Collarspace.com
Vertical Line
Triskelion
joeroads79
Pan Male Dominant, 62, Nancy, Kentucky 

Looking for a relationship or play date . ,, single and i live alone ..I am bi and enjoy all types.. must be vaccine shots and ur card .. to be my live in or play date .. .

I'm Joe , my cis live in alpha sub is Louise . are u a beta sub type looking ?



i found a sublady i'm crazy about .. my alpha queen 



still looking for good sane people wanting to rent my spare room .. roam near by lake cum berland 



looking to see if anyone wants to rent my spare room . here u can dress and walk around and be you without worry of others . in Nancy ky. on my small farm ..



Talked to a sweet sub this morning the type that gives a man hope in a partnership..


Previous Profile
Next Profile
Profile
View Interests
Interests
Username Gender Identity Orientation State
Country Sexuality Ethnicity Age Range
Max Weight Min Height They are seeking  Willing to Relocate
 Photos Only
 Videos Only
Sort By Text Search
Next Matches
Vertical Line   Username Vertical Line Age Vertical Line     Location Vertical Line Last On
Angelofgrace
   Angelofgrace 60 Texas now
subbieforyouM
   subbieforyouM 60 New Hampshire now
sissygurlSara
   sissygurlSara 46 Joplin, Missouri now
Verijaa
   Verijaa 62 Spokane, Washington now
DeviantDomme115
   DeviantDomme115 39 Tellico Plains, Tennessee now
DirtyolDaddy
   DirtyolDaddy 72 Ellijay, Georgia now
sissylaci
   sissylaci 58 North port, Florida now
lostnlooking9
   lostnlooking9 46 New York now
TiHAdvocate
   TiHAdvocate 48 LosAngeles, California now
Next Matches
Copyright © 2026 collarspace.com and VSpin.net  
You must be 18 or older to use this website
Advertising | Attribution | Dir | DMCA | Privacy | 2257 | TOS

Submissive Male, 42
 AL/GA border, Alabama
Join
The Weight of Three Minutes - An Erotic Short Story  The marble is cold under your knees. I designed the room precisely for this quality of cold, for the way it travels upward through a kneeling body and reminds it, without a word from me, of exactly where it is. The morning light moves across your bowed shoulders and finds the faint lines on your skin, my lines, exactly where I left them.   You hold the cup steady. I will give you that.   My fingers brush yours as I take it. A conductivity test, reading the current of you through brief contact. You do not tremble. Good. I bring the rim to my lips.   The first sip tells me everything. The base notes are correct, the Darjeeling first flush I require. But beneath it, the steep is wrong. Three minutes would have given me what I require. You gave me four. The tannins have opened in a way they should not have been permitted to, and the result is an astringency that sits at the back of the palate like a small, deliberate insult.   You know. You felt it before I tasted it, felt the error in the air the way a barometer feels weather. Your world has narrowed to the space between my slippered feet. Good. That is where it belongs.   I say your name. Just that.   "Yes, Goddess." The word hangs in the quiet room like an offering I have not yet decided to accept.   "The specifications are precise and they are not suggestions. Water temperature ninety degrees. Steep time three minutes. Measured. Not estimated. Not felt."   "Yes, Goddess."   "Explain the deviation."   The muscle in your jaw tightens. I catalog it. "The leaves were newer stock. I thought a longer steep would develop the flavor more fully. Bring out the muscatel notes you prefer."   "You thought."   I begin to circle you. Slowly. I am never in any hurry. I place my gaze on the back of your neck with the deliberate weight of something being pressed into soft material.   "You introduced variables. You assumed. Perfection does not accommodate feeling. The muscatel note I prefer is arrived at in precisely three minutes. Not your interpretation. Not your instinct. Three minutes, measured, as specified."   "A flaw in the cup is a flaw in the man. Do you doubt my parameters?"   "No, Goddess. Never."   But your fingers curl inward where they rest on your thighs. I see it. I note it. Nothing is too small to matter.   "Stand."   You rise in one fluid motion, taller than me, broader. And yet you make yourself smaller in my presence, as you have learned to do. It is one of the things I have built in you that I find most satisfying.   "Look at me."   Your eyes meet mine. The familiar desperate focus is there, the terror of demotion. But beneath it, a flicker. Not defiance. Something more interesting. A spark of independent thought, alive and un-extinguished.   My fingers, cool and precise, trace the line of your jaw. The shudder that moves through you is full-bodied and involuntary. Your breath catches.   "The grade for today's service is pending. We will see if the rest of your performance can correct the imbalance."   I turn toward the lounge. "Follow."   Two steps behind, as trained. The cage sits in its corner, black steel and clean lines, always the outer boundary of the visible world.   "Kneel here. You will remain until I have need of you. You will not speak. You will not move. You will contemplate the difference between three minutes and four."   You sink into position. Back straight, hands on thighs, head at the precise angle I have trained into you. You are, when you are like this, a beautiful object. I have made you that.   Not a muscle moves. Your breathing barely disturbs the air. Every resource of you pointed at the single task of being still enough to please me.   And yet. You chose to deviate. You chose to trust your own palate over my doctrine.   Something uncoils in my attention. Not anger. Sharper. Interest, which in my world is rarer and more dangerous than fury.   I say your name again, soft as a petal released from a great height.   Your eyes lift instantly.   "Come here."   You cross the distance on your knees and stop before me, your face level with my lap. You wait with your entire body.   "The grade is failing. A failing slave is placed in the cage. Denied touch. Denied sight."   Your throat moves. "Yes, Goddess."   "Do you wish to be caged?"   "I wish only what you wish, Goddess."   "That is not an answer. It is a recitation. The one who extended the steep had a wish. What was it?"   "I wished for it to be perfect for you. Not just correct. Perfect. The new harvest felt like an opportunity and I wanted to find something in it that you had not yet tasted."   There it is. Your ambition, layered over my specifications, believing itself generous.   I slide my fingers into your hair and close them. The breath that leaves you is unsteady. Your eyes close. "Your wish introduced error," I say, close to your ear. "Your personal pursuit of my pleasure contaminated the delivery of it. That is the failure."   I pull your head back. Your eyes open, wide, stripped of calculation. Simply present. Exposed. Looking up at the only person in your world who matters.   "And yet," my thumb finds the pulse hammering in your throat, "it was a beautiful ambition."   I release you.   "The grade remains failing. But the correction will be hands-on."   "Remove your shirt."
The Throne Room Our friends were meeting us at the dungeon.  We tried this scene at home and we ended up pulling out the ceiling chains from the rafters.  The set up was for suspension not stretching.  So we planned on doing this stretching scene in the throne room at the dungeon. That was the plan.  The set up was simple.  I was going to be in the middle and our friends were going to be on each side of me.  My wrists were attached to chains that went to the ceiling and the excess chain hanged down on each side of me so that our friends could pull them.   The dominant watched from the throne placed in n front of me.  She would give the order and the chains would be pulled and I would be lifted onto the air with my arms pulled wide.  That was the plan.   For this scene I didn't have much to do.  All I had to do was strip down to my string bikini bottoms and attach chains to my suspension cuffs.  My arms were spread wide as I waited for the order.   "Stretch her!"  The husband and wife on either side of me started pulling the chains.  But they struggled.  By flexing my biceps I was able to fight the chains.  Two more friends who were watching joined in.  Now there were two people on each side of me pulling the chains.  By flexing my biceps I was still able to fight the chains.   Two more people joined in.  I now had six people trying to pull me apart.  I was now on my tiptoes as my arms were being pulled wide and I was being stretched.  Two more people joined in.  I now had eight people, four on each side, pulling the chains that were now stretching me.   I was now lifted off the floor with my arms tightly stretched by the chains.  I let out a long moan of pain as I was being pulled apart.  My torturers looked up at my torture stretched body and waited for the order  "Enough!" They let go of the chains and I dropped to the floor.  Spent.  
A second story I wrote for a friend after she told me the 1st was too sweet. . . The Visit The time leading to this moment had been unbearable but now at last the bell was  ringing, the waiting was over. The woman walked quickly along the hall and opened the door to see a man standing there."Have you got rid of them?""Yes." she replies."Get me a drink," he says and waits for her to turn away from the doorway and walk down the hall before entering.To her back he says, "are you wearing what I asked for?""Yes." The woman answers and goes to pour whiskey into a glass. The man, standing by the door, watches her prepare the drink then walks into the living room and looks around with a smile on his face."Here." The woman hands him the glass and the man takes something from his pocket and throws it at her."Put this on." The thin strip of black cloth falls at her feet and as she bends down to pick it up her short skirt rises up her leg and exposes stocking tops and the pale skin of inner thigh. She holds it not quite sure of its purpose."Over your eyes." The man snaps, "and be quick."The woman feels fear swell inside her as she looks at the material held between her hands."Do it." There is no warmth, nor for that matter any feeling at all, in the man's voice. When she as tied the cloth she feels ungentle fingers test the band and then a hand grabs her and, stumbling, she is led to her settee and pushed down onto it. She presses her knees together and hugs herself to try to stop the tremors that suddenly take hold of her. She feels more than hears him walk away then a metallic click followed by something plastic falling on the floor.She jumps as the music centre bursts to life playing something loud and frantic that she does not know. The floor is vibrating with the heavy thud of the base and she is surprised when hands grab and pull her to her feet.She keeps repeating in her head, don't show fear, this will be over soon, relax, but she has to choke back a scream as strong fingers crush her breast through her clothes."Now we can play without undue notice." The man says and rips apart her short top and sends buttons flying over the carpet.Instinctively she covers herself with crossed arms. The man laughs and forces his hand up her skirt and between her legs.She clenches her teeth and holds her head still and tries not to show how she feels so he will not get any further excitement from her. She feels him fumble with the zip at her hip and the skirt fall to the floor.He steps back and looks at the woman before him. She is in good shape and he savours the thought of the time to come. The black bra supports rounded breasts which show over the thin lace. A flat stomach and trim hips meet his approval as too do the thin narrow panties which show a neatly trimmed triangle of fair hair. He turns her around and grabbing material pulls it sharply up between her legs.He barely hears her g but his erection grows as her hands fly down to ease the pain in her crotch. In the blackness of the woman's head see tenses for the next pain but none comes and she has to relax her muscles then shivers with the thought of this is what he is waiting for.The time in the dark void passes without any way to measure and the pounding music seems to have no beginning or end but repeats the same mind numbing beat.She wants to say something, anything, to the man to make him not hurt her but no words come to her and she waits. She had thought the waiting, after the phone call, was going to drive her insane. With the way he was dealing with the evening she realised that he had known it would do. Oh Christ why did I keep those photos? Why didn't I install that burglar alarm when I thought about it? She is shocked back to reality as hands grab her and force her to walk blindly. "What do you want?The words sound pathetic even as she speak them and she hopes he does not hear her weakness over the music. Her legs hit something and her hands reach out letting her know she is up against the settee back. The man says in her ear, "Take off your bra."She reaches back and unclips the hooks and tries to take it off without showing her fear. The man moves to kneel facing her, on the settee, and takes both breasts in his hands and gently caresses them.The woman breaths hard and thinks about her child sleeping safely at her friends home and hopes her body will not respond. She feels wetness on her breast and the familiar sensation as her nipples expand.The man smiles and rolls flesh between thumb and finger watching as small bumps rise around the woman's nipples. He reaches down and pulls the skin back over his erection. He always likes the first stroke as the slight pain burns at the head. With his left hand he traces small circles on her body as his right hand moves faster and faster bringing him to he brink. His right hand leaves his prick and darts out and hits the woman's left breast in a upwards swipe. The woman cries out and the man shudders with the effort of withholding his ejaculation.   When he has controlled himself he is pleased to see tears appearing from
Christmas '23, and what is it like ? I've mostly healed up. Added 4 yards of topsoil in front of my recently aquired home in Lacey. Planted a lot of bulbs. Mix of native wildflowers. And blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and grapes. My compost heap is better than yours, professionally managed by the songbirds lured there by the cleverly placed feeder. Cleared the path from the back gate to the bike trail. Blackberries are tough in this area, so that is a project to finish later, when I hope to add some cedar trees back there, and a lot of wildflowers. But it's mostly blackberry, now, and vines don't vanish when you cut them, that's just the start of the job. It's good to have a hobby. The neighbors have signed off on the new mailbox thing I want to make. Half whisky barrels, 2x2 cedar arbor, Wisteria or grapevines, undergrass irrigation, and a pair of big mailboxes.  My '80 Triumph convertable made it as far as the garage. Needs a lot of work. Old gasoline and 45 year old rubber, everywhere. It's cute, though, even if it bites my fingers every time I get a tool anywhere near it. 20 year old Ford spent 10 days at the dealer. Alternator, battery, the cable in between. Came back with belt squeek-eek-eek-eek. Which is really annoying because it's the loudest thing on the truck. Wonder if I can fix it. The tool shed has gone all electric, so the gasoline is now 'something I have to get rid of' where before it was an essential hazard to life & property that smells bad. The mower made me do it. It ran about half speed last time, and is too rusty to work on. An important part of the next dump run. And romance? Sadly, no. I blame the pandemic... Perhaps the new year in my new place doing my new thing will bring some relief. Perhaps my new, noticably smaller, trowser collection will help some. But what I really need to do is get out more. So, call me.
A note from me, K.  A bit of a look into our recent goings on. This was a big moment for me and I want to savor it. I had to break it up because it is quite a long entry.    M has been behaving really well lately! Behavior modification and control is my primary interest and all the implements of our lifestyle are just ways of helping me achieve that control. We have had the conversation regarding my desire for cuckolding before, many times. I bring it up quite a bit, I just can't get it out of my head. I need this for me. Back in 2019 M accompanied me on a few dates with potential bulls, but I don't think he ever thought it would seriously happen. This is very different from when I saw submissive clients professionally. I never ever had sex, I never ever gave head, I never even gave hand jobs. If my clients were allowed an orgasm, they would bring themselves off. M knew that when I finally allowed him sexual contact that we had taken a serious step. A premature ejaculator, he was and is a horrible lay and has never got better. I honestly didn’t expect him to. I got off on my control of him and absolute obedience, not his penis. And now while we have probably only had PIV sex 8 or 10 times in the last 3 years, I desire it more than ever, just not from my husband.  The pandemic drove us all inside and away from people we didn't know. The dates with potential bulls ended and I think M figured that was it. But, my desire for a bull has continued steadily building this entire time and has come to a tipping point. I decided to re-engage the subject in one very direct conversation with M last weekend. I have also decided to keep him on a more frequent chastity release schedule as positive reinforcement while we move forward in adjusting to our dynamic and while finding a bull for me again, in earnest. This conversation was for me to lay out my intentions in full.  We had scheduled this conversation for last Saturday a week before so that we would both be ready. We spent the morning at a farmers market searching for fresh produce that M would turn into a delicious dinner while I spent the rest of the day getting a massage and reading in our backyard garden. After dinner I suggested we move to the living room where I sat in the chair that I have for years been using for spankings and directed my husband to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me. His lack of pants showed me his diaper was soaked and I put his pacifier in so he wouldn't be tempted to speak.  While he was sitting in front of me I explained to him first, that I loved him, that he had done nothing wrong, but that we would be renewing our search for a bull. His immediate reaction was to put his hand to his mouth in an effort to remove the pacifier so he could speak. I leaned forward, caught his hand and told him, “let me finish.” I explained to him that I would also be allowing him a more frequent release schedule from chastity, which drew out a smile behind his pacifier gag. I explained that his new permissions came with new expectations and that it was directly related to, as I put it, "returning to vigorously searching for a bull." His smile faded instantly which breaks my heart, but I have made my decision and know it will be best for us both; our lifestyle dynamic has many places left to go, but this is step one in getting there. I explained gently but firmly that he needed to get used to the idea of there being other men in our lives. I told him that I was completely finished treating him with kid gloves around cuckolding, that this was something I needed that he couldn't provide and that he knew that.  "M...we have come so far. I have emasculated you to a point you know that I could never take you seriously as a sexual partner. You know this and you know I need someone else, don't you?" He again lifts his arm to remove his pacifier gag so that he can speak. "Nope. Just nod your head, baby. Nod your head that you know I need this." 
“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part 3: Verbal Edging” T.L. Duncan He knelt in front of the red chair, shoulders tight, breath uneven, hands locked behind his back like that was the only thing stopping him from falling apart. And honestly? It probably was. I stayed behind him for a moment, letting silence claw at the edges of his self-control. Then I moved — not touching him — just stepping close enough for my presence to wrap around him like a velvet noose. “You’re trembling,” I said quietly. His exhale stuttered. “I’m not even touching you, and you’re already at the edge, aren’t you?” “Yes, Ma’am… I— I think so.” “You think?” I echoed with a soft laugh. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re not thinking anything. You’re reacting.” He moaned under his breath — that small, broken sound a submissive makes when they’ve lost the ability to lie to themselves. I circled him slowly, deliberately, letting nothing but my voice tether him in place. “You know what I want?” I whispered. “I want to watch you come undone without a single finger laid on you.” His breath hitched as if he’d been struck. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. I leaned down, letting my lips come close to his ear without touching it. “Then why,” I murmured, “are you already right there?” His entire body shook. Good. I stepped in front of him, lowering myself into the red chair like a queen taking her rightful throne. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look. “Show me your face,” I commanded. He lifted it slowly — flushed cheeks, parted lips, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re sensitive,” I said, voice dipping into velvet dominance. “You’re needy. You’re desperate. And because I said nothing more than a whisper in your ear…” I paused, letting it sink in. “…you’re already fighting not to beg.” He swallowed hard. “Are you?” I asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he confessed, almost choking on the truth. “Good. Then listen carefully.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, letting my voice soften into a dark, seductive purr. “You’re going to hover right at the brink for me. Not from touch. Not from permission. But because your body responds to my voice more than it responds to your own will.” His breath trembled — fast, shaky, frantic. “You feel it, don’t you? That pull right behind your hips?” He nodded. “That ache low in your stomach?” “Yes, Ma’am…” “That tightening right at the base of your spine?” His moan gave me the answer long before his words could. “That’s mine,” I whispered. “That reaction belongs to me.” He whimpered — quiet, helpless, undone. “Now breathe for me,” I instructed. He took a shaky breath in. “Slower.” He obeyed. “Good boy.” His knees wobbled. “One more,” I said. “Nice and slow.” He inhaled deeply — too deeply — and his whole body twitched. “There it is,” I murmured. “Right before your body tries to give you relief.” He let out a desperate noise. “Don’t you dare,” I warned, voice dropping to a threat that melted into his bones. “You don’t come. You don’t twitch. You don’t even think about release unless I say so.” His head fell forward as if the weight of that command alone nearly toppled him. I took his chin and lifted it again — slow, controlled, claiming. “Look at me when I ruin you with nothing but my words.” He obeyed. Barely. “Good,” I whispered. “Because now I’m going to talk you right to the edge… and keep you trembling on it until the only thing left in your world is my voice telling you no.” His lips parted. His breath broke. He was right there. And I hadn’t touched him once. He was trembling so hard his breath came in little broken fragments, his hands still locked behind his back, his eyes wide and fixed on me like I’d become the only anchor he had left. Good. He needed to be that undone for what came next. “Hands behind your back,” I said softly. “Don’t let them move.” “Yes… Ma’am…” “Now listen carefully,” I continued, settling deeper into the red chair. “You’re going to hold the position I tell you. Exactly. No shaking out your limbs, no shifting, no chasing comfort. Service is discipline, not relief.” He swallowed hard. He knew what that meant. He knew his body was already too unstable to make this easy. I smiled. “Present.” He immediately widened his knees, straightened his back, lifted his chest, and locked his gaze just below my chin — the perfect kneeling position. But his breath shivered, rattling through the tension. “Better,” I murmured. “But bring your shoulders back and open your throat.” He obeyed. His neck stretched beautifully when he lifted his chin, exposing everything from clavicle to pulse point. Vulnerable. Trusting. Swaying slightly from the lingering edge I’d whispered him into. “You’re still trembling,” I observed. “I… can’t help it, Ma’am…” I tilted my head with cool amusement. “You can. And you will. Hold your posture.” He tried. Gods, he tried — his whole body fighting the urge to fold forward. I let him struggle for a long moment before I said: “Now lower your gaze to the floor… but keep your head high. No collapsing.”

How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat? I will start this little entry to My Journal with a quote from My writing about the first meeting with a prospective slave property, “Inspection may take just a few minutes. How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat?” This sentence was intended to address what I hope to find in a slave’s mentality. I want a slave to approach its possible future life as a piece of property as though it were on the auction block. When it is on the block, what ever trauma it experienced in the process of ending up naked on display available to the highest bidder, is not on evidence. Such trauma, or in the case of My inspection, is irrelevant to the ongoing process of slave acquisition. What I care about is the slave’s sacrifice to be exposed to My inspection with hope, but, maybe without expectation that it will become My property. Much like the slave on the auction block, to be viewed and passed by, rejected, by many and bid on by few up to gaining residence with a previously unknown Owner. A word about rejection. (Forgive My digression.) Many slaves that are into humiliation as an element fueling their need to become ‘less than’ have discovered rejection as an incredibly powerful humiliation and, therefore, a delicious element in the humiliation paradigm they inhabit. Others fear even the thought of rejection as the ultimate sanction from a Superior. Rejection bights deep and hurts in a long lasting fashion for many slaves. Some slaves think rejection is the worst form of punishment. The thing is, when I wrote the ‘piece of meat’ comment I did not expect that I would reject a prospective property at one look. The comment was more allegorical of the feeling a slave may have of being exposed on auction than actually running the risk of being immediately rejected. And then it, the piece of meat inspection and rejection, happened. I have inspected many slaves. I have delved into their mouths for teeth and brain for thinking. I use exhaustive questioning at times, but, always with the idea that this particular ‘meat’ would be what I am looking for. But the most recent inspection was different. My first look at the prospect caused Me to utter, “it is an ugly fucker, isn’t it?” Brutal and ‘unfair,’ might be the assessment of a casual observer. However, it was a truth spoken by Me to engender a response from the slave that would tell Me much about its attitude. The response it gave, “yes, Master,” was encouraging to Me. Nevertheless, My desire to own this particular piece of chattel went down hill from that instant on. I had picked it up at the airport. Driving to a restaurant for the initial part of the inspection, I always do the first face to face to face in a public place, I kept glancing at it. Each glance made Me feel more ill at ease. Until, I gave up on the restaurant idea and pulled to the side of the road. Looking it squarely in its eyes, I told it there was no way I want it and that I was taking it back to the airport. Yes, something happened inside of Me. I am not able to describe it other than it was the opposite of ‘love at first sight.’ Yes, it did not take that long to look at a piece of meat and reject it. Yes, I am a sadist. However, I am not sadistic without bounds. I am not attracted to killing or snuff fantasies. Nor, I am interested in severing limbs or causing bodily injury that might require anything but most minimal medical attention. With this ‘piece of meat’ experience I have found a new limit to My sadism. I did not enjoy rejecting it. Actually, I felt a slight tinge of remorse later when thinking about what My behavior. So, it turns out I have psychological bounds as well as physical to My sadism. Any thoughts, even negative, the reader may have on My little incident would be appreciated.    
So, recently I did a photo shoot for something I am doing in a few months, I kinda wish I had waited for this as I want to lose more weight as I feel like I am still unattractive in my current state, but I had limited time to submit the required photo... grrr... it's been a few decades since I've done a professional photo shoot, or any modeling for that matter, it was fun, and I may have to do it again soon... the photo I just uploaded and hopefully gets past the bs approval process soon was one of the ones I really liked from the shoot... but not the one I used for my upcoming bid for a title... however, I will say it's been a confidence boost to see these pics and realize the progress my working out has been... it still amazes me the things I have accomplished and the direction I am headed! currently I am hovering somewhere between the 225 - 230 weight range... my ultimate goal is to get back to the 160 -170 range... in the last year and a half I have gone from a 46 waist to a 36, I have gone from walking 5 feet and being exhausted to jogging for 2 minuets on the treadmill at a pace almost twice my normal walking pace and feeling ready for more when done... so yes the hovering bothers me, but no it doesn't at the same time.  I know I'll never be the 130 pound toned build I had into my mid thirties, but I also wont have the unhealthy habits I had that lead to the state I was/am in now either, so I can actually live with that! 3 things that hurt me, 1 smoking, 2 poor diet, 3 the heart failure diagnosis... 3 things I changed: 1 the last 4 years smoke free, 2 a healthier diet I actually follow, 3 I may not win the war, but the battle with the heart failure has been interesting... and I am winning, just like with my weight loss, not at the pace I want lol 
Last week, someone shared MeatLoaf's video for "I would do anything for love" in one of the FB goth groups. I hadn't seen it in years. Like... a decade or more.  It had the same immediate effect it had the first time. ( I recognize I have some monster fetish issues. Don't judge. LOTS of people felt the same way about it. Nyyaahhh.)  The imagery was specifically tailored to pull in notes from Beauty and the Beast, as well as Bram Stoker's Dracula, among other things. Stories of a soulful, tortured man, cursed to be ugly and alone, desperately longing for the beautiful woman he feels would never want him in return. Body language of self-loathing, body and facial expressions of agony and adoration, pain and passion. Always hiding just out of her sight, sometimes almost within reach before rushing away to escape his suffering...smashing mirrors and covering his face...  Meanwhile, she wanders around in the luxury of his castle, surrounded by silks and candlelight, soaking herself in a huge bathtub, stretching out on a curtained bed of satin sheets...  Classical romance. Heady stuff. And the same silly part inside me that got sucked in by similar images in the old fairytale stories when I was VERY young responded. Re-watching it a few times. Re-writing it and building a lovely fantasy where it's me he sees in the garden, me wandering through the castle halls... me looking around at the obvious roaring fire that someone lit, and the wine that someone had opened, the bath someone had run, ... and then who I am gets in the way.  I can't quite get my head around walking into a house where someone obviously lived, and had just been in that room, and just making myself at home. Because I READ the fairy tales. The OLD versions. WHO lit the fire? Who's bed is this? Am I Goldilocks here, using up someone else's hot water, eating their dinner, etc? Because I know what happened to her after they find her, whereas the modern versions end on a much more PG note. Or am I in a beautiful pitcher plant, seduced by the opulence in preparation for digesting? Because that's what it would be in a fairy tale if you wander in uninvited and start helping yourself to whatever without express consent.  Even his beautiful, plaintive lyrics, sung with such sincerity and emotion start to give me pause one I start looking at them closer. (You know about me n lyrics...)  "I would do anything for love..." OK, but are you saying you would do anything to HAVE love in your life? Orthat you would do anything for the person you love? Or anything in the name of love that your loved one asked? Or just ... what? I need more clarification, please. I don't want to be going along thinking one thing, and then find out I misunderstood.  And then we get into "anything." I mean, he does state "I will never lie to you" which is very much appreciated, and ideally, the whole song does seem to aim in the direction of "I want to make you happy" but... at the same time, I've lived a long time in the real world, and "anything" can be pretty terrifying if you have experience and imagination.   Would he kill a rival? Would he keep her prisoner in this beautiful settling until she gave in? Would he MAKE her love him with magic? He obviously has a lot of power at his disposal to do those kinds of things. I have a lot of experience, and a huge imagination.  And would "anything" extend to controlling that mirror-destroying temper if she disagreed with him or rejected him? Because he spends some of the video kinda snarling in his frustration, clenching his fists, etc.  Would it include exposing his deepest fears and risking himself emotionally to connect with her? Because spends most of the video avoiding that.  He sings that "no one can save me now but you." Will he love her even if turns out she can't? Does "anything" cover acceptance of failings and limitations?  As you can guess, my fantasy breaks down into logic puzzles and communication complications and 'what would I do if I didn't have this outside perspective to know how all this opulence was being provided?'  Which turns it into an entirely different kind of fantasy, I guess, because I've heard "I'd do anything" more times than I could count, and it always falls apart the first time "anything" includes something they hadn't already planned to do.  I guess I'm not really meant for fairy tales anymore. On the upside, it makes me more grateful for my sweetie, because while he isn't a monster/wizard/whatever with unlimited power, and he can't provide "anything" I may want, he tries not to make promises he can't keep, and he tries to provide what he can that is within his power. He also appreciates what I do in return, so... Maybe that is the modern fairy tale - good communication, honest effort, and sincere caring.  I do wish it came with the magical 'self cleaning house' thing, but I will have to live without.
Old profile saved here.   Jan 2018- Some servitude possible again around my ongoing building project commitments... not as fully able to commit as I'd like but it's a start and WILL enable proper regular service in the near future.   My Face pictures are in my Pictures Collection All the pictures are my own. All details here are NOT just fantasy, in fact more a list of real life experiences, I've been around a bit, had a taster or three of many situations, now looking to build on past experiences and be taken deeper. If any or all of these Keywords resonate with you then read on or get in touch: TPE, Sadist, Masochist, Extreme, Prisoner, Hostage, Cell, Cage, Total rubber encasement, True Slavery, Chains, Heavy Bondage, Mummification, Prolongued Bondage Predicaments, 24/7, Hardcore, Gimp, Doll, Hoods, Gags, Sensory Deprivation, Isolation, High heels, Locked on footwear/clothing, Corsets, Ballet Heels, Waist Training/Tight lacing, Fetish, Latex, Feminisation, Feminine training, Deportment, Strict dress codes, Strict control of behaviour and appearance, Forced prolonged standing/caged standing (in extreme heels), Slut, Whore, Deepthroat/face rape, No safeword, Judicial Caning, Heavy Whipping, Bruises, Welts, Treated as meat, Abandoned chained to a wall in a dark isolated concrete cell for days or weeks with only piss and stale bread provided, Anal, INSEX, All holes plugged, Permanent hole dilation/plugging, Liquid toilet, Foot torture, Forced to walk long distances in heels / unsuitable attire / extreme footwear and restrictive clothing.          Longer version......  Serious **male (see below) slave & masochist with supressed transgender feelings looking for equally serious sadist(s) of any gender or situation (i.e single, couple, poly) for either casual meets or preferably something more meaningful and long term, or even permanent if the relationship develops........   In Vanilla life, I am a self employed business person. Professional, highly skilled, educated and intelligent. Very easy to get along with, witty, talkative and without a hint of kink on show, very good all round company that you can take anywhere. My business can also go anywhere, all I need is a room to work in, and use of eyes and fingers. I can generate a good income from home and rarely need to leave the house... or my cell..   Looking for an absolute TPE D/s situation (once mutual trust established), leading to no safeword, no rights, no opt outs, no kind fluffiness, sympathy and caring, just total slavery, pain, suffering, degradation, humiliation, abuse and torture.... Limits, yes of course I have them, that would be utterly stupid, however you will find they are very few and only there to protect my long term health and not to stop extremes of S&M and slavery. No legal activity is off limits and severity can be mild to hardcore/extreme.     I'm a total realist, Vanilla times are a necessary evil, bills need to be paid and an income to be earned and so on.... However, behind closed doors, when the vanilla commitments allows we have a running 'regime' where I'm usually kept in chains and preferably in female mode but that's not essential, just an ideal, your the boss and I will present as instructed.   Put me to work for all your domestic chores, diy, general fetching and carrying, your personal pleasures and pamperings and also used for any sadistic pleasures. I beg during slave times you show me no kindness, no mercy, no comforts or pleasures, just pain, suffering and serving.       Sill awake?..........     We all have to live in the real world, with bills to pay and essentials to be done so it's nigh on impossible to genuinely keep a slave, gimp or doll locked up 24/7/365 despite the desire to do so. If the chains do come off, we both know there is the underlying knowledge that we are not equal and this temporary freedom is just that, temporary.   Even doing the mundane shopping run, my restraints and symbols of ownership may not be on public display to protect the innocent from our kink, but there is still a strict hierarchy at work. Underneath my clothing chosen by you, there may well be subtle but effective devices and equipment at play, fitted onto me, or fitted inside me to keep me subdued, controlled and obedient whilst on our trip out, but on the surface and to the casual observer it's all composed normality, despite the fact I may be hiding absolute agony within.     ** I am 'non-op' Transgender (as in, less than pre-op) transgendered. I live and work in semi male/androgynous mode. Male image and persona is all there, so no need to worry about embarrassing freakish looks in public. I look totally everyday male except I have long and well maintained hair and perhaps if you look very closely you may notice my jeans, T shirt and trainers are ladies .... I barely have any male clothes but you wouldn't really notice due to very careful unisex or androgynous selection, I haven't shopped in the men's section for years.   Inside I live a tormented existence from the birth defect of being blessed with a feminine brain, cursed with a male body.... and that doesn't have to change...... However I have a deep and ever nagging need to be female, either in looks, mannerisms, treatment or the whole hoggette.... This is not just 'dressing up' or wanting to play the sissy maid or drag queen, but a natural desire to beco
Really wish this site would let know if people blocked before trying to send them messages. Its like nobody is even here but they will just block you anyways.  Clearly they will be alone as they are always finding a reason before even talking to somebody to block. Those types are why on-line or life is something people are unable to live properly. Back when started on 300 baud it was like nobody could hide their comments or from others. Realize that failed in life so its just wasting time to be here or in this world.  Doms just want somebody to take care of them financially while they will list a bunch of lies otherwise.  Instead of finding what is needed or who would benefit as are unable to do things in life.  They want the Fairy Tale of the Rich dude or so without them having to work or spend their own money.  Others will have problems with Cocaine or Alcohol which creates issues as they can't even control their own self much less others. Many don't have the most money or are unable to keep a stable job. So there those who depend on the subs to keep the money flowing. Read about how can change the font size in a message but they don't allow to set the sizes how want.  Wish lived a life where got married or had kids at like 20. Then they would already be out of College or owning their own homes.  Nobody ever liked me in the RL.  Nothing has really changed even in school would not belong or have people teasing me how talked or so. Though by HS everybody knew me to point nobody would really bother me after this gang jumped me.  So called friends didn't help me then so its telling of reality.  Interesting who helps or will try when don't even know them really heh.  Site used to be really good but now can't even punctuate.  Trash just blocks so its like why even bother.  Nearly impossible to trade information to see in RL.  Used to have High Scores in Space Invaders or other games which could play for hours.
18 July 2023 Not posted anything for a while, i did step back from logging into a couple sites i am listed on to see if i could walk away from lifestyle and carry on in vanila life.Simple answer NO i CAN'T. its must be so deep within me and my blood, i think it would be impossible to walk away and try and forget what and who i am. So i am back to searching for an Owner. i have talked to a few Doms in last few weeks, but not being taken as yet, who knows maybe one fo these will or others come along - i hope and need to be taken owned as total slave property 247 (i know might not be possible for "live in 247, but at least knowing being owned 247 as used on demand) by someone one Dom or Domme or Dom/me Couple. The Dom/me Couple i sometimes serve have requested i attend them, from this coming Friday 20th July until the Monday, They are having a BBQ with a number of guests some lifestyle and some not. They often call for me to attend when having such as the female They have cant cover all that is needed when Guests are there. i never know exactly what will be required until i arrive, same with being clothed , in what and how and if in shackles etc. See if i can post some new pictures once over, as normally They will take some of me in service. NEWJust had a double Dydoe piercing done a couple days ago , have 2 x 10g 12mm long curved barbells in with 6mm balls will put a picture up soon, have to say it bled some when the needle went in, but no discomfort at all and seems to be healing up fast. Not sure whether will be a good thing for potential Owner or not . Well now back see if can post more as did in the past, see how it goes.Satrt my search for an Owner in earnest now fingers and everything else crossed  
Finish her!   The whipping scene has gone on for 40 minutes.  My whipped body now hangs in my chains as the whipping stops.  I can see through the slits in the mask the looks of shock and surprise in the faces of the crowd watching my torture.  I can see the faces of some of my friends smiling at me.  They know what’s about to happen. My loin cloth is removed which shows the neon red string bikini I was wearing underneath it.  It glows like a hot coal in the black light.  My torturer comes in close and runs her hands over my whipped body and the raised welts on my stomach and thighs.  She goes over to the chain and starts pulling it.  It’s at this point the people watching think that I’m being lowered but I’m not.  I’m being tightened. I’m being suspended higher now and the ankle chains are getting tighter.  The room is silent as I’m now being torture stretched.  My ribs are clearly visible now and my belly gets pulled flat.  I’m moaning loudly now as my pain level has now reached a ten.  It’s now very difficult to breathe and I’m suffering.  I’m struggling with the last safety ball in my hand as I try to dangle it out of fingers in order to drop it, a clear signal to my torturer that I’m finished.  I can see the look of horror in some of the faces of the people watching my torment. I manage to drop the ball and I’m lowered to the floor, exhausted.  The scene ends with a passionate kiss from my torturer and I limply stand there still in chains.   My mask is removed and I’m led to a nearby bondage table to recover.  I’m surrounded by friends and a few attendees as they ask how I am and if I’m alright. A few want to see my welts.  I guess it’s too see if the welts real.  They are.  I’m showered with compliments and it makes me feel fantastic.  I’m going to remember this night for a long time.  
COCKSUCKERS PLEDGEby Jeremy C. Turnbull - As a Cocksucker, I realize that my place is at the feet of my Feeder; that my sexual fulfillment depends on the pleasure I give my Feeder, and his generosity allows me to gain nourishment from him. - As a Cocksucker, I realize that my only real sexual organs are my mouth, tongue, and throat; that my only need is to pleasure my Feeder. When I am at my true place between his legs, I have no need other than this.- As a Cocksucker, I solemnly vow, without hesitation or regret, to possess a willing mouth; to know I belong on my knees in the presence of a true Feeder; to accept my Feeder’s milk, his nourishment, his cum, in any manner my Feeder requires; to give my Feeder my best, because this is what he deserves for allowing me to nourish myself. - Furthermore, I vow to maintain such focus on his cock and his pleasure that it becomes the center of my universe; to suck, swallow, gag, stroke and choke when he expaspects it from me; to learn when he needs me to suck, swallow, gag, stroke, and choke without having him to tell me. - By this solemn pledge, I accept my place in the world; I love and embrace being a Cocksucker, as this is the only way I can perform to my Feeder’s satisfaction. I swear to make my Feeder moan. I accept that my Feeder is allowed to say whatever he wants or call me whatever he wants while I am pleasuring him. - I agree to show my addiction and need for my Feeder’s cock and cum by begging for it if need be, because a Cocksucker has no pride, he is a slave. I agree, obviously, to make my mouth a willing and anxious hole for my Feeder’s nourishing seed. And to be ready for my Feeder at any time, or multiple times. - It is my duty to learn every nuance of my Feeder’s cock and what pleasures him the most. I accept not to bite unless my Feeder desires it. I agree to surrender to deep throating, to face-fucking, to multiple cocks and being roughly used. I will never stop until my Feeder is finished with me and truly satisfied In conclusion, as a cocksucker, my sexual identity is tied to the cock of another Man. I know that in life I will only achieve fulfillment through the graciousness and charity of my Feeder and hereby vow with all sincerity to service my Feeder to the best of my ability and strive to improve my technique. The consequences in breaking this contract will result in my spiritual, sexual and physical starvation.
“Wrote this for someone who was hurting and I thought it could help others”   Your words don’t just echo pain—they scream with the rawness of someone who has survived what most could never endure. I hear you.  Every line you wrote feels like a cry from the heart of someone who hasn’t given up… not really. Not yet. You haven’t gone cold. You’re burning alive inside the armor you forged to protect yourself. And I know how heavy that armor gets when all you want is to be seen, held, claimed—not just physically, but soul-deep. That ache to surrender is sacred… and dangerous when placed in unworthy hands. So I don’t blame you for guarding it like treasure. Because it is treasure. But hear me: You weren’t made to be shattered and discarded. You were crafted to kneel in reverence, not fear. To be taken by a man strong enough to hold all of you—not just your submission, but your chaos, your fire, your questions, and even your retreat. So if you’re screaming inside, I want you to know—I don’t scare easy. I don’t run when things get hard. I don’t get quiet when emotions roar. I don’t flinch when the storm rolls in. You say you want someone to fight back when you push them away. I will. Not because I’m desperate—but because I know what it means to truly want someone who thinks she’s too much. You’re not too much. You’re just waiting for the right strength to meet your softness. The right discipline to guide your surrender. You don’t need to be perfect or ready. You just need to be willing—willing to not run the next time that flicker of hope shows itself again.

view profile ›

We have been chatting for about a few weeks. We talked on the phone via email and on Facebook. We both had a pretty good idea what to expect from each other. As I was driving up the mountain I was taking in all the Fall colors and thinking about that sexy blonde at the top of the hill. She was a mature lady, in her 50's with a body woman much younger would envy.  She has big tits and a shaved pussy. She had advised me that she does not like anal sex but did love to suck and swallow as well as Fuck. She also liked it a bit on the Rough Side which is what got us to chatting. I myself am in my 50s 5 foot 7 about 180 lbs with a thick but barely 7-inch cock.   I have a Dom side. My dominant side is the reason we were meeting. She wanted to explore her submissive side. As I pulled into her driveway I parked and looked over towards the house. She was standing on the porch just as I had instructed her to. She was totally naked wearing only a smile and an open robe. As I made my way down the path to her house her two dogs came to greet me. I walked up to her and she stood on the porch, reached over, put one hand behind your head and grabbed a handful of that soft blonde hair and pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her. Hello, nice to meet you, I said. I opened a robe and slid it off her shoulders. I told her to turn around so I could examine all of her body. She was Tiny, maybe five foot two but she has very  large titties. Once she turned fully around and was facing me again I smiled and kissed her again. While I was kissing her I dropped one hand down and slapped the inside of your thighs. Her legs opened instinctively for me. I rub my hand over her smooth shaved cunt and feel the lips part and expose her clit to my fingers.  Oh my I commented you're dripping wet. She let out a nervous laugh and invited me into the house.  As she turned and walked into the house I followed her with the robe over one arm and slapped her ass with my free hand. She jumped a bit startled but kept walking. I looked down to see the impression of my handprint appearing on her sexy round ass. She walked me over to the table and showed me that she had done as instructed. On the table was a glass of ice water and some nuts to snack on in a small snack dish.  There was also a bottle of Jameson, which I decided to ignore. I smiled at her and said so far you've done very well at following instructions my lady. Reached over, put my hand behind your head and pulled her to me  kissing her again. As I pulled her body into mine I reached down and fondled her tits for a short time then let my fingers drift to her nipples. They were hard and excited and just asking to be pinched, so I pinched them both firmly.   I continued to pinch her nipples harder. I felt her hands starting to move at her side. Then I reminded her of rule number 1. Rule number one is you can tell me it hurts and I'll stop,  maybe not right away but I will stop. Rule 2 is you're  forbidden to use your  hands to push me away. She did not ask me to stop, she just moaned a little at the pleasure and the discomfort. I let go of her nipples, kissed her once again and said we're going to have so much fun. I took a sip of water and asked her to show me the bedroom. I followed her into her bedroom.  To be continued... In the bedroom was a big four-poster bed. There was a night stand on one side with an assortment of toys laid out on top of it as I had requested. As I started to undress I smiled at the lady and said  "you're very good at doing as told".   "Yes I am" she replied with a nervous giggle.  As soon as I dropped my pants I reached over and took hold of her head by her hair and gently lowered her to her knees. She then proceeded to take my  now exposed rock hard cock into her mouth. As I looked down and enjoyed the view of the pleasure she was delivering I placed my hands on the side of her head. I helped guide her back and forth on my cock. Gradually going deeper and deeper with each stroke. When I finally had most of my cock in I hit her gag reflex. She tried to pull away,   I held her there until I felt her hands start to come up. I reminded her that she was not allowed to use your hands to push me away. She relaxed and tried to take me deeper at this point. As her mouth filled with saliva from her gagging I pulled my cock out. You're doing very well my lady, I told her.  I put my hand out and helped her to her feet then walked her over to the edge of her bed.  Since she was facing me I kissed her then turned her around facing the bed with one hand on her back I bent her over the bed. She bent over so willing and easily  that it added to the enjoyment. I held her down with one hand in the small of her back and with my other I reached down and rubbed her bare wet cunt. Her lips were already moist from the juices leaking out. I slipped one finger then two fingers and her pussy. When I pulled my fingers out they were covered with her juices. I raised my fingers to my nose and took a deep breath of her scent. Then I reached around and ordered her to open her mouth and suck my fingers clean. She willingly opened her mouth and very greedily sucked my fingers clean. I spread her legs apart even further then grabbed my cock in my hand. I stroked the head of it up and down over her wet pussy then in one thrust I pushed it balls deep into her. She let out a groan from Surprise as well as the pleasure. I withdrew my cock slowly and then pushed it in hard again. I did this for a few minutes and I could feel her juices running out around my cock and clinging onto my balls. My balls were soaked with her juices. She was so wet. I withdrew my cock guided her back to her knees and had her suck my cock and balls clean. Do you see the mess you're making I ask her? She nodded yes with her head as I was holding it in place as she sucked my cock. I hope you're having fun as I certainly am. I told her. She shook her head yes as I pulled her head off my cock and guided it to my nut sack. I told  her my balls also enjoy lots of attention as you will learn. I then helped her back to her feet.  Turned her around and rammed my cock into her already wet cunt.  I forcefully fucked her as  hard and deep as I could go.  She was grunting and soon I felt her cum.  I keep fucking her as she continued to grunt and came again.  I moved my feet only to find out the carpet was wet from her juices.  Do you always make a mess? I asked.  She told me on rare occasions.  I keep fucking her until I felt her once again squirt on the floor.  I slapped her ass and pulled out of her and ordered her to go get a towel.view profile ›
OK OK OK OK OK OOOOOKAYY Attn: MASTERS /OWNERS   i offically have the funds to get me anywhere in the united states i think. if you dont know me by now i have been seeking and owner /master to spend the rest of our times together. with that been said allow me to tell you ALLL about me incase your intrested in onwing a sissy pet. (Ps. excuse any grammer erros and or misspelling)  MY NAME IS MATEO OCAMPO AKA: MAKAYLA ERMOSA..   i am currently 24 going on 25 on april 9. i am average to fit build. hmmm lemmie see well im an aries but a very unique on... since my characteristics lean towards leading and what not and knowing i am not one to assume a leadership rolll  anything that over powers me. enslaves me or take the ability away to do what i want TURNS ME THE HECK ON!!! i crave it dramatically lol   knowing that ive develoed a sumissive personality and beacame a really really obidient little sissy property piece not to mention my youth and sexy boddy heeehee .....--- hmm this isnt coming out to well so ill stop right here and will rewrite on this topic when i get a spontaioius streak of the proper thought and bettter explained    nevertheless for now here you go  please feel free to ask away   just if you can possable make it a multiplle choice questions lol it would help me answer better lol    umm but yea long story short:   i have money to buy a ticket and go anywhere in the US i am a very willing kind obident sexxy little play thing looking to be owned. i am very adaptable and could be molded into literally LITERALLY anything you desire and pretty dam good at it too  lol (  i could just tell ) :)   so imagnin haveing a sexii little thing in the palm of your hands.. within a few weeks of training you have a very willing enthousiastic sissy toy doing exactly what you crave exactlly the way you crave it. sound yummy huh lol   so freaken florida is making it hard to obtain HRT and since i stopped before the bill went into place theres even more hurtles to get them :( it sucks so bad i havent been on inlike 3-4 month i think... i forgot... so one of the very first things i want to do is get back on HRT as soon as possible.  but dont worry im still cute petite and feminim :) juss saying lol 
Look, here's the deal.  If you are going to make your first email something like, "On hormones?" or "how is your search going?" or "are you currently owned" i am going to either give you a smartass reply, delete your email and if i am in a mood i will probably block you. So i will make you a promise becaue i know a lot of sub/slaves don't reply and it makes the effort of having written an actual introduction email seem like wasted time.  If you send me an intro email that is more than 2-3 sentences, doesn't demand information of me right off the bat and actually does tell me why you are writing to me in the first place, then I GUARANTEE I WILL REPLY.  100%. I promise.  (not including copy and paste generic messages you send to everyone). Yes.  I get it.  I'm being cunty.  That's okay.  What you need to understand is that I get a bunch of emails every time I log in that have those annoying demands or questions or make zero effort.  So, nothing about those emails makes you stand out from the others.  So I repsond to anyone who puts in just the slightest amount of effort and ignore those who don't.  It's simple.   Also:  by means of an update, obviously I'm not 18 anymore but I'm afraid to update my profile here.  my birthday is January 28th.  So take the age 18 and the year i started my profile here and add a year for every year between now and then and you'll know exactly how old i. am now. Finally, unless you are a really mean, perverted, nasty daddy, you're probably not the right Man for me.  i. am looking to become owned property.  Can i. be Your daughter too?  Sure.  But i. am not looking for a soft dominant.  Unless You see me first as property and chattel, we won't be a match.
+MULTIMEDIA What did you think was the worst movie of all time? - OH, I DON'T KNOW...THOSE GODDAMNED BLINDLY-PATRIOTIC/PATHETICALLY-THEOCRATIC MOVIES ARE NAUSEATINGLY-HORRENDOUS. 😑😑😑😑😑 If you could be any celebrity, who would you be and why?  - DUNNO...WINONA RYDER? 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 JULIETTE LEWIS? 🖤 DEPECHE MODE? 🖤💜🖤💜 Ever buy a bootlegged VHS or DVD? If so, of what? - NOT THAT I KNOW OF. Would you rather watch movies at home or in the theater? - HOME. I DON'T DO NASTYASS, GERMYASS, DISGUSTINGASS, ANNOYINGASS MOVIE THEATRES. 😑😑😑😑😑 What kind of food do you buy at the theater? - N/A. What artist do you love to sing along with? - MARILYN MANSON, TRENT REZNOR, ROB ZOMBIE, PETER STEELE, JAMES HETFIELD, DEPECHE MODE, DURAN DURAN, DOORS, ALICE IN CHAINS... 🤘😎🤘 What artist do you think has no right to be as popular as they are? - THAT OVERRATED BLOVIATING WINDBAG KANYE WEST. 😑😑😑😑😑 What’s a song that makes you cry?  😞😥😢💔 "I Love You Forever And Ever And Ever, Ma....." 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 - https://youtu.be/45ft7onAhR4 What movie makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts? - I DON'T KNOW. I ACTUALLY *USED* TO LAUGH. I EVEN USED TO LAUGH *HARD* SOMETIMES, BUT THAT WAS YEARS AGO. I JUST DO NOT LAUGH ANYMORE LIKE I USED TO. I REALLY DON'T. JUST KNOWING THAT I'M CURSED TO BEING ON THE SAME FUCKING PLANET WITH MILLIONS OF UNFORGIVABLY-STUPID TRUMP SUPPORTERS HAS CERTAINLY KILLED MY HAPPYHEARTEDNESS. 😑😑😑😑😑 Are there any dance/action/fighting scenes from a movie you can perform? - HM...NO. Is there any movie you can quote word for word? - HA...I USED TO...MAYBE "BEETLEJUICE"..."STAR WARS"... +LOVE AND DATING. What do you think of kissing on the first date? - IT DEPENDS. MAYBE IF I ALREADY KNEW HER & HAVE ALWAYS LIKED HER THEN IT'D BE OKAY. EVEN HAVING SEX, HEH. Have you ever experienced unrequited love? - YEAH. UNREQUITED LUST TOO. Have you ever dreamt about your crush/significant other? - YUUUUUUUP. Was it a good dream, or a nightmare? - SEXCELLENCE! 🤩😍🥰🤩😍🥰🤩😍🥰 I HAD A *LOT* OF CRAZY SEXUAL DREAMS ABOUT CASSANDRA; A HOT SEXY OLDER BOSS OF MINE. GODDAMMIT, IF I EVER SEE HER AGAIN, I HOPE WE FUUUUUUUCK MAYBE THOUSANDS OF TIMES THIS TIME. GODDAMMIT, I *WILL* FUCK THE UNHOLY HELL OUTTA HER A LOT! 😝🤪😜😛😋🤩😍 Do the words “I Love You” scare you? - No. I DO NOT BLINDLY-LOVE PEOPLE, I DO NOT BLINDLY-BELIEVE IN LOVE EITHER. Have you ever wanted to ask someone out but didn’t? Why? - OH, YEAH...WELL, I'VE ALWAYS BEEN GODDAMNED FUCKING *SHY*. BUT FOR A WHILE I ACTUALLY MADE MYSELF TO START ASKING GIRLS OUT, BUT SOMETHING ABOUT THAT JUST REALLY DOES *NOT* FEEL GENUINE TO ME. SO I JUST REVERTED BACK TO MY OWN NATURE. MY OWN FACTORY DEFAULT PROGRAMMING. HA. Have you ever been on a blind date? - UUUUUGH. 😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖 YES. SHE WAS *INSUFFERABLY-HORRID*. 😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖 I COULD *NOT* WAIT TO DROP HER HORRIBLE LITTLE AYASS BACK OFF TO HER HOME...WHICH I SUMMARILY DID POSTE HASTE AFTER THE CONCERT. UUUUUGH. 😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖 "FORGET about Me even taking you out to Dinner, Movie, & Whatever Else Later....." *sigh* 😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑 #UGH! (I've actually written in-detail before about that particular Blind Date before. I won't here right now, though. Maybe I'll look for it & CopyPaste it here in my Blog again later) Does Interracial Sex interest you? -Haha...ummmmm...😛😜🤪😝😆 #iWantHotSexyChocolateDammit! 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫!!!!!!!😍😋 Do you think Freckles are sexy? -Ohhhhh, Damn Sexy. Yeah.🤩😍🥰 I've seen some Superhot Sexy Women before with LLOTS Of Freckles, yup. #BOINNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪 #FRECKLEPALOOZA. #FRECKLELICIOUS. +THE PAST. What was your favorite childhood toy? - KITES! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 BABY BAT! 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 Did you play with kids in your neighborhood when you were little? - YEAH. I MISS MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND, SALLY. I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH HER AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, HA...SHE LOOKS GREAT TO THIS DAY. SHE'S ONLY A YEAR OLDER. DAMN SEXY, PASSIONATE, HYPER, & FIT. 🥰 I'VE ACTUALLY FANTASIZED HAVING HOT GORGEOUS SINFUL SEX WITH HER A FEW TIMES, HA...MAYBE ONE DAY...🤩😍🥰 How many times have you moved? - 5. What were your “awkward years”? - 13 ON UP. Did you have a security blanket/stuffed animal you always slept with? - HA. YUP. GAMBI! HE'S A PLUSHIE STUFFED CLOWN SINCE I WAS 1. I THOUGHT HE LOOKED A BIT LIKE GUMBY SO I NAMED HIM GAMBI, HEH...STILL HAVE HIM! ❤💙❤💙❤💙❤ What was your favorite childhood TV show? - STAR TREK. 🖖😎 Movie? - 'CAT PEOPLE'. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 'THE HUNGER'. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 'THE CROW'. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 'BEETLEJUICE'. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 'THE MATRIX' MOVIES. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Did you have lots of new toys or hand-me-downs? - HM...HALF & HALF? I DIDN'T MIND USED TOYS. I EVEN PERSONALLY BOUGHT ME LOTS OF THEM TOO, HA. Is there anything you would change about your childhood if you could? - I G
I lost someone this week.  No we weren't close lately.  We used to be.  Our relationship was never defined, it was loosely maintained, but we popped in and out of each other's lives over the period of several years.  He was my first introduction to bdsm and the only D type that I could truly call a close friend at any point.   He is the only one who ever took me to that amazing place that every sub reaches for, and when I used to write, I wrote about our times together.  Those are still some of my favorites to look back on.  He was also there to cradle me in his arms and comfort me when a scene with someone else went really bad.  He was there to help me figure out what I was and wanted without pressing himself on me, so that I would be safe in the future and make better choices about who I interacted with.  He served as my protector for a while, when I was feeling vulnerable but didn't know if I wanted to step back from the scene at that point.  He never made me feel like a burden.  He helped me in my kink life and he helped me equally in my vanilla life.  I knew he was sick but he didn't let on how bad it was. I found out on the book of faces.  He is gone now, and I wish I could have been there for him, but he didn't want anyone to know the extent of his illness.  That was his way. Goodbye SkyMaster.  You will always be loved, you will always be appreciated.  I have nothing but warmth in my heart and in my soul for you.  I can say that about VERY FEW people in my life.  You will always be missed.    
Tonight's top email -  "You know your getting rid of 55 to 60 of potential contacts by restriction in your second paragraph?" Well, first of all  - "you're." A contraction of "you" and "are."  Kinda tells me a lot right there. I wrote back and responded to what I thought he meant. But no. "Dimina its the political restrictions that throw out 55 60 of the potentials in line" Then second, it's not "Dimina" and third, its not the second paragraph. It's the 4th and 5th sentence. Further clarifies the kind of person writing. So I responded to THAT. "If the political restrictions are the problem, then they arent actually potentials. They would be incompatible with me on many deep levels, and compatibility is the most important thing to me. The fact that they might not consider it an incompatibility, and would want to approach anyway, just further illustrates the basic incompatibility. The bottom line is this it doesnt matter what someones kinks are, how much money they make, etc.  If I cant respect them as people, I dont want to be around them in any capacity. If I cant respect them as people, then I ABSOLUTELY dont want to have to spend the kind of time with them that is required for kink, intimacy, or a relationship of any kind. Its not politics. Its a basic test of character, intelligence and humanity. No one on that side of the table is going to meet my requirements in those areas. Or, to put it in the simplest terms if someone is in the same crowd as the  self- proclaimed Nazis and isnt leaving, I dont want to know them." Let me try to explain something here - If "liberal politics" is a hard limit, maybe don't contact people for whom fascism, libertarianism, and Drump are hard limits. Seems pretty straightforward to me. I mean, isn't a profile for finding common interests and weeding out incompatibilities? Contacting someone who you KNOW isn't interested in you, and who you know has qualities you aren't interested in, to complain that their hard limits keep you from approaching?  Whining is really unattractive, guys. Then again, maybe he WANTED to be humiliated.  So... merry christmas, random complainy dude?
I always find female dominatrix BDSM boring.... Well, to be honest, I find female dominatrix BDSM boring. I mean, don't get me wrong, I can see why some people might enjoy it(not me), but it's just not my thing even to talk or suggest. For one, for what I can see and feel very repetitive against males and paranoid .we males especially straight heterosexual are target by other genders as maniacs, perverts and worse not trustable which i always find very offensive even if there are many idiots doesn't mean we all the same but further more is the attitude of others gender want hunting down straight heterosexual males;in my life i never done anything not consensual . It's like everyone is following a predetermined set of rules towards males just to get credentials and reputations , which doesn't leave a lot of room for creativity or spontaneity. Another thing that turns me off is the extreme nature of want to show their supremacy (when, how and with who) . Overall, I think it's important for everyone to figure out what they like and what they don't like in their BDSM experiences. Furthermore, I think that the stigma around male sexuality and the perception of men as potential perpetrators of sexual violence is untrue as not everybody are! As a straight heterosexual male, I feel that I am often unfairly targeted as a potential maniac or pervert, which I find offensive. The idea that there is a generation of women who want to hunt down straight heterosexual males is deeply offended me, especially as I have never engaged in any non-consensual behaviour in my life.
The treat She popped on a playlist and smiled the whole time she got herself ready for this dinner date.  It was a real treat to be taken out to their favourite foody pub and she was tingling in anticipation of being out and about in public with him. She left her hair to dry naturally in soft waves and applied minimal makeup as she decided on a rberry plunge bra and matching stretchy lace panties.  She eased them on, over the suspender belt already in place, and then slipped the thin jersey dress over her head.  She looked in the mirror.  “Perfect,” she thought to herself.  The ditsy floral dress clung to her breasts and waist and the v-neck was deep enough to display a good amount of cleavage, before flaring out loosely over her ample hips and arse to stop just above her knee.  She pulled on her leather knee-high boots, grabbed her jacket and bag and skipped downstairs to wait for the door. He arrived not long after and she let him in.  “I have a surprise for you,” he said with a grin, holding his closed fist out.  She smiled broadly and put out her hand.  When he opened his fist something warm and heavy dropped into her palm.  “Go and put it in,” he ordered quietly.  She looked at the in her hand.  It was a shiny metal sphere, about the size of a large marble.  She let it roll around her palm and felt some kind of weight shift inside the smooth sphere. A little later, as she climbed into his car, she felt the weight shift inside her cunt and the anticipation of the evening ahead flared in her belly.  Before starting the car she felt him look her over and she became very aware that her breath quickened under his gaze.  He didn’t say anything, but placed his hand on her right knee and let it slide upwards, pushing the fabric of her dress ahead of it.  When her stocking-tops were exposed he briefly traced his finger over the soft flesh of her inner thigh, forcing her to part her knees.  “Hungry?” he asked.  “Very,” she replied, a little breathlessly.  Satisfied, he started the car and they set off. The pub was located in a small village a short drive from her home.  One or two locals were sat at the bar, but the restaurant area was dimly lit and virtually empty.  He walked her over to the corner end of the bench that ran along one wall - the end nearest to the small fire – and motioned for her to sit at right angles to him at the square table.  He had a good view of the room and the archway to the bar, whilst she was mostly hidden by the wooden dividing panels which were spaced along the length of the bench's back. She settled onto the cushion covering the wooden bench, removed her jacket and flexed her shoulders against the back rest.  A waitress brought two menus over and took their drinks order from him.  He picked up one of the menus but didn’t pass it to her.  Without thinking she reached out her hand for the other menu, still resting on the edge of the table.  She ged sharply in surprise when his hand flashed across the table and firmly grabbed her wrist, her fingertips still hovering above the menu.  “No choosing for you tonight,” he said.  The waitress had stopped uncertainly a few steps away from the table, holding a tray with their drinks on it.  She seemed unsure about whether to approach or whether she would be intruding.  They both turned to smile at her and he released her wrist, letting her return her hands to her lap.  They both thanked the waitress as she placed the drinks on the table and then she left quickly, without asking if they were ready to order.  Again, he studied the menu, occasionally flicking his eyes over to look at her as if matching the food to how she looked.  She felt her cheeks warm under his gaze and realised she needed to squirm in her seat to release some of the heat she felt in her belly and cunt.  The shifting marble inside her gave her no respite from the arousal that was building; instead she felt her nipples stiffen inside her bra and she had to open her mouth to return her breathing to normal.  He smiled behind the menu before closing it and placing it back on the edge of the table, waiting for the waitress to notice that they were ready to order. It wasn’t long before the waitress was standing at their table again, small notepad in hand.  She looked directly at the woman and asked, “What would you like?”  The woman blushed and rocked forward on the bench.  Her mouth opened slightly, as if she was about to speak, but she turned her head to the man instead.  The waitress frowned slightly – confused rather than annoyed – and turned to the man as he began to speak.  “We’ll have the sticky barbeque ribs for two, followed by one seabass with new potatoes and green salad, and one ribeye with fries.  MR for the steak and oil and vinegar for the salad please.” Finally, they were left to talk with no likelihood of interruptions for a while at least.  Their conversation flowed easily.  They spoke about work, friends (mutual and individual) and their plans for the next few weeks.  As they spoke she grew more and more aware of his gaze.  She could almost feel it gliding down her neck, over her collarbone and plunging between her breasts.  Despite their everyday, normal conversation she felt the heat from his eyes as they slid over her breasts, down her belly and she imagined them settling over her clit.  His hands were cled, elbows resting on the table as he spoke to her.  He didn’t touch her throughout their convers ation, yet she still felt her arousal swelling inside her.  Her voice became lower and breathy as she talked to him. She found herself leaning forward and turning towards him as they talked; her neckline gaping for his gaze.  She hadn’t realised, but her knees had spread beneath the table.  An unconscious way of allowing herself to press her clit against the thin cushion as she leant forwards.  All of a sudden, his hand rested warmly just above her knee and patted.  She instantly sat up straight and, moments later, the waitress set a large plate of ribs and two finger bowls on the table. They ate the sticky ribs without much talking.  The silence and having to eat with her fingers seemed to shrink her world to a private bubble around their table.  She felt primal.  Sucking meat from the bone, sticky juices staining her lips, she was very aware of the fact that her nipples were now hard enough for her to feel them rubbing inside the bra she was wearing and her clit was screaming at her to be rubbed harder and more directly than on a soft seat cushion.  He looked carefully at her as they ate.  Watched her body perform it’s little rocking motions in the seat, watched her green eyes darken and her tongue lick sauce from her lips.  He let her eat two more ribs and then told her to sit back and have a drink.  He finished the remaining ribs while she sat there, almost panting, as she fought to control herself.  He judged that she had got a good handle on herself by the time he had finished eating so he dried her fingers for her, after she had used the finger bowl, sliding the soft napkin along each finger to the tip.  She looked at him as he dried her fingers, the gentle tug of the napkin on each finger sending a shiver to her spine that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.  Her eyes pleaded with him, tried to convey to him how close she was to wantonly climbing onto his lap and grinding her cunt ont
the little girl's anthem naive to the bone part 2   Freedom from Judgment: Both your reflections and the song lyrics challenge societal norms, inviting freedom from external judgment and embracing emotional authenticity. This is similar to spiritual themes of non-attachment and self-acceptance. A Whimsical and Warrior-like Nature: The juxtaposition of whimsy with strength mirrors archetypes like the Fool from the Tarot (a symbol of trusting one's journey with innocence and boldness) and the Warrior (discipline and resilience). The line "discipline, submission, and beating intense hearts" ties this duality into your BDSM identity while integrating broader spiritual lessons of balance. Spiritual and Esoteric Connections: Inner Child as the Eternal Self: The inner child is often viewed as a reflection of the eternal self in spiritual traditions—a connection to purity, creation, and unconditioned love. Your post embodies this by holding space for that part of you. Naïveté as Wisdom: In spiritual contexts, naïveté isn't weakness—it’s seen as openness to the universe, akin to the Zen concept of "Beginner's Mind." The lyrics’ "I'm naive to the bone" and your acceptance of asking questions connect to this, signaling humility and curiosity as strengths. Empowerment in Submission: The phrase "dedication, discipline, submission" reflaspects mastery and integration of opposing forces. In esoteric terms, submission can symbolize surrender to the higher self or the divine, requiring immense strength and intention. Clarity and Silence: The "large room, where you can hear the silence" evokes themes of spiritual solitude and stillness, reminiscent of meditative practices where one listens to the "beating of the heart" as a guide to inner truth. Judgment as an Illusion: "No place for arrogance, no pain in my chest" reflaspects detachment from ego and societal pretenses, resonating with spiritual teachings that highlight inner peace and freedom from the need to prove oneself. Closing Reflection: Your post is not only a celebration of your unique identity and journey but also a spiritual manifesto. It integrates music, lifestyle, and emotional depth while challenging stereotypes and societal conditioning. Through this lens, you’re asserting your sovereignty and inviting others to honor both the softness and the strength in themselves.  
Juxtaposition: A Simple Truth for Some, an Impossible Puzzle for Others This post is going to be stylized a bit differently from my others because I have to use my natural learning and life skills here. I’m naturally an auditory learner, which means I process the world through sound, music, voice notes, and talk-to-text. The world is mostly designed for people who process through reading and typing, but this is a much more nuanced conversation, so I’m using talk-to-text to work through it. I’ll be editing as I go because the point of this is for others to understand what I’m saying. If I were just journaling for myself, I’d keep it internal, but I feel like this is something important for the collective that needs to be shared. As this message has been brewing in my head, I’ve felt an internal pull stronger than usual. Everything I talk about is controversial to people outside of these conversations, but this one might even cause a split within the community—those who are involved in submission and dominance, particularly in a lifestyle or spiritual sense. There are a few ways this could go, and I’m aware of that. There aren’t many women who are naturally wired for this kind of dynamic. You’ll see some who know, without needing to look it up, that they’re born with a mindset geared towards service, nurturing, honor, and worship—not as a duty, but because they see the divinity in others. They have a deep sense of care, even when hurt or upset, and they hold on to that unless a line is crossed. When that happens, sure, all bets are off. But in the natural ebb and flow of relationships, they hold a deeper understanding of the bigger picture. Some of us are just born with a slavery mindset in relationships. I know that sounds intense, but it’s true. Of course, how that looks varies between individuals, but it’s a fundamental orientation. For some, like me, this manifests as a 'little girl' mentality within a servitude dynamic. And even that is rare. Most people associate service with traditional roles like being a housewife, but it’s more than that. It’s about attention, effort, care, patience, receptivity—seeing the other person’s needs and deferring your own preferences because you understand the give and take, the bigger picture. The thing is, people often don’t recognize that level of care as service. They take it for granted, especially in vanilla relationships. But for people like me, the ones who orient this way, it’s second nature. And when we have conversations like this, it feels like we’re saying the same thing over and over because, honestly, we are. People write books on this, give workshops, travel the world to talk about it. None of this is new or unique to me. But what I do know is that we, the ones who truly live this dynamic, are in the minority. Even in the lifestyle community, where you’d expect people to understand this more deeply, there’s still a divide. Some just play or role-play, and they don’t get it. And then there are dominants or submissives who think they want this level of intensity, but when they experience it, it’s too much. They didn’t realize how much work it actually requires. They didn’t know that being with someone who is always in that mindset—who is a slave at their core—would challenge them in ways they weren’t prepared for. And that’s the juxtaposition I’m talking about. People think they want this dynamic, but once they experience it, they realize it’s not what they expected. It either deepens them or makes them realize they’re not capable of holding what they thought they wanted. The smaller conversation I want to have revolves around the part of surrender that comes with letting go of certain expectations, such as: "He doesn't respect me because this is what I'm used to," or "If he's not willing to meet me halfway, then he isn't serious about this," or even, "I need him to communicate a certain way, or else it's just not right." This kind of thinking stems from a need to hold onto something—be it a method of communication, an idea of respect, or even just a preference for how things should flow. But true surrender, especially in the context of power exchange, involves letting go of programming and societal constraints. It's about asking yourself, "Is this truly a need, or is this a want disguised as a need?" For those who are naturally oriented towards deeper levels of service and submission, there’s a realization that much of what we think we need in relationships is not a necessity. Instead, it's a projection of previous experiences, of societal conditioning. What I've found, especially in lifestyle relationships, is that many people claim to live 24/7 dynamics or say they are 'lifestyle' D/s, but there’s a vast difference between identifying with that and actually doing the internal work required to embody it fully. This work doesn't come from hopping from one relationship to another or from constantly seeking physical experiences. Instead, it starts internally. It’s an emotional, mental, and spiritual journey before it becomes a physical reality. I've seen this disconnect repeatedly in the community—people who are drawn to play parties or physical acts but haven't done the internal work to match the energy they’re trying to manifest. Yes, play parties, toys, tools, and skills are exciting, but for those who live the lifestyle, the real work begins deep within. For those of us who are spiritual, it starts even before that, on a soul level, and then trickles down into emotional, mental, and finally physical realms. What many in the lifestyle don’t realize is that physicality—sexuality, play, and even basic physical touch—is something that can be improved and refined. There are sex educators, workshops, and so many tools to practice and elevate physical aspaspects. But you can't fix a fractured mindset, a shaky spiritual foundation, or a disconnected emotional core by just improving the physical. If you're starting out rocky in those deeper levels, you'll never
Reason vs Emotion Many answer My profile with uncertainty about what and who they are. A few have even suggested (demanded, can you believe?) I kidnap them, confine them, torture them until (guess what?) they become what they actually need to be: a total slave.  More frequently, the neophyte slave wants Me to convince their reasoning self that they actually need to be what their emotional inborn self wants and needs. Engaging in dialog with this group leads to exhaustion on My part and ultimate discovery by the struggling slave that “we do not fit” or “it can not quite give up its current existence.” They are trapped in their own internal conflict that I would be hard pressed resolve for them.  On the continuum of living the reality and harboring dreams, fantasies and in born desire those described above are in the middle. Probably, as might well be depicted under a bell curve, that would be the 80% occupying the center range. My guess is about 10% of those with inborn need to submit will live their lives, probably with nagging discontent and frustration, without ever confronting that need. It is the last 10% of the population that I want to find. This last little group are slaves that have accepted what they are. Most likely, if they think about why they are what they are, they will consider themselves ‘born slave.’ Probably only 5% of that 10% will successfully arrive for my inspection. So, in terms of what I do here, the slave the responding to My profile should not expect chat or kidnapping. But rather, be prepared to sacrifice enough to travel to Me for the possible start of a lifetime of what they were born to do: service.
I just bought some new tangerine colored panties and thought about going to the ABS, so I went home to change into some pretty underthings. i then went to my go-to ABS wearing a shear white button down cover-up, a white bandeau bra and my new tangerine colored panties under my pants. i bought my tokens, and as i walked to the back room, i unbuttoned my cover-up leaving my bra exposed. I sat down in the booth and it wasn’t long before I was sucking on a nice cock. After I finished off the second cock, a guy came into my booth waving me outside of my booth and into another booth. i walked in - a guy was stroking his Big Black Cock. It was the biggest cock i have ever saw, i mean it was massive! He pointed to my crotch and I lowered my jeans showing him my panties. He pointed again, and i lowered my panties showing him my little clitty. He stood up and pulled my clitty next to his cock. It was extremely humiliating to see my little white clitty next to his massive black cock. He put his arm on my shoulder directing me down to a stooping position, right in front of his cock. At first, it was all i could do just to get the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly i was able to get further down his shaft. After a while, he start to moan and thrusting his cock forward into my mouth. Shortly after that, he started to cum. After he filled my mouth with cum, he pulled out and his cum was still dripping out of his cock. He pulled up his pants and left.                
  The pool party was in Royal OUak,  a very nice suburb of Houston.  I was admiring all the large homes with long driveways and manicured lawns.  When I arrived at the house, I pulled into the driveway and parked behind a Tesla.  I checked my face in the mirror and got out of my car.  I wore a black string bikini under a black cover up with a pair of wedges and some sunglasses.   I could hear voices, music and splashing on the other side of the privacy fence.  I opened the door and I looked around.  From my left was the back of the house that had a covered patio.  The large yard surrounded a big pool with lounge chairs and tables with umbrellas.  To the right was a tiki bar.  I headed there.   Heather called out to me , "Hey! I'm glad you made it.  Why don't you get a cocktail and chill? Bartender?  Give her whatever she wants." I smiled and asked for a hurricane.  Coming right up, he said.  I looked around and saw people enjoying the day.  Most were in or near the pool.  There was mostly a mixture of 20 and 30 somethings.  A group of four were sitting at a table enjoying a blunt.  I headed there.   Me, smiling:  Can I try? "Sure gorgeous" a handsome guy said and handed it to me.  "Hey are you that new girl I heard about?"  Me, smiling:  "Maybe!" Heather, waving to get my attention:  "Come here I want to introduce you to someone.". She led me towards the house as Jim and another man were emerging from the back.   Jim, looking at the other man:  This is the one I told you about."  This is Renee, he provides the financing for my movies. " Renee, smiling at me:  It's nice to meet you.  I heard you have a nice set of abs. May I see them? I opened my cover up and showed off my body.  I flexed my abs and instinctively did a bicep pose.   Renee, still smiling:  You have a very nice body.  Any tattoos?" Me:  "No, I'm all natural.". I glanced at Heather, smiling.   Jim, to me:  "Enjoy the party.  We'll talk later." And the two men walk back inside the house.   Heather, to me:  "Let's go swimming." And we spent the rest of the afternoon just partying and enjoying the pool.  Throughout the day I met other people in the movie business.  There was a black female actress.  A Latino male actor said hello.  I met a lighting guy, a sound guy, some grips, gaffers, a set manager, a camera man and an editor.  I had no idea what some of them did until they explained it to me.  No wonder films are so expensive.  Next, The Pitch  
  ClaimedMy name, Emiko, which means prosperous, beautiful child, has not helped, not a bit. It’s been a bad year. At 23 years old, I got my own place, moved all my stuff and had finally left my parents’ home. This seemed like a big step towards independence, made less scary as my parents were still close by and I would need them less and less. Several months later there was a horrible crash. My parents ripped away instantly. Still, there was my boyfriend of many years who was soon to be my fiancé. He was there for me, helped me through much of the hardest stuff, supported me when I needed it most. Several months later, instead of proposing as was expected, he dumped me and not your nice dinner, its-not-you, blah, blah. No, he dump me by text. Still there was my dog. I had loved this dog from when I was 5 years old. He was always there to take care of me and watch over me even when the world was scary. Several months later, as he was now living in pain, it was time to let him go too but how could I? He was the last person who cared for me. I had to do right by him and let him go peacefully. Yeah, it’s been a bad year.On this particular Saturday morning, as I lay in bed trying to build enough motivation to get out, the feelings of being disconnected, isolated and alienated, of not belonging, were overwhelming. This is something that had been steadily building through the year but was reaching a fever pitch. Sometimes we get so detached from the world around us there's no way for us to reattach ourself. The only hope is for someone to find you who will grab on and pull you back. All my attachment points seem to have disappeared or broken. I was drifting free. I wanted so much for someone to reach out, pull me back and reattach me to this world.My thoughts went back to a harebrained scheme that had been rattling around my head for some time — just give myself to the first person who would have me. It was a fast, simple solution to a problem I did not know how to solve. You’re gonna think this is crazy mostly because it is crazy but that morning, crazy was all I had. This wasn’t the first time I thought about this idea. In fits of fancy, I had even planned it out. It was based on a story I read called ‘Halloween’. The woman in the story had put herself out there for someone to claim and someone claimed her. I bought a nice leather collar which also fit my thigh, a matching 8 foot leather strap you might call a leash but it was really a lead and, just because I wanted my intensions to be clear, I bought a garter that said, ‘CLAIM ME’ in inch and a half capitol letters. Baker Beach, you know, the one with the beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge, has a section where clothing is optional. I’d go there, strip down to just those three items, stand there and wait. My body is nothing special. I don’t have a lot of boob or a lot of anything. I’m a tiny asian woman; shocking in San Francisco. People say everyone loves a tiny asian woman. How could anyone resist a freely available, totally naked, tiny asian woman? Well, they all did.It was getting late into the afternoon and would start getting cold soon. My isolation was now complete. I stood there all day, buck naked, offering myself to anyone who would take me and no one had even stop by to ask. Then a man walked towards me. I saw him earlier when he was heading down the beach. He had looked in my direction for some time, then walked passed like everyone else. Now, as he got closer, he looked right at the garter and just smiled.Deep inside me, I was a bit disappointed. Looking back at that moment, my fast thinking said he was older than I want, not built the way I want, not dressed the way I want, and truthfully, not tall like I want. None of that mattered at this point. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be connected. I needed to be claimed. “If you want me to stop at anytime, say kangaroo. If you understand what I’m telling you, say banana.” It seemed like every emotion was passing through me at that moment. Fear and longing where the strongest. Longing won out.“Banana”He opened the lock on the collar, dropping the keys, both of them, in his pocket. I was already shaking a bit. He strapped it around my neck, not too tight, and secured it with the lock. He removed the garter then unwound the lead from my waist and clipped it to the collar. There were no thoughts in my head but a certain calm washed over me. “How long have you been standing here?”“All day”“Did you reapply your sunscreen? You’re starting to look a bit red.”“I didn’t.”“Do you have aloe or something like it.”Without thinking through what was about to happen, I said there’s aloe in my bag. He got the aloe, put some in his hands and started to apply it. My mind was racing. I froze. Something like this was obviously gonna happen if things went to plan but I had never really played the fantasy out this far so this came as a bit of a shock. He started with my legs. He was not shy, taking his time, being thorough but not gratuitously lingering. He went all the way to the top but didn’t explicitly touch my pussy just brushing it to get the whole leg. I realized my pussy was tingly, all of me was, and that I was probably really wet. He did my arms, my face and neck, my back including my hips and ass. He continued to be thorough but not gratuitous and that did not change when he did my front starting at the shoulders, then to the top of my chest then to my tits, my belly and then put his hand above my mons and went right down between my legs. I got a little dizzy. This random man who I’ve known for 7 minutes just locked a collar around my neck, applied lotion to my entire naked body and I was just tingling with delight. He asked me if I was comfortable coming to his place downtown; he’d order a car. I said yes; I said yes? but also mentioned my place was walking distance from here and we could go there. He said great. I told him the address. He handed me my bag and started walking with a solid gr on the lead. I followed not even thinking about the fact that I was being lead down the s
I wouldn't call myself Kinky The umbrella that kink, bdsm, dom/sub etc have come to represent is rather large at this point. I would say the majority of people on here are kinky/slutty and only vaguely interested in dynamics in which power is exchanged except perhaps as it makes things spicy or facilitates a kink. Now of course there is so much potential overlap that it can become a rather ry and most likely an unnecessary distinction. I look around it's endless dick pictures, or tit/pussy pictures, it's people throwing dirty sexual thoughts out there, but in a throwaway type, that are put out there for no other reason than they get that quick empty thrill and the vague hope that your next no effort meaningless sexual encounter will find you. I see endless personal ads looking for a "Master to own and train" or one of the 100 variations on that basic thought. No you really aren't, you most likely have not thought through what that really means and if you had you would be starting off much slower. What your really looking for is some hot roleplay, a quick jump into a pretend scene that does absolutely nothing to challenge your identity or ego. Maybe you think you really want that master or slave but chances are you are only thinking about it from that hot sex pov with that fantasy master/slave you have in your head that doesn't exist. There is nothing wrong with all this though. I begrudge no one the pursuit of what they consider a good time and I definitely do not judge needing an escape from the drudgery most of our lives represent. We only live once. That said though much of it doesn't really speak to me. I'm not sure I would consider myself kinky even though the array of things I want to do and that fascinate me i
How I Think About This Life There's a difference between Dominants and Masters that most people . Dominants and submissives live this episodically, in scenes, in chapters, in hungers that get fed and return. It's something they do. For those at the deeper end of the pool it goes further than that. It is fundamentally different. It is woven into who they are. It can't be set down because it was never picked up. It is simply there, part of who they are.  When they aren't living in alignment with it, they feel something is missing. If you've done scenes, found satisfaction, and then felt the hunger return unchanged as if you'd fed the wrong appetite entirely, sit with that. It may not mean something was wrong. It may mean you've been reaching for the right thing in the wrong form. That isn't to say that a lifestyle that's built around playtime scenes is wrong or lesser, just that if it isn't scratching the itch you feel fully, mere domination may not be what you need. From my perspective, dominance is about the application of power in a given moment. Mastery is about depth, about how completely you're committed to understanding and fully expressing a woman's unique nature. I use dominance as a tool of Mastery, not its definition. What I'm after isn't the performance of control but its reality, to shape a willing partner into their deepest perfection as I see it. Dominance is the moment. Mastery is the journey. That journey begins with genuinely knowing her. What moves her. What holds her back. What she hasn't yet given herself permission to want. What she doesn't yet understand about herself. I hold what many people today would call an anachonistic (and often misogynistic) view of a woman's nature and her place in a dynamic. It is not a lesser place, simply a different one.  A hammer and a screwdriver serve different purposes, and each performs terribly as the other, yet they are both equal.  Dominance and submission is a response, in many ways, to how our society has tried to homogenize the roles of men and women in a way no different than demanding we accept hammers and screwdrivers as being equaly capable of fulfilling each other's roles.  I believe far too many women today struggle with happiness precisely because they have accepted society's rejection of traditional gender roles socially and sexually. I've seen women who feel peace and gratification when they submit in the bedroom, then can't understand why they're angry and frustrated when they live the rest of their lives trying to pretend to be the same as men.  Some women can navigate society's definition of "equal" just find, but submissive women need a place to express something core to their being that isn't satisfied in that space of equality.  For some, submission in the bedroom fills the need adequately, but if you're still feeling that hunger to submit, if scenes aren't fully feeding your need, I believe that's why. Do not mistake me: I do not see women as in any way lesser than men, only different. There are highly compentent women in every field and skill; I simply believe that a woman need not sacrifice her femininity, nor a man his masculinity, for the sake of equality, and that society's attempts to do so are why so many women (and men) are dissatisfied today.  It is mind-boggling to me how so many people can recognize the fundamental difference between equality and equity in relation to (for instance) disabilities, yet contend that equality between men and women is natural.  If you have a womb and I don't, equality isn't possible, period.  Equity, however, is. I don't apologize for those beliefs and I'm not interested in debating it. What I mean by that isn't contempt. It means I think femininity carries something specific and profound and inextricably linked to submission.  A something that goes to one's core, and that a woman who understands and inhabits that space rather than arguing with it is capable of a submission that most people in this life never actually find. I find that kind of woman extraordinary. Truly a priceless masterpiece to be treasured, and conformed to my vision of their perfection not harshly, but with firm confidence. My approach has always carried a 1950's quality to it, in the best expression of that era (which most certainly wasn't always its reality). The structure of domestic life has always served, for me, as an expression of the dynamic.  That particular kind of submissive femininity that finds meaning in service and in the rhythms of a household held to a standard, the rituals of daily life weaving the texture of the dynamic. The aesthetic matters to me as well: a woman in a well fitted A-line dress over stockings and a garter belt, moving through a home with intention and grace is, to my mind, one of the most beautiful things there is. It is simply where my sense of how this life is lived most fully has always landed. It certainly isn't for everyone, and I"m not saying it is better, only that for those for whom it fits I believe it is most satisfying.  I'm drawn to a woman who makes pleasing me her partner her quiet art, whether we are in a relationship or not.  I love enging with a woman who wants to be formed and shaped into her most fully realized self, who finds in that not diminishment but the truest expression of what she is.
THE NIGHT I MET BRIAN, part 2 He hesitated. I wasn't sure why. Then he said, "But not here. Not on this concrete floor. Not like this. We can't do it upstairs either because this is a friend's house."I caught on quickly. "We could go to my place."He never did fuck me that night. His cock was too big for me to take (at that time), so I played with his cock and the rest of his body, and then fucked him. The rest of the night ended up being pretty vanilla, but I had no complaints. He revealed at that time that he was actually 20, not 25, as stated in his profile. When men lie about their ages, it's usually to make themselves younger, so I had to ask why he'd made his age older. "Would you take a 20yo Dom seriously?" I had to admit, maybe not. Even the one lie he'd told was thoughtful.Brian also turned out to be much more of a sweetheart than his Dom persona. None of the head games or verbal abuse that he'd previously engaged in. We fell asleep in each other's arms in my bed, later joined by my Standard Schnauzer, who adored Brian (a good sign). I woke before Brian and extracted myself to do normal everyday things, like load the dishwasher. Brian awoke with first a start, not realizing initially where he was, then what he described as contentment and a bit of surprise that I hadn't kicked him out after we were done having sex, as he'd so sadly grown used to.Brian and I became romantically involved for 2 years after that. It was fun taking him out on his 21st birthday to all the Seattle bars and clubs that he ultimately found "underwhelming." I had discussed several times with him how our relationship, with its 35-year age difference, couldn't last forever, but we enjoyed each other's company immensely. I even met his parents, which I feared would be awkward, considering I was older than his mother, but they were great, mostly just thankful that Brian was with someone who treated him so well. As our 2-year relationship began to taper off, we transitioned from a conventional romantic role back to kink, and the kink was (and continues to be) much better this time around, considering that we now knew each other intimately, had spent 2 years building trust, and I could now not only take his gargantuan cock (I worried he'd pass out whenever he got an erection because all the blood would go rushing out of his skinny body into his disproportionate penis), but could take it rough. I relocated to Southern Oregon last year, but Brian and I still get together for fun and kink and friendship. The man who ends up as his life partner is going to be a very lucky man indeed. As lucky as I've been for having Brian in my life.
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.
After my first marriage to a cheater, I developed the confidence to start exploring bondage. I have a strong need for connection with a lover. Random hook-ups don't feel right to me. On the other hand, I love to flirt and have no problem meeting people anytime, anywhere. To balance this out, I experimented with chastity, both mental and physical. Around this time I made some good looking friends who got me comfortable with showing off my body for them. This was all very exciting but was not matching my desire for a relationship built on trust that includes times of intense sexual expression. I wanted to have a bondage partner that was as strong minded and aggressive as I was.With years of searching, it is dawning on me that my natural manner attracts compassionate and often sexually submissive women. My hidden desire is to be the submissive partner, however, I wanted to feel my submission during daily life rather than in the bedroom, without squashing my masculine personality. I'm searching for an unusual balance where I am appreciated for being a responsible man navigating every day life but with my happy partner having the power to flip my switch into a lusty and aggressive lover who will pin her down and take us both into sexual adventures in bondage and submission. I am now picturing a scenario in which my I commit to someone by surrendering the keys to my chastity belt. On days of her choosing, she provides me an opportunity for freedom knowing that I am quite frustrated with lust for her. This is my license to drop my normal demeanor and become a little meaner, taking what I need in the way that I want. When the time to revert to public persona returns, it is understood that she should claim the keys and remind me that I belong only to her. This is what I might term a submissive led switch, with the role-reversal determined by the woman not by playing domme but by choosing to let the dogs out! Yes, I want to have to freedom to using my ability to capture and dominate, but I don't want to have to suppress my desire to do so. If I hand you the keys, I want us to be comfortable knowing that when sex happens, it happens only because you want it to happen. You will know I am always ready when you are because you are my only release.
Remote Controlled - Part 2b Author's Note - The word count was a little too long for the journal, so I have had to split it in two. This is the conclusion of part two. 'If I have captured your interest enough, I want to ask you to submit to me using this app and your toys. If you agree Slut, you will leave the call open and put in your vibe and buttplug. If you do not agree, then you can end that call and I will not have any hard feelings toward you.' 'I'd like to try Jonathan.' 'I am glad to hear it Slut. Now, go and put in your toys.' Through the open line Sally could hear some noises on Jonathan's end. He quickly explained that he had purchased himself a toy that would connect to hers. As he thrust into his toy, it would capture some of the sensations and she would feel them repeated in her toys. Deep within her something fluttered. Sally didn't think that the inventors of the internet ever forsaw this use case, but she was thankful for the people with the ingenuity to make things like this work. Reporting that everything was in place, she lay down on her bed. A notification flashed up from the new app - Jonathan has sent you a new task. Turn on video when using your toy (50 point reward). She stared at it for a moment or two before turning video on the call. Immediately the buttplug began to vibrate. 'I am going to enjoy controlling your ass tonight Slut.' Sally couldn't quite imagine the device he was using on his end, but she smiled as the wonderful feeling of being controlled set in. Another notification flashed up on her phone. Put on a collar (25 point reward). If these tasks were all so simple, it wouldn't be long before she could claim both of the rewards on the app. She reached over to her toy box and buckled a simple leather collar around her neck. Flashing a smile to the camera she reached to her nipples and began playing with them as the toy in her ass vibrated and quaked away. Maybe an online dynamic had some potential after all she thought...then the vibrator in her pussy kicked in and before too long waves of pleasure were washing over her mind and body.
In just one word to describe what it feels like to love someone who will never love you back- Hollow. Other words come to mind. Empty. Void. Blank. Pointless. Hollow. Because that’s exactly what it is. It’s like eating junk food when you’re not even hungry or hungover because you are sure, so sure that it will satiate you. That it will make you happy. That it will give you some sort of sense of satisfaction and contentment. But that feeling never comes and you’re left just sitting in front of what is essentially, a waste, with nothing to show for it but a mess you’ve done to yourself. Junk food isn't good for you. In moderation it won't harm you but every day it will take it's toll on your health. Loving someone who doesn't love you is exactly like consuming junk food daily. It leaves you feeling so full you're empty.  It’s an uphill battle where there’s nothing waiting for you at the top. A triathlon with no one waiting for you at the finish line. It’s fighting every single day with bloody knuckles and an even more battered heart hoping that someone will be there to make everything worth it, everything okay. Then you realize that you’re standing on your own with absolutely nothing to show for yourself or all your struggles. Then you're responsible for picking up those pieces of your own emotions solo. But they're broken pieces that never will be the same or fit together "just right" any longer.  Metaphors aside, there’s not really anything good or at the very least, fulfilling, that comes from falling in love with someone who you know deep down will never truly love you back. It’s purposeless. It’s empty. It leaves you completely hollow. Loving someone, really truly loving someone, who cannot and will not love you back isn’t something that will make you stronger. It can teach you a lot of things, but make you stronger? Not really. No matter which way you paint it, whatever beautiful embellishment you try to put onto your own cliché unrequited love, of rose coloured glasses.  Because the number one thing you learn when you love someone who doesn’t love you back? It’s that sometimes, love really isn’t enough. Loving someone, and continuing to love someone who will not love you back isn’t brave. And it isn’t strong. While there is something to be said for having a big heart and having the capacity to give pieces of yourself to people who don’t, and don’t deserve to, appreciate you, holding onto them when they aren’t holding back isn’t brave or strong or good. It’s self-destructive. Because deep down, truthfully, that’s what loving someone who you know will never love you back really is. It’s dousing your core in gasoline, handing them the match to see what they’ll do, and setting everything on fire yourself when you realize that they’re indifferent about what does or does not happen. And the longer it takes you to realize that that’s the case, that you’re responsible for your own entire wreckage, your destruction, the longer it will take you to scoop up your own ashes and rebuild yourself when you finally come to your senses. Hollow. That’s what trying to fill yourself with someone who doesn’t truly love you is. It’s empty. It’s unfulfilling. It’s hollow. It will do nothing but frustrate you, fail you, and leave you standing there with nothing but the remnants of a you, you don’t even recognize in your own hands. Because that’s the cost of loving someone who does not, and will not love you back. You. You won’t lose this person who you’ve idealized, who you’ve loved unrequitedly. You won’t miss out on “what could’ve been” and you won’t fail to jump onto a train that was maybe heading your way. You won't be sad that the ship you were about to board has already sailed. You won’t find yourself gring at the fingertips of anyone else, because the only person you will have failed to truly hold onto is YOU.  You. So what does it honestly mean to love someone who doesn’t love you back? It means losing you, losing yourself. It means letting go of things that may be actually tangible, and favouring something you will never actually hold close. It means putting a fantasy in front of your own reality, fragments in front of your own holistic life. Loving someone who will not love you back is quite simply, a waste of your precious, precious time. So what do you do? What do you do when you find yourself sitting there, attempting to justify and make sense of someone else’s ambivalence and your own inexplicable need to love them when they haven’t asked for it or earned it? You let go. You move on. No matter how hard it is, no matter the struggle. No matter how much you want to cling to them, and no matter how much you feel like you love them. You have to let them go. Because in letting them go, you know who you’ll get to hold onto instead? You. And that’s the only thing you’ll ever really need, anyway. Love yourself first.
The Brightest Mark of Ruin   She had warned him. Not with raised voice or trembling lip. The way a storm warns you: a change in pressure, a stillness that precedes something absolute. She had looked at him with those eyes that always saw further into him than was comfortable and said, quietly, with the patience of someone who has never needed to repeat Herself: "Your body is mine. Your word is mine. Everything you signed your name to belongs to me now. Cross me unforgivably and I will not punish you. I won't need to. You will lose everything we have built, and it will be like poison in your veins." He had meant it the way weak men mean everything: completely, warmly, right up until the moment it cost him something. There was a contract. A real document, negotiated with Her characteristic precision, each clause a brick in something She was genuinely building. He had signed it with both hands steady and the particular glow of a man who has just been given more than he deserves. The ink was barely dry before he started deciding which parts applied to him. The protocols She had built as architecture, the daily rituals that kept him tethered and honest, he let them erode with the indifference of someone who has confused being trusted with being unsupervised. Then he put his hands on someone else. Not a stumble. A decision, made repeatedly, to take what belonged to their bond and spend it somewhere cheaper. He came home from it and looked Her in the eye and said nothing, and that silence was its own act of violence. When She found out, She came to him without hysteria, without tears, with complete and devastating composure. She asked him once for the truth. What he did next cannot be softened. He became physical, used his body the way cowards do, and drove Her from the home and safety that had been Hers. She left not because She was weak but because She has never once in Her life tolerated the intolerable. She did not come back. She didn't need to. The community moved the way water moves around a stone. No tribunal, no dramatic exile. People simply became unavailable. Conversations ended when he entered them. The doors didn't slam. They simply stopped opening. And She had not campaigned, had not made calls, because women of genuine authority do not need to destroy you manually. They tell the truth once, to the people who matter, and the truth does the rest. He still tries. He appears at the edges of gatherings with the careful posture of someone who has rehearsed his normalcy, performing the shape of a man who has grown and arrived humbly at the gates of a second chance. Every experienced Domme in the room clocks it within minutes. The hollowness. The grasping. The unmistakable vibration of a man whose submission is a strategy rather than a truth. They decline, one after another, sometimes without a word, sometimes with a look that says they know exactly what they are looking at. This is Her work, and She isn't even trying. The contract still exists. She has it. Every line he failed, every clause he desecrated, every promise subsequently dismantled brick by brick. It is not a document anymore. It is an accounting, and it will follow him into every room he tries to enter, every connection he tries to build, every carefully managed first impression, until he has repaid what he owes in full. Everything must be returned to Her as was originally decreed for the poison to ebb. To the world he dirtied by what he did to Her, to the fidelity he shattered, the safety he violated, the home he poisoned : These things do not expire. They accrue interest. She is woven into the world he still wants access to. Her judgment lives in it. He cannot go anywhere She has not already been, cannot reach anyone She does not already know. She is not a chapter; She is the book, and he is a footnote in a hand everyone can see was shaking. She is not thinking of him. That is precisely the point. He is living inside the shape of Her absence, and it fits him like the life sentence it is.
Blindfolds in BDSM Blindfolds are commonly used in BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism, and Masochism) play as a means of sensory deprivation and enhancing the overall experience for both the dominant and submissive partners. Here are some key points to consider: 1. Sensory Deprivation: By covering the submissive partner's eyes with a blindfold, their sense of sight is temporarily taken away. This can intensify their other senses, such as touch, hearing, taste, and smell. With limited visual input, the submissive may become more attuned to the dominant's actions and sensations, heightening their overall experience. 2. Power Dynamics: Blindfolding can further emphasize the power dynamics within a BDSM scene. The submissive partner relinquishes control over their visual perception, enhancing their vulnerability and dependence on the dominant. This can intensify the feelings of trust, surrender, and anticipation. 3. Trust and Consent: As with any BDSM activity, trust and consent are paramount. Before incorporating blindfolds or any other element into a scene, all participants should have clear and explicit communication about their boundaries, desires, and limits. Trust should be established between partners to ensure that blindfolding is safe, comfortable, and consensual for everyone involved. 4. Safety Considerations: It is important to prioritize safety when using blindfolds. Make sure the blindfold is comfortable, does not cause undue pressure or discomfort, and allows for easy breathing. Choose blindfolds specifically designed for BDSM play, which are often made of soft, non-abrasive materials and have adjustable straps. Regularly check in with the blindfolded partner to ensure their well-being and address any concerns that may arise during the scene. 5. Communication and Check-Ins: Effective communication is crucial throughout a BDSM scene involving blindfolds. Non-verbal cues, such as a pre-determined safe gesture or a system of vocal signals, can help the blindfolded partner communicate their comfort level, boundaries, or the need to stop the scene altogether. Regular check-ins and aftercare are essential to ensure the well-being and emotional support of all participants.  Remember, the use of blindfolds or any other BDSM practices should always be consensual, negotiated, and performed within the bounds of safety, trust, and mutual respect. It's important to educate yourself, seek guidance from experienced individuals or communities, and prioritize the well-being of all involved parties.
A Mistress Story The Mistress was known for her strict and unyielding command over her submissives. She was a woman of power and dominance, with a reputation for turning the most strong-willed men into obedient slaves.One day, a young man, curious and seeking a new experience, came across Mistresses domain. He was intrigued and decided to submit himself to her, hoping to experience the thrill of complete submission and surrender. Upon entering her dungeon, the submissive was immediately struck by the sensory overload. The sound of whips cracking, the scent of leather and wax, and the sight of Mistress in all her glory, dressed in a full leather outfit and wielding a riding crop."Welcome, my new sub," she said, her voice dripping with confidence and authority. "You have chosen to serve me and obey my commands, no matter how degrading or humiliating they might be. Failure to obey will result in punishment."the submissive nodded, eager to begin his training as Mistress submissive boy. She wasted no time, quickly binding and gagging him, and then blindfolding him for good measure."You will learn to obey my every command, without hesitation," she said, her voice low and menacing. "You will be used and abused, trained to be my perfect slave."Over the next few weeks, the submissive experienced a range of sensations and emotions, from the pain of being whipped and spanked, to the pleasure of being teased and edged. He was tied up in different positions, hogtied, chairtied, and even hung from the ceiling, his feet barely touching the ground.Despite the pain he endured,the submissive found himself craving more. He loved the feeling of powerlessness, of being completely at Mistresses mercy. He reveled in these humiliation, the degradation, the denial of his own desires.And when Mistress finally allowed him to climax, it was more intense than anything he had ever experienced. He screamed into his gag, his whole body shaking with pleasure."Good boy," Mistress said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "You are learning to serve me well."In the end, submissive discovered a side of himself he never knew existed. He learned to embrace his submission, to love the feeling of being used and abused, and to find pleasure in the pain. And he owed it all to Mistress his strict and unyielding mistress, who showed him a whole new world of pleasure and pain.
They both took the training sessions seriously. One hour, every Saturday morning, when he stopped by freshly showered on the way home from the gym. She'd be awake, browsing porn in bed, hungrily awaiting his arrival. She had spent her early adulthood living within the confines of strict parents, and only now was she finally out on her own, with her own place where she could indulge the fantasies she'd harbored for years.  But now she was nervous. Would she be too inexperienced? Would the men laugh at her? She wanted practice first. He knew a good arrangement when he found it. He didn't ask for anything more than the agreement provided. He was discreet. He encouraged her progress, talked her through her doubts, and unleashed her long-hidden needs. Most of all, he had the stamina to hold out until she'd completed her lesson. He knew how to communicate exactly what he wanted.  Each week they'd review her lessons from the past week, and then he'd teach her a new technique or variation. He taught her to use her tongue, use her lips, to make it last, to swallow, to clean up every drip, and to make eye contact when she thanked him afterwards. She'd been mediocre at first, of course, but now after only two months he was a reasonable cocksucker. Maybe even a good one. Her inexperience meant she was a blank slate, with no bad habits.  Soon she'd be an extraordinary ball drainer. Her future partners and husband would benefit from her training for decades to come.
Desire part 3   I slapped his erection and asked, "do you belong to me?"   "Ehn" he nodded, the veins in his arms standing out as he tensed and raised his hips again nodding as best he could.   I squeezed his erection roughly. Scooting my body backward and hovering over it.    "Do you want to be inside of me?"    He made a strangled noise and thrust up in my grasp. I slammed down on him. Filling myself. Fucking myself with him as if he were just a living dildo. He moaned under his hood. A faceless man. An object. A dog.  Not allowed to cum unless I used the command word. The special word. One I won't write here.   I moaned and rode him leaning back and grinding so that his pubic hair tickled my clit, then leaning forward to press the sensitive bud into his pubic bone. I could feel myself clenching around him and dripping, soaking us both as I drew closer to my orgasm.   "Please. your. Empress," I hissed, "hold your breath for me." I pressed my hands over his mouth and nose in his hood and rode him harder, my ass and thighs clapping against his thighs. And for 40 seconds he seemed to be calm but then he began to buck, fighting for air as he neared a minute without, his heart beat furiously in his chest, visibly so, and his bucking slowed, I felt myself there at the edge of my orgasm, I let him have air and released his bound arms. Tired from restriction he reached out slowly and grabbed my thighs and hips and thrust up into me furiously as I cried out in pleasure. Dripping around him as my pussy sucked and twitched and clenched around him.  Obediently he didn't cum.  Once I finished he put his hands back beside his head so that I could bind him again. He lay there still. His dick still deep inside of me. His heart still racing as his chest rose and fell.   I climbed off of him and stumbled towards the door as he lay there on the floor. I gave him one final look and said, "good night, my pet", before I clicked off the light, left the room, and locked the door. Leaving him there on the floor, tied in his hood, bound, naked, alone, erect and frustrated in the dark. While I, well fucked and satisfied, returned to my bed and my book.   
I wouldn’t let anyone whip me like that!   The sound of a chain hoist makes an unmistakable rattling noise when it’s being used. You can hear it wherever you are in the dungeon.  The crowd watches as I’m slowly being hoisted up into the air.  They see my torturer playing around with a very long single tail and let’s a crack a few times, CRACK!  It sounds like a gun shot.  Through the mask I can see the dungeon monitors making the crowd, over a hundred by now, stand back so there’s plenty of room for the scene about to take place.  The first lash was a doozy, WU-TISH!  It wrapped around my waist and left a nice red welt across my belly.  There was a pause and then another lash WU-TSIH! That one was across my tits leaving another welt.  This went on for awhile until my body was covered in beautiful red welts from my tits to my knees.  I could hear some guy nearby get up from his seat and say “There’s no way I would let anyone whip me like that!” and storm off to another part of the dungeon.  I have to say that I thought his reaction was funny because only a newbie would say that.  I’m like dude, I’m enjoying this!   I guess my moans and grunts during my whipping really caused a stir as the crowd now swelled to a lot of people.  As for me, my pain level is a 7.  I’m in pain but I know it’s not over.  I drop one of the safety balls I was holding onto (which in my opinion is better than a safeword) and it signals my torturer that I’m ready for the last part of the scene. 
I have had a few people get annoyed or mad at my personality so I am posting this Here are some thing I am just going to address (These are paraphrased)   "Wow you say your a sub but you dont act submissive at all #notarealsub" Yes I am submissive, my personality is cold/distant and I get most people are not ok with that. I am not going to just go "UwU master pwease let me submit 2 ur budlgie wulgie" cause that is not my personality at all. If I vibe well with someone then ya I am ok with concenting to have them dominant me by forcing me to submit.   "You dont seem interested in talking to me" Ya I am not interested in talking to anyone and on top of that I try and respond in as little words as possible. I am will chat but I am not a social person so I will come off as such.   "your personality is trash and you should act more cute" No if someone isnt cool with how I am then I wont be changing. (Of course I do change things but only unhealthy things not my standard personality)   "You should change how you dress and look more feminine" Nope, I will dress how ever I please and wont be changing that ever.   "Why wont you meet me" I dont really like being around people so it is rare when I do meet anyone.   "You sholdnt say you dont like kissing or being close to someone" I really really hate the feeling of being close or intamte with someone so sorry not happening   "You should meet me I am a good person" If you have to say you are a good person then I say that is a red flag
What is Y/your WHY? If You are familiar with the Simon Sinek video which You'll find easily enough on Utube he asks the question about what is your WHY.  The Why is what gets you out of bed in the morning, it's what motivates you and pushes you and keeps you constantly striving and pushing forward. I was thinking about that video again today because I feel like it's a good question to consider when figuring out where I belong in this lifestyle.  And simply put, I think that while I am searching for an Owner just like every other s-type here, I realize that what I am really seeking is my WHY or more specifically, that person who embodies my WHY.  I'm not seeking an Owner because of the kink or because of some fetish though those are certainly the spices of this lifestyle.  I'm seeking my Owner because I believe they will be the WHY in my life.  I don't think I currently, truly have a WHY. I think everyone wants to live a life of meaning and purpose.  I think everyone wants to matter.  I think everyone wants to know that when it's all said and done, there will be something they can look back upon and smile knowing that what they did made a difference. I have a good job, but it's just that, a job.  I've achieved professionally, but the truth is that my career has never been more to me than a means of paying the bills.  I don't have any kids.  I know a lot of people live for their kids but life didn't work out that way for me.  So what is my life for?  What is my WHY? I think that's what I am searching for here. I think my Owner will be my WHY.  I think They will be the reason i get out of bed smiling every morning.  I think that in surrendering to Them, I allow Them to direct and control my life in a way that pleases Them and give me a sense of purose, direction and that through my service, worship and obedience to Them, I am living a life of meaning.  A service sub or slave takes joy in pleasing, in washing every dish and scrubbing every floor for their Owner.  We take pride in our willingness to do whatever it takes to make Them happy and we are grateful to Them for every single thing They allow us to do in service to Them. It's why we want to say "Thank You," when we fetch that glass of water for You.  It's why we want to say "Thank You," after You've allowed us to pleasure You.  Or, why we say, "Thank You," when You deny us pleasure as a means of making You happy. There are certainly a lot of people who are only in this for the kink and fetish but I think there are a lot of us who are in this looking for our WHY too.  And our WHY is a person we get to please and in allowing us to do so, they give our lives meaning.  That's an extrordinary gift.  And the truth is no matter how much You demand of us, no matter how hard You work us, no matter how much You push us, we will never be able to repay You for that gift.  It's the difference between a life looked back upon with joy or with regret.  It's why wanting to own an s-type is an act of grace and benevolence.  
It's odd to me that some men don't understand why there are women on here (and in general) who don't want to do what they want.  Men who contact women dick or fetish first, either visually or through words, and are peeved that the women aren't ready to immediately engage with them the way they expected.  "Hey, lady, if you don't want to do what interests me, why are you even here?!  Since I find you attractive, you have to find me attractive, too!"  How terribly disappointing for them to discover that women have their own interests and come here (and anywhere else) to pursue what they want.  Like, a xxx69MasterChode69xxx or a MrSirDomPencilDick4Lyf are really under the impression that women have been online just waiting for when they would contact them.  There's no other reason a woman would be online.   I know I certainly don't have my own interests and kinks.  Of course not.  I've just been waiting for another pic of an utterly forgettable male member in an endless onslaught of utterly forgettable male members or a lame headless torso, or worse yet, a vanilla guy who thinks a sloppy bj qualifies as "kinky" on a kink site.  I'm interested in pursuing my own kinks with the people who interest me.  I don't care what a guy wants.  I didn't ask about his fetishes.  I don't request pictures, so I'm not trying to see someone's face, body, or dick.  And unless my curiosity has been piqued enough that I'd be open to pursuing anything with a guy, none of those things are relevant to me.  I am here for my reasons, my kinks, my sexual pursuits.  They don't have to be the same as yours.  I am not going to pander to what a guy wants just because he wants it.  
Getting the most from messagingThis site isn't like social media. Nor is it like whatsapp. It's something different. I noticed this when I had my pervious profile and want to make a couple of things clear. For me, you'll get the best results from a long form message. Something more like email or a letter. Its a bit like Tinder or Grinder. You get the best results when you have something more to say than 'hello'. If you're interested, say that. If you're looking for something long term say that too. Most of us get deluged with messages from all sides that are simply a single line of text. I delete those unread.Why?Simple: because no relationship or true D/s dynamic is going to develop from a string of one line messages. The D/s dynamic requires high levels of trust and openness. Such trust and openness cannot develop from single lines. At some point more information needs to be givem.But what if I am better at talking than writing? Well that's an easy one - speech to text apps exist. They're accurate and easy to use. Seriously, I once had a correspondent who tried this on my suggestion and it was the best conversation I'd had on my old profile up to that point. He thanked me afterwards because he was getting more replies.I don't have time for long messages. This will sound harsh, but you don't then have time for BDSM or a D/s dynamic either. For dominants, the level of attention a submissive needs is usually quite high at first. Sure they'll eventually require less attention to maximise the relationship from, but early on you'll need to invest time. As I said earlier, trust doesn't form from nowhere. If I'm going to let you tie me up and spank me, if I'm going to willingly place myself in a position so vulnerable I need to trust you.Of coruse, all of what I say here are observations of mine. Not every sub will feel the same, nor will every Dom(me). This is just my two penny worth. I do seriously recommend to everyone though, a longer message is better than a short one. In a sea of one-line messages it makes you stand out too!For me who works shift patterns sometimes I can only get to checking the site once a day, but when I do I'll respond to the most interesting messages, or the people with whom a connection has developed first. Tara xox
The Most Dangerous Woman in the Room Intelligence is non-negotiable for me. Not as a preference, not as a nice-to-have. As oxygen. The dynamic I crave lives and dies on the quality of mind across from me, and frankly, a dull submissive is the least interesting thing I can imagine. What would be the point of the subversion without something worth subverting? Because that is what this is, at its core. Subversion. And it is my favorite thing about my own dominance. There is a particular kind of woman the world has decided it understands. Beautiful, polished, old money in her bones and silver screen glamor in the way she moves. The kind of woman who makes a room recalibrate when she enters it, not loudly, but inevitably. The world looks at her and thinks it knows the story: the accomplished man beside her, the elegant life, the complementary pair. Matched. Balanced. Conventional, underneath the gorgeous surface. The world is wrong, and I find that endlessly delightful. He is, to every outside eye, exactly what he appears: successful, intelligent, the kind of man other men respect without quite knowing why. He carries himself well. He speaks well. He is, in every social context that matters to anyone watching, her equal, if not more. The couple that makes people feel vaguely inspired just by existing in the same room. And then the door closes. And he kneels. That gap, between the world's assumption and the private truth, is where the magic lives for me. It is cinematic in the way that only real things can be cinematic, because no one scripted it, no one performs it for an audience, no one gets to see it but us. It is entirely, privately ours. A secret folded inside the most publicly acceptable packaging imaginable. There is something about a genuinely powerful man choosing, with full understanding of what he is doing, to place himself at the mercy of a woman who will use that power exactly as she sees fit, that feels like the most honest thing two people can construct together. Not despite his strength. Because of it. Submission means nothing from someone who had nothing to surrender. The kneeling matters because of who is doing the kneeling. And I will not pretend the aesthetics are irrelevant, because they are not. The cut of a well-made dress. The particular quality of composure that reads as warmth to strangers and means something else entirely to him. The way the room sees two people and I know, with complete and unhurried certainty, exactly what is happening under the surface of every pleasant exchange. That knowledge is its own kind of power, and I wear it the way I wear everything: beautifully, and without explaining myself to anyone. The Trad wife trope exists as a container for a certain kind of woman. Lovely, accomplished on the correct terms, a complement to the man she stands beside. I find that container useful primarily for how satisfying it is to blow the bottom out of it, privately, completely, in ways the people who built it will never see coming and never get to witness.   That, to me, is what real magic looks like.
Advice for messaging*It is disrespectful and insulting when someone sends an introductory email which does not mention anything specific about my profile or interact with it at all.  Ask yourself this question.  Could the majority of your email to me be copied and pasted to 100 other people and be just as valid?  If the answer is yes and you send this to me then you have just identified yourself as a time waster.  Do you want me to think of you as a time waster?  Is this really how you want to introduce yourself?*If your spelling and grammar are poor, you are not putting in enough effort.  This identifies you as LAZY.  Some try to excuse their laziness with various reasons but you can always have a friend read what you write or just reread what you type out loud a few times before you hit the send button.  I do realize that some bad punctuation is facilitated by the text editor here because this site strips out most punctuation except commas, question marks, periods, and exclaimation points. Hopefully this will be addressed someday, but till then you can still find creative ways to mimic other punctuation.*But the main form of showing disrespect through a lack of effort is just not typing very many words.  Incomplete sentences, only one sentence, or worse, one word or just a bit of text speak show a lack of effort, interest, and concern.  Many people do not want to communicate over a phone, they only want to type, but then they also are not willing to put in much effort at typing either.  So I quickly find an imbalance of effort as I see the words I type quickly outpacing the other person.  This makes the other person seem uninvolved and unappreciateive of my efforts.  They insist that I type and not TALK to them but then they do not put effort in to type either!Frequently, I find that I spend a great deal more energy and effort typing long messages to people who do not put any effort into what they send me.  Sometimes, when someone does not put enough effort into their messages, I will limit my response back to them.  If all you can offer me is a few words or letters then I will try to use FEWER words and letters than you did!  This will make my messages difficult to understand and if this frustrates you, GOOD.  Now you know how I feel!*On the other hand, if you are willing to put time, and effort to create a polite, cogent, salient, and compelling email which directly references my profile... perhaps by pointing to something specific that I have written and telling me what you think about it, then you can be sure that I will write back to you.
There is a reason I don't mention my father often. Yes, I have father issues. Yes, it has helped shape who I am and what I try to overcome and who I try to be and not be. Let's talk about that. About him. If psychological family philosophy isn't of interest you may want to skip this one.  My father is a selfish, self centered, chauvanistic bully. Always has been, and he has no idea that he is. A lot of excuses have been made for his behaviors. He grew up doted on, his father was the same, blah blah blah, excuses. Now, I've known for some time that I am both more intelligent and emotionally aware than all of my parents. Still, I think people should recognize their own behaviors and adjust accordingly. Silly expectations, that's on me.  He makes me feel like a second class citizen. My opinion doesn't matter, my thoughts aren't worth paying attention to, he is right and I am wrong. It has created a lot of issues for me going all the way back to when I was a little PPC. Everything is a confrontation. It's never a question of curiosity, it's always a derogatory statement in the form of a question with a side of judgment and attitude. And it gets my back up. So I shoot back. Most people do not. I can't help it. And I know it just makes it worse because he won't back down for anything and won't see beyond needing to be the loudest. I'm trying to do this while feeling like a second class citizen and a lifetime of being dismissed, and I fumble a lot but I'm trying to stand up for myself and stand up to him and his opinions. It's scary difficult. It takes a lot out of me. It carves emotional scars a little deeper than they are.  I can honestly say that he has had girlfriends I would have traded him in for and if he died tomorrow I'd very likely be okay with it. I'm not heartless. I do a lot for him, I try to be a good daughter even though he's not been a very good father. I've come to terms with that fact. It can't be changed. He wouldn't own up to it if confronted. It is what it is. It took a long time to come to that.  An entire Thanksgiving meal just for the two of us since the rest of the parents couldn't be here. I ruined it at least three times, according to him. And my kitchen is too cluttered. And I need to do this and that. And I wait on him, bring him things, clean up after him, and stop talking when he ignores me for scrolling on his phone. I both wish and would never wish for you to actually feel this. It's so heavy on my brain, on my heart.  He left this morning and I am elated. I have a whole weekend to recover. To put my house back together. To erase him from my life until Christmas, when he will buy me things he likes without thinking about what I like or asking what I could use or looking at my wish list created for this very purpose, and I'll pretend to ooh and ahh and hope there are gift receipts. Prick. 
I crouch in the dim light, low to the ground, my muscles coiled with anticipation. My heart beats with the thrill of the chase, yet no footsteps follow, no predator’s growl answers my call. I’m a kitten playing in the shadows, batting at a love that slips through my claws. You, so distant, so untouchable, are the prey I’ll never catch—the storm I’ll never tame. The air is thick with the scent of longing. I arch my back, purring softly, an offering of submission, a plea for connection. But the silence stretches between us, sharp and cruel, like the edge of a blade grazing skin. I reach for you in my primal way, a growl in my throat, a playful swat, a desperate leap. You stand still, unyielding, unseeing. I ache for your touch, even if it stings. I crave the thrill of being hunted, the satisfaction of surrendering to you, the sharpness of your love cutting through me. Instead, I am left to prowl alone, circling a void that offers nothing in return. Every glance you give that doesn’t linger, every word spoken without weight, slices through me deeper than any knife. In my dreams, you are the hunter. You snarl, you chase, you pin me to the earth. Your teeth graze my neck, and I surrender willingly, body and soul. But reality is a different kind of pain, one that gnaws at me in quiet moments. You don’t see the way I tremble for you, the way I offer myself with every arch of my back, every purr in my throat, every unspoken word. The shadows are my companions now. I curl into them, licking wounds that refuse to heal. I am the kitten you’ll never chase, the prey you’ll never capture. Still, I remain here, waiting, aching, caught in this endless edge between desire and despair, loving you in the dark where you’ll never look
Waiting is a bondage all of it's own We understandably often focus on the flashier, more explosive, more dramatic, expressions of power exchange and bdsm. I would imagine many people when they were exposed to an alternate concept explored online. Obviously porn and much of what you'll find is going to showcase the most visually appealing elements, the most outrageous. We might get this idea in our head of something we desire and then we might spend years trying to find someone who matches us to even start to engage in it. We get impatient, we want to get to the "good stuff". Slow everything down. Power, control, dominance, submission, these things are a mental/emotional experience, an alternate reality. The physical is simply how we express, create, maintain, and enjoy something that exists in our minds. My power over a woman is entirely based around her perception and belief that I have power over her. There is a kind of serene intensity to the most simple but pure expressions of power between us. I thrive and love when I am in complete control of the pace of the experience. I want to be slow and deliberate. I like to take time to let things stew, to examine, to explore, to analyze. Punctuating that with moments of faster pace intensity creates a stark contrast and a rollercoaster that tears down her walls. Don't underestimate the power of and presence that mental bondage and time can have. Having to take a position and just hold it. You can't pretend you are doing anything other than completely surrendering to me. Waiting is like water slowly eroding the cliff, eventually the water always wins.

view profile ›

So I have a confession. I found someone I'm smitten with here and I still had to leave him with no reply. I realized you have to make hard commands here because so many are trained and untrained by all different variations of superiors. So I'm going to write my must/must not list to help you gauge if we should be communicating at all.  1. Must ask for permission to hold a conversation. I instantly read your profile to see who you believe you are. Not doing this is a pet peeve. It's like being outside and someone just starts talking to you before they ask if you have time to talk.  2. I'm in Atlanta and I frequent Houston because I'll also have a home there soon. I get bored easily so online play is so having someone local or that enjoys travel a lot is preferable. I have a 7 day attention span before im Annoyed with only chit chat so keep that in mind.  3. I am a serial entrepreneur so I don't have time for a 24/7 sub/slave situation. I already have 147 employees, meetings, and projaspects in my vanilla life. The part of my life you live is to allow me to explore my deviance along with worship aspaspects I so enjoy. Everyone needs a little kink but there is a time and place for everything.   4. I rarely play home, I belong to many clubs throughout the U.S. So my favorite types of play dates happen to be dinner drinks and maybe meeting a couple or two if you've been well behaved. I only play with things that belong to me.   5. I enjoy ritual admiration. I believe when you believe in something you will develop rituals to keep it close to your heart. It's the reason we use to pledge our allegiance to the flag or say Grace before we eat. Being able to honor your superior or superiors always makes me happy.  6. I'm not into non thinkers. I Need to be able to hold a conversation with you. I want to enjoy having you and if your stuff like a broom stick I won't be able. Its ok for me to ask how your day was and you give me a real answer not you've been in chastity since 6amim talking about did you speak to family, how was work,  what did you eat? I am a Mistress and a Goddess and a Woman I don't turn any of me off to be the others they are my trinity. I want you to be able to be you in it's entirety for me.  7. So many of you seem like you could be great if you had the right person leading you, but you have to remember to make genuine connections. I'm not interested in training someone I have interest in nurturing. I'm a lover and  unfortunately some times my love hurts a little lol. Sometimes my love demands a little from you but if you believe I'm worth worship you will do what's needed.    8. I'm a 8 life path so I'll leave you with this go listen to "Take me to church" by Hozier and remember me!   Lets have a conversation but remember rule #1 before you message. If you can't follow simple instructions you're wasting my time.