I have now collared and own NJ Slave1010. It worships me without exception and without question. I have erased most thoughts from its mind, so all it knows is worshipping me, adoring me, thinking about me. I have inserted certain words in its head. So when It reads them or hears them or says them Its’ slave worm, which is now mine, goes to instant erection in honor of me. Only I can grant what is now mine release, not it anymore. And it suffers deeply for me has declared its undying slave love to me.. If any other slaves would love to be my slave and fall deeply in love with me. writing slave love letters to me. Then you can contact me here. You will worship me, adore me, and obey me. I will also instill a bouffant and salon fetish in you where you worship the bouffant Women Having their hair styled in exotic, full, thick. Updo bouffant hairdos and rollers or under dryers like the goddesses they deserve to be. This also goes for CDs who are into this also, I would love to have you worship me getting your hair done in large exotic hairdos under dryers and in large rollers for me.

There are parts of a person that don’t begin at the moment two people meet. They begin long before, in the quiet places where experience shapes us and then gets sealed away. Long before I met her, I had lived through something that awakened a deep part of me — a capacity for intensity, recognition, and emotional clarity that rarely finds a home. And she had lived through her own version of that. For different reasons, both of us buried that part of ourselves. She buried hers out of fear - fear of instability, fear of loss, fear of needing someone, fear of being seen too clearly. I buried mine out of discipline - a deliberate containment, a way of protecting others from the full force of what I feel and protecting myself from offering it where it cannot be held. Different histories, different wounds, same instinct: suppress what once burned too brightly When we met, that buried part in both of us stirred. Not because we created something new, but because we recognised something familiar. The connection wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t accidental. It was the reawakening of something each of us had sealed away. In the moments when she felt safe, she softened, revealing warmth, intuition, and depth she rarely allowed to surface. And in response, I became the version of myself that feels most grounded, steady, and alive. I understood the sandcastle she lived in. I saw her protective walls. Not as flaws, but as architecture - structures and anchors that kept her upright when life gave her no stability. I understood why trusting one person felt like stepping into open air. I understood why she stayed in the present, why she avoided looking ahead, why she protected herself even from what she wanted. I saw the logic in it. I saw the cost of it too. It is heartbreaking to see how someone can be hurt so deeply, so repeatedly, that they retreat into a world made of compartments. A world where adult emotional connection feels dangerous, where closeness carries the risk of being wounded again. And so she anchored herself to the one place that felt safe: the innocence of a child who had never betrayed her. The child of the man who had most recently broken her trust became, in a way, the last untouched corner of her emotional world. Maybe she saw a younger version of herself there. Maybe she stayed close to that child because it allowed her to protect something pure in a way no one ever protected her. Whatever the reason, it is unbearably sad that the safest place she could find was one that existed outside the realm of adult connection entirely. I understood how it was easier to feel when it was transactional, triggered by someone else and emotionally outside her control. What I felt for her was not fantasy. It was recognition. I cared for her deeply, and I would have treasured her - not by holding her tightly, but by creating a space where she could breathe without fear, where the sparks I glimpsed in her unguarded moments could grow into something steady. I never wanted to reshape her. I wanted to offer a place where she could rest without bracing for impact. It hurt that she couldn't understand my deep need to care; that she could and did give herself to another physically, to a sadist, when she couldn't accept my care or give herself physically to me. And I never believed it would be easy or instantaneous. I knew that being together would require patience, courage, and the slow dismantling of old defences. I knew it would demand effort from both of us. But the difficulty didn’t deter me - it clarified me. It strengthened my resolve. It deepened my desire to care, not out of saviourhood or fantasy, but because I saw what was possible if she ever chose to step toward it. But the truth is simple: the part of her that woke up when we met is the same part she has spent years learning to silence. Stepping toward what she felt would have required dismantling the very defences that keep her functioning. She retreated not because she felt nothing, but because she felt too much. I stepped toward it because I was ready. That difference is the whole story. So I release this into the ether - not to change her, not to call her back, not to craft something optimised for her reception or softened for her comfort. I have written carefully, yes, but this is not for her. This is for me. This is where I place the truth so I no longer have to carry it alone. We both knew. We both felt it. We both buried it for our own reasons. Meeting each other unlocked it again. She ran from it. I stepped toward it. And now I name it so it no longer lives unspoken. Whatever she chooses, whatever she fears, whatever she cannot yet face, I hold no anger. Only the quiet truth of what was possible, and the peace that comes from finally giving these words a place to live outside my own mind.

Dazzling, as if illuminated by a celestial spotlight, she stood next to the passenger door of a Black Mercedes-Benz Roadster.   Parked next to the light pole, the image of her, the car, and the reflective light was surreal.   “Door” she snapped. “ Get my door boy!” Head down he realized she wanted him to open the passenger door. Once open, she backed up to the car, in one graceful fluid motion she bent forward simultaneously sliding her round firm bottom into the leather bucket seat. Clutching her handbag she again snapped “ Close the door boy!”   It took a moment for his brain to adjust to his reality. Closing her door, he went to the drivers side and got in.   Fear of the unknown clouded his brain and overwhelmed his senses.   Her perfume. Her smell. The Leather smell. The car smell. He came aware with the click of her seatbelt. He did likewise. She reached from her seat and started the engine and turned the stereo on. Soft quiet smooth Jazz surrounded them.

I have been on this site for years and see the same profile of ladies seeking a someone like myself. Contact is made, profiles viewed yet nothing. occassionally someone says hi and we exchange messages, and then nothing and i find that often times the dead air is asking for verification on where they live or interest that they have already posted in their profiles.  So many ladies want to be in charge, they advertise they are dominant seeking a male sub/slave, thye want to take the lead, yet nearly all wait for the guy to make first contact and when it happens they ghost or get upset that an I was not dotted or T not crossed. I realize the ladies may get slammed by a lot of players espcially on a freee site like this one. But if you reallyh want to be in control, ignore the players and seek out us real guys, make the first move and follow through. You seek perfectionn from the first hello but that is impossible for anyone including the ladies making contact.  We are two adults seeking to meet connect and build a relationship, if the only connection is BDSM the connection will be lost quickly. So my request is to stop searching for the ideal submssive and instead focus on building a relationship with said person and through your guideance and training help us /me to be perfct for you 

what about kinks?   a lot of people are only spécialised in only one thing, or just have interest on 3 or 4 things at most.   im spécialised only on sadism, but, what is sadism?  sadism can take a lot of form, and to understand what a person love and why, you need to understand what gave him interrest in this. for myself, i like sadism because i have fascination about it, im litterraly in urge to find a new trick to gave pain, i have a huge curiosity about a lot of thing, and im very creative, this define my sadism.   why i have fascination about it? take an exemple,  totally out of this. when you see an abandoned build, you can see the plants growing, maybe how much time its on this state, the building certainatly was beautiful before but now declining. a person is the same, when she/he came first the state is good, and i will work to change it, to corrupt/deprave it into another state. the difference is a person turn into the first state again, and again, given you the possibility to do it differently, finding another way, maybe better, maybe even if you didnt thought about before. that's my way of sadism. but yes i concede, i like to hear scream, sound of pain too. like i said before my fascination about this include the visual and the touch, when i finish my session i like to see all the changes, and touch it, swelling, bruises, sensing the heat of the body. and when they come again, i know again this time will be different...

I just bought some new tangerine colored panties and thought about going to the ABS, so I went home to change into some pretty underthings. i then went to my go-to ABS wearing a shear white button down cover-up, a white bandeau bra and my new tangerine colored panties under my pants. i bought my tokens, and as i walked to the back room, i unbuttoned my cover-up leaving my bra exposed. I sat down in the booth and it wasn’t long before I was sucking on a nice cock. After I finished off the second cock, a guy came into my booth waving me outside of my booth and into another booth. i walked in - a guy was stroking his Big Black Cock. It was the biggest cock i have ever saw, i mean it was massive! He pointed to my crotch and I lowered my jeans showing him my panties. He pointed again, and i lowered my panties showing him my little clitty. He stood up and pulled my clitty next to his cock. It was extremely humiliating to see my little white clitty next to his massive black cock. He put his arm on my shoulder directing me down to a stooping position, right in front of his cock. At first, it was all i could do just to get the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly i was able to get further down his shaft. After a while, he start to moan and thrusting his cock forward into my mouth. Shortly after that, he started to cum. After he filled my mouth with cum, he pulled out and his cum was still dripping out of his cock. He pulled up his pants and left.                

Forced Fem and Humiliation might not be so bad after all   A couple of years ago my Master thought up a new way to humiliate me when he bought a little frilly French maids costume online. He plan was initially to make me wear it while I did chores around the house. He wasn't in to TVs or sissies he just thought it would amuse him to see me walk to the end of the garden to put bags of rubbish in the bin especially as the garden faced a busy street. He also found it funny to lock the door behind me so I would spend a while cowering outside trying not to be seen before he opened the door again. Don't worry the humiliation wasn't a bad thing it could just get a little cold out there sometimes. He also used to make me wear it when his friends visited to serve them drinks. It was on one of those visits with Masters friend constantly putting his hand up my skirt (sanctioned by Master) that the subject of it being cold outside came up. The friend suggested only the dress wasn't enough I should at least have proper underwear and at least 1 pair of stockings. Master agreed and one day I came home to the additions to my new outfit sitting on the table. I was instructed to go and try them on. After a few struggles with the stockings I came out to show Master. He approved and showed me how much by ensuring that my new knickers I had only had for 10 minutes needed to go into the wash. Now when I did chores I was properly dressed and Masters friends seem to like it too. I liked it too.  I was never a sissy but I looked forward to dressing up, even running to the bins never seemed so bad. I confess I have dressed up sometimes since, and would like someone who likes it to push me  bit more.

Attitude matters! I will be clear here. If I choose you and you are not fit, healthy and eat healthy per My desires.  I will put you on a strict diet and exercise program.  I don't care what you weighed in high school or your younger years.  That is not what you look like today.  Who you are today,  what you look like today is all I will see, and matters to Me! Strip naked,  take a long look in the mirror from every angle,  take photos of yourself.  Are you proud of your appearance? Or do you need to put in the work? I am on a journey to better fitness and appearance.  If you are not, or have no ambition to, we will not match up. you don't have to be perfect right now, although that is desirable.   What you do need is to be putting in the work and working on the goal of better health,  healthy eating/diet, and becoming physically fit.  Eliminating substances from your consumption that is not healthy.  Watch 'Biggest Looser', maybe it will inspire you. Its free to watch on freevee app  

UPDATE 2/7/22: I am looking for somene to do what amounts to several hours of part-time, light grunt work alongside me as I complete tasks... It will be mostly moving things from point A to point B, up or down stairs, with frequent instances of waiting on me to do my part. I've been having thumb & wrist problems and can't do much in the way of grabbing things to move them myself. I have a lot to do, but it's pretty easy, and except for trips to the trash and recycling bins, will be indoors. I'm need someone that does the work without questioning my decisions, so someone in a submissive or slave mindset is preferable. We can chat, of course... I'm not going to discuss the "why" of what I'm working on, though. :) If you're vaccinated and in the Denver area, send me a message and let's negotiate something that's mutually beneficial!

My primary focus is on improving myself, my life, and my finances as I need my own business(es) going to get the fuck off SSI. I like to go out and do things.    Not just sex.  Like really, to all the men who think offering their random tongue to be used is attractive, it absolutely is not.  Buy some dental dams if you are tongue slut.   My first thought is how many std's do you have!?!?!    You can get them from oral sex and people who are full on adults who think about sex primarily, turn me off.  I understand it from teens to 30's... when you get to 40's or older, you had better have a lot more to talk about, think about and exist for you to to talk to me.    I got so bored with my last toy because he was ONLY a walking fucktoy, with paranoid delusions. The mind is a massive playground and you miss out just thinking about actual physical sex.  Lola the Iron Mistress  

I have long been fascinated by the basic concept of "How". How do I develop actual power over a sub. How do I instill a true mindset of submission or devotion. How do I get and keep control/power over a whole person. How do I actually mold someone, train them. How do I create an environment where I can unleash myself. How do I get the results that I desire. One thing I've learned is that people develop a core let's say picture of themselves. They develop this idea of who they are in their head, how does she talk, walk, dress, think, her desires, priorities, perceptions, etc etc. Once we have this image in our head this definition of who we are, our minds will do mental backflips to rationalize anything that might challenge this. There is an incredible inertia against any form of challenge or change. Even if you want to change, even if you want to be someone else, it's climbing a mountain. I have met all too many submissive women who on the face of things are willing to do an endless litany of gross, dirty, rough things. Their minds then go through this incredible process of rationalization and narrative building to square that in a way that doesn't challenge their inner self. They will then balk at something incredibly simple that invades their non submissive compartmentalization. One of the core pillars in my philosophy of dominance is to challenge her conception of herself. If I can subjugate your idea of who you are, I can move the real you in so many possible directions. Real power and dominance is not about how hard I can hit you or making you do the grossest things I can think of, it is about owning the idea of you. Once that is done the possibilities are endless.

Just your casual reminder that I am super hot, incredibly sensual, and highly addictive.  I am always eager for new toys in this forum.  The diversity of interests and minds and kinks and perversions never ceases to fascinate Me. The opportunity to nurture and guide and definitely control a willing soul is a treasure. If you are gender queer, broadly defined, and want to experience the gift of amusing Me, don't be shy.  Reach out.  I will take it from there and quickly have you addicted and wanting more.

"So into you" or why ob- ject -ification is not as flattering as some guys think it is The subject today will be centered around ob- ject -ification, and how lack of the right actions is getting in the way of what you want. Recently my day was spent prepping for Mom spending the night, which mostly meant me continuing to organize, clean and just generally improving the space in my sewing room, (the only real spare room) which has a futon, and most importantly, DOORS, so she can have privacy and quiet from my cats. Now, being ADD, I work better with music and company, so I put music on that she and I can both enjoy- a Pandora station based on the Doobie Brothers I started just for her. And being who I am, I tend to listen to lyrics, and then often find myself analyzing them. Usually, I'm specifically analyzing the relationship failings described in them. It doesn't always stop me enjoying the music, but sometimes I recognize the stalkery mindsets that filled our airwaves when I was young and impressionable. As were the guys who were listening. It's not surprising that we all grew up thinking these kinds of unhealthy behaviors and expectations were normal, and even romantic. Songs like Boston's "Let me take you home tonight," where a guy is explaining to a woman he's never actually met before that he's basically been stalking her and built a strong fantasy and expectations about who she is, and now he feels that she should absolutely feel both flattered, and obligated to have sex with him. "You must understand this, I've watched you for so long, that I feel I've known you, I know it can't be wrong," and goes on to say "I'm dreamin of your sweet love tonight, let me take you home tonight." So… he's been watching her for a long time without talking to her, decided who she was without ever having a single conversation, and, of course, imagining sex with her. A lot. And he tells her so, over and over and over. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing because I want it. Because that's always what is really going on there. Always the focus and end focus. Nah... that's not creepy AT ALL. Geesh. Today, it was "So Into You" by Atlanta Rhythm Section. Different band, different song, same thought process - I saw you, I was attracted, I've decided who you must be, and I can't think about anything except sex with you - only this time, they seem to want to make it her fault. Now, at first, what struck me was "could not catch your eyes" and "stand here helplessly hoping you get into me." Which just makes me ask 'What did he actually try?' I end up envisioning Toothless in How to Train Your Dragon 2, dancing around like a lunatic and freaking out the of his affections. Let's hope it wasn't like that. But honestly, it sounds like he really didn't try much. He admits that he's 'standing helplessly' rather than walking across the room and saying hello. Which sounds a lot like complaints I've heard from guys before. "I don't know how to talk to women" and that's where it ends, rather than trying to solve that. I mean, there are classes, there are workshops, there is therapy, etc. There are options. Why would someone not even try to fix the thing that keeps them from finding companionship if they are stating that they want it? Passive is not a good look. Or as has been said "faint heart ne'er won fair lady." Unfortunately, the closer we look at the lyrics, the creepier it gets. All this woman did was walk into a room. Suddenly, he's obsessed. He "can't think of nothing else." He says "Love the things you do" when so far, all she's done so far was exist in the same room. She's "driving him crazy," "thinking about how it's going to be" and he's "Gonna love her all over, over and over." So he's not really thinking about getting to KNOW her. He's focused on this fantasy he has of who she is, and what he wants to do to her. She's a beautiful woman. But somehow, she's not really a person. I mean, he's impressed by her, and he wants something from her. But not enough to make the effort to interact with her as human being. So he's "helpless" and "driven crazy" and "captured" but is just standing around "hoping." Worst part is that I really do like the song. Musically, and I like his voice, and the moody, kinda slow jazz feel to it. Shame about the message. I do get it - sometimes you see someone who just looks so cool it's hard to figure out how to approach so that they will be as impressed by you as you are by them. I was told that I'm intimidating... decades before I knew that Dominant was a thing. And the problem isn't that he thinks she's beautiful with "voodoo in the vibe." It's that he's turning that into something SHE's doing - "driving him crazy," and turning his insecurity into "helpless." And the entire thing is portrayed as flattering, and romantic, and a compliment to her. Because isn't that what women are supposed to want? For men to desire them? For her beauty to give her power somehow? For her appearance to add to her value to men? Because "The Male Gaze" is always supposed to be a woman's focus. And what a man feels when gazing is her responsibility. And anything a man might do because of that feeling when gazing at her is her fault. And that is the message. In song after song. "I saw you, I had a feeling, I have a want, I am thinking about you, I am having lots of thoughts about you, I'm having a fantacy about you, I'm deciding that the fantacy is a true representation of who you are, so now I'm building hopes, and I'm building expectations, and now I'm going to approach you , and you should share all my fantacies and fullfil the hopes and expecations rather than view me as some total stranger who's making weird sexual demands." (We won't even START discussing murder ballads. That came up recently too...) That is the message young guys get when they are first thinking about asking girls on a date. That this is how it happens. That this is normal. So when they do it, they are shocked and confused by the girl's reaction. Then again, young girls get this too, so plenty of times when a guy is inappropriate, before they've learned to be afraid of guys and their reaction to rejection, they belive they are supposed to be flattered that a guy is paying attention to them. Even if she doesn't like him, having a guy want you is important, a measure of your value as a woman. So rather than seeing a red flag for later, more aggressive poor behavior, they see it through the lens of "romance." They feel pretty and special and don't recognize healthy behavior when they see it elsewhere because this is how it happens, and what is normal. It's right up there with "he must like you if he punched you" in grade school turning into "he didnt mean it, you know he loves you" later when he beats her bloody later in life. Hell, I literally had this just yesterday. "Hello beautiful, I’ve always wanted to meet you , I love that hair , your so beautiful, I’m in (my town) until Jan 30th Love spoil you and finally get to actually meet you , I only been dreaming for years to do some sissy sessions with you " Never read a single line of my profile in all those "years." So he literally only knows that I have a nice picture. I point that out. (It's a thing for me...you may have noticed.) He responds "I know I need proper training but I know you can teach me !" Because of course, that would be my goal - to spend time and a lot of energy giving someone what they want when they couldn't spend 5 minutes reading my profile. I point out that he STILL hasn't read it, or addressed my reply, and that it was kind of insulting.  He pushed on, though - "We can go get coffee or meet at a munch or anything your up for , I’m only here to next Sunday , but after we meet and greet , I know you would always enjoy my company"  Because obviously, women enjoy men who they feel have insulted them. Especially when it's the BDSM equivalent of a one night stand.  Yes, I blocked him. He obviously wasn't going to catch a clue, even when smacked with a clue-by-four, so there was no point letting him keep messaging me until he got nasty.  He told me I was beautiful, so it automatically followed in his mind that I would immediately want to be alone, up close and personal, providing him his desired gratification, in a session with him, a total stranger, on the first meeting. And that his idea of "spoil" would be the same as mine. Or "proper training." He belived knew me, what I'd want, what I enjoy from my company, etc, without having to read a word I wrote, because he'd looked at my picture and had a feeling and built a fantasy and then expecations. And that who I was beyond my face (and hair) didn't matter.  Because I was not a person to him.  I was an object he desired... a fetish vending machine into which he felt he had put the appropriate coinage - a compliment on my looks. And he wasn't going to be desueded from that with reality or actual human interaction.  This is the world women live in. This is what "The Male Gaze" actually means. If we are attractive, we have value, but not humanity. If we are not attractive, we have no value, and are dehumanized.  You'd think men who want to be Dominated would behave at least slightly different, show at least surface respect to a Dominant Woman, but on average, they don't. And yet, right now, in several groups, there are guys going on about how hard it is to find a Mistress, by guys with the same empty profiles and dick pic avatars and tons of 'do me' groups. The same complaints, the same confusion, the same helplessness and yet the same refusal to make the efforts that would make it possible for a Dominant Woman to want to interact with them.  They are standing helplessly... hoping... being driven crazy... not understanding why we aren't "getting into" them.

  ClaimedMy name, Emiko, which means prosperous, beautiful child, has not helped, not a bit. It’s been a bad year. At 23 years old, I got my own place, moved all my stuff and had finally left my parents’ home. This seemed like a big step towards independence, made less scary as my parents were still close by and I would need them less and less. Several months later there was a horrible crash. My parents ripped away instantly. Still, there was my boyfriend of many years who was soon to be my fiancé. He was there for me, helped me through much of the hardest stuff, supported me when I needed it most. Several months later, instead of proposing as was expected, he dumped me and not your nice dinner, its-not-you, blah, blah. No, he dump me by text. Still there was my dog. I had loved this dog from when I was 5 years old. He was always there to take care of me and watch over me even when the world was scary. Several months later, as he was now living in pain, it was time to let him go too but how could I? He was the last person who cared for me. I had to do right by him and let him go peacefully. Yeah, it’s been a bad year.On this particular Saturday morning, as I lay in bed trying to build enough motivation to get out, the feelings of being disconnected, isolated and alienated, of not belonging, were overwhelming. This is something that had been steadily building through the year but was reaching a fever pitch. Sometimes we get so detached from the world around us there's no way for us to reattach ourself. The only hope is for someone to find you who will grab on and pull you back. All my attachment points seem to have disappeared or broken. I was drifting free. I wanted so much for someone to reach out, pull me back and reattach me to this world.My thoughts went back to a harebrained scheme that had been rattling around my head for some time — just give myself to the first person who would have me. It was a fast, simple solution to a problem I did not know how to solve. You’re gonna think this is crazy mostly because it is crazy but that morning, crazy was all I had. This wasn’t the first time I thought about this idea. In fits of fancy, I had even planned it out. It was based on a story I read called ‘Halloween’. The woman in the story had put herself out there for someone to claim and someone claimed her. I bought a nice leather collar which also fit my thigh, a matching 8 foot leather strap you might call a leash but it was really a lead and, just because I wanted my intensions to be clear, I bought a garter that said, ‘CLAIM ME’ in inch and a half capitol letters. Baker Beach, you know, the one with the beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge, has a section where clothing is optional. I’d go there, strip down to just those three items, stand there and wait. My body is nothing special. I don’t have a lot of boob or a lot of anything. I’m a tiny asian woman; shocking in San Francisco. People say everyone loves a tiny asian woman. How could anyone resist a freely available, totally naked, tiny asian woman? Well, they all did.It was getting late into the afternoon and would start getting cold soon. My isolation was now complete. I stood there all day, buck naked, offering myself to anyone who would take me and no one had even stop by to ask. Then a man walked towards me. I saw him earlier when he was heading down the beach. He had looked in my direction for some time, then walked passed like everyone else. Now, as he got closer, he looked right at the garter and just smiled.Deep inside me, I was a bit disappointed. Looking back at that moment, my fast thinking said he was older than I want, not built the way I want, not dressed the way I want, and truthfully, not tall like I want. None of that mattered at this point. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be connected. I needed to be claimed. “If you want me to stop at anytime, say kangaroo. If you understand what I’m telling you, say banana.” It seemed like every emotion was passing through me at that moment. Fear and longing where the strongest. Longing won out.“Banana”He opened the lock on the collar, dropping the keys, both of them, in his pocket. I was already shaking a bit. He strapped it around my neck, not too tight, and secured it with the lock. He removed the garter then unwound the lead from my waist and clipped it to the collar. There were no thoughts in my head but a certain calm washed over me. “How long have you been standing here?”“All day”“Did you reapply your sunscreen? You’re starting to look a bit red.”“I didn’t.”“Do you have aloe or something like it.”Without thinking through what was about to happen, I said there’s aloe in my bag. He got the aloe, put some in his hands and started to apply it. My mind was racing. I froze. Something like this was obviously gonna happen if things went to plan but I had never really played the fantasy out this far so this came as a bit of a shock. He started with my legs. He was not shy, taking his time, being thorough but not gratuitously lingering. He went all the way to the top but didn’t explicitly touch my pussy just brushing it to get the whole leg. I realized my pussy was tingly, all of me was, and that I was probably really wet. He did my arms, my face and neck, my back including my hips and ass. He continued to be thorough but not gratuitous and that did not change when he did my front starting at the shoulders, then to the top of my chest then to my tits, my belly and then put his hand above my mons and went right down between my legs. I got a little dizzy. This random man who I’ve known for 7 minutes just locked a collar around my neck, applied lotion to my entire naked body and I was just tingling with delight. He asked me if I was comfortable coming to his place downtown; he’d order a car. I said yes; I said yes? but also mentioned my place was walking distance from here and we could go there. He said great. I told him the address. He handed me my bag and started walking with a solid gr on the lead. I followed not even thinking about the fact that I was being lead down the s

Someone actually quite a challenge to WOW them about consent (not on cs).... I decided to write most of my response here, even though done of it is mentioned in my profile.   Wow you with consent... I love that challenge. So first things first, you can't have fun when anxiety and fear are the prevailing emotions.  Does that mean a person can't struggle against bonds or their patterned who is ignore than please of 'no' or begging for mercy and still find pleasure?  Sure they can, in the form of a safe word.  They can be simple as red, yellow, and green light... Red light being stop, yellow light, don't get any more intense... Or if the room is wiring about the intensity, can ask, sand if she say green light, she's good, keep going.   A bdsm relationship, whether it is in bed only, or 24/7 is still a 50-50 relationship.  Just because the sun lens the doom some of her fifty, doesn't mean she can't take some of all of it back at any time.  He wants to try anal, she doesn't, "I'm the Dom, so I can" is an EPIC of FAILURE of understanding basic [healthy] bdsm... Also might violate a law or two whether or not either of them know it.     Communication is also key.  Set aside time (such as a dinner) to discuss what they like it don't like.  Sometimes telling a person about what they didn't like right after or right before can kill the mood or self confidence... However during Sunday night dinner, a planned conversation, "her that thing when you turned me sides ways, don't do that for more than a minute at a time, but that thing you did when you held my head on the pillow... Don't ever not do that again..."   He laughs, "sure, when your are going down... Teeth are not sexy."     Moving on..   I actually love protocol training early in a relationship.  It's almost an if-then style relationship while learning each other's kinks: If you do this, I do that... Or if I do this, you do that.  For example, if she puts a collar on, he is not allowed to use her real name, just one of the pet names that agreed upon earlier, it could be cute like 'penny' because of the penguin on the T-shirt she wore the first time they met, or it could be something more aggressive such as 'slut,' if she agreed on that at first.  A system of controls to keep them both satisfied.          

Makes perfect sense  "Go to a movie... have dinner... look at a Rembrandt... talk about a poem... see a tree... look into a mirror together... do things that lead somewhere... AND THEN kneeling and giving orders has a reason... a purpose.. a deeper more fulfilling feeling of needs and desires..." -unknown  If I want to meet you,  our first meeting will be vanilla with a Dominant twist. It will be about getting acquainted with each other,  getting comfortable in each others presence. Our first meeting and those after will be dictated by Me. If you don't communicate,  don't expect Me to read your peebrain. If you have the audacity to agree to a meet and you fail to follow through,  you can be sure I will tax you if you reach out to Me again.  In the event you failed a previous meet, you will pay for the previous failure.

Like many of my ponderings here, it all starts with reading a book. In this particular book a character was talking about a two year relationship he had with a woman but it wasn't serious. She was sort of a place holder for a while. Those were the words. Place holder. I get it, people want companionship, sex, having your needs met in the moment. Like that song, "If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with." I suppose I've been idealistic most of my life, hence the waiting and saving of various things, so it's probably not difficult to believe that this bothers the holy Moses out of me. I don't like the idea of a place holder. At all. I mean, I suppose sometimes those place holders turn into something unexpected. What do you do if it doesn't? What happens when you meet someone else? What if they do? What if being together prevents you or them from meeting that person?  I make quick decisions. I walk into stores and if I like it I don't hem and haw. I buy. I order at a restaurant and I don't ask the wait staff which is better. I know what I'm getting and how I want it prepared. In the past I've experienced the same uncomfortable break ups as you, if you've ever tried to break up with someone. It sucks. But I don't draw it out, that doesn't benefit anybody. If you know it's not working, rip off the band aid and make yourself available for new experiences. Or don't. If you like the place holder and everyone is comfortable with that idea, more power to you. Just make sure you're both on the same page. For the record, I will never be on that page. Don't come at me place holding, buddy. Some people might say I'm missing out on all of the everything. To me, he is all of the everything, and I don't want to tarnish that with place holding. Does that feel like pressure to you? When it's right, it won't. 

Str8 males who come to me I always have great respect for them. They take a big chance looking for acceptance and more than anything the experience is submitting. Those must be treated like fine horses, tamed, and trained to take his rider. They may have an idea of what M2M sex is but societal labels forms an impenetrable wall that only a patient and knowledgeable Bull can bridge. They are scared and they rebel when you face them with the reality of the lie they've been living, claiming a masculinity they were no meant to have to begin with. they conformed to societies requirements and that is good for me because it means that they already know what conforming is and once you take control of their life they yours for the long run. Like I said, they may have an idea based on porn and their own views. They are cocky (very few come to me humble) but I always let them know that there are two males speaking one is the Man and it is not them. Devastating as it sounds it will force a reevaluation of their sexual persona and fall to their knees. The main issue is to get them use to a Man's touch and a Man's way. Their entitled attitude makes them think the are to lead but you are the model, you have what they want and never knew and most importantly you are going to give them what they need not what they want. Their wants are irrelevant because as a Bull one knows what they need even before they do. Patience is a virtue but once they get hold of you control they will keep coming back because they know you are the answer to their plight. I don't chase subs , they chase me and I choose. When a str8 male comes to me they will see the reality of their desires and my role as a facilitator is to let them discover the glory of worship in a Phallus and eventually been entered by it. At that moment any pretense of being str8 goes away and the true sub is born. If you play fair they will be yours because you have filled their world with lust and bliss.

If you're not within 60 miles of me and don't have "willing to relocate" in your profile", then I'm not going to message you.  I completely understand and respect that inability\unwillingness to move.  I'm not going to bother you if I think you're too far away. That being said.  If you are far away and are open to finding someone and possibly traveling to see them, please either put that in your profile or message me first. I was recently accused by someone on here that this kind of mentality of not wanting to bother folks wasn't "real alpha behavior".  Yes.  Thank you.  I have no wish to be a part of that kind of bullshit and bad science.  Six Sigma is a business process, not a lifestyle philosophy.  I will respect you until I own you, then I will respect your value even more, but in a violently sadistic manner.  If I never own you, then I'll continue to give you respect until you do something to lose it.  That’s just decency.      

What I desire from a D/s relationship First, I have a nesting partner. Our relationship is totally separate from what I seek, but it would be equally important to me and you must be willing to accept that I am poly, but very demisexual.   With that being said, I want 2 separate households that I will go between equally. The one I currently have and Mistress's household, 24/7, D/s, kinky household with some vanilla elements incorporated. I want a second household within 15-20 minutes of downtown Parkersburg, WV, very private, complete with dungeon, medical room, sensual play space and outdoor play areas. I envision this home to be a place to host munches/events/small parties but also very private with a vanilla facade. I would like 2-5 acres and a big sound house/farmhouse to remodel to suit my needs. This will not be immediate and a rental situation will be necessary initially with the intention of find and establishing a permanent kink home.   I prefer a sub leaning slave but I am not seeking a sub/slave that only wants 24/7 chastity. I enjoy edging, ruined orgasms, forced masterbation, post orgasm torture, etc. I am extremely sexual and want to use my submissive sexually always under my control. I am actually fairly flexible as how I want my household structure. I am equally fond of the following in no specific order:   A 1950's household A Mommy/little or middle, but I'm not into diapers, breastfeeding (I'm almost 59 and milk hasn't filled these titties in years 🙄) cribs or high chairs. However, playing with toys, structured bedtimes, structure and a firm hand, kids movies, playing at the park, amusement parks, stuffies and all things child-like I'm very open to. But I would want a sexual little/middle. A sissy submissive but understand I will NEVER use humiliation or degradation as it relates to being feminized. Any speech or play surrounding the theme that women are weak, pathetic, powerless, less than, etc. will NEVER be used! It is a privilege for me to show you the beautiful world of women and I will not tolerate this type of play. If you wish to escape your traditional alpha male role to explore your feminine side and want to walk in my shoes for a bit, that I will definitely do. I would love more males to understand how wonderful and freeing it is to be female. If you crave humiliation and degradation there are so many other ways of accomplishing this without degrading myself and women in general. A true slave with all the discipline and intensity as outlined in Ingrid Bellamare's book Owning and Training a Male Slave, however, as I've stated before, I will remove your cage to use you as I desire sexually and put back you back in chastity when I'm not using you. Also know, I have a good income but I am not independently wealthy by any means and I will not support you financially. You will need some source of income. If you work remotely from home or outside the home, second or third shift would be ideal. I would also consider a porn-based subion service as means of earning your keep.   Finally, I want an optimistic, positive, drama free and happy individual who also will accompany me on trips, attend conferences and kink events, and engage in "vanilla" activities as well. I am a whole person and want you to be as well.

Serenity She walks into his lair with anxiety pulling at her as she watches her poise because he is a Master who holds great expectations. This excites her as her goal is to please him regardless of his high expectations. She knows he has had other slaves and she is eager to see where this leads, but he requires patience. She prostrates herself in front of him to show her submission and willingness. This act increases her anxiety but feeds her submission. This inspires the Master to pull the beast from within her, something so submissive must have an inner core that is her primal side. He wants to push her limits and chains her to the floor. He oils her because as he likes the marks, but he doesn’t want to rip her skin. He knows what his goal is and even the devil himself would be jealous of the effect that is yearning for. She was shackled to the floor with little to no movement allowed. He stood over her as she tried to hide her whimpers. She could feel the oil dripping around her thighs and in the crack of her ass. The Master asked if she was ok, and she took a moment to squeak out a yes Sir. She had to trust him, she knew this and found comfort that if he felt she was ready for such a journey then she was ready. She let go and opened herself giving the Master the ability to illicit the responses he was craving. The energy flowed with every interaction he created, she embraced it and as the pain and pleasure intertwined and came to climax her submission climbed with it. He brought her back down where she laid still but shackled limp and panting. He draped a blanket over her it was soft and warm, he placed a small pillow under her head, and he gave her small sips of water through a straw. He directed her to drink, and she did as told. He sat next to her watching as she slowly came back. Slowly he unshackled her and embraced her. She was now curled up to him on the floor where he continued aftercare. She was fulfilled as he was obviously proud of her and even told her so as he stroked her hair.   

Just a thought My dear sublook at you. Lying there so patiently, a good boy eager to please. You know what's coming, don't you? You feel the anticipation, the delicious thrill of expectation. My cock awaits, and so does the sting. Yes, there may be a little discomfort, a little tightness at first. But you understand, don't you? This is necessary. This is how you earn my approval, how you make your Mistress C proud.I will be patient, for a while. I'll let your little hole adjust. I'll feel the warmth of your body as it yields, just slightly. It will be an exquisite dance, a slow burn of pleasure and pain intermingling. There may be tears, little whimpers of protest. But these are merely a testament to the depth of your surrender, the degree to which you are allowing your Mistress to claim you.Every inch will be taken. Every thrust will be felt.I will alternate, exploring each facet of your yielding flesh. This is for your own good, little one.I am both ruthless and gentle – a delicate balance that you are privileged to experience. You will learn to crave the sting, the pressure, the feeling of being completely at my mercy.And then... then the patience will end. The rhythm will quicken, the pace will become furious. I will pound your hole, hard and fast, until you are screaming through that pitiful gag of yours. You will beg for it to stop, but your pleas are just music to our ears.I will take your desperate cries and weave them into our own symphony of dominance.I will show you the true meaning of being owned. I will show you the power of a Mistress's touch. I will show you what it means to truly be mine.  

Catfishing is just catfishing plain and simple. If you put up younger images of yourself and then you scroll to the end and see the fit goth is now santa claus your emotions are a little defeated by the fact that the person you were sexually attracted to was the middle of the three stages of man but now looks like the last stage. Frustrating. I have updated my profile several times and I have not noticed a hidious delay in approval but I can't speak for others and their tech issues. When I exchange my images with other hopeful kinksters I am pretty sure I would get an ear full if the images I was sending was 10 to 15 years out of date.  I even make a point the image was taken a week ago.  The oldest image I have exchange was a month old. Just because your a man does not give you privileges to play the catfishing game. Luckily only had a brief discussion and did not hook up for drinks or I would have ordered the rum to process the catfish experience.

MY TRAINING PROGRAM ## What do I expect? These are some but not all qualities of what I would want in an ideal sissy sub or owned bimbo sub wife: A genuine desire to be molded into the perfect bimbo wife, both in dress, manner, and servitude to her Master/Owner. - A pliable mind that is open to direction, training, behavior modification, and    suggestion. - A subservient attitude marked by a willingness to accept orders and commands. - Her primary goal in life is to be the perfect bimbo wife existing solely to please the    man who owns her. She is incomplete until she is owned and wholly possessed by a    Dominant man: her body, mind, heart, and soul belong to him.  - At home, she is the perfect subservient wife. In public, she is a bimbo beauty who is    proud to be shown off as she walks arm-in-arm with her Master. She has the ability   and willingness to perform domestic chores at home, regardless of how menial the    task is. - Openness to sexual service, whether provided orally or anally. Her mouth and ass    belong to her Owner, and he uses them whenever and however he wishes. She only    has sex with her Master unless he diraspects her to have sex with others who he    chooses.  - Her sexual service is never withheld and is available 24/7. She will sexually satisfy    her Owner at all times, as well as anyone he diraspects her to sexually satisfy.   She thrives in knowing that she is a wanton sexual slut and always strives to honor    her Master when servicing his friends.  - Willingness to have her limits tested and expanded, always with the goal of pleasing    her Master, however, he chooses to use her. Openness to whatever kink her Master    desires to explore with her, knowing that he will always keep her well-being and    physical safety in mind. Accepts whatever devices or natural s her Owner    inserts in her ass, whether at home or when out in public.    This can be anything from butt plugs to secured dildos to an anal hook. When she    purposefully breaks one of his rules, she may have a shaved ginger root in her ass    for an hour or two or be given a huge enema which she will be forced to hold in with    the aid of an inflatable butt plug. - Will be pierced in her nipples and elsewhere if her Owner wishes. - After one year of being owned and having performed faithfully to her Master's&n

Edit     So the looser of our little game is now in the position of being constantly aroused at the thought of so many folk seeing one of her pictures, and as she has no control over further posts. Its hard to tell which is arousing her more, the loss of control or folk seeing her pictures. So today we have a fresh picture to review, feedback welcome.

Sugar, spice, and everything nice :> pretty n pink my favfav color. Hii I'm Makayla smooth latina sissy femboy on a new path starting HRT. I'm kinda new but know what I want.  Talk is cheap and flakes.  I don't even know what to say to u.  I never flake. I love excitement total submissive sissy slave willing to commit to it all for the right master.  Loyal fun-size super cute love panties thigh high socks. Skirts outfits and attention lol. I'm good around the house. Love poppers blindfolds and cuffs.  Mixed with sissy hypno and hallucinagentics -- mind blowing.  I know what it takes to be THE perfect liddo sissy and willing to wrap my life into it serving master 24/7 never saying no. Seeking a new chapter in my life so I preferred moving the heck away from "home' 

Alright, let's get down to it. Reasons why you may not get a response: 1. There wasn't time for a sufficient reply.2. I got distracted.3. The message received was generic. 4. The message received was disgusting.5. The message received very much had nothing to do with my profile other than my image or state.6. Your profile is blank.7. I chose not to reply. It's not personal, I don't know you. I'm sure you're fantastic. Your interest does not mean I owe you my time. In a perfect world we would all get a polite rejection, and sometimes that happens. But sometimes we're having a hell of a day and delete is the best option. Or any one of the above reasons. No response is a response. A "revenge" message is a clear picture of your character based on your own assumptions. This almost feels like a rant, but I'm filing it under public service. 

The Officer's Seduction The night had a certain allure, a seductive darkness that seemed to beckon Seraphine Vale as she drove home from work. It was well past midnight, the hour when the world slept, and the roads were nearly deserted. Her shift at the art restoration studio had been particularly grueling, and she longed for the solace of her own bed. Little did she know, this night would offer a different kind of solace, one that would leave her breathless and trembling.   As she navigated the familiar route, her thoughts drifted, contemplating the intricate details of an ancient painting she had been working on. Seraphine's mind was a sanctuary of quiet concentration, her focus unwavering until a sudden flash of blue and red lights snapped her back to reality. She slowed her car to a halt, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized she had inadvertently strayed into a speed trap.   The officer who approached her vehicle was a striking figure, his tall, lean frame cloaked in the authoritative uniform of a police officer. It was Lucian Asterian, a man whose reputation preceded him, though not in the typical way of law enforcement. His dark, piercing eyes seemed to see right through her, and his presence was both commanding and unsettling.   "License and registration, please," his voice was deep and clipped, carrying an undertone of authority that sent a shiver down Seraphine's spine. She complied, her hands treming slightly as she handed over the requested documents. Lucian's gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he was studying her, not just her papers.   "Step out of the car, Miss," he ordered, his voice laced with a hint of something that made Seraphine's stomach flutter. She hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but the command in his eyes left no room for argument. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped onto the deserted road, the cool night air caressing her skin.   Lucian's eyes roamed over her, taking in her slender form, clad in a simple black dress that accentuated her delicate curves. His gaze lingered on her face, noting the stormy gray eyes that seemed to mirror his own intensity. "Hands behind your back," he instructed, his voice now a low, seductive growl.   Seraphine's breath caught in her throat as she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs against her wrists. Lucian's touch was firm, his fingers grazing her skin as he secured the cuffs, sending a jolt of awareness through her body. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as he circled her, his eyes raking over her like a physical caress.   "What's a beautiful woman like you doing out here at this hour?" he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Seraphine shivered, her body betraying her as she leaned into his touch. Lucian's hand slid down her arm, his fingers entwining with hers, and for a moment, she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin.   Then, without warning, he spun her around, pressing her body against the hood of her car. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat emanating from Lucian's body. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot and intoxicating. "You're a naughty girl, breaking the rules," he whispered, his voice a husky purr.   Seraphine's heart was racing, her body responding to his words, to the dominance in his tone. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs as he ran his hands up her sides, his fingers kneading her soft flesh. He squeezed her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.   "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "You like being touched, being taken right here on the side of the road." His words were a taunt, a challenge, and Seraphine couldn't deny the truth in them. She nodded, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her.   Lucian's hands moved lower, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her dress, tracing the lace of her panties. He teased her, his touch light and teasing, making her ache for more. With a swift motion, he tore her panties away, leaving her exposed and wanting.   "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. "I want..."   Lucian didn't let her finish. Instead, he gripped her hips, pulling her back against his hard length. She could feel his erection, straining against his uniform, as he positioned himself at her entrance. Without warning, he thrust forward, claiming her in one swift, brutal stroke.   Seraphine cried out, her body arching as he filled her, not with the gentleness she had anticipated, but with a rough, primal urgency. He pounded into her, his hips slamming against her buttocks, his hands gripping her hips tightly, leaving marks on her skin. The pain was exquisite, blending with the pleasure until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.   "You're so tight," he grunted, his breath hot against her neck. "So fucking wet." His words were crude, but they only served to heighten her arousal. She wanted to be used, to be taken by this man, in this moment, in the most primal way possible.   Lucian's rhythm was relentless, his body a powerful force driving into hers. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, and began to rub in time with his thrusts. Seraphine's world narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting, the feel of his cock buried deep within her, the roughness of his fingers against her sensitive flesh.   "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a harsh command. "Let me feel it, you beautiful bitch."   His words were like a trigger, and Seraphine's orgasm exploded through her, rippling waves of pleasure that left her gasping and trembling. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, her juices flowing freely as she climaxed. Lucian's own release followed swiftly, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside her, his hot seed filling her ass.   They stood there, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion. Lucian's hands released her hips, and he stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. Seraphine felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, there was a sense of power in her surrender.   He reached down, uncuffing her hands, and then, without a word, he adjusted his uniform, the bulge in his pants a testament to their encounter. Seraphine watched, her body still humming with pleasure, as he walked back to his patrol car.   As she slid back into the driver's seat, her dress in disarray and her body throbbing, she realized the detour had been more than just a chance encounter. It was a night that would forever be etched in her memory, a night where she had been taken, possessed, and left wanting more. As she drove away, the road ahead seemed brighter, as if the darkness had illuminated a new path, one that led straight to Lucian's door.

Dos nuevas publicaciones en mi blog y otra que no es nueva pero está vigente para esta época:  Juguemos, pero, ¿quién paga los juguetes? ¡Qué semana tan interesante!   Esta publicación sobre cómo iniciar una relación Femdom tiene ya dos años, pero sigue tan vigente como el primer día. Como siempre, dar like, comentar, compartir: Recomendación para empezar el año… ¡y una relación Femdom!  

The Women here are inundated with unwanted messages. For that reason, I won't initiate contact. If you would like to know about me, see if we have kinks in common, you'll have to start the ball rolling yourself. It really isn't that difficult. You won't be one amongst dozens of other messages I receive, I promise you. worshipru123 -Michigan

I am glad that you understand it from a more personal level rather than just a bunch of words There are then to myriad branches that are the individual needs and wants from this life that include S M Pain is an interesting feeling The mind can not reproduce it or dream it or make it happen all over again It must always be reapplied And pain can be so forceful and powerful an agent to achieve a state you want to be in Some need pain in an attempt to satisfy some deep emotional need Some see pain as a necessary punishment Some see pain as a meaningful gift to the sadist Some see pain as a driver to orgasm greater than any pleasure Some need the after affects like the marks and bruise and show them off or feel them with their fingertips when alone remembering But pain drives and often drives harshly at pushing stressful feelings out of your being for a while As one woman said, it is so wonderful to have someone else do all the driving for a change Stress is every where in your life and often unseen or not noticed due to all the other fluff and distractions going on You wonder why you feel so bad It is often due to stress and yes you could smoke or drink or do drugs or go to a gangbang at a truckstop parking lot and find some relief All are painful in their own way ANd perhaps for a while the stress is removed But none answer the need to please another that is important to you so you should be like the little frog and look before you leap Your thoughts are indeed right on the money You do need to be owned and that is a mouthful of sweeping conditions Being loved and being cared for and kept safe and looked after and having emotional and physical needs satisfied are not always the same thing A slave is often not loved as a lover else she is just not a slave A slave can really deeply love her owner if that owner always answer her needs and controls her wild wants so she knows her place I can be strict and at times very abusive and I can read you the riot act and enforce it physically and emotionally until you learn where the lines in the road are and you stay in them But As an owner I would care for you as I would a loyal pet which is consistently trained and not kicked around just for hatreds sake So many people can care for a pet so much more deeply for years than they can for a person that does not know their place And the reason is simple Most pets will not challenge the authority that owns them and always submits to it because They need it And so do you

Why I Use Copy & Paste for My Intro Messages on FetLife (And No, It’s Not Because I’m Lazy... Mostly) Alright, let’s talk about the elephant in the chatroom: yes, I use a copy-and-paste message when I reach out to people on FetLife. There. I said it. Now before you clutch your pearls or sharpen your pitchfork, let me explain. As a man on this site, I’ve learned a hard truth—we don’t exactly have inboxes overflowing with attention. I log in, check my messages, and... crickets. Meanwhile, women on here need a personal assistant just to scroll through the "Hi sexy" DMs they get in an hour. I’m over here sending out introductions like I’m applying for internships in the kink community. Let’s be real: the ratio of men to women on this site isn’t fair. I’m not bitter, but if FetLife was a nightclub, the dudes would be forming a line out the door while the ladies are getting free drinks and VIP bracelets just for showing up. So, rather than write a brand new, handcrafted message every single time—like I’m writing a love letter to Juliet—I decided to work smarter. Enter: my trusty, respectful, and not-creepy copy-and-paste message. It’s polite, genuine, and has better grammar than most Craigslist ads. I took the time to make it sound like me (charming and slightly awkward), and then I saved it—because ain’t nobody got time to rewrite it 30 times a week. If someone replies? Awesome. Now we’re in business, and I switch to actual conversation mode like a decent human. Is it a little formulaic? Sure. But it’s not cold or robotic. It’s just my way of getting in the door without burning out or typing until my fingers fall off. It’s like using the same pickup line at a bar—it might be recycled, but if it makes you smile and we start vibing, who cares?   Bottom line: I use copy and paste because it’s efficient, not because I don’t care. Trust me, if I’m messaging you, I’ve read your profile and think there’s potential. I just don’t think you need a custom sonnet to say, “Hi, I liked your vibe and would love to chat.”

September 2022Please forgive mewhen I lie awake at nightthinking about my plightthat seems to existbetween the cracks.A setback.A throwback.A monumental slightto my almanacof what it ought to bebetween you and me.What does it meanwhen you say you forgive...but then do not giveback to me the placeat your feet.It feels like heat.If feels like exile on Main St.It feels like a heartbeatthat is nearby incompleteand stews bittersweetnothings into the backseat.Is it defeat?~dirtydarling

Good evening you beautiful, wicked, sharp eyed deviants. I’m writing about this in case some of you have not yet heard about this disgusting behavior, because silence is where predators thrive. A major investigation has exposed what many are calling an “online rape academy” hidden forums, chat groups, and websites where men allegedly trade advice on how to drug, assault, film, and violate their own partners while they sleep or are unconscious. Let that sink in. Not strangers in alleys. Not monsters in masks. Husbands. Boyfriends. Men sharing beds, homes, and trust. These spaces reportedly included users swapping tactics, selling so called “sleeping liquids,” sharing videos of abuse, and even livestreaming assaults for paying viewers. It is predatory, calculated, and evil using internet anonymity. Let me be crystal clear for those in kink and BDSM spacesthis is not BDSM. This is not dominance. This is not edgy play. BDSM and kink are built on a foundation of consent, negotiation, trust, communication, boundaries, and mutual respect. Without consent, it is not kinkit is abuse. And with some of the disgusting, vile profiles I have personally come across on FetLife, I am sure some people with those same mindsets are here too. Please be careful. Vet people thoroughly. Trust actions over words. Listen to your instincts. No scene, no dynamic, no amount of charm is worth your safety. Women are taught to fear the dark street, the lone walk home, the stranger behind them. But too often the danger is already inside the house, smiling over dinner, saying “I love you,” then treating consent like it’s optional. This is why consent matters. This is why believing survivors matters. This is why calling out misogyny, coercion, and “jokes” about assault matters. Because that culture feeds these places. If this is happening to you, or has happened to you, please reach out immediately. Call local authorities. Contact a sexual assault or domestic violence hotline. Tell someone you trust. You do not have to carry this alone, and help is available. I’m sharing this so more eyes are open, more people stay aware, and fewer predators get to hide in shadows. Spread this. Talk about it. Protect your people. Check in on your friends. If someone tells you something felt wrong, listen. To every predator hiding behind a keyboard your secrecy is cracking.Stay dangerous to systems that protect monsters. Stay soft with survivors. Stay loud when silence helps abusers. Myst

I have not written a note in so long. Life has been changing so much lately. new job, different city, then another new job and another old city. Now I am on a summer sabbatical of travel through the Atlanta and Savannah areas because I find it peaceful and love both cities for different reasons.   I need a new boy. A real boy with great energy, quiet strength and a cute smile.   I want him to dance for me. I want him to cook for me and share his secret thoughts that he seems too shy to tell anyone else. I want him naked and begging for me. I want him to clean and work for me. I want him to smile for me. I want that sweetness that is calm and not weak while also not being arrogant. I want him to NOT know everything because I still do NOT. I should be the ONE who gets to decide everything but I should NOT HAVE to be the ONE who THINKS of everything.   I wonder if this is to be found anywhere? I will hope for it. You don't have to be a perfect boy to start with me, but you do have to HOPE to become one for me.

Prospective slave's Friend Requests In My search for a total slave, I have had several make a "Friend" request of Me. I tire of explaining to each and every prospective pieces of chattel that I am not looking for a 'friend.' Indeed a slave of mine would never be a friend, buddy, lover or social equal of any kind. To illustrate, I explain that if I walked into a public Men's room and surveyed the line up of porcelain urinals I would not be looking for a 'friend.' Nor would I expect to treat any of the appliances like a lover. In fact if the prospective slave were kneeling with its mouth open in the line up of other urinals, I may choose to ignore it for any of a number of utilitarian reasons, like maybe its face was particularly filthy with urine, ejaculate or even human waste and covered with flys. And, speaking of human urinals, I do like to hear effusive gratitude for the slave's opportunity to be of service to a Better, but, a sign above it, if speech were impaired by say a spider gag, would work as well. Master James

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.”

 Menewa