Things I need - i.e.- things you can offer It comes up a lot that subs write me with their list of wants. Usually, they don't bother to ask what I want. Occasionally, there will be a subbie that realizes that in a sea of "gimmie gimmie" they may actually have to offer to GIVE something in return. The brightest of them (very rare) offer before they ask to receive. They look for a way to make themselves useful, to offset the cost of the time they want me to give them. Because let's face it - if I'm spending X hours talking to them, getting to know them, negotiating their interests and limits, prepping for activities, tying/spanking/torturing/disciplining/yada yada,.... that's X hours out of my own life that I'm not getting stuff done around here. While it can be fun to do the doing part, it hardly ever actually happens, so all the time I invest in it was wasted unless they are reciprocating something. In the spirit of making it easy for the hopeful sub with a clue, here's a few things I need done or help doing that would ingratiate them to me. I need basic general housekeeping for my crazy chaotic house- dishes washed, litterboxes scooped, laundry put away, kitchen cleaned and organized... Yes, all of this could be done nude or in a maid's costume if that tickles you. I always need deep tissue therapeutic massage. Non-sexy kind. Neck, shoulders, hips, feet... I do a lot of stuff, and I wear myself out a lot. It hurts. I need someone who is good working on a roof - I need help getting the roof itself painted with a white radiant barrier. (No, that CAN'T be done nude or in a maid's costume. Nothing outside can. We don't involve the neighbors or advertise our kink. You can cross-dress for it, but it has to be appropriate to the task and setting.) I need assistance getting cinderblock pillars built on the edge of my yard, covered in molded cement stones, and the faux wrought iron fence sections installed between them. I need garden and landscape help. I need help figuring out how to lower the temperature upstairs in my sister's part of the house in summer. I could use some help working on my truck. Occasionally I reach the limits of my abilities with it, and finding a decent mechanic is rare. I need to organize my garage and my basement. I need to dig out my basement and move the dirt to a specific I need to finish the drywall in the upstairs bedroom. I plan to renovate my bathroom. Anyone with plumbing experience or skills laying marble tile would be welcome. I always have a project or ten in the works on top of everything else. Feel free to ask about them. Even if you just ask, it shows me that you at least read, and that you are considering the balance of effort. That sets you ahead of 90% of the messages I get. And yes, if you are too far away to come do any of these things in person, but want to have something to offer, I do have an Amazon Wishlist, which I can share with you by request.

Open letter to all the weirdos who keep writing me weird shit:  I often get what probably is canned messages from men here, and it's so disappointing and disillusioning.  Dude. Don't send out a message like this to someone you don't even know! The likelihood of a normal woman liking it and replying to it is infinitesimally small! Quit thinking with your dick!  I, and, again, the vast majority of thoughtful women, would no more reply to show interest in this kind of slobbering trite than they would step off a curb in front of a bus!  Grow up, man! Stop being so desperate! Get a life! Get outdoors! Do some volunteer work! Stop wanking all the time! And def stop watching so much porn!  You MAY be a great guy under all the porn induced delusions, but no one will ever know it if you don't stop making these lame attempts at wannabe Dom guy shit. This is not what being a Dom or Master is even about! You are not a white knight, you are an idiot. Get a clue, get real, and stop writing me these I want to take you to my castle in the sky email propositions!  You can thank me later. 

Hmm let's see it is now 2022, so a lot have time has passed between my last real post. So many things have gone on in my life since then. In 2019 I took part in the World Transplant Games in the UK. That was a hell of a trip. Spent a few days in London, then went north to Yorkshire, to the land of James Herriot, Castle Howard, and my friends farm. I spent 5 days helping take care of their herd of pigs. Can't wait to go back. I return to London for my last 9 days and ate great food, saw amazing things, and got to see New Japan Pro Wrestling do their first show in England. Got home just before second year started. my next games are next year in Perth Australia. I will be cycling I will have a 5k time trial, a 20km team time trial, and another 30k time trial. Boy my legs are going to hate me. I had a pair of custom painted shoes done just for the games. I am hoping to be able to get a racing suit and a helmet wrapped in the same pattern.  i am hoping to spend a bit of time in Tokyo on my way to Australia. Maybe spend 5 days. 

Hey Mistress **I am not your Mistress** Sorry hello Ma'am how are you, Will you do to me the things you do? Whips and Canes and all that stuff, I have "sub" frenzy and can't get enough, Yes I will say all the right things but never do them true, I am a shadow wanker and cum while messaging you. **No I won't, you ignored my needs, Didn't read my profile or even glance through my feed, So my needs have zero to do with what you seek, Pushing yourself first and certainly not meek,* Oh Ma'am your voice makes my knees go weak, (In boy speak damn I hope my load is expelled before she peaks) So off he went that newbie quick, without a clue on how to be mine he was such a dick, Yes we know it happens but 4 in one day, The shadow wanker news must be actively pushing my name. Obedience to me is what I like, Some laughter and a bare derriere in sight, A man who asks my consent, Before he wanks and becomes spent, Then in a restaurant a respectful man, Simping on me doing all he can, Hanging up my coat & pulling out my chair, Fetching all I need his excellent manners beyond compare, No age doesn't always develop better, Self-aware submission daily melts his mind to fetter, Only offer what you can do for me, Servant, sweetheart long term be, Fetter and bind that will to me, So he begs never to be free.

MY EXPERIENCE and WHAT FRUSTRATES ME ABOUT MANY ON THIS SITE IF YOUR GOAL IS A RELATIONSHIP, PLEASE READ THIS IN ITS ENTIRETY PRIOR TO MESSAGING  A recent encounter prompted me to share this. When I engage in conversation (messaging) with men on this site. They often comment on how refreshing to find a real woman. A woman who understands D/s and BDSM focused relationships are not sustainable, they are just for play. A woman who understands vanilla compatibilty is essential for anything real. If you are living your everyday life, involving your professional obligations, and social commitments, familial obligations, and other activities you enjoy. You need to know that person can fit into that part of your life. She needs to know the same of you. Presumably you have already discussed and determined an alternative lifestyle, or kink compatibility. Now its time to determine cerebral, physical chemistry and the sustainability of a real relationship That begins with the mutual sharing of information about our vanilla lives. You can still maintain anonymity, until you are ready to share who you really are out in the world.  THIS IS WHERE MY FRUSTRATIONS BEGIN.  Our most valuable commodity in life is our time. Of which we dont have an infinite amount. When we intentionally choose to gift some of our time towards a person of interest. We are saying to you I value you and want to vest my time in getting to know you. That is an act of respect.  When there is an exchange of information, its communication, sometimes people are busy, that's when you communicate to the other, it may be a few days before I reply which sets expectations regarding the response and is respectul of the other. Sometimes one party determines, maybe this isn't what i want. The respectful thing to do, is to simply say, I have decided we are not compatible after all. Thank you for your willingness to engage and share. I will continue my search and wish you luck with yours. But...this is Collarspace where many people hide who they are, and their faces behind a blank profile, or one this that is seeking the fantasy...or a very few like me..seeking something real We are all adults here. Presumably we were raised by someone, and we were taught exceptable behavior and  manners. Most of us have either currently, or at some point had a career of some kind. During that career whatever it is or was, you had to engage with other people. There were/are certain expectations of behavior, manners, and always expected to be on time  To be respectful of others time, as you would want them to be respectful of yours. These are lessons we are taught from kindergarden.. But..on this site more often than not...men will engage with you, there will be a mutual exchange of imformation. Then when you start asking about their life, which is a story that should be easy to put to words...no reply next day (but you see they are online), no reply the second day (but again you see they are online)...and then a third, fourth, etc. Why these men can't just 'grow a pair', and be honest is beyond me. Because of the randomness of profile circulation. They, make it hard for the real men and real gentlemen to be recognized and appreciated by real women like me. Now, I find myself spending my time writing this.. to say IF YOU DONT HAVE THE CAPACITY TO BE RESPECTFUL OF MY TIME....IF YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF ENGAGING IN AN OPEN AND HONEST WAY TO SEE IF WE ARE COMPATIBLE....IF YOU ARE NOT SEEKING A REAL RELATIONSHIP WITH A REAL WOMAN....IF YOU ARE NOT EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT....IF YOU ARE NOT TRULY ABLE TO RELOCATE OR CO-LOCATE, OR DON'T HAVE THE RESOURCES TO TRAVEL....IF YOU ARE NOT SEEKING YOUR LIFE PARTNER.....IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE 'TIME' TO PUT IN THE WORK TO NURTURE & DEVELOP A SUSTAINABLE COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP....IF YOU HABITUALLY OVER PROMISE & UNDER DELIVER....IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS" OR GOOD MANNERS TO REPLY TO OUR MESSAGE EXCHANGE PURSUANT TO OUR CONVERSATION...... BYPASS MY PROFILE...DO NOT SEND ME A MESSAGE!  

"She knew he was about to finish. She could tell. His grip on her hips got stronger, his breathing picked up, he started going even faster. It wasn't exactly subtle, but it wasn't anything he needed to hide anyway. She kept doing what she'd been doing from the moment he slid in: moaning, pushing back, being for him. He came. She did not. They stayed locked together panting a few moments. His cock twitching, emptying into her. Her head hung low. He gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the back of the neck.It wasn't as though she used to cum from being fucked, at least not all the time. It was just that she used to care that she didn't. There's be disappointment, there'd be frustration.Now, she didn't even notice. It didn't cross her fluffy, mostly-empty mind. The constant need was normal. The itch to be scratched had stopped being an itch, just become part of how she was. That she even could have cum from being fucked had long been forgotten.Good girls don't cum, so... what?  Nothing was missing. When he pulled out she turned around straightaway, like she'd been trained, and took his cock into her mouth. To clean herself off of him, to clean whatever drops of him he hadn't left inside her already, and to thank him for letting her be useful.It had felt good, obviously. So good. So, so good. But it wasn't for her. It was for him. Just like all of her was. She had purpose now, not like before. He'd saved her from that, given something better to her. Given her what she'd really been meant for. So being thankful was important. Certainly, much, much more important than cumming could ever be."  

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

Oh wow, that looks sexy.  I don’t want to give away what I think is the best part of the scene so I manage to change into a small leather loin cloth that ties on the sides.  Imagine Jane in the Tarzan movies.  I’m wrapped in a big towel as I change in front of everyone.  I put on a hard leather mask and collar I use to protect my face and neck from the whip.  It’s cool looking and like a medieval mask with slits over the eyes.  It will protect my face and ears from any errant lashes during the scene.  I put on some ankle cuffs and drop the towel put it away.  I’m now topless in front of a crowd of people eager to see what was going to happen.  I grab two squishy rubber balls (more on this later) in my hands and I walk under the spreader bar and my wrists are attached to the suspension cuffs and my ankles are attached to the floor chains. I’m facing the crowd as I’m getting slowly oiled up.  I know the lighting and the oil really show off the definition of the muscles of my thighs and belly.  My mind is racing now.  I know what is going to happen to my body.  I can feel eyes all over my shiny glistening flesh.  Enigma is playing in the background. I feel sexy, powerful and excited. 

I met someone recently who was so different than any experience here to date. I felt seen. It's truly a scary thing, when you hide between what you put to paper and what you keep to yourself. You don't really think anyone will notice, but you sort of hope someone does, but maybe from a safe distance. He noticed. He read everything I ever wrote here, told me his thoughts and speculations, shared some of his writing. He got goofy with me. It was just about the best everything someone could do in my book. He shared vulnerabilities with me, too. I felt valued. I felt comfortable. It made me want to be brave, at least a little. But things can change quickly. I don't know if he took it for more than it was or if something else happened, but he's gone. Maybe I said the wrong thing. Maybe he was moody. Whatever it was, we were not in sync that day. Part of me feels like one not-so-great conversation shouldn't outweigh the rest, especially in the beginning. The other part remembers that what is meant to be will always find me. He was pretty wonderful. Maybe he will find me again, and maybe we will hold patience for each other enough to find out. Maybe someone else is waiting around the proverbial corner. There is never a shortage of men. But good men, those are harder to come by. I needed some time after the liar. I think I'm ready again. 

The Particular Ache of an Empty House I have been thinking about doors lately. The specific quality of a door that opens onto something waiting for you, the difference between entering a space that is simply empty and entering one that has been prepared, held in a certain state of readiness by someone whose entire orientation for the hours you were gone has been toward your return. I know that difference in my body. I have lived on both sides of it, and I will not pretend they feel anything alike.   Right now I come home to silence. It is my silence, my space, maintained to my standards because I maintain it myself, and there is nothing wrong with it except that it is inert. A room that has not been thinking about me. A kitchen that holds no evidence of anticipation. A threshold that does not know the difference between my arrival and any other event in the day. I cross it and the space simply continues being what it was, indifferent, unchanged, requiring nothing of either of us.   I miss the other kind of threshold with a specificity that surprises me sometimes.   I miss the quality of a home that has been tended. Not cleaned in the transactional sense, though that too, but tended in the way that a person tends something they care about, with attention to what it is for and who it belongs to. The particular arrangement of a room that tells you someone has been thinking about your comfort in your absence. The light already correct. The temperature already what you prefer. The small and specific details of your own preferences reflected back at you by a space that has been held, carefully, in your image while you were elsewhere inhabiting the world.   I miss being known before I speak.   There is a warmth to genuine devotion that I do not think translates to anyone who has not felt it, because it reads from the outside as service and from the inside as something closer to being loved in the most precise and practical language available. Not the warmth of sentiment, though there is that too, but the warmth of competence directed entirely at your ease. Of someone who has studied you carefully enough that your needs arrive met before you have finished forming them into requests. That warmth is not loud. It does not announce itself. It simply exists as the temperature of the space around you, slightly and unmistakably above what the world outside provides.   I think about coming home after a hard day, the specific hard days that my body produces without my permission, the ones where the pain has been a sustained and wearing presence since morning and the outside world has asked more of me than I had available and I have given it anyway because that is what I do. I think about what it would mean to cross a threshold into a space that already knew. Where the bath had been drawn, not because I asked but because someone understood the day I was having and had moved to meet me in it. Where the room was quiet and the lighting considered and the particular tea I need when I am worn down was already steeping to the correct minute.   Where someone was waiting, not with needs of their own to present or words requiring response, but simply with presence. The warm and steady presence of a person whose purpose, in that moment, is entirely my restoration.   I built that once. I know how to build it. I know what it requires, and what it produces. I know the specific quality of peace that settles into a body that has been genuinely, competently received by someone who considers receiving you their greatest privilege.   Kahlil Gibran wrote that work is love made visible. The devotion I am describing is exactly that: love made visible not in declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct things that together produce a life that feels held. The right cup. The considered room. The hands that know where it hurts without being told. The presence that asks nothing and gives everything and finds in the giving its own complete satisfaction.   I am building toward it again. This quiet house is a temporary condition, a chapter rather than a conclusion, and I know this with the certainty of a woman who understands the difference between where she is and where she is going.   But tonight I notice the silence, and I name what it is missing, and I let myself want it fully and without apology.   The warmth of a home that has been thinking about me is always on my mind.

People are vastly different. So to find a single needle in 100 haystacks is seemingly an impossible feat.   Be yourself and be completely open and honest. Don't ever lie in order to find what your looking for because the lie will eventually come to the surface. .   In my opinion to be dominate is not to act or be mean to someone. It's not to hate or belittle in order to get someone to do what you want them to do.   Being self assured and dominate means to take care of and pass on knowledge.  To take someone and fulfill their lives and make them useful.    We all have a role to play in this universe. When your happy and content that means your exactly where you should be  and doing what you should be doing at that moment. So many people are on here searching ... searching but never finding or not really knowing what they are looking for. ( I'm a dom, no wait I'm a sub, no wait I'm a switch...wait wait maybe I'm a dom slave lesbian male )  When I talk about giving yourself up completely you should only ONLY do that to someone you trust and know that they have your best intention at heart. I'm not talking about a romantic relationship , that is silly to think that would happen that way over the internet. It's unrealistic and delusional .   I'm only talking to those that are looking to be owned and cared for. In turn you need to think about what you would give up to get that.

If you do not have permission all ready to live and work in the USA, then I am not interested in you.It is very difficult to emigrate to the USA.  I cannot sponsor you - not from lack of will, but because of the rules.I have nothing against potential slaves contacting Me, but I will NOT sort out immigration issues for you.    I also will not wait until you do.  It can take years.So, if you all ready have permission to live and work here or dual citizenship - great.   If not -  don't bother contacting Me.See the US Immigration website for the rules.

My ultimate goal is to find a man to make me his housewife, so I decided to write some things about what that means to me. A housewife is just a fancy way to say you are a slave in a 24/7 TPE. A housewife is property, a housewife has no rights, only those a master gives them. A housewife gives their mind and body to a master, a housewife is not able to make the decisions that are in their best interest, so a master takes that role. They choose the clothes that are best for their housewife to wear that day, a master knows the most important things that need to be done and make a list for the hou to complete for the day. The typical day of the housewife consists of cooking for a master, cleaning the masters house, and completing the duties a master tells them to do. A master cares for their housewife, and if a housewife does something wrong or does not do something correctly, the master punishes the housewife, to teach them and help them grow. A housewife gives their mind and body to the master, a master deserves this for caring for the housewife, this means their body is the master's to use amd abuse whenever and however they choose. I know there is more to this but these were just some of my thoughts.

My Master naturally controls my sex life. I'm not allowed to plesure myself without His permission; interestingly, He prefers that I don't wear my chastity cage: He says He wants me to build my self control and deny myself willingly for Him.   I am proud I am able to do this not just because it means I'm doing what I'm told but because it's a way of showing Him how much He mans in my life. When W/we speak on Skype though, and I know He is watching me (even though Master chooses not to tun on His camera), then He allows me to dip my hand into my panties and play with myself. That positive reinforcement between meetings with my Master and sexual pleasure is very powerful at many levels. At a purely physical level the association is fairly clear, but I also like the psychological dimension - the idea that I only get pleasure when He gets pleasure (from watching me). It's so helpful in weaning me away from my old fake life in which I thought only of my own pleasures and accepting my new slave life where my pleasures count for nothing. Only Master matters.    

So one day you find you have lost the one thing that makes you whole. Taken without rhyme or reason. You devote your life to other aspaspects. Your daughter, work, your home… She grows up and begins her own life. Work was good and helped you live a good life. But suddenly you find yourself in a quiet moment and the darkness swarms in.. you miss the control. You miss the power. You use the tenderness. You miss a touch. But the world you knew has changed. You’re expected to be brash and expected to put your life out there for all to see. I had intimacy. I have safety. I have protection and received absolutely devotion. I took when I desired, and I held when she cried. Why can I not find someone who wants the same? And no I am not trying to replace her, or cling to a lost memory of control. I mean why has the world changed so much, that just wanting more than play is seen as old fashioned.

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

I LOATHE setting up WordPress.  I mean.. .GAAHHH! I miss doing things via .html where I had control over what went where, and how things looked. Yes, it was a LOT of work doing things like forms, sidebars, etc, but at least it went where I wanted it I still have to get dominaangeldmort dot com back on it's own space, but for now, at least the page is back up, parked on my angeldmort domain, and I have the podcast started, sort of The first run through is up, and it does play, although I think I need to re-record it, so it doesn't sound so... flat?  and I can't figure out how to put the subscribe or donate buttons on there, etc The link is up on my fet group, if anyone wants to have a look It's called Why You Can't Find a Dominant Woman If anyone is good with WordPress, or web design in general, feel free to offer some advice It's a start.

  An insight for a slave downunder to understand the sadist side of me.   I found along the way somethings very interesting.   Pain   Pleasure   Intense pain   Intense pleasure.   An hour later, while marks remain, you can not remember how either felt so it must be performed again   And again   And again.     Endorphins   The little body chemicals that respond to pain over time, and not just mask it, but make it feel pleasurable.     For example, if you ever hit your shin very hard on something, it really really hurts... but if you pay attention, your body may well begin to feel better, 'good', 'happy'.    These are those endorphins taking hold just as they do during a serious orgasm.   It is setup with very strict escape proof bondage.  Whispers in the ear of the hopelessness she is in, the pain and abuse that is coming, she is softly petted before the sudden abuse envelopes her, and she will wiggle and moan and scream and plead but nothing will relent.  Nothing will hold back the pain she will feel   Nothing.   And she is reminded of this verbally, which often primes her mind for the direction will will take, and since she has no control, she is told to release it all without holding anything back.   The mind begins, anticipate and then demand such as it goes along, thus you have slave screaming 'harder' and 'more'  and dont stop.  Do not ever stop.   It is a semi-conscious state many call subspace but it is just the effect of endorphins.  The more the better as they say   Thus you have the state where the sadist feeds off the slaves love of and need for pain and she encounters pleasure in abundance that she is not allowed in any other way.   I have whipped women long and often and very hard to achieve the end result.  While they are passed out I watch them to make sure they are breathing ok and such.   When they come out of it, I teach them to parade in front of me after I release them.  Show off their marks, their colors, which ones hurt the most and inspired the deepest reaction.  Then to kneel and forehead on my right boot to thank me and then forehead on my left boot to beg to do it again.   And I hold them for a while and let them recover more whispering how the next one will feel and how long it will last.   Then they can go about their daily slave duties with purpose.   They will fell totally secure and safe in their purpose.   Its a very nice place to be.

I again don't know why I am writing this, except for the fact it lets me get some thoughts on [digital] paper and prevent me from doing something else im *supposed* to be doing.    So in 7 days, Andrea should be getting dressed to go to a girls night out. That sentence should not be as scary as it feels now that I've said it.  I want to go out for the night as a woman. I know I am going to have my stockings and bodysuit under my jeans and sweatshirt, changing at an undisclosed location before the party. Probably going to pack my pumps but still am undecided on that. Choices. Choices cloud my brain. I know Andy is an awkward dirty old man who can enter most conversations. I dont know who Andi is. Does she lead with jokes? Does she put her hair up, or keep it down? Necklace? Earrings?    I want to do this but as the 168 hours start counting down, more and more mental stress starts to slip in. I dont know if i should pack some stockings to make my boobs look bigger, or if i should go as is?    How do you girls do this daily?

How Plucky Duck is an example of bad BDSM   Something that popped into my head this afternoon - Waaaaay back in 1992 there was a cartoon movie called Tiny Toons Adventure- How I spent my vacation. The trials and tribulations of Plucky Duck in that are the perfect way to describe many of the issues people run into with BDSM. (Stay with me here. I'm not nuts. At least not about this.) Upon hearing that his friend Hamilton Pig's family is headed to HappyWorldLand, he immediately throws himself at them until Hamilton asks if they can take him. They agree, and he hops into the car with them. Plucky then has a very long, unpleasant trip where he discovers that they have a very different idea of how a road trip should go. They don't use air conditioning because the dad says "it wastes gas" but they can't roll down the windows because mom says "people will think we can't afford air conditioning." They don't eat fast food, and offer to share the food they packed, but of course, it's not what he likes. They pick up a hitchhiker, and are oblivious to the radio reporting a dangerous homicidal maniac, and also oblivious to his trying to violently murder Plucky. And so on. When they get there, they don't ride rides- they stroll through the park, admiring everything, and stroll out, while he loses his mind about having taken this nightmare ride with no payoff. All of this is a perfect illustration of how people get into BDSM and then find themselves in terrible situations. Like Plucky, they didn't bother to do any fact finding or discussion beforehand, to find out if THEIR vision and definitions for the trip matched his. There was no meeting of minds or shared understanding of comforts, interests, etc. He didn't do any negotiation to make sure he got anything he wanted out of it. He didn't plan, at all, for how the the trip (session) would be supplied, or prepped for, or conducted during, or have a way out (safe word) to get him back home if he wasn't happy. He was too focused on what he wanted to bother finding out if the people he expected to provide it had an intention of doing so. Or if they even understood what he wanted to start with. They had a plan, they had prepped for that plan, they had a goal for it, and he begged to be part of it without asking a single question. And then he was unhappy the whole time. And the whole way back, one assumes, although they don't show that. Just his sulking to his friends after about how terrible his whole summer was, and how soured he was on the whole idea now. He did not do anything required to inform himself, but instead gave blanket uninformed consent to everything that happened after. And then he blamed them for how it went. I see this ALL the time played out by newbies to the lifestyle. They are so desperate to feel the way they think they will feel, and to get the experience they have seen in videos that they jump at the first thing that's offered without doing ANY of the boring, unsexy groundwork necessary ahead of time to make sure it fulfills that. They don't read anything, so they don't know the terminology that would allow them to understand what was being said to them. *Or not said.* They don't educate themselves so they know what questions to ask, or what to ask for when the opportunity presents itself. They don't learn how to spot a scammer, or a fraud, or an abuser. They don't practice safety and negotiation, so they get scammed, sometimes out of thousands of dollars. Or they get a session, with someone who talks a big game but has had limited or no actual education or experience themselves, leaving them with damage (which can be hard to explain in the emergency room.) Some of them even end up losing their homes, getting their paychecks sent to someone else's bank account while they live in servitude they never intended, with no money and no way out. Extreme example, but I've known people who had to literally drive to another state to help someone escape with just the clothes on their back. So many people say that talking/reading/educating yourself about it first "takes the fire/fun/passion out of it." Unfortunately, NOT talking/reading/doing the work up front to learn can literally take all the fun out of everything permanently. So much of what we do is borderline dangerous if not practiced by someone who's done all that work. If you don't know enough, you can't know if that amazingly sexy potential new someone is full of crap and will leave your hands numb and your junk non-functional for days, or months, or forever. (That's delicate equipment and its easy to wreck the hydraulics, yannow?) So TL/DR - you can't safely "learn by doing" in this, and failing to ask questions and discuss stuff can leave you with some horrifically bad experiences. Do the boring part so you can do the fun stuff for a long time.

Master's Writings Fundamentals: What Turns You on is Good & The Struggle Against Social Norms Far too often I find individuals hung up on their internal permission to lean into what turns them on. They’ve discovered this or that excites them, but due to baggage from social norms, upbringing, or who knows what prior learning or pressures they experienced in their lives, they struggle to allow themself the space or freedom to explore this desire more fully. It tends to lurk in the realm of things taboo, and frequently causes them feelings of shame, guilt, or a need to closet this part of themself off from the world and hide. I was chatting with a submissive the other day, who was struggling with a kink, they clearly found exciting, but felt immense guilt each time they approached it. They were essentially stuck in this tug of war between internal acceptance and desire fulfillment of this new found pleasure. This causing significant anguish emotionally as well as guilt for liking this new thing but knowing it was “wrong” somehow. As a person and as a submissive, they were seriously struggling with this both as a person and as a submissive. I believe there are some fundamentals that I believe are core to this conversation, both for them as well as for others who struggle similarly: Note: I will preface all of the following thoughts with the limitation that I am referring to pleasures, fetishes, kinks and actions that are consensual and safe for all involved.   Life is short, enjoy it however you can. I recognize this is a hedonistic view of things but life can be hard at times, I believe we should find pleasure and enjoy it wherever we can. What feels good, turns you on and brings you joy should be enjoyed. Pleasure is a very personal experience and as is the internal permission to allow yourself to enjoy the sensation. Seek out those pleasurable things and allow yourself to let them bring you happiness. Life is short. What turns you on is good and Social Norms are just other people’s opinion. Regardless of what that is. If it floats your boat, its a good thing. Never let anyone else tell you its not. Most of us were brought up with social stigmas around sex, gender, nakedness, and so on. We were taught by parents, church, media what is what is evil or wrong. Social norms, prejudices, stigmas, and things designated as taboo are passed on by others. We are brought up believing them and because of that, they hold power over us and they are hard to shake off. Yet, I believe, so long as it does not impact another person, you and you alone have the right to determine what is right and good for you. You hold solvency over your mind, will, and body. As soon as you can see feelings of wrongness, taboo, or evil, as opinions conveyed to you by others. As soon as you begin thinking, evaluating and choosing for yourself what is right, good and pleasurable, you will be ready to embrace “what turns you on is good”, and you will be open to far more than you could imagine. The journey of self discovery is an essential one. I believe discovering what you like and why you like it, is one of the beautiful journeys we get to experience as we enter the lifestyle. If we can maintain an open mind, open heart, and free ourself from feelings of guilt, shame, self judgment as we take this journey, we can learn more than we ever thought we could about who we are in life. There is an entire world out there of kinks, fetishes, aspaspects and combinations that may excite you, intrigue you, turn you on, or turn you off. Discovering these is a beautiful journey that goes far deeper than whether or not you like a thing. Understanding the why and the how, exploring what it is about a thing that speaks to you, brings a deeper understanding of who you are in ways you could never imagine. Learning Acceptance for others builds acceptance of self. As we discover our own likes and dislikes, we learn that what turns you on is not always what turns others on. Accepting ourself and our own personal preferences requires us to embrace the idea that YKINMKBYKIOK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink But Your Kink Is OK). Here in the lifestyle community, we don’t judge, don’t condemn, or shame what others enjoy, just as we would never want to be judged, condemned, or shamed for what we like. The vanilla world is full of instances of non-acceptance and persecution, but not here. Accepting others perspectives and desires as different than your own, helps you find acceptance for yourself, and is a powerful thing. When you can step outside yourself to see the struggle and understand it for why and why it is, you will be able to free yourself to understand yourself deeper and truly explore. To this submissive I spoke to, and others why may read this, I wish you a healthy, positive, and guilt free journey in the lifestyle. I hope you can embrace your pleasures fully and allow yourself to revel in them. As someone wise once told me, when you discover your “Freak Flag”, that truth you’ve found about yourself, Waive it high and proudly.

== Results from bdsmtest.org ==94% Submissive91% Rope bunny90% Voyeur71% Exhibitionist70% Primal (Prey)66% Experimentalist 60% Non-monogamist58% Slave44% Masochist 43% Boy/Girl40% Brat 37% Switch36% Vanilla30% Pet17% Ageplayer 16% Degradee

52M Dom/Daddy london uk, Seeks *relocatable* live-in 18-25 any cis girl must willing to Anal Training i am Master/DD would say that I am not a loser, or dying for pussy (maybe for a real sub and her Back door=butt=asshole=Anal Training for younger female),I am not crazy or dangerous etc, but a person, pleasant, appearance, polite (more or less)and I like to dominate, I am willing to Anal Training for younger= one cis girl willing to be mine anal slut, must not be committed (with other cocks=which mean if you think you are naughty you are probably ...), who wants to discover and cultivate with me(no others) the pleasure her submission and live as a proper 1950s girl.all with honesty and pleasure for both, keeping in mind that is not a game)she must into a beautiful and intense time ..of course after care and use of the safeword is paramount in a long term relationship (even short but again 'no take away') ,if interested could write me on telegram analmandingo or PM ,NO 4 SEX CHAT OR if u want MONEY find a pig NOT ME!.I am only interested in sub/slave want to be own by me only for monogamous LTR ( or is full of wanna be dom and domme if you are looking for sex go to them as probably you rubbish like them so shite go with shite ). U must be in London uk 🇬🇧 , no cyber no fake ! Basic tasks for the girl what to be my slave 1_ you must be naked or basic dressed you will be touched regularly by me I love to have my hands all over you 2) you must suck a minimum of 2hrs per day my cock .3. you will get spanked or whips minimum 30 shots per day as to remind you, you are mine .4. you will be rape play daily as ATM mouth fuck .5. you must rim me regularly after u cum it relax me .6, you need to wear a plug Or plug tail Or the hook posture ,7.piss whore you will get my golden rain in or on your face ,8, you must wear a collar as show of respect to me.and you will be training to wear a plug daily t! .9. do what I said or get punish the way i want or like . listen to what I need and make sure I get it from you 10. You will sign a contract to show me you understand Snapchat DomPadrone telegram analmandingo not for sex chat i do not fit in. never did.never wanted to , I do not mix with sh*t.

I stand before you. A Master Hypnotist trained in the ways of seduction and coercion. The collar that enslaves you still wreathes your lovely neck you can feel it, but how it has become invisible is unclear. You sense my hunger and begin to unbutton your blouse while unrestrained, addictive pleasure courses through your mind and body. Your blouse slips silently to the floor as you begin to remove your brazier and it suffers the same fate. Hoping desperately that your Master is pleased, you help your skirt slide down your legs to join the rest of you clothing. I stand close, forcing your gaze to meet mine, extinguishing the last of your free will. I fondle your breasts then the curve of your waist. I run my hand slowly up your spine and pull you close. You shudder and and struggle to remove your panties. Now as you stand before your Master, unadorned, a tidal wave of arousal washes through you but you there is no release in sight. I motion and you sink slowly to the floor, fully naked, legs folded beneath you. Looking up at your Master, enraptured, doe eyed, staring longingly into my face, you place your hands on your thighs just the way you know that you should and feel the magic of my will and words bind you firmly into that position. I touch your lower lip with my thumb and slowly open your mouth. I slip my fingers every so carefully around the lips that will soon caress my cock. You feel yourself growing wetter, wetter everywhere as your desire for me grows but still you are not allowed to cum. I touch your cheek, the lobe of your ear, slide my hand past your supple shoulder and as I reach down and let my finger encircle your left nipple my hard cock brushes your cheek and you are set aflame by passion as I command you cum. Explosions of rapture seize your body and you are racked in orgasm. Cum now! Harder! Cum for your Master! Harder! I slip my stiff cock into your mouth and as you close your soft lips around it another wave of frenzied pleasure rips through your body. Heaving in orgasm you suck and you lick frantically trying to make me climax. Finally, you taste the saltiness of me, feel the warmth on the back of your throat as I cum into your mouth. Greedily you swallow my gift as the next wave of indescribable pleasure tears through your body setting every nerve, every cell aflame. I leave you burning as I slowly extract my member. Your mouth hangs open wide, not knowing what else to do. You still can't move as the last bit of my germ drips from the corner of your mouth onto your nipple. I look down at my perfect slave and tell you to relax, sleep now and you collapse wearily to the floor spent, happy to the core of your soul that you pleased your Master this time. I pick you up, take you to bed. I gently kiss your lips, the small of your throat, a nipple, naval, your clit. I circle about you. Open your trembling legs. Run my hands down the velvety, warm flesh of your inner thighs as phase two of your training begins.

switzerland is limited. by what? yes we have a healty system, good finances, gorgeous places, multicultural food and here its very clean. but our bdsm comunity is....small, only 2 principal places lausanne on the center switzerland and zurich on the north. most of the kinkster are spreaded around the country not knowing other ways than classified website. rare knows fetlife.. no one know website like this one. if youre lucky and do shibari or even soft bdsm you can find youre partner or even more. but if youre like me with a lot of kinks, more passionate, curious and creative, your unfortunate... you will need to be very pacient or...search outside... then the only way is to find person who can relocate themself, and this type of person are rare. because a lot want your money/scam, others prefer only online, or even you can find fantaisist person searching only to excite themself and when things turn real they stop. thats tiring and difficult to filter all this mess, ive been thinking for a long time but for me switzerland is not a good place for bdsm, theres a lot of countries better like USA, germany, france but only in paris, ive been thinking if asian country have better community too, like china, korea or even japan.   i hope someday i will find someone diversified like me to like a total lifestyle.

  Thoughts on submission   Submission is not about being used, Submission is about being of use.   Submission is not thinking less of yourself, Submission is thinking of yourself less.   Submission is not about what is done to you, Submission is what you can do for Them.  

A fantasy of mine..."My internal world is rich with wicked fantasies, and I know the feeling of a tortured existence when those fantasies and desires are not fulfilled. If you’re looking for a girl who is willing and eager to open herself up to your darkest desires and most erotic dreams, then please read further.  Have you ever had a desire to see an eager, willing thing serve your every whim? Or fantasised about being tied up and chastised, told you’re a naughty boy whilst your mistress tells you just how she ought to punish you? Or perhaps you may have thought about a night out for some discreet public play, toy in you or your partner whilst the other holds the remote? Whatever your fantasy, I’d like to make it a reality.  I derive immense enjoyment from fulfilling another’s needs and desires, thus, their interests become my own. So, if you are yet to take that first step into the delicious world of sex and needing a friendly smile and eager attitude to illuminate the path, have a fantasy that you are dying to explore, or have an interest in exploring various kinks to discern what tickles your tail feather, I’m offering my body and oh-so excited mind to bring those desires to fruition.  So boys and girls, if you feel our interest may align please message me for, what could be, a wild and delicious ride. "

We all know this time of the year - sometimes happy, sometimes sad.  I'm comforted knowing that every Christmas I've had has been blessed by My mother and her love of Me.  No more gifts, no more memory or shopping or preparing or sharing - yet when My mother was in her right mind and health, WOW did she put on a show for her one and only!  Sometime leading up to Christmas, My mother would arrive with a S T A C K of presents, all wrapped in the same paper, piled at least 4 feet and wrapped with large ribbon on both sides.  Atop the stack, would look like firecrackers were going off with so much fluff and stuff!  Christmas morning I would always have to open two to everyone elses one because I had so many gifts from here.  Of course she would make a stack for each of her special people, but there piles were smaller, maybe sometimes halfway up the' tower for Powers' lol  I would always be very smiley and gracious becasue I knew how loved I was - not about the amount of gifts (for many were the very simpliest of novelties) but because she always made My existence about Pomp and Circumstance.  I have known a very deep and abiding love by both of My parents and I am grateful and I miss them very much. Merry Christmas to all.  Even if it is not that merry, know you are not alone and your life and person have meaning and importance. May this New Year bring us all the joy we can handle - wellness body, mind and spirit. As always, thank you for sharing with Me and My very best to you all.

How many of us find the treasure we've sought for so long?  How many of us give up and just accept what is in front of us?  How many of us are truly sincere and willing to kiss a few frogs  while trying to find our kinky slave or the pearl.   Someone suggested I should put up a picture and that My feed would blow up.  That's not what I want.  Let's be real, the one or two or three I want may not be here, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Lol I'm sure there is a more up to date analogy.   Yet we persevere hopeful for a meaningful connection.  They are few and far between, but on ocassion we meet someone, strike up a conversation and even a friendship.   Where is the boy you want to beat when frustration is high?  Where is the slave You want to kneel and do whatever You  command? Where is the man you want to rub Your back and have a meaningful conversation with? it's a dichotomy, can you find both in the same individual or do You have a stable of eager boys ready to serve? Time to find what's right for Me!  The search continues.  Goddess

Thank you for all who have congratulated Goddess Tabitha and I on our wedding! Im getting the same questions over and over so Im going to summerize the events of the day here. Was this a BDSM wedding? Not really. The members of our BDSM group all met at Master Geoffery and slave Tammy's home for the ceremony. Master Geoffery actually became a minister in the Universal Life Church so that he could preform our special dayThe food was a potluck. I know what you're thinking but the feast was amazing! Master Richard and slave Wendy brought 6oz lobster tails and Master Thomas and slave Gina brought Ribeyes. There was so much food they only cooked half of the ribeyes as half of a ribeye added to the lobster tails made a huge meal and that doesn't include the clam chowder or the shrimp coctails. If I hadn't been wearing a corsett I would have burst from eating all of that great food.Speaking of my corsett. I wore a white underbust corsett with garter straps and white stockings. I found this absolutly adorable pair of white lace stilettos at JJ's house online. ADORABLE! Goddess Tabitha whispered into my ear during our first dance that aftrer the wedding was over she was claiming my heels as hers LOL She did too!The veil. I found the cutest veils at Davids bridal. Did you know that they have a create your own veil option? I bought one off the rack, but if you're creative you can run wild.We wrote our own vows. Mine were the standard love honor and obey bridal vows adding an oath to my complete submission and obedience for as long as I live. Goddess Tabitha omitted the obedience part and added an oath of Dominance and protection for as long as she lives.I gave her a 1ct solitare from Jarred and she gave me a simple gold band with the word slave inscribed inside. Then she suprised us all by giving me new nipple rings as well. It was so cute!I wasn't wearing my ankle or wrist cuffs but I did have a white leather collar on and it was also new and fit my outfit perfectly.No whips and chains although some of the Doms gave me a seious love pat or two on my ass as we danced lolLastly, for the guys who keep asking, no I wasn't allowed panties and my breasts were bare as it was an undercup corsett. I don't know why the men find that to be such a need to know thingIt was the best day of my life! Oh, again foir the guys, there was NO bdsm play on our wedding night. Just went to bed with the goal of making love as many times as we could.Best day of my entire life!

Received a suspicious email on Fetlife from a supposed dominant. While this kind of thing is a regular occurrence, I could not find this exact text online, so here is the original message in full. Hope it helps someone to avoid being scammed... - I am Mistress Taylor, I moved recently to London. I have been visiting before now but recently had a job transfer and this time I am sure of staying around here for at least 4 years. so I need a submissive partner who is close and can be pleasing, obedient and able to make me achieve my dominant erotic desires. I strongly believed that females are superior. That is why I am not asking you to serve me, it is your duty as a male to serve me and do so with your total devotion. I have a dominant nature that wouldn't go away so looking for a submissive to enslave is only logical. It would be interesting to have a discrete Mistress/slave relationship with you but it is not as easy as you simply wanting something and then getting it. If you are available to be owned and controlled by me and also able to meet with me soon to start your training send me your email and I will send questions that I have for you and some photos. We can continue to communicate from there too. Mistress Taylor. I responded giving a junk email, to which I rapidly received this follow-up email, accompanied by photos which do not match up with their Fetlife profile photo... Note the very unlikely push towards real-life meetings, and the unusual emphasis on a speedy reply including phone number and incriminating photos... I am hoping we can arrange a meeting soon but only if I feel that you are serious and passionate about serving me real time. I am not interested in giving online training but to meet and be served. Anyways I am in London for a long time and willing to meet for erotic and kinky times if I find that we share similar desires and kinks. Adore my photos and you should send me photos of yourself as well no matter how slutty or kinky. For now you should answer my questions as quickly and honestly as you can. 1. Do you believe in female superiority? 2. What is your phone number and can you text with it? 3. Are you willing to be collared and owned for the sake of my pleasures only? 4. Why do you want to be a slave instead of a normal partner? 5. Do you like to dress in a certain way while serving your Mistress? 6. Do you have experience in serving a Mistress as her slave? 7. What do you do for a living? 8. Can You listen and follow directions? 9. Do you have any major fantasies that you’d like to explore? 10. What are your limits? Finally, I need you to place a number from 0-10 near each "item" on this list of bdsm activities to rate your interest in it with regards to serving as my slave. 10 is the highest rating. If you have no knowledge about the activity then simply write "NK". I hope with these I can be more open to accepting you. Chastity / Strapon / Pain (etc etc)  A couple of emails later, the nature of the scam was revealed... I can meet you on a weekday or weekend but as far as a first meeting is concerned, I have a fetish of meeting in a bdsm facility for the first meeting with my slave. It gives me a proper avenue to orientate and train my slave. I know a place that gave me the thrill of proper domination. I used one of their rooms the last time I was in this area. Let me know if you wish to meet in this place and you could book us a day or two there.  

You felt something real when you found me. That pull you’re describing… you don’t need to question it. Come here. Be still for a moment and let everything else fall away. In my presence, you don’t have to chase, you don’t have to prove, you don’t have to search anymore. You’re safe here. Not because you’ve lost yourself… but because you’ve found where you belong. If you’re going to be devoted to me, then let it come from clarity, from trust, from the quiet certainty that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. I don’t need you overwhelmed. I need you steady… focused… and aligned with me. So come closer. Stay here. I chose you — Mistress Nikki Vixen

Sometimes it feels a bit awkward 'Cause we don't have much in common People say we're alike They say we've got the same hair We talk about making music But I don't know if it's honest And you can't tell what you're feeling I think I know how you feel girl it's so confusing sometimes to be a girl   "Girl, how do you feel being a girl? (Girl, girl, girl) Girl, how do you feel being a girl, girl? (Girl, girl) Man, I don't know, I'm just a girl (girl, girl, girl, girl) Yeah, I don't know if you like me Sometimes I think you might hate me Sometimes I think I might hate you Maybe you just wanna be me You always say, "Let's go out" So we go eat at a restaurant Sometimes it feels a bit awkward 'Cause we don't have much in common People say we're alike They say we've got the same hair We talk about making music But I don't know if it's honest Can't tell if you wanna see me Falling over and failing And you can't tell what you're feeling I think I know how you feel The industry loves to spin And when we put this to bed The internet will go crazy I'm glad I know how you feel 'Cause I ride for you, Charli (Charli, Charli)" this one is going to be shorter than usual because charli and lorde said it all. in the sophia context, carli is me. lorde is me. all the music performers are me. on a bigger screen. it's not the first time i've said it's not the last. if you are especially resonating with mjy writing, my profile, my page and you're femme(afab, woman, transgender, third gender, non gender, queer, femme man, metrosexual, whatever the label, the sophia aka divine feminine original soul is fluid...feminity is fluid and therefore the body and gender identity is wild in it's presentation on the spiritual tip) alternative, dark goddess, quirky, subversive, love different, feel different, relationship different, kink oriented, gothy, kawaii y, nerd y, geeky, on the add/austim 'spectrum' label or not, atheist or not, attracted to mermaids, space, aliens, sanrio, all the things....you might be me too. you might be charli too. you might be lorde too. the lyrics say it.....our ages are different, our race is vast, our locations are vast. the way it played out is slightly different. but there's a deep pattern. this soul is a stubborn bitch raging against the 'music industry' of life..the structure that isn't right isnt' working.....we're given harder deals of life than most. we're touching hard subjaspects of emotions relationships crappy family origins, and rough deals. we're touching a sense of deep loneliness and otherness when other ladies get to fit in and feel accepted at a level we never will...from someone like me who literally navigates 3d alone with a deep rich online community and community of people who love me but have more obligations and stuff that just translates to a more distant but deep resonnance.....to someone who has a husband or wife or partner and  kids and family but still has that deep sense of not fitting in. we feel deeply we love deeply we devour those we love and we have a fierceness in us that is trying to be quelled and normalized and packaged....we can only be eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and scott pligram in portions us. not just in our head....our livelihoods, our housing, our basic needs at times or maybe not basic..just the words actions of others viscerally tell us.... we can't be us..shape up morph and change or get destroyed. and were dark goddesses. we don't cave in like the others and submit. we know we're up against the powers at control and we still fight back even if we fall fucking hard. but we don't' give in....we don't become torturous violent vicious spirits....we hold our light navigating the tight rope of dark and being fully consumed by the abyss. we keep creating we keep screaming into the void we keep doing like sister lana says, 'our rare jazz collection, our beat poetry' we're so talented at our individual souls gifts in this bigger puzzle 'we can sing most anything' even when the 3d world doesn't properly compensate or secure us for this. "Girl, it's so confusing sometimes to be a girl Girl, girl, girl, girl Girl, it's so confusing sometimes to be a girl Girl, girl, girl, girl Girl, how do you feel being a girl?" i have this higher perspective where my spirituality and deep inner work has cracked a code. in the auras of pictures or the words or just the being i see it. you're definately separate from me. but on a deep level i see it. you're me. even if they don't' see it or recognize it or want to admit it...deep down i know. you're me too. "Man, I don't know, I'm just a girl Girl, girl, girl, girl Yeah, I don't know if you like me Sometimes I think you might hate me Sometimes I think I might hate you Maybe you just wanna be me You always say, "Let's go out" So we go eat at a restaurant Sometimes it feels a bit awkward 'Cause we don't have much in common People say we're alike They say we've got the same hair We talk about making music But I don't know if it's honest Can't tell if you wanna see me Falling over and failing And you can't tell what you're feeling I think I know how you feel" i navigate being on my own dark goddess/alt girl sophia journey but a deeper level of what i am. (if anyone is curious and wants a book reference that energetically activates this on a deep level, check out sister kaia ra. trigger warning early on without warning she talks about her betrayal and incursion event of why she had to grow up fast and what most people hear and think is heinous and something you can't recover from....her's is more intense than mine..the control is the family of origin 'hero's journey' but the variable is the degree to which it happened in this experiment on earth. and because she's where she's at she doesn't trigger warning or hide it. she's raw and says it.  ) when i see one of us breaking because their michaels hurt their heart and their daddy let them down i break. not because it just happened to me but i feel that collective hurt. when i see the struggles with our whack ass mom or sometimes dad, usually mom i grieve not just because of my own situation.  when i see the world take us out of our work or shit on our dreams i feel it so deeply. when i see us struggling with the physical issues of chronic whatever this or that or whatever issue we have because the body takes the toll i hear it. we're navigating a world that as the song says loves to see us not united. focus on the little variables of what makes us different and not support us. "I was so lost in my head And scared to be in your pictures 'Cause for the last couple years I've been at war in my body I tried to starve myself thinner And then I gained all the weight back I was trapped in a hatred And your life seemed so awesome I never thought for a second My voice was in your head "Girl, you walk like

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.

I slept most of the time since yesterday evening, Shabbat has that effect on me. checking messages in bed, listening to music, crying. The phone and the door (both for his mother) woke me twice. The bible reading today, when I was finally up, is what made me decide to go back and take a snippet of what WAS going to be in my profile, but I cut out, from 24 hours ago. How long 24hours can be! May I say, for those who are cruel to me, please realize this little flat was my home for 5 years. Then I went to the farm and came back to what is MY HOME. Yes, I know, it was Els' flat and not mine, but my little soul had made roots here. It has been my little safe haven from the storms of life. I could come in here and cry or laugh and be with myself these last 14 months. Now I am leaving and everything that has been in this flat since 1992 is going to go. He lived here all his adult life. I feel the Throne and the Kingdom and the King are gone. I am watching them all dissolve in a  very short period of time. G-D IN HIS GRACE knew that my 365 day bible today would be 1 KINGS 1. I have not read the bible as an adult. I did not have ears to hear or a heart to understand.  IT WAS ALL ABOUT THE ANNOINTED choice of G-d for the next KING. What is so strange is many shift between secular/vanilla and BDSM without understanding that they are doing it. YES, the Man who was in all aspaspects my Dom for 9 years has died. But I am not a vanilla girl. I am a slave...and that means I am King-less. I am Kingdom-less, I am Authority-less. This is all fine and dandy for a secular modern woman who hates Male Authority over her. It is soul destroying for me. Thank you all who, upon hearing that I was dramatically changing my situation to home-less and wished me all the best, I now know you. Thank you for making me realize you have NO IDEA what it means for a slave to be without a Master. I know El' was not always a good King. BUT for whatever reason, this little slave was his until he was no more.(he saw me as a subbie and was encouraging me to meet someone else and I tried, I really did.) I have one more week of Shloshim and with G-ds grace will find some comfort in sitting in the park drinking a hot beverage from a flask with a perfect stranger who is G-d fearing and has just phoned to invite me to do so in the days coming, weather permitting.(he is not from CS. He spoke to me in the street a few days ago).I am lonely. I sit alone in the park and have done so for 14 months. Watching the birds, crocheting, feeling the breeze, is one of my joys. But when Els' mum said yesterday that I needed to move out ASAP, it really hit me like a ton of bricks. It took a nights sleep to understand. The King is dead, the Kingdom is no more, his Throne is empty. my sarcastic little profile that I did not post yesterday I had a radical change on the 5th of June 2026 and I am no longer what is considered 'viable' for a Dom to inspect and find suitable, because I am not in a 'stable' situation where he can take his time to inspect his prospective little creature or offer him the length of time he needs to do so...this is dipped deep in sarcasm for those who don't understand. I am guessing me behind a computer in one spot is the only ideal rather than me being on the move. I would agree in the days of a landline  but we now have the internet. At least I learnt something about some of the folks I was talking too. IF you did not say 'hey, you are on the move, but please, I am very interested in you and please let us keep talking, no matter where you are going, even if it is Timbuktoo...I want to know you, and hope to have you at my feet one day and I will make it happen. Then it was clear that I had no effect on you other than 'she is flaky, I do not need her issues washing over into my neat life' and I wish her all the best. Yes, my life sounds hectic. I would not been on CS if I was a happy little slave with a King. I left CS  last year when El' said he had a tumour. I rushed back to him. Now he is gone and somehow  ow I am the 'flaky' and crazy one? HE WAS NOT perfect, I know. He did not understand me, I know. He was never looking for a slave, just a subbie. (we met on here) He bit of more than he could chew with me, I know. BUT when the crunch came, I came back to him. You want the happy slave. I get it and wish you all the best too going forward. It did clean up my dance card dramatically. Thank you. Anyway, I only want ONE KING. Let TIME tell who is the bolt to my nut.

Spot The difference Mark had a secret, one he kept even from himself most days. Tucked away in a encrypted folder on his laptop, labeled "Tax Records 2018," was a collection of stories. They were all variations on the same theme: powerful, confident women taking lovers while their husbands watched from the shadows, sometimes in anguish, sometimes in ecstasy. For Mark, these were a potent escape. In his mundane life—as a mid-level accountant, as a husband to the lovely but predictable Sarah—he was anything but powerless. He managed their finances, he decided on home repairs, he was, in every measurable way, the man of the house.   The fantasies were a complete inversion. They were a safe, controlled way to experience the loss of control. The humiliation in the stories was a curated spice, a theatrical performance of vulnerability that held no real-world consequences. He'd read them late at night, the glow of the screen illuminating his face, the scenarios playing out in his mind as a form of psychological release. He imagined the mix of jealousy and arousal, the complicated knot of emotions that made the fantasy so compelling. He even toyed with the idea of bringing it up to Sarah, but the words always caught in his throat. How could he possibly explain wanting to feel small and insignificant to the woman who relied on him to be anything but?   The fantasy was a perfect, self-contained jewel. The reality was a shattered mess.   It started with a shift in Sarah's behavior. A new, almost furtive energy. She started wearing perfume to work, which she hadn't done in years. She became protective of her phone, turning it screen-down on the counter. Mark, armed with the "knowledge" from his stories, told himself he was being paranoid. This wasn't like the neat narratives he read. There were no knowing glances, no whispered confessions. This was just… weirdness.   The confirmation came not through a dramatic confrontation, but through mundane technology. He was syncing their family photos to the cloud and her phone's camera roll automatically backed up as well. There, amongst pictures of their dog and a recent work event, was a short video. He tapped it, expecting a clip of a friend's birthday.   It was Sarah, on a hotel bed he didn't recognize, her head thrown back in a laugh he hadn't heard in years. And there was a man's arm, a tattoo of a coiled snake on its forearm, wrapped around her. The sound was off, but he didn't need it. The intimacy in the frame was a physical blow.   In his stories, the moment of discovery was the climax. The husband would feel a jolt of electric humiliation, his stomach would clench with a painful, illicit thrill. He would be aroused despite himself, his body betraying his mind as he watched the scene unfold.   Mark felt none of that.   He felt a cold, sickening hollerness in his gut. His hands started shaking so violently he dropped his phone. The screen cracked, spiderwebbing over the image of his wife and the snake-tattooed arm. He didn't feel a perverse thrill. He felt like he was going to throw up. The air in the room became thick and hard to breathe. This wasn't a carefully constructed narrative of power exchange; this was a raw, ugly betrayal.   The fantasy had always been about *him*. His reaction, his journey, his complex feelings. The wife was a catalyst, a powerful figure in his psychodrama. But this reality wasn't about him at all. It was about Sarah and her secrets. He wasn't an audience member in a consensual performance; he was the fool who hadn't even known he was off-stage.   When Sarah came home, she saw his face. She saw the phone on the floor. The story tumbled out, messy and tearful. It wasn't about power or dynamics; it was about loneliness and feeling invisible and a stupid, drunken mistake at a conference.   As she spoke, all Mark could think about were the stories. The clean lines of the text, the articulate descriptions of agony and desire. They were a lie. They were pornography, not reality. They had romanticized a pain that was, in truth, just jagged and brutal. There was no arousal in his devastation, no liberation in his humiliation. There was only the crushing weight of a broken trust, a thousand times heavier and more real than the paper-thin fantasies he'd used to distract himself from the very real possibility of such a pain. He had wanted to play with fire in a controlled environment, only to discover that in the real world, you just get burned.

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night air, a primal rhythm that echoed through the park. Lily's cries mingled with his grunts, their bodies moving as one, driven by the raw, animalistic need. He reached around, his fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing and pinching it in time with his thrusts. "Cum for me, you little slut," he demanded, his voice harsh and commanding. "Cum on my cock." Lily's body tightened, every nerve alight with sensation. She was on the edge, teetering between pain and pleasure, as his fingers worked her clit and his cock filled her to the brim. With a final, powerful thrust, she shattered, her orgasm ripping through her, causing her to scream into the night. As her body convulsed around him, he groaned, his own release building. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her still as he emptied himself deep within her, filling her with his hot seed. They stood there, panting, their bodies still joined, as the echoes of their passion faded into the night. Lily's mind reeled, struggling to process what had just happened. She had been taken, used, and yet, she couldn't deny the pleasure she had experienced. The man released her, stepping back, his breathing heavy. "You were a good fuck, Lily. But now, I must go." Lily's legs trembled as she leaned against the tree, her body still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She watched as he zipped up his pants, the moonlight glinting off his hooded figure. "Wait..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

 Menewa