iota. I would still rather be alone than in the wrong relationship. But I am going to change my approach and work at finding the right someone(s) a lot harder. It is impossible to miss the trend of so many women, especially the younger ones, to view BDSM as transactional, and seek some sort of payment for their attention. Though it is rather amusing that so many believe that their very existence entitles them to be paid for doing absolutely nothing. Having minored in economics while I was getting my three business degrees, I have since been aware that everything we humans do is transactional, whether we are aware of it or not. It is the laws of economics, not the laws of physics that govern human behavior. Nobody, no matter how selfless, does anything for nothing. Every decision we make,we weigh the risk vs the reward and the penalties we incur if we fail. Unfortunately most people have no idea how to do this correctly and almost always give far too much weight to the risk and penalty side of the equation, which holds them back from so much in life out of fear of failure. But I have no problem acknowledging that this a transactional based dynamic, rather than keeping it subliminal. I have no desire for a pay to play or I could go to a professional. I am seeking a committed, 24 7, long term relationship to include both vanilla and BDSM. I seek a true slavery dynamic. Some call it TPE, though I find that inadequate. I also desire one sided poly, which leaves you free to have as many other relationship as you wish, while I serve only you. So here is what I bring to the table I own a very nice, large home in a very safe, upscale area of Phoenix, AZ. So I offer long term stability without having to worry about making the rent or being evicted or fearing for your safety in, or when entering or leaving your home. I have a guaranteed income for the rest of my life which gives me enough money to pay all of my bills and enough left over to enjoy my life. As my bills will decrease with time, the excess will then increase. I am not, however, a SD. I will expect you to contribute according to your ability to do so. When it comes to the house, maintaining the household, and paying the bills, we are all on an equal basis. I will expect you to either continue your education with the goal of having a career,or getting a job. Details on how and what you contribute are negotiable. I can carry most of the financial load while you are in school or working your way upin your career. And finally, you get me. You have never met a male slave like me before. I was introduced to BDSM and taught long before the internet existed. I am nothing like any of the other men who call themselves slaves or submissives. But rather than go on about how wonderful I am, that can keep. Because it doesn't matter how wonderful I think I am, it only matters how wonderful you think I am. And that works both ways. Unlike most male subs, I won't just roll over to any woman who would have me. I have declined to serve probably thousands of women, and will continue to do so until the one who is right for me comes along. No matter how long that takes. The woman I seek is truly dominant, not dress up and pretend politically correct BDSM like most. She values intelligence and integrity. She has pride in herself, ambition and has set life goals to motivate herself to excel. Since we are going to at times have to pretend to be vanilla, she can compartmentalize. That is it. If I think of more, or as my cancer treatments progress, I will write further journal updates. Most of what I wrote is negotiable to some extent. Well except for her being intelligent and possessing integrity. I offer great service and a secure and happy home. If you believe you can do better, I wish you well.

You tell me not to worry.  But are we not all motivated by fear? Or desire? Are they two sides of the same coin? I crave climax but it is harder to come by. Do I need a new toy, or is the toy no longer enough? It's a strange thing to consider my libido as a post-menopausal woman? At whatever age, we are never properly balanced, hormonally. Our modern diet and lifestyle keep us out of whack. I am probably lucky I have a libido at all!  Should I tell you about the couple at the end of the bar? She was at least mid-40's, he was maybe a bit older, but both in fine fettle, and good looking. They seemed like a pair of old socks, but then he started groping her, his big hand planted just below her right breast, fingers spread wide. He rubbed her belly like she was a pet, but then would bring his hand back up. When he took his hand away, she crossed her arms. Was she trying to keep him away? When they stood to leave he wrapped himself around her from behind and she asked if he had always been such a big cuddler. She had a British accent, thus the use of cuddle.  Was I jealous? On my other side was a 9 year old boy with his dad. Equally entertaining!  I thought I would keep strolling, see what else I might wander into, but I decided to call it a day.  Now I can enjoy the Sunday scaries in the privacy of my own home. 

Dinning Out with slave I expect My slave was excited. At least I was hoping it would generate expectations in its little brain. it had not been fed solid food in the last ten days. it was being treated to My lose weight regime. Yes, it had lost a little, but, far from the goal I had determined for it. Outside its cage I had enjoyed leaving pizza fresh from the oven in order that it might enjoy its denial. Actually, I doubt it was ‘enjoying’ smelling the pizza while slowly starving. What it enjoys is not an issue of My particular concern. Needless to say, I enjoyed its discomfort. In its journal it was recording dreams of gorging itself on delicious pizza. So, I offered a torture by way of tantalus for My pleasure. In any case I watched its face closely as I announced it would be accompanying Me out to dinner. it had just finished its required ten miles on the tread mill and was sweating profusely. I let it catch its breath and cool down to the point of an onset of chill. I took a bight of a large corn-beef sandwich while its eyes devoured the sight of My pleasure. I slowly chewed the sandwich while My slave involuntarily chewed nothing but saliva. When it seemed to be at the point of crying with the frustration of dental and hunger, I swallowed to clear My mouth and, negligently dropping the half eaten sandwich on the floor, I began to speak. “Slave, tonight it will accompany Me to dinner out. I will allow it to wear ladies panties, the tight little boy shorts and a T-shirt. it will play chauffeur to the restaurant. it will sit on its hands and not speak without a nod of approval from Me. Before I go out to eat, I will beat it in order that it might keep its servile position in life firmly in its mind. I grant it the opportunity ask a question now about tonight’s adventure. Remember, any answer including punishment for any impertinence I perceive must elicit profound gratitude from it. Ask now, slave.” Poor thing, it could not resist the crying need it felt for, at a minimum, the prospect of receiving food. “Master will it be fed tonight?” To which I responded with a series of face slaps. At each it did as it had been trained and forced its face up to face slapping position with its eyes firmly fixed on mine. No matter how hard I struck its impertinent cheeks it thanked Me profusely for a number of things. The ‘things’ included that it was receiving attention from a Better, it had the opportunity to serve, that it was learning etc.  Later that day, still wondering if it would be fed, the slave although in advanced years of age was dressed much like a little boy included Buster Brown shoes was kneeling by the front door waiting to drive Me to My repast.  As I approached the door ready to leave My residence, I thought I heard My slave properties stomach growl its protest at the lack of something to digest. Darn if I thought I heard the same little growl as I passed it through the door it held open to the interior of My car. I gave it the destination from My comfortable seat. I suspect the slave was pleased to be driving rather than locked in the trunk of the car as it usually was.   It did a competent job of driving, holding the door for me at the entrance of the restaurant and then parking the car. I enjoyed the sight of it running back to me to open the door of the eating establishment. When I announced My name we were conducted to a both. My slave used a handkerchief it carried for just such occasions to wipe down the seat I was about to occupy. As I sat, it waited at the ready should I require anything else in the moment. When I was comfortable, I took a moment to survey the table. The linen tablecloth was spotless and was not overly starched. The flatware was sterling, the plates were all porcelain and the glass all crystal. It pleased Me to see such an elegant setting before me. All the while My slave property maintained a standing posture ramrod straight with eyes focused on My face waiting for instructions. I casually looked at My adoring chattel and nodded slightly. At this indication from Me it took its seat on its hands. The reader may skip the following digression. Sitting on one’s hands sounds simple enough. However, hand sitting is far from comfortable. The reader might like to try a little experiment and spend some time sitting on hands for a while. The longe one sits in that fashion the less comfort afforded. Further, there is the question of palms up or down. Up or down question in My realm depends on the surface the ass is to rest on. A hard surface with palms up leaves discomfort to mount slowly to the ass while the back of the hands almost immediately suffer from the weight of the sitter and the hard surface the knuckles and back of hand are pressed into. A soft cushion, such as the current eatery provided would receive the back of the hand with grace and ease. However, if the hands are palm down, the soft surface causes the hands to bend backward and over time gain certain agony to the sitter. Guess which way My slave property had been trained to orient its palms? Water was in each of the crystal water glasses provided. There was a carafe of H2O on the table as well. I sipped My water while I perused the menu. My slave property kept its eyes on My face should I require anything, even as its thirst remained unquenched. I discarded the wine list. My drinking days are long past. However, I was aware My slave was a drinker (the reader should note the past tense.) The waitress arrived to collect the order. She enquired about drink preference. Noting My decline and nothing by way of speech from My companion, went on to the food question. My order was rather simple, a crab cocktail, followed by a caesar salad, main course of prime rib.  “And for the gentleman?” enquired the wait person after turning to face it.  I watched as My slave’s face reddened ever so slightly. I looked forward to reading its journal entry regarding this whole dinner, especially, its reaction to the “for the gentleman” inquiry. I sadistically savored its quandary of imperative sustenance need and secure knowledge it was to have only what I allowed. “You may bring one dry piece of toasted white bread, please.” With a very well, Sir, she turned to place the order with the cook. “it may have a sip of water, slave.” Of course My slave property could not resist taking more than a sip. It even allowed some liquid to dribble down its chin as it downed half a glass. “Remind Me, slave, to beat it severally for taking more than a sip and for removing hands from under its ass without permission.”

 Pegstresss