The phone rang, his voice on the line Hello slut Hello, Sir she responds. Cunt aching beneath her belt, craving. Touch... Craving play. Her permission to play has seemed to shifted into teases and torments. As this evenings task, she must fill her wholes and they are to be locked in place. As he ended the call his last words - enjoy your torments, girl She replied thank you, Sir... It's a very good thing she didn't share her pouts.. they would not have her any good..and if she did... He has the ability to keep adding to her torments... Nope... Thank you Sir, is always a perfect response. Once the call was completed, she placed her locking tongue gag in her mouth and proceeded to try and accomplish something .. a bit messy and drooling from her gag. Driving home with her gag in She comes home from the office, her pants go right into the washer as they were soaked in the scent of her arousal. She entered the bedroom and already she could smell her arousal feeling the room. She was Afraid to unlock her belt, as all of the sensations rise to the surface and she's already horny... And not sure how much more she can take... But she will endure. Sir chose her biggest largest plug that she is still getting accustomed to. She got it in place, and chose to write slut on her on her feet and then placed a cock shaped toy in her cunt. Sent him a couple pictures, a before and after showing him, the task he set for her has been followed. Asking to remove the gag for dinner, she practically waddled her way up the stairs to have dinner with the house mate.. Attempting to sit in a kitchen chair, while overly stuffed, was a tricky situation.. each movement.. Different out comes .. some okay.. some were reminder aas to just what a slut she truly is. After dinner, she returned downstairs, and then proceeded to ask Sir, his preference in which gag to wear, she knew which one he'd choose, and he did... The halter gag. So this girl is spending the evening with everyone of her wholes filled, everything is locked in place... The torments of pictures on fet, the ache in her body to be used, the wanting to do something but In ways she's feeling lost... She's not had this experience in a long while... I'm ways she's pouting not being able to play, though she run her fingers over the belt and the plug.. the tease felt good and she's greatful to not have her wholes empty while she's locked and denied entry. No idea what's in-store... Not even going to ask.. was hoping to have a weekend of play while him and his girl goes away... I'm being obedient, doing as tasked... It's been. A quiet night

Journal Entry: Why Some Women Choose Slavery I have often reflected on why some women willingly choose to live as slaves in a Master/slave household. To outsiders, it may appear confusing—why would anyone want to surrender control of their own life? But when viewed through the lens of trust, devotion, and purpose, the answers reveal themselves clearly. For many women, there is a deep longing to be free from the constant burden of decision-making and responsibility that the modern world demands. In slavery, there is clarity. A slave’s role is defined, her place is secure, and her purpose is to serve. This surrender of control is not weakness—it is a relief. In letting go, she discovers freedom from doubt and hesitation, and in service, she finds strength and fulfillment. There is also the matter of intimacy. When a woman gives herself fully, she allows herself to be seen in her most vulnerable and honest state. No masks. No pretenses. In that surrender, bonds are formed that are deeper than most will ever know. To be owned is to be cherished, and for many women, the knowledge that their Master claims them as His gives them a sense of belonging they have always sought. Growth comes, too, from the challenges of slavery. The training, the discipline, the demands of service—all of these shape her into something stronger. She learns to endure, to obey, to strive for excellence. In pleasing her Master, she also proves something to herself: that she is capable of devotion, of transformation, of becoming more than she thought she could be. And perhaps the greatest reward is devotion itself. To give one’s life, heart, and soul to another, without reservation, brings a sense of completeness. Some women long to dedicate themselves fully, and in slavery they find the purest expression of loyalty and love. Their submission is not a loss—it is the path that brings them peace. This is why some women choose slavery in a consensual M/s environment. Not because they are weak, but because they are strong enough to surrender. Not because they lack value, but because they find value in being claimed, used, and cherished. And in that, they are fulfilled.

Stop looking for women to do some specific sex act to you. Women in general prefer to have sex with their lovers. Not some random guy who just wants to experience pegging. Want to get pegged? Socialize and be active in kink communities, make friends of all kinds, network, until you find a woman you like who likes you back and enjoys pegging her lover, and grow a relationship that includes sex and pegging. Or find a reputable pro who provides pegging as a service and pay her.

AcadaMay CFNM End Of Year Ball - Saturday 6th December - Applications now open The AcadaMay CFNM Ball celebrates female empowerment through elegance, confidence, control, and connection in a respectful, sensual, and beautifully refined setting, but all dynamics of BDSM are welcome to attend. It is open to everybody, whether Dominant, sub, switch, kinky or just plain curious! Couples, single ladies, single gentlemen are all welcome. Step into an evening of elegance and intrigue at the Enchanting AcdaMay CFNM Ball where sophistication meets sensuality. Set in a stunning large and comfortable dungeon in North London this inclusive gathering invites guests to engage their sartorial splendour and immerse themselves in an unforgettable experience. This fantastic venue is fully equipped with all sorts of interesting equipment on two floors; St Andrew’s Crosses, Spanking Benches, Schoolroom, Medical Play Chairs, Queening Chairs and comfortable sofas and Chesterfields for relaxation and socialising. There is even a curtained 4 poster bed for those who may wish to have a private or public moment - a little voyeurism never did anybody any harm! The evening starts at 9pm and I would ask you to arrive promptly so we can get the party started and not waste any valuable time so that we can get stuck into the evenings events. In the interest of privacy and security I will send attendees the exact address nearer the time. Bring your favourite tipple which the naked waiters will serve to you during the course of the evening, and of course, your favourite selection of toys for your debauched use throughout the evening. CFNM (clothed female, naked man) males and CMNW (clothed men, naked woman) females are invited to attend in white shirt collar, black bow, white wrist cuffs, black dress socks and black polished shoes, otherwise you will be naked.  You will be expected to serve the other guests upon request. The dress code for gentlemen is black tie followed by fetish attire for the commencement of play. The dress code for ladies will be LBD and heels for the cocktail hour followed by fetish attire for the ensuing decadence. Whether you're a seasoned attendee or new to the scene, the Ball promises laughter, conversation, and connection among like-minded individuals who appreciate charm, class, and decorum and most of all, plenty of BDSM! With limited availability and high demand, we encourage early application to ensure your place at this exclusive affair. Come celebrate freedom, elegance, and community in one truly extraordinary evening.  If you wish to attend please do email for further details of how to reserve your place. email:acadamayevents@gmail.com Website: acadamay.com under CFNM

Yes, I have been on this site for a bit. I am looking for the slave that is best to meet My desires. I am looking for long term and live in, when it happens. I do not expect instant match and move. I want any relocation to be permanent and good for both of Us. I hope you have watched the show Big Bang Theory. Living with Me is similar to living with the Sheldon character. At least in the aspect of I get what I want from a slave living with Me. If that isn't you then we will not work well together. I am open to one offs and play dates and such. So feel free to reach out for that also.

I don’t know how to exist inside my own skin right now. My body hurts constantly—every joint, every nerve buzzing or burning in some private hell—and yet my emotions are stuck in this flat, gray fog. It feels like I’m floating a few feet outside of myself, detached, watching someone else limp through my days. I’m supposed to care about things, supposed to feel urgency, supposed to feel desire, but mostly I just feel… blank. A haze. The hardest part is intimacy. Sex has always been a cornerstone of my identity, something that made me feel alive, connected, real. Now I lie beside people I love, people I want to want, and it’s like my body is a locked door. My brain remembers what it’s like to crave, but the signal doesn’t make it through. Instead I get this sense of obligation—this is who you are, this is what they expect, this is what you should be doing—while my body and spirit just won’t answer. I go through motions, or avoid them, and either way I feel like a fraud. It’s disorienting: physical pain screaming from one side, emotional numbness pressing from the other. I’m caught in between, unable to move fully toward either. I don’t know how to bridge that gap, how to show up in love when I’m not even present in myself. Some nights I wonder if this is permanent. If I’ll always be half-alive like this, longing for connection in theory but unable to touch it in practice. I miss desire like an old friend I can’t remember the face of. For now, all I can do is write it here, admit it to myself. Maybe that’s a start.

I regularly get messages asking me what I consider edge play or what is an "extreme" scene that I have done. A few thoughts on this. First, and most importantly, my adventures are no one else's fapping material. I have met people off this site before, but that is more of an exception than a regularity. Sharing something like a story, which is very intimate, or a scene, is asking a lot right off the bat and is something that no one is entitled to. What is considered edge is going to be different for each of us? I am not here to one-up on someone or compare sausages. What is taboo to me? Having someone viewing another person on camera might not seem hardcore, but having cameras set up 24/7 to view on-demand is.  Going out to dinner may not seem hardcore, but my footing the bill can be edgy. Humiliating play may not be edgy, but when you consider mental health, it can be as sharp as a physical knife edge. If you are not on the same wavelength as I am, you will miss the subtleties of how sharp my edge is. 

6/13/2024   I am Wordy... Flirty... a little bit... Dirty. Even so... sending me a message does not guarantee a reply. Some may think that is rude. There are just only a certain number of hours in a day and I am not on here much. MPH

my take of "ALLAN POE"Since childhood, I've never been Like others were - I've never seen The world as they do, nor felt the same Passions from a common flame. My sorrows don't come from their source, And joy doesn't move me with its force. All that I've loved, I've loved alone, In my childhood, when life was unknown. From the depths of good and ill, My mystery was drawn and still Binds me, with its enduring power, From the mountain's cliff and the fountain's shower. From the sun's golden autumn glow, To the lightning and the thunder's show, From the storm and the passing cloud, That in my mind, a demon shroud. Yet, though I've walked this path alone, I've found my strength in being shown The beauty and the darkness too, That others might not see or do. For in the storm and in the calm, I've found a peace, a healing balm, That's helped me through life's many trials, And filled my heart with lasting smiles. So though I may not be the same As others in this world's grand game, I've learned to embrace my unique fate, And find my joy, though it may be late.

My outlook on D/ s is a process the first choice is your choice to be sub and mine is Dom.  We agree to a form of power change and define what our power exchange will cover. Then first and this is what mater what are the strengths of the sub, attributes like in your case humor. Plus as many as we can define together.  Same for weakness. Must improve. What is off limits. This can take time but worth it. As we discuss in depth we both learn our foundation is the sub .  What is good we encourage growth . Bad we take steps to modify the goals a road map to achieve. It is now the Doms role to fit his own strengths into reaching the subs plan to make them shine and excel.  . The kink, discipline, rules and reward system a Dom is the same as a good Dad, a Boss .. maybe therapist. Except A Dom has kink as a tool...  I have been a father, a boss trained countless people and Dom came easy . It's an honor to have anyone put faith in me. It then puts tremendous pressure on me to take them to where they envision not my vision.  It may feel to them it's my vision .  In the end most have understood and were gracious thankfully. Don't know why I am sharing .. did.   

If you want me...Tell me. Don't wait for me to approach you, You may be broken a little bit inside, but you have to start by fixing yourself.. Do not wait for someone to come along and try to fix you. If you cancel our first date because you are afraid of what you can not control, than there will not be a second date. If you want to stick to chatting only, I will think that you probably have no interest in pursuing anything and I will move on. If you pretend not to give a fuck, I will think you really do not give a fuck, and I will move on. If the only way you can show your love is with your legs wide open... Than it probably will not last.. So why try? If you want me, you need to step out of your shadow and insecurities. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

I'm contemplating whether or not to ask any of my current/former submissive prospaspects for recommendation or referral letters. *laugh*sigh*  I know that those of us on here who are "real" are rare, yet here I am! I'm genuinely looking here on CS, particularly for people outside the group that frequents the local Dungeon. It's difficult to find possibilities in my local community, as my public roles are apparently a blessing and a curse -- lots of people seem to like me, however I've also heard that my position on Staff at the Dungeon for the last decade makes me intimidating. Ugggh!  So how do I adequately convey to potential sub/slaves that I'm genuine, that I'm searching online not because I'm a pariah in the local community, but because I may be too active within it, or that I'm very much who I say I am? I'm already reasonably conspicuous on multiple platforms, and I use the same ID, so easy to locate and follow. There are more than a few people on CS who can vouch for me. Does that kind of thing make a difference for a submissive who's looking?

  Enjoy breath play particularly during oral as well as being an overall submissive. Not only just in the bedroom but with him in general; taking notice of his interest and hobbies. Using that to find ways to please him until he feels satisfied with the disappearance of nuance stresses that plague all of us everyday. Having a Dom relax and not worry what he does or says and takes a breather without having to refocus on his sub and their needs is what I like. I get along well with confident dominant types. Smooth/trimmed body with a large smooth bubble butt. Thick 7in circumcised with low hangers. Into 1950's D/s servitude lifestyle of doting and pamperingEnjoy being slightly bullied, pushed around, asked to do things/chores, under foot, subservient younger bro/Dom Big Scenario with a Straight Guy - Happened over time when my straight friends noticed I'm passive with them. Sometimes I open up and they roll with it. Nothing too crazy when we're out and about but they say its nice to know I'm the bitch in the room.

So, the play weekend came to a sudden hault. One of the other slaves in our BDSM group broke her ankle coming down the stairs to the basement/dungeon. Her Master had her ankles on a short hobble and what must have been four inch heels. What was he thinking? So there I am, stretched out on the brand new rack, covered in hot wax with hyperextended knees and shoulders that had gone numb and everyone forgets I am there. LOL About 35 minutes later Goddess Tabitha comes back down stairs to see where I am. She was sure someone had turned me loose before they rushed off to help splint the ankel and get the other slave into the car. Nothing like slave life for me LOL

Sub frenzy isn’t devotion. It’s a full blown psychological house fire and you’re standing in the middle of it, smiling like it’s candlelight. It starts as hunger. Then it becomes need. Then it becomes override everything just don’t lose this. And that’s where it gets dangerous not just for the submissive spiraling, but for anyone holding the other end of that dynamic. Because let’s be very clear If you’re a Dominant and you don’t recognize sub frenzy, you are either inexperienced or you’re part of the problem. Frenzy is loud if you know what to look for. It’s the rushed attachment. The “I’ll do anything” energy way too early. The collapsing boundaries. The constant seeking of approval like oxygen. The way they mold themselves to you before you’ve even proven you’re safe to hold that kind of power. That is not a green light. That is a warning flare. A submissive in frenzy is not in a grounded place to consent cleanly, to negotiate clearly, or to advocate for themselves when something goes wrong. Their “yes” can be soaked in fear of losing you instead of genuine desire. And if you take advantage of that if you push, escalate, or feed off that desperation without slowing them down? That’s not dominance. That’s exploitation with a title. A real D type doesn’t just take control they manage the state of the person they’re engaging with. They watch for the cracks. They check in. They pull things back when the energy gets unstable, even if it would be easier and more gratifying not to. Sometimes the most dominant thing you can do is say, “Stop. Breathe. We’re not moving forward like this.” Because power without responsibility is just dressedup harm. But here’s the part people don’t like to hear: Even with awareness, even with check-ins, even with good intentions sometimes a dynamic still turns toxic. Maybe the submissive stays in frenzy and refuses to ground. Maybe the Dominant starts enjoying the control a little too much and stops caring about impact. Maybe communication breaks down and what started as connection turns into damage. When that happens, you don’t “push through.” You don’t “fix it with more intensity.” You don’t cling harder like that’s going to magically make it healthy. You leave. Yeah leave. I don’t care how good it felt at the start. I don’t care how strong the pull is. I don’t care how rare you think it is. If the dynamic is harming you mentally, emotionally, physically you step out of it like your sanity matters more than the connection. Because it does. Staying in something toxic and calling it devotion is just a slower way to self-destruct. And for the submissives drowning in that frenzy spiral: You are not “failing” by pulling back. You are not “less submissive” for needing stability. You are not weak for choosing yourself over a dynamic that’s eating you alive. And for the Dominants: If someone is unraveling in your hands and your response isn’t to steady them but to tighten your grip? You need to check yourself before you wreck someone. Because this isn’t a game of who can fall the hardest. It’s about who can hold power without turning it into a weapon. Sub frenzy will make you forget that. Grounded connection will remind you. And if you have to choose between being consumed or being whole? You already know the right answer. Even if it hurts like hell to act on it.  

Since I seem to get the same questions over and over I will answer them here and save me and anyone asking time and effort: Q: Would you consider a male slave?/Do you ever play with a male sub? A: Not really. My style of BDSM is very sexual and since males doesn't attract me sexually I wouldn't enjoy a male slave. I might consider a male slave as part of a submissive couple, but then again he couldn't expect much sexual interaction between him and me. Q: Would you consider a CD/TV/Sissy as your slave? A: I might consider it if you are part of a couple where the other party is a sub female, or if you are very feminine, very young and very submissive. Q: Would you train my wife if I send her to you for a limited time and send me photos and films of you training and using her? A: Yes I would if you really send her AND if she is in on it. The problem with the couples and men asking for this is they disappear and erase their profile after 20 - 30 messages and sometimes the same number of mails. Most probably they were roleplaying and there was no wife OR she wasn't in on it and they din't dare to suggest it to her, or if they did she wouldn't play along. Q: Would you train me on-line?/Would you claim me as your on-line slave? A: Probably not. I used to say no way, but during the pandemic I did have a few sexual relationships with submissive girls in several countries using telephone and/or various chat apps. We shared our dirty fantasies, we shared orgasms and I had some of them do painful and perverse things on themselves on my command. Now when the pandemic seems to be over and IRL contact is possible again on-line relationships seems less attractive. I live the lifestyle IRL and even an on-line slave girl takes time and effort. It's not a definite no, but you would have to be very special and very devoted for me to consider an on-line slave.

On Needing to Disappear for a Minute I need to reset. I am saying that plainly and without the elegance I usually bring to these entries because I do not have the energy for elegance right now and this space has always been about honesty first. The job market is the worst I have navigated in my adult life and I have the specific evidence to prove it. Three interviews. Three. Each one carrying the particular weight of hope that you cannot help but attach to something that feels like forward motion after so long standing still. The first position was eliminated and outsourced overseas before I made it to the final round. Not a reflection of my qualifications. Simply the mathematics of a company deciding that my expertise was purchasable more cheaply somewhere else. I understand how that works and understanding it does not make it feel less like a door closing in my face. The second went to an internal candidate, which is the corporate equivalent of being told the position was never really available to you, that the search was a formality, that you dressed up and prepared and showed up and performed well for an audience that had already made its decision before you walked in. I gave that interview everything. I always give everything. That is both my greatest quality and, in moments like this one, my greatest vulnerability. The third was a scam. I do not have more words for that because the anger I feel about it is still too hot to be articulate. Someone manufactured an opportunity specifically to waste the time and energy of people who are already desperate and running low on both. I was one of those people. I am still furious. I cannot find work. I am saying that without softening it because softening it would be a lie and I am too tired for lies. I have been searching with the focused intensity I bring to everything and the market is returning silence and rejection and the specific cruelty of the scam dressed as opportunity. I am scared in a way I do not often admit to being scared because fear has never served me particularly well and I have always moved through it rather than sitting in it. Right now I am sitting in it. I am tired and I am angry and underneath both of those things I am frightened about what comes next. And Chicago. The possibility of leaving Chicago sits on me like something I cannot put down. I have fought for this city. I have stayed for my children, for the roots I have grown here across years of building a life in neighborhoods that became part of my identity. Pilsen and South Shore and Bronzeville, the specific texture of this city that I carry in my body. The idea of leaving it does not feel like a fresh start. It feels like one more thing this season is taking from me, and this season has already taken considerably more than its share. I need to go somewhere. Briefly, urgently, in the way that a person needs air when the room has become too small. Not a vacation, I do not have the resources for a vacation, but a change of coordinates. A different sky. The particular reset that only physical distance from your own life can produce, where you sit somewhere unfamiliar and your problems remain your problems but they lose, temporarily, the specific weight of being inescapable. I have been having dark thoughts, and I am telling you that because this space has always held the full truth and the full truth is that a season this relentless starts to bend the mind toward conclusions it would not otherwise reach. I am not in danger. I know myself well enough to know the difference between despair and crisis. But the despair has been real and it has been sustained and I am not going to dress it up as something more manageable than it actually is. What I know is this: I am still here. Still building, even when the building looks like sitting still. Still the woman I have always been, even when that woman is exhausted and frightened and grieving a city she has not yet left. I need the reset. I need the road or the train or even just a weekend somewhere that is not inside my own four walls. I need to remember that I am larger than this moment even when this moment feels total. I will be back. I always come back.   But first I need to breathe somewhere new.

This is a short story i wrote a couple of years ago . . Is your life really that empty? Maybe the best words I have ever spoken Is your life really that empty? That may be the best opening line since ‘.......I was born in 1518 in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. And I am immortal'. In truth maybe not, but these words got me here, pressing keys on my pc’s keyboard about to tell my story. A good opening line, true, although not a good place to start my tale, so, where to begin? Who I am, where I was when I first saw her or the reason I spoke those words? Maybe to ground this thing would be best, I am male, a Dom, a sadist, not rich, not powerful, slightly artistic, getting to be older than I want to be living in a small suburb of a small city in the English Midlands. It was a Tuesday, early afternoon and I was on a coach going to Nottingham to check out an art gallery to see if they would exhibit, or sell, some pieces of my work. Don’t get all excited thinking I am a master painter or sculptor selling pieces for hundreds of thousands of pounds (yes pounds and not dollars) I sell my work for between £100 – 200 if I am lucky enough to find a buyer.Anyway, I first saw the girl, woman, standing on the platform along with others, waiting for our coach to arrive and noticed her because she fell into that style of female I like, slim, simple hair style, makeup tending towards the Goth, in jeans, ankle boots and a soft leather jacket and no handbag – simple pleases me. I am a good and sadistic Dom but I am no good at talking to females I do not know in vanilla situations so I took in her images, filed it under, ‘what a shame’ and then as the coach arrived I entered and walked to the back and sat down only to find she followed and sat in the seat in front of me on the other side of the isle. As we pulled out of the station I saw her take out a book, find her place, about a third of the way through, and begin to read. To say my mental image of her was shattered would be far too extreme but I was so disappointed in her. If she was vanilla it was such a pointless thing to read and if into my ‘lifestyle’ a really sad thing to read and I didn’t know which was worse. I tried to ignore her, and the book, as the minutes ticked by.  I watched houses and trees and cars pass by before we reached the dual carriageway, connecting the two cities, and the coach built up speed. I noticed all other passengers were seated nearer the front leaving at least seven rows of empty seats between us and them and I decided this was the universe telling me to do something – the universe seldom tells me to do things in case you were wondering. I moved across the back seat until I was slightly to her left but still behind her and said in a normal speaking voice, not too loud, not too quiet, “Is your life really that empty?"I accept this could be a very insulting thing to say to anyone especially a stranger on a bus but the words formed and so were spoken. She lifted her head from the book but did not turn around, I could see her face from where I sat and her mouth turned down slightly, not in a frown but in a puzzled thoughtful way and lowering the book to her knees she said, “Why do you say that?" "I am a Dom and a sadist”, I said although not sure why I was so truthful, “I don’t usually tell people as most do not understand.” I paused waiting to see what she would do or say. "I see.” Was all she said, which didn’t give me any sort of clue or guide to what I should do or say next.  "The book does not relate to the real world of BDSM, most of us are so normal we are as boring as vanilla folk.” I saw a smile come to her face at this so continued, “It is only when we play that many of us diverge from the norm, but I suppose the same could be said of golfers or those that go tenpin bowling every week.” She laughed at this; thank god.  "How do you dominate people then, do you do it with men or woman or both?” She did not turn around as she spoke.  "Before I answer that, have you tried anything in a fetish way; are you sub or Domme or both?"  "You would certainly call me vanilla I think. Everyone is reading the book so I thought I would too.” She paused for a heartbeat and then said, “I am not sure if I would like to submit to a man, I think I might giggle too much if I had to call someone Sir or Master."  "There is much rubbish talked about BDSM, you do not need to call him Sir if that is not what you want, I have little interest in a female calling me Sir unless it comes naturally to her at a time that seems correct to use it.  "BDSM is like real life, it is not a video game, it merely has a few given rules that vary as much as any vanilla couple’s rules vary, that and blindfolds and restraints obviously"  "Something else I would not like until I trusted him enough.” She said and added “How to you write a contract?"  "I am a sadist, I like a little fear in my play, if you trusted me, or knew me too well, could you really be scared of me? I thought this was a statement too far and wondered if I was trying to sabotage this conversation. “There is even more bullshit talked about contracts.  No contract is needed by 999 out of a 1000 couples. “I say ‘do you want to play’? You answer ‘I am new to this’, I say, ‘understood’. What more needs saying?"  I watched her face, and saw a small frown crease her brow, “Remember, you have the power to stop whatever is happening by simply saying a single word, it is easier to stop what is happening in a BDSM encounter than, say, trying to get rid of some half drunk moron in a nightclub who is likely not to take no for an answer. If I do something you do not like, it ends and the play stops, it is in the skill of the Dominant one to not make you say that word."  "I don’t understand,” she said, ”if you are dominant how could I stop you doing what you want especially if I am blindfolded or tied up?"  "Blindfolded, AND tied up” I said with a smile, “I said before, BDSM is real life, if you say the stop word and the dominant one continues that is assault, or as close to it as make no difference, BDSM does not give anyone the right to, umm, go too far."  The coach stopped and two elderly couples boarded and I watch with not a little ‘fear’ as they decided where to sit, the universe was still on my side and they sat side by side 5 rows in front of the girl.  We were well passed half way to the city and I didn’t know where the girl was going, the University of Nottingham Campus would be reached in 5 minutes or so and she could easily be a student there. So as the coach moved on I said.  "It is much easier to show you, show someone I mean, what happens in BDSM play than to describe it, just like if you were going on a first date in the vanilla world you go on it and see how things progress”.  She sat for a second and then put the book back in her pocket, “Thanks for the chat but I have to get off in a couple minutes."  "Ok, I don’t usually talk like this on buses with cute females I don’t know so thank you for not running away screaming.”  I reached into my pocket and took out my business card, “I am a body piercer so I have a card, if you are bored give me a ring and maybe I can answer some more questions or, if your curiosity gets stronger, I can show you my Domly skills.” I reached forward and placed the card on her left thigh, gently pressing the card down, before taking my hand away.  She looked at it before picking it up and putting it in her pocket, so I said “I have a normal house on a normal street, although I do have a play room of sorts with some interesting things to play on and with, so if you visit you do not have to walk though a dark wood to a haunted castle."  she took this the way I hoped and laughing said, “That’s a relief, but this is my stop so bye"  "Have fun.” I said as she stood and I was very impressed, not sure why though, that as she got up and walked down the coach she didn’t look back to see who I was.  The coach stopped she got off and I thought I would not see her again and wondered if I should get off too but my commonsense won out and I sat still as we moved off. “One day I will remember to ask a females name” I said to the back of the seat in front of me and again thought ‘what a shame.'  "Good morrow.” Yes, I oft times answer the phone this way. It is Thursday at 7pm and I have been relaxing watching a video on tv.  "Hello.” A female voice replies.  A silence follows which I do not interrupt wondering if this is another recorded message asking if I want to make a personal injury claim or some other tedious drivel. “I thought reality might be better than fiction."  "Ah.” I am a sadist of few words but sometimes one has to be a little helpful, “That is easy to do, come to my home, knock on the door and then enter, all other decisions will be made for you from that point. If you wish things to stop simple say ‘Lucifer’ and I will stop whatever I am doing.  "You do like us to be scared don’t you, I thought we would be discussing what and how, not simply being told to visit."  "When you visit it will be a time of physical interactions, this will not be a time for you to serve me as a slave or for silly things like sitting at my feet waiting for permission to get up or speak."  "Ok, I just come and that’s it, you don’t want to know more about me."  "You are cute, you want to know more about submission and you called me.   That is all I need, I told you before it is for me to play without making you want, or need, to stop me; so all will be found out when you are here."  "When can I come and should I wear something specific?"  "What an entertaining fem you are, if free tonight come at 9 pm or come tomorrow at the same hour. As for clothes, if you wish to please then, as I am a male; heels, hold ups or stockings or bare legs, a thong, g-spring or nothing. Short skirt, not denim (hate denim), shirt with buttons and a skimpy bra or no bra, a coat may be wise as it is somewhat cold out."  "You sound like you have said that before, I will see what I can do and tonight would be best in case I chicken out tomorrow."  I gave her my address and added, “For your safety, and to make you feel a little more relaxed, tell your best friend you are visiting me, say about piercing if that is easier, and tell them you will call when you arrive here too. You will be safe here but it is a wise thing to be careful."  "I will see you tonight then, what should I call you."  "I will be waiting, and for tonight you can call me Demon.” I clicked the end call icon on my mobile and laughed out loud, maybe not such a waste after all.  I never plan what I am going to do with a sub, that way leads to disappointment more times than not, so I sat and watched my video till a suitable time came for me to stop it. I have a small pack of dogs so I sent all of them to their beds and went upstairs to change.  I checked to see that my playroom was ready and laid out my toys on a rack then, with 30minutes to go, had a quick shower and dressed in my Domly garb.  I decided to start the evening off on a high pressure moment, to see how she reacted, so dressed in leather trousers, knee length New Rock boots, vest and full length leather coat, all in black, obviously. To complete the attire I had recently made some leather gloves and a full hood, both with spikes and piercings, and these I put on before going downstairs.  I have a hallway leading from my front door to my kitchen with a turn to the right half way down leading to my staircase. At five to nine I turned out the light in the hall, darkness fell, I turned on the kitchen light, closing the door so only a thin sliver of light could be seen, and bought to life my cd player to beginning playing Metallica’s Black album.  I stood silently at the foot of my stairs, a still, dark shadow in the darkness, calmly wondering if she would come or not.  What a good girl she was, just after the 2nd track, ‘Sad But True’, began there as a double tap on the door.  I clenched my fists as a smile, which could not be stopped, came to my lips when the door opened and closed.  I have a tiled floor and her heels, clicked nicely five times before she appeared looking ahead towards the light in front of her.  I stepped quickly forward making a short, high pitched hiss to encourage her to turn a little towards me. Her head turned and, I am sure, she caught a glimpse of a moving darkness just before my right hand clamped over her mouth and my left arm swung over her shoulder allowing my left hand to grip her right arm, pinning her closely to my body.  "You came.” I whispered in her ear.  Her body was shaking violently and I could feel her breath coming in short, sharp, warm pants against my fingers, “Good girl, now control your breathing and relax a little, I have you safe and sound.” As I said this I used my right hand to brush her hair back over her ear and gently kissed it and, moving my head a little, I bit the lobe with just a little pressure from my teeth.  Even in her present shaken state, or maybe because of it, she let out a deep, long sigh and I felt her weight lean into me as she slumped slightly in my arms. Another gentle kiss on her ear followed by words spoken so softly they were more felt than heard, “Clever girl, pleasure and pain, fear and ecstasy and yours to enjoy or stop with a single word.” It is wise to remind a novice of their safeword I find in case, in the excitement of the new, they forget.  My right hand moved slowly inside her coat, which was of a dark material and almost as long as mine. My fingers slipped between the buttons of her shirt to rest lightly on a shear and half cup bra. Her flesh was very warm as I pushed my index finger under the top of the material and rolled her nipple under it then, drawing back my nail, I scraped over the small budding flesh. Another sweet sigh came to my ears.  I thought one more experience, before going up stairs, so my hand left her breast and moved slowly up to her throat and then, with a strong push, I sent her to thud against the wall and tightened my grip.  In the darkness I saw her eyes open wide as she saw my hooded face for the first time, “Sensations,” I said, “it can be all about sensations.”  “Upstairs, time to show you what the book could not.”  I released her and let her lead the way upstairs and into my playroom, the light was on dimmer so added a little dungeony atmosphere. I touched her shoulder to stop her then walked further into the room and sat on a chair facing her.  “Take off your coat.” I said.  I suppose it might be entertaining, and pleasing, to give a short deion of the girl at this point.  As I mentioned she fell perfectly into what I consider appealing, 5ft 7inchs tall, give or take an inch, a size 8 (I know such things as I sell corsets too) with breasts that fit nicely into my hand. Her hair, this evening, was shoulder length, straight and black with, something like burgundy hints. Her face was perfect, as only teenager’s skin can be, without wrinkles or lines and wearing black eyeliner and dark red lipstick.  As she took off her coat, which was a deep purple, I saw she was wearing a red shirt with full sleeves, a soft cotton skirt of a darker red that came to mid thigh, black fishnets and black, ankle boots, maybe, the same as on the first occasion I saw her.  “Hold-up’s or stockings? I asked, “show, don’t tell”  “You really don’t like small talk.” She said and lifted the hem of her skirt to show the lacy elasticated top of hold-ups.  “In case you do not know what these things are,” I waved my left hand to indicate my play furniture, “That is a St. Andrew’s Cross, a simple why to hold you safely, and securely, when being flogged; many like it this way, Dom and sub.  That is a spanking bench, you can lean against it or kneel on the lower cushion, also a nice height to fuck on. I have a pony, which is easier to show you it use than explain; maybe if you visit again I will let you ride it. And on the wall behind you there are many securing points if the cross is not wanted.”  “Come and kneel between my legs.” I said unzipping my coat and opening my knees.  She did not move and looked a little uneasy, “Be a good girl and come here so I can put some cuffs on your wrists. Now she came forward and knelt down, sitting on her heels and placed her right hand on my thigh.  “A little show of defiance?” I asked and not waiting for an answer I put on a leather restraint.  “These were the first things I ever made when I came to the Life.” She watched me intently with a small smile as I fastened the strap then, when it was done, she gave me her left hand for the other restraint.  “Close your eyes.” I said and once they were shut I said, “Open your legs and put your hands behind your back.” Her skirt rose up and I could see pale skin above the fishnets as she obeyed. I reached down and gently pulled my nails along her inner thigh and then sat back to look at her.  “In a few moments I will use some of my toys on you, I will begin with a soft toy and use it gently but then I will change it and use another type of toy and change again and each change will mean more sensation until it brings pain and maybe ecstasy”  I picked up a blindfold and told her to open her eyes and come closer. Once it covered her pretty blue eyes I told her to give me her hand and to stand up.  “Take off your skirt and give it to me.” She pulled down the zip at her hip and climbed out of the skirt. She wore a thin red g-string which was mostly lace and very seethough.  “Give me your right hand.” She did and I placed it on my left shoulder, “Now give me your right foot so I can add an ankle cuff. “Now your left.” Once the other restraint was on I ran my hand along the underside of her leg, over her hold-ups, across skin and gently touched the g-string with my finger tips.  I lifted her foot off my knee and, standing up, led her back to my flogging wall.  “As this is your first time I will let you keep your arms down by your side, I will still tie them as don’t want you covering yourself, but it is a little more comfortable this way. First though I need to do this.” I unbuttoned her shirt and took it off her compliant body. Her bra matched her g-string, cut low letting half a nipple show above both cups. I lifted out her left breast and sucked hard on her nipple pinching it between thumb and forefinger as I let it fall from my mouth, forcing a gasp of pain, or pleasure, from her lips.  I tied red rope to her left wrist restraint securing her hand about 6 inched from her side then did the same with her right wrist, then, before continuing and because she could no longer see me, I removed my hood and coat. I knelt in front of her and kissed her navel before tying a rope to her left ankle restraint and then her right, forcing her legs almost three feet apart  I sat back on my boot heels and looked at her, chest rising and falling quickly as she breathed in short, shallow breaths, one nipple, very pink, hard rested over the top of red material and moving down to more red material, wet and slick as her body, and mind, responded to stimuli physical and mental.  “This is a suede flogger.” I said beginning to gentle swing it in a figure of eight so that its movement caused a breeze that caressed her skin; goosebumps appeared over her arms.  I took half a step closer and the 18 tails brushed against flesh creating delicate slapping sounds. Downwards over left breast then right breast, from shoulder to nipple then, with a slight change of action, from hip to navel, left then right with not too much force, letting the suede tails move across skin once or twice a second.  I took another half step increasing the speed of my swing and the impact now made a very nice sharp sound. An added bonus, for me anyway, was that her hidden nipple had been forced out by the flogging action and the tails hit each pink morsel on each pass of the flogger.  Her skin was turning pink so I stopped and, discarding my flogger, ran my hands over her gently, creating marks with my nails and feeling the warmth I had created.  I have a very sharp dagger, broad of blade and 12 inches long in my playroom, I unsheathed it and laid the cold blade on her left breast, a nice intake of breath was my reward. I moved the edge across her breasts and under the right strap of her bra. A quick upwards pull and the strap split in two, a reverse journey, with a little more pressure this time, ended in another strap cut through. I reached behind her to unclipped the strap and her head came forward to rest against my neck and I felt a gentle kiss alight there. The clip opened (yes I can do this one handed) and felt the bra fall to the floor.  “More.” Was the single word she breathed against my neck.  “Obviously, little one.” My reply.  3 fingers of my right hand moved up quickly to slap the red material of her g-string, ‘very wet indeed’ I thought as I stepped back and reached for my red and black 36tail flogger.  Now, as the multi tails hit, her muscles twitched and small panted sighs came from her lips. Heavy, thudding hits moved a breast with each contact and made a wonderful sound as they hit her flat stomach, only a couple minutes of this and her skin was red and she was dancing on her toes with each hit  I stopped and dropped the flogger into my play bag and stood still simply looking at her, I had a strong, and strange, urge to untie her and carry her to my bedroom and gently make love to her for she looked so innocent and young tied against my wall. I had an overwhelming desire to ‘comfort, no wrong word, worship her was much closer to the mark.  Her head tilted to the left, as though listening for me, and then said, “Demon: Sir? Is everything alright?”  A slow smile returned to my lips and, stepping forward, slapped down hard on her left breast stinging the fingers of my hand. She cried out in pain and, no doubt, shock and her blind eyes looked down to her hurting flesh as her hand tried to reach up to ease the sensation  "All is just as it should be.” I said, “One more toy and then you can turn around for a time.”  I have two toys I call ‘little and big sister’, little sis is a whip flogger with a jointed tail section joining 8 shortish leather tails to the main body of the whip, very flicky and stingy; perfect for nipples and caressing g-strings with touches of fire.  Following the heavy beat from the music, heard and felt from downstairs, I flicked the tails at her legs, aiming just above her knees and, with a strong wrist action, moved the tails slowly upwards, hitting one leg then the other. I was tempted to aim at that small piece of red material but did not want to risk her stopping the play. I, therefore, moved outwards as I got higher and then continued moving towards her navel and up over her breasts. I was rewarded with many twitches, sighs and seeing her hands clenching and unclenching.  I pushed this play as much as I dared, as I love the way this toy touches nipples with fiery kisses, so I watching her face and body intently, looking for the moment when her strength, courage, tolerance or, god forbid, boredom got the better of her.  She was shaking her head from side to side, facing the heavens her mouth open sucking in air as though drowning, so I slowed my swings and eased off the pressure until finally I stopped.  Throwing the toy in to my bag I put my arms around her and pulled her to me, after a moment I raked my nails down her back – sensation upon sensation without time to recover or relax into a lessened state of awareness  “If you do not want this just says no, other things can still continue.” I said and slipped 2 fingers under her g-string and into her wet, warm cunt.  She almost screamed as she thrust her hips forward on to my hand so, smiling (being a sadist makes me smile a great deal), I thrust my fingers into her letting my palm thud into her clit.  I am a Dom, a sadist and I love to inflict pain but I do not like receiving it, so I had an entertaining decision to make for, as my fingers continued to make her body shake and quiver, her mouth found my shoulder and her teeth found my flesh and she bit me as the orgasm, I knew was coming, racked her body.  I added a finger and speed and as her groaning breaths moved against my skin I almost forgot my tortured flesh until she cried out, releasing her hold on me. As her body danced in uncontrolled spasms while waves of orgasm rippled through her the pain in my shoulder doubled up giving me an incentive to reinforce the speed and strength of my fingers lifting her onto her very toes.  “Oh god, stop please stop, for fuck sake stop, god oh god oh god.” Such sweet words tripped continually from her gasping mouth, and like the good Dom I am, I continued, She had arched her back, a beautiful human sculpture curving from toe tip to crown of head resting on the wall with nipples pointing to the sky,  I bent down and bit into her left nipple, teeth clamping hard, head pulling back and lips clamped to allow me to suck hard and long.  I felt a sudden explosion of hot wetness on my hand and she screamed in one long wild cry, second after second her scream continued  as my fingers and teeth did their work, “Demon, Lord, Sir, please, please stop.” she begged as the scream finally died  I stopped my fingers movement but left them buried inside her, releasing her nipple I supported her weight with my left arm as she straightened up to rest against the wall behind her. My fingers rolled over each other in the warmth of her cunt as I slowly withdrew them.  “Open your mouth”, I said, “You have made a mess on my hand.” This she did and as I placed my fingers close to her lips her tongue came out and eagerly licked them clean of her unexpected reaction. “Good girl.” I said as I watched her clean my hand.  “A slight rest, little one, then we will continue with more toys if you still wish it.” I watched her face hoping she would not want to stop. She said nothing as her breathing slowed. I asked, “Would you like some cold water?” With a slight nod of her head I said, “Stay still while I am gone, it will be only seconds but continue to rest against the wall your legs may not want to obey you if asked to do more than stand still.”  On impulse I gentle kissed her lips, tasting her cunt on them, before leaving to run cold water into a glass, returning I let her sip for a few moments until the glass was almost empty.  I placed my right hand, cold from holding the glass, against her cheek and let it travel over her skin to her shoulder then down her arm to reach the restraint. As I untied the rope I said, “I am not trying to break you, little one, I am not trying to release your hidden goddess or any other such sad drivel, I seek only to let you know yourself, your limits, your desires and allow you the freedom to enjoy and act on them.”  With the last rope untied and kneeling in front of her – I am worshipping again I thought to myself - I ran my hands up her legs and under the thin straps of her g-string and then slowly pulled them down her legs until she obediently lifted her right foot, then her left, to allow me to remove them.  I thought for a second or two, artistic considerations my only concern (sometimes my mind takes little detours) and then, making a decision, I removed her boots, ankle restraints then hold ups making sure my hands travelled slowly down her legs as I did so.  Naked, the first time is always so uniquely special, it is a shame how familiarity can diminish the beautiful sometimes - much too deep – maybe tis the fault of Metallica’s ‘Nothing Else Matters’ which is now playing.  No tattoos, no body piercings, (maybe I can add a piece of jewellery so she will never forget me) a tiny scar above her right knee, cunt, now swollen and pink, clean shaven, her skin red with a few subtle marks remaining from the flogging. Worshipping indeed, it is a good thing she wears a blindfold.  I stand and, taking her hand, pull her away from the wall, “Time to turn around,” I say, “Wait”  I leaned a 10 foot piece of wood, 10 inches wide by 2inches thick, against the flogging wall where she had been standing and then placed her hand on it, “Lean on this, it will hold your weight do not worry. It is best if you rest your head on your hands as this get your arms away from the flogger’s tails”  I caressed her back with my nails, leaving swirlling marks in her skin, “I have 2 toys like the ones you have felt, then others that are more severe, twin tailed straps in leather and rubber and then whips and for your arse I have paddles and a horse crop. You may be surprised how much you will like your back being flogged but I would hate for your front to feel left out”  Resting my weight against the full length of her body, crushing her against the hard wood, I reached around to attach a butterfly clamp to her right nipple and she cried out a little, which was pleasing, as it bit. I attached the other to her left nipple and said, “There is a chain between them, do not pull away from the wood or you will not enjoy the result.”  ‘Big Sister’ is a flogger with 12 plaited, leather tails about 36inch in total length, I stood behind her and, again using the typical figure 8 action, began to touch her skin, very gently to start and at a slow speed too.  Building up speed and strength over a couple of minutes she began to make sweet music of sighs and little cries, the tails hit with delicious sharp sounds of their own as I began to punctuate the pattern of swings by sending much stronger whip like flicks at her arse, which, soon made her tense her muscles in anticipation of the next strike.I laid this toy down and picked up my purple and black Cougar (a longer 12 tail leather cat with 4in leather thongs at each tail end). I began again using this new toy in the same place and in the same pattern but then moved to my left, continuing to hit as I moved.  Once I stood level with her shoulder and about a stride from her I changed the way I used the Cougar. I now brought it down in single strokes, striking from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and moving down her back to her arse using much more strength especially when connecting, horizontally, on her reddening arse cheeks.  I could see her face as I stuck, and with each hit her teeth bit into her bottom lip. I said, continuing to hit, “Your choice, 12 hard strokes to upper back or arse?” she did not reply for a couple of seconds so I added, “And then I will take the clamps of your nipples.”  “Bum” she replied so I hit her hard on her shoulders and said “Bum, what”  “Bum, Sir” she said quickly after a gasp  “I was expecting a ‘please’, but Sir will do.” And then added, “count them as I hit in case I forgot how many and have to start again.”  She did as was told and by the time she got to 12 her voice was shaking as the strikes had gotten harder, “Good girl,“ I said and throwing the Cougar onto my bag I rubbed her back running hands over slight welts in her skin. Standing behind her I kneeded her arse for half a minute to ease the sting and then moved to kneel by her head.  “A new sensation now, what fun this will be.” I could see her face react as she tried to work out what I meant, “Your sweet, poor, tortured nipple hurt when the clamp went on but now is almost bearable. But when I take it off, new blood with rush back in, nerves will awaken and you will have an experience to file away and fear for the next time. Rubbing it will greatly ease the pain but do not rub it until I say you can.”  I held the clamp and because I am a sadist I twisted it first with a gentle tug, she squealed loudly, “Sorry little one, I just wanted to make sure you remember my words.” I pushed and the clamp opens, her nipple sticking to it for a second before coming free.  Her mouth opened and she sucked air in in gasps as the pain returned to her pink flesh, it was still flattened from the clamp’s pressure and I waited for a count of 5 then said, “You may rub it now.”  Quickly her right hand reached under her and he caressed her breast and nipple, a most rewarding sight. I let this go on for a short time still holding the removed clamp.  “Now then, time to repeat this joy. You get a choice.” I released my hold on the removed clamp and it swung down freely to tug gently on her other nipple, another squeal; being a sadist is fun indeed.  “You can give me a reward, for all my kind attention, and rub your nipple straight away or you must count 60 seconds before I let you rub after it comes off.”  In a most sweet and quiet voice she asked, “What reward, Sir?”  I stood and stepped slightly forward so my leather trousers just touched her upper arm.  ”You can open your mouth.”  “I don’t think I can count to 60, Sir, so the reward is wiser.” I noticed she was smiling and as I pulled down my zip I said, “I must be doing something wrong if you are still smiling. Open.”  I slipped my prick into her hot mouth and, leaning over her, put my left hand between her shoulder blades ready to release the remaining clamp. I closed my eyes as her head began to move and I felt her suck and bite on my, most entertained, cock. “Let me know when you want the clamp off and I will quickly remove it for you to ease the pain”.  Her left hand had found its way between my legs and was holding my left thigh, gently pulling me towards her in time with her head movements. Her right hand she lifted and laid, palm up, on her back, I thought, so I had easy access to the remaining clamp.  After a very pleasing minute or two she took her mouth off me and said ‘now’ and returned to my ‘reward’. Reaching over I pressed in the clamp and pulled it off dropping them to the floor. I heard, and felt on my prick, her squeal as she sucked harder on me taking my prick to the back of her throat, her left hand pulling me in and holding me there though her right hand did not leave her back.  Her squeal became a mauling sound as her body began to shiver and only after about 30 seconds did her right hand finally move and I saw her massaging her right breast. I may be a Dom and a sadist but this sight, with this ‘attention, was too much (I am a male after all) so I pulled myself from her mouth and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. This only just did its purpose as once my prick was out of her mouth the sounds she then made, as her orgasm came and diminished, could have deflowered a priest.  Fighting an almost overpowering desire to put my prick back in to her, anywhere in her, I finally put it back in my trousers and pulled up my zip – will power, such a pain in the arse at times.  I went to my bag and found my leg spreader, a 10mm bar of mild steel I had fashioned a few years before in the heat of a furnace - not unlike the forging of a new submissive I thought to myself. I found myself kneeling at her feet again as I replaced her ankle restraints and then secured these to the spreader bar, forcing her legs 30 inches apart. I made the mistake of looking up, and the sight of her open and inviting cunt almost made me change my mind about where I had put my prick.  There is a metal securing bolt at the top of the plank of wood so moving to stand by her head I took her hands and tied them to it so she was stretched along the wood’s length.  “The toys from now on will be much more intense?” I said. “I will use each for a minute or so but with each change they will get a little harsher. You already have pretty marks on your skin but these toys will leave better ones that will last for a few days, shall I begin?”  “Yes, My Demon.” she whispered and I saw her grip the ropes that tied her hands.  I take a red and black leather flog with twin, 8 inch, tails and began it strike her back, moving around her, watching her muscles twitch as the stinging leather hit, from neck to arse, leaving growing welts on her skin.  I hit with a constant strength as I moved from her left side to her right and back again until I was back at my starting position where I took a step closer to her and, reaching, sent the tails around her ribs to contact with her softly hanging breast. Her back arched and she screamed in a short feral explosion.  I dropped the flogger and, as she clenched her teeth, grabbed the hurt breast and squeezed it in my fist, “If you are expecting one thing the unexpected is so much better.” I said changing my hold on her flesh and rolling the nipple between thumb and finger.  I saw a tear appear under her blindfold so asked, “Do I continue, you remember the word to end this?”  I could see her think and then she said, “I remember but I don’t know, I think, I think I want to say stop.”  “ok, I will continue with a different sensation, use the word when you know you are sure about ending things.”  I untied her hands, along with one end of the spreader bar then said, helping her stand up, “I just need you to turn around and lay back on the wood.”  She was a little shaky as she stood so putting my arm around her I held her tight. As I did this her head lifted up so I kissed her and was pleasantly surprised as her tongue forced its way into my mouth. The kiss continued and my hand found its way between her legs and a single finger entered her gently slipping in and out as she lifted her left leg to give me easier excess.  “Enough.” I said removing my finger and mouth from her body, I helped her back onto the sloping wood and again tied her hands high above her head, to the securing bolt, I then secured the spreader bar between the ankle restraints under the wood. The bar has a loop at midpoint and to this I tied a length of rope, the other end I tied to the flogging wall, pulling her feet back under her arse and lifting her cunt high as her hips where pulled wide due to the width of the plank.  I sat on the chair I had used earlier and took off my boots and then trousers. I found a condom and with a little concentration, put it on then selected a horse crop, which had two short leather tails about 2 inches long, and moved to stand at the foot of the wood plank.  With small, sharp movements of my wrist I sent the tails across her nipples, first one then the other, hitting 10 or 12 times in a staccato rhythm then changing the target to hit once between her legs, on soft pink lips which stood, unexpectantly, open. I repeated this 3 or 4 times until I judged I had risked enough and she had had enough.  I moved to stand by her side and, while I stroked her body from nipple to inner thigh, I whispered in her ear, “Some do not think fucking is part of BDSM so I shall ask if you wished to be fucked before I do it as part of this experience.”  “Yes, Sir,” She said with a small smile. “or, Yes Please if you prefer.”  I untied her hands and she let her arms hang down at her side as I lifted my right leg over the plank so my prick was an inch or two from her and said, “Do not be cheeky, little one, you are still tied and just because I will be fucking you does not mean it will be the only sensation you will have  I inched forward and, pushing down on the end of my prick I slowly move inside her and like a good girl she pushed herself deeper onto me. I stood still, prick buried in warmth, and using the crop’s leather tails drew sensual trails across her skin from nipple to nipple to navel to clit and back again. Within a minute she raised her hands and held them again my hips as she began to move on my prick, drawing herself off and then pushing down to rub her clit against my groin as I stood immobile, her breathing began to get faster and, as her nails began to dig in, I saw the growing need she had for me to move inside her. Realising the moment had arrived I rested the crop across her belly and, putting a hand on each of her breasts, leaned down to kiss her ear.  My full weight was pressing down on her, crushing nipples against ribs through the flesh of her breasts. I thrust into her, my movement, adding more pressure and pain, caused her to groan loudly, “I will fuck you for as long as you stand the pain.” I whispered and, pushing myself up on to straight arms, continued to fuck her going as deep and fast as her mirrowing movements allowed.  My breathing was becoming fast as she placed her hands over mine and I saw her dig her nails deep into the soft flesh of her breasts between my fingers, ‘that is unexpected’ I thought to myself and took my left hand away to see what she would do.  Her hands squeezed and twisted her flesh, raking her nails across her erect nipple leaving lines as red as those I had given from my flogging.  “Harder.” A single word, she said, between gasping breathes as she reached for my left hand.  Making my hands into fists I pressed my knuckles into her breasts as her hands returned to my hips.  I fucked and forced my weight onto her as a building pain built in my hips under her hands, looking down I saw a bright red drop of blood on my skin, red lines, from this dear girl’s nails, mirroring her own marks; a small price to pay  I did not think I would be able to make her cum, or decide to stop this pain, before I came but suddenly her head thrashed from side to side and the raking of my skin stopped. She made no sound, did not breathe as her fingers spread wide and muscles moved in slow waves under the tight skin of her stomach.  I came a second later and, fighting the mix of pain and pleasure in the tip of my prick, continued to thrust into her until her movements calmed down.  A second’s pause, heart pounding, breathing trying to fill my lungs, vision clearing from an unnoticed unfocused gaze, I stand and let my prick die a little inside her.  I grasped the wood plank on either side of her neck and, leaning down, kiss her lightly on the lips. I gently removed the blindfold and threw it onto the floor.  Her eyes remain closed as I pushed myself up to stand looking down at her – fuck she was beautiful.  Her eyes opened slightly, they shine, a small smile comes to her lips and letting her arms fall to her side she closes her eyes again as the smile grows bigger.  Sadly, oh so very sadly, I pull myself out of her and stepping over the wooden plank sit down on the chair because my legs are shaking in a most entertaining fashion.  We stayed like that for about 5 minutes, her smiles, fading then bursting out bigger than before as the minutes pass.  I pulled on my trousers, discarding the condom into a bin, but remained barefooted as I moved to her shackled feet. I knelt down - I seemed to always be on my knees in front of her – and unbuckled the nearest restraint. Reaching under the plank I finally managed to unbuckle the other and, as if by magic, found myself within reach of her glistening cunt.  Like the nice Dom I am I lowered my head and, after one long, slow lick, bit gently into her soft pick lips, she tasted sweet, naturally and with a hint of strawberry from my used condom.  After a few seconds I stood going to her side to help her stand but as I got close she reached out and put the fingers of her left hand in to my unzipped trousers. I stopped and she pulled out my prick and, with a gentle tug, she led me back to her mouth, slow and gentle this time she held me with soft licks and sucks.  With eyes closed, her right hand moved slowly to go between her legs, with slow strokes, she put two fingers inside her.  I am old, but luckily not that old, for as I watched and felt her actions my prick came back to life. I took in what she was doing and let myself react as my body wished with no attempt at self control.  With a full prick in her mouth her fingers moved faster and, again, erotic moans began to come from her mouth vibrating on my shaft.  “I am going to cum.” I said giving her time to withdraw her mouth, if she wished, but she sucked as before and her fingers gained speed and strength adding wet sounds to my already stimulated senses.  I had to grab, with equal strength and need, the plank for balance and her hair to pull her on to me as I came in four strong spasms. She sucked, swallowed and bit as I came and I could not stop a cry cascade from my lips which went, something like, ”fffuuucckkkking jeeeeeeesus fucking Christ” as I tried to pierce the back of her skull with my softening prick.  As I died again, this time in her mouth, she gently sucked and licked until after a minute or so she took her mouth away, looked up at me and said with a smile, “Hello, Demon, my name’s Amy.”  The End - i think?

Everyone criticizes CM but I like this site.  I've heard people complain that there are no genuine lifestyle dominants. I've had waaaay more success making real time connections on CM than on any other site.  I've met several awesome lifestyle male dom/sub couples and other female dominants (with a couple that I know personally who are LOCAL non-pro and looking for personal relationships).  These are folks we hang out with regularly who are terrific people in addition to being lifestyle. I also communicate with a small number of non-pro Ladies in other cities. I've also met a few local quality male subs who are genuine submissive gentlemen and who fit my very stringent requirements for distance and fitness level. I've played with a few as well and even when it didn't necessarily become a "relationship" I've maintained a friendship with them and invite them to events or gatherings.  I've even visited a couple of them and stayed in their homes when I was in their area for events such as Tampa's Fetcon. Yes, I have to weed out the morons looking to wank just like anyone. I also communicate with a few out-of-town boys who have cam verified and talk about making a visit to my area. We'll see. So, why is everyone so down on CM?  While I imagine that the experience is very different for a male sub, but is it THAT bad?  Are there other sites that have been so much better for you?  I met my current sub via ALT years ago...which I'm no longer active on, too commercialized.  I met the other boy that I've been training since August 2011 via CM. It DOES happen.  

I've been in the lifestyle since my early 20's.  I am my area MAsT group leader.  I use to be very active in the NYC area bdsm scene, have atended many events through the years about north eastern USA.   I do not do play, and am not a bedroom submissive. I am a slave all of the time, in my daily life. I am not submissive to everyone, I have owned and run my own business, been a boss to many people in my jobs through the years. The world does not know I am slave, nor do they need to know such, I simply am who I am all the time. I can not turn myself on and off. I live life to the fullest that I am cabable of doing. I serve with my heart and bering, in all I do, yes, even when I am sans a master. Would it not be dishonorable, dishonest and disloyal for me to be on this site and be owned or collared and not have such stated in my profile as well as have checked that I am actively seeking a dominant male? I believe it would be.  If I were owned, collared, in a relation, or even simply focusing on someone at the time, I would state such perfectly clearly in my profile for all to see.  I am here seriously seeking someone, this is not a game to me.  Read my profile please, then consider contacting me.  First impressions mean a whole lot.

  It is important to start with the right premises and not waste each others time. When contacting Me, I assume that you have read the above information and we now have a common language. There is no reason to discuss this all over again   Complete sincerity is understood and by the slightest sign of lie or leak of seriousity I lose My interest   Either you are committed and a 24/7 relation is your first priority now, or move on. I am not interested in empty words. If you do not intend to enter a 24/7 permanent relation within short time, don't waste My time   OBSERVE:   Since most of candidates does not have the fairest idea what 24/7 is in reality, I will put this clearly:   It is very different from sessions, weekends or anything exciting you ever dreamed of.   It is nothing like you imagine. It is not exciting at all. It does not give you any rush, nor kick, or fun.(If you made it reading this far, you most write in your answer to Me the words ''devotion'' with capitals.)   Slavery is about obeying, being ignored, serving and doing what you are told, not what you feel you would like to do   Does the list seem long to you? Hard/boring to read, even harder to fit into it? If you get bored to read it or any of the above does not suit you, it is a sign we are not a match.You are then welcome to continue your search and I wish you good luck   If you do find the text interesting, hang on and continue to read but bare in mind:   The below deion does not depictwho I am, it only analyzes the concept of slavery   What is Real Slavery, then?   Slavery, and I do mean Real slavery, has been around before recorded human history.   The ownership of people by other people, in its purest form - slavery - has existed for thousands of years throughout the evolution of civilized humanity.   There is a distinctive difference between CONSENSUAL slavery and non-consensual slavery.   Non-consensual slavery is ILLEGAL. I explicitly CONDEMN the practice of non- consensual, involuntary slavery. Non-consensual, or involuntary, slavery has been made illegal in every major country in the world.   So, if non-consensual, involuntary, slavery is illegal, than how can someone legally own a real slave? Oh, that is an excellent question.   Consensual slavery is not a myth; no more a myth than marriage (or a "civil union" in some cases) is or than being an employee is. Legally, you cannot use the word "slave"in any contractual agreement. It's a legal thing. However, the principals of slavery are perfectly legal as long as everyone involved is old enough to enter an agreement, capable of comprehending the magnitude and gravity of the agreement, and then fully agrees to enter the agreement.   From this point on, and everywhere else in this deion, wherever you see the words: slave, slavery or enslavement it is being referred to Consensual Slavery.   Now, while a slave very well may wind up in a monogamous relationship, owned by just one person who cherishes them as their prized property, showering their slave with love, affection, fidelity, devotion, consideration and only the best of care, where both owner and slave consider themselves as 'equal' partners, and while such an owner may consider the slave their property and while these slaves may consider themselves as property of their owner, I would not consider a relationship so described as “slavery”; no matter how brutal the S&M play may be. The above deion is generally referred to as a deep D/s relationship and not necessarily one of “slavery”.   Many people will argue that "slavery isn't real" and/or "you cannot have no choice slavery or no limits slavery (etcetera)" using the argument that: "because that would be non-consensual slavery - which is illegal".   The fact is (regardless of what any idiot you might have heard said) you most certainly are allowed to legally "give up" (or "waive") your rights. There is no law that says you are not allowed to voluntarily choose to disable any (or all) of your rights. People "give up" their rights all the time; sometimes (unfortunately) without even realizing what they are doing.  

Created using the words from a conversation between Myself and a female Dom about who was a better dominant  . .   My books are the marks on your skin as I play   My dvds are your muscle twitches that dance   My music your sighs, and cries, as I touch with kisses of fire   That touch makes you lose your mind     My taunts change the weak girl into a strong sub   The glint in my eye fills you with an eagerness to please   For I am as constant, pure, cold and loving as a God.   I AM DOM   I am merciful, I give pain     These are the elements that inflame undreamt of submission   My domination transforms pain into devotion, into worship   The knowledge that you are owned burns to the core   I own, manipulate, crush and build.   I enrapture     I pry open your hidden self and give peace   I show the path and watch as you struggle to take it   I shall alight my lips on your skin and you will be reborn   I give you life afresh     Your history, your future, your now, all reside in ME   I give you freedom. You obey to belong  

The parcel She didn’t often get the house to herself this early in the day.  The kids had been collected by their father at 3pm and her Friday evening and the weekend stretched before her.  Pub with friends tomorrow night, she thought. But this afternoon she had planned to masturbate herself stupid.  She ignored the usual, quieter, stick vibe in her bedside drawer.  Instead she slid the innocuous-looking brown box from under her bed.  It was covered in dust but, inside, her large black mains wand was pristine.  She stripped off, put some lube onto the large head and lay on her bed; legs spread wide. Something was waking her up.  She had brought herself to orgasm 3 times before having to stop because her clit was too sensitive for her to make herself hold the wand there any longer, and she must have dozed off.  The light through her curtains had dimmed considerably and she guessed it was about 6pm.  What the hell had woken her?  Then she heard the knocking at her front door and realized that someone was outside.  Shit!  The new set of butt plugs she had ordered.  She didn’t want to miss the delivery; not when she had the whole weekend in front of her to try them out.  Worried about how long the delivery person had already been stood on her front doorstep, she threw on the closest thing to hand - an oversize jumper - and started down the stairs. As she approached her front door she shrugged irritably at the jumper, which was far too large and kept slipping off one shoulder.  She paused for a moment when she saw the large shape through the frosted pane of glass in her door.  Whoever was out there was enormous and she was wearing nothing but a jumper.  Quickly she reminded herself that she lived on a main road, surrounded by neighbours, and that she really wanted those butt plugs.  She opened the door. He had been about to push a card through the letterbox and go back to his van, kind of annoyed that the last delivery of the day was out and he would have to return the parcel to the depot, when the door suddenly opened.  His eyes widened in surprise and he lowered the parcel to waist level when he saw what stood in the doorway.  The woman’s long blonde hair looked delightfully tousled, like she had just got out of bed and her green eyes looked very dark.  Her exact shape was difficult to see in the shapeless jumper she wore but, as it stopped high on her thighs, he could guess that she was plump and curvy in all the right places underneath it. One of her shoulders was bare and he could see that the last of her summer tan hadn’t quite faded from it.  The woman quickly folded her arms.  He thought she looked a little embarrassed to be standing there in just a jumper.  Didn’t she realize that folding her arms pushed her very large breasts together and increased the amount of cleavage he could see?  “Lovehoney delivery for you,” he said, instantly realising that he had let slip the fact that he knew what was inside the ‘discreet’ brown box he carried.  The sight of her had obviously driven that knowledge to the forefront of his mind. Her mouth opened and she felt her cheeks turn crimson when she heard the words from the tall stranger.  Her arms unfolded and fell to her sides and, for a moment, an image of this hazel-eyed stranger pushing one of her new butt plugs into her arse as she held it open for him flashed across her mind.  She blinked and the image was gone, but she wondered how long she had stood there, staring, before stepping forwards and saying, “Yes, that’s right.” As she stepped forward he noticed that she hadn’t corrected him about the origin of the parcel.  He also noticed that she was still not quite as tall as he was, even though he was stood on a step below the level of her hallway. God she looked attractive, he thought, like she’d just finished having sex but wanted more.  She probably had her husband upstairs waiting, although he noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he said, handing the parcel to her.  He watched her flush again and say, “No, no, I’m all alone.”  As she took the parcel he found himself staring straight into her eyes.  They were dark green and seemed to be asking for something that she hadn’t articulated yet.  He couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth, “Look, I hope you don’t mind, it’s been a really long shift, please could I use your toilet?” She made a small step back into her hallway and stared at the man in front of her.  Medium build but very tall, he was wearing work boots and jeans; a casual shirt was tucked loosely into the jeans and she could see a t-shirt underneath.  Her eyes lingered on a well-worn, brown leather belt, then they travelled to his face.  His eyes were twinkling mischievously but he also looked a little nervous, like he was about to change his mind about something.  He looked strong and gentle at the same time and she felt her belly warm as she looked at him.  “Of course, the cloakroom’s just behind me.” He stepped over the threshold and pushed the door closed behind him before saying, “Thank you.”  The hallway was very small and she had stepped back into another doorway, to the left, that looked like it led to the living room.  There was a door in front of him so he took off his muddy boots and stepped through it.  The cloakroom was small; fitted under the staircase.  He suddenly wondered how he was going to urinate when his cock was semi hard.  He would have to wait for a moment to let it go down. She put the parcel on the kitchen table before returning to the living room and perching on the arm of one of the sofas.  She tried to collect her thoughts.  There was a large, strange man in her house, and she was naked apart from a loose jumper.  She quickly came to the realization that she didn’t care one bit.  In fact, she recognised that she was aroused.  Maybe because she had fallen asleep masturbating, but she suspected it was more to do with the man in her cloakroom.  If someone had stolen knowledge of the physical attributes of her ideal man, they would have created the person in her downstairs cloakroom.  She heard the flush and water running and then realized he was stood in the doorway looking at her again.  Making a decision, she straightened her back and shoulders and confidently asked, “Would you like a nice hot coffee before you head off?” He had been about to thank her again and say his goodbyes, when the woman with the just fucked hair and bedroom eyes thrust her tits out and invited him to stay for a coffee.  He agreed but, as she asked him to follow her into the kitchen, he realized he was playing with fire here.  He told himself, and by that he meant his cock, to wait for a very clear signal before committing himself to making a move.  After all, perhaps all the 40-something women in this suburb invited delivery men into their homes for coffee, whilst strolling around in next to nothing, just to tease and give themselves something to talk about at the school gates the next morning. She flicked the kettle on and took milk out of her fridge, noticing that he had leant himself on the back of one of her kitchen chairs.  Watching her.  She could see the parcel containing the butt plugs on the table behind him and her cheeks blushed again.  He had folded his arms across his chest and crossed

Tonight Im sitting here typing remembering the past.This used to be my main life.It was not on fetlife but another bdsm site. Hours turned into years as I sat and waited for my first Master. . It was more than online but He kept me online . I was trained to wait. He was a Dragon.There have been other Dragons. They seem to find me or me find them. I rarely drink but I'm drinking and I'm in a mood but Im not drunk. I need to back up and say at least they name themselves Dragon. I have my own ideas of what Dragons really are. Im not being disrespectful. I just need to get things out before I explode. One is hardly ever here online. One does write and I want to write back and say more but I just cant. Im just going through so much stuff. I start therapy tomorrow. Yay * sarcastic tone* a vanilla therapist trying to help me with relationships etc when I know that they will have no fucking idea what bdsm really is.

 StrictLovingWify