The dimly lit bar was filled with the usual Saturday night crowd, the air thick with the scent of spilled drinks and lingering perfumes. In the corner, a striking figure caught the eye of many, but few dared to approach. Rosalind, a voluptuous woman in her early forties with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes, was known for her domineering presence. She was a BBW with curves that could make any man weak at the knees, but her commanding aura was what truly set her apart. Across the room, a man named Thomas noticed her. He was tall, with short grey hair and a solid build, his eyes a soft brown that held a hint of timidity. He had been watching her for some time, his curiosity piqued by her confident demeanor. As if feeling his gaze, Rosalind turned to look at him, her lips curling into a slow, seductive smile. She raised her glass in a silent toast, beckoning him over with a flick of her wrist. Thomas hesitated for a moment before making his way to her table. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice steadier than he felt. Rosalind leaned back in her chair, her eyes roaming over him appraisingly. "I might," she replied, her voice a low purr. "What makes you think I'd want your company?" Thomas swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "Because I think you enjoy a challenge," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Rosalind chuckled, a sound like velvet. "You're right about that," she said, patting the seat next to her. "Sit." Over the next hour, they engaged in a battle of wits, their banter laced with innuendo and subtle flirtation. Rosalind was intrigued by Thomas's quiet strength, and Thomas was captivated by her boldness. As the night wore on, they found themselves drawn to each other, the sexual tension palpable. "I'm Rosalind," she said finally, extending her hand. Thomas took it, his fingers brushing against hers. "Thomas," he said, his voice hoarse. Rosalind's fingers lingered on his, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of his hand. "Tell me, Thomas," she said, her voice a whisper. "What are your fantasies?" Thomas hesitated, his breath hitching in his throat. "I... I enjoy being dominated," he admitted, his eyes meeting hers. "Being told what to do." Rosalind's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I see," she said. "And what about chastity? Ever thought about being locked up?" Thomas nodded, his cheeks flushing with desire. "Yes," he admitted. "I have." Rosalind's smile turned wicked. "Good," she said. "Because I have just the thing to make your fantasies a reality." Two weeks later, Thomas found himself in Rosalind's apartment, standing naked before her. She had taken him shopping for a chastity cage, a chrome device that now adorned his cock. He had been locked in it for days, the sensation of being caged driving him to the brink of madness. Rosalind looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on the device. "You look delicious," she said, her voice a low growl. "But I think it's time to take things up a notch." She turned to a table beside her, picking up a stubby black vibrator with spiral veins  that promised pleasure beyond imagination. She switched it on, the hum filling the room. Thomas's eyes widened, his cock straining against the cage. "Please," he begged, his voice a whimper. "Please let me cum." Rosalind chuckled, shaking her head. "Not yet," she said. "First, you need to earn it." She gestured to the bed, and Thomas eagerly climbed onto it, lying on his back. Rosalind knelt between his legs, her eyes locked onto his. She leaned forward, her breath hot on his cock, and slowly began to lick the length of it through the cage. Thomas moaned, his hips bucking against the restraint. "Shh," Rosalind whispered, her tongue tracing the tip of the cage. "Be quiet, or I'll have to gag you." Thomas nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Rosalind smiled, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She reached into a drawer beside the bed, pulling out a black ball gag. She fastened it around his head, silencing his moans. Thomas looked up at her, his eyes pleading. Rosalind chuckled, her fingers tracing the lines of his body. "Such a pretty sight," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "All mine to control." She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "You're mine now, Thomas," she whispered. "Every part of you." Thomas nodded, his body shaking with desire. Rosalind smiled, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent. She stood up, her hand reaching for the vibrator. She turned it on, the hum filling the room once more. "Now," she said, her voice a low growl. "Let's see how well you can take this." She pressed the tip of the vibrator against his cock, the hum vibrating through the cage. Thomas moaned, his body shaking with the sensation. Rosalind pushed it harder, her eyes locked onto his. She could see the pleasure building in him, his body tensing with the need to cum. "Please," he begged, his voice muffled by the gag. "Please let me cum." Rosalind shook her head, her fingers tracing the lines of his body. "Not yet," she said. "You haven't earned it." She turned the vibrator up, the hum growing louder. Thomas's body shook, his cock straining against the cage. Rosalind could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the desperation in his eyes. She smiled, her fingers tightening around the vibrator. "Come on, Thomas," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "Take it. Take all of it." Thomas moaned, his body shaking with the effort. Rosalind could see the pleasure building in him, his body tensing with the need to cum. She smiled, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good boy," she said, her voice a low growl. "You're doing so well." She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "Now," she whispered, her voice a low purr. "Let's see how well you can take this."

Where do pirates get their hooks? A second hand store.    Thank you for taking the time to read my profile. I’m looking for someone who naturally has a happy personality and only wants to make others around them happy also. She needs to be drug and tobacco free with only an occasional drink.  What do you call cheese that’s not yours?  Nacho cheese.    I would like to find that type of feeling like when we were in high school and we have that super crush on each other. I do everything to avoid conflict. I don’t argue or fight, if you want a masochist I’m not for you. Trust and respectful communication are important. I am not a social bug so my friend circle is small.  I have 2 kittens but love most pets. I’m not looking for perfection I’m looking for happiness and someone who has the suction of a shop vac. 

February 27, 2024   I fucked Football Player boy raw for the first time !   It feels like forever since football player boy has visited. But during the last time he visited, at the end of our visit during debriefing, I asked him a question. I made it more of a statement, but it was a question.   I told him, "I really want to fuck you raw one of these days." He thought for a moment and said, "I'm not saying yes, but I'm definitely not saying no."   Today when he texted, he said that he wanted to have try to have two orgasms during our visit. Then he continued and said, "I was hoping that you and that machine could be used during that."   He normally would just request the fuck machine, or the sling, or cock torture... But this time he specifically said, "YOU and that machine."   I really wasn't sure which "that machine" he was talking about but I didn't care. I concentrated on the "you."   I took this as a green light!   10 years ago when we first met on Craigslist M4M, he was just looking for someone to peg him with a dildo. He always wanted blindfolded. At the beginning, if I even cleared my throat with a masculine cough he would lose his hardon.   Eventually he began sucking cock. Then he learned to swallow my cum. Then he let me fuck him with a condom. Today is the next milestone.   When he arrived he came through the garage, gave his normal cheery salutations and immediately began to strip exposing his hard on. I swear he must arrive hard in the driveway.   I was sitting in my chair naked except for a white jockstrap. I was planning on keeping the jock strap on the entire time because I had plans with the dirty jockstrap a few days later. I was going to use it as a mask over ball beating boys face when he came for his next visit.   I spread my legs a bit, which gave him the invitation to get on his knees and start sucking my cock. Which of course he immediately did. Today was a good day, my cock was throbbing hard. As I always do, I look down at his broad shoulders and big chest which is quite a turn on for me as he sucking my cock.   Occasionally he would look up at me. Sometimes I feel that he has puppy dog eyes. Sad and Wanting eyes. Fuck it's hot. But I don't know if he's looking up at me for confirmation he's doing a good job, or if he is checking to see if I'm taking pictures.   He sucked my cock for quite a while then I said let's head downstairs to the sling.   READ THE FULL STORY AT www.SirKel.top/?collarspace

Ahh, my favorite season is here... Anything-But-Summer! I love the cooler weather in general, plus it gives me an opportunity to spend more time working in my yard. Now is the perfect time to look over my plants to see what was successful, and what may need relocated or even replaced. Once again, I'm enjoying the small surprises, such as the blueberries that have survived and even appear to be thriving in the bags in which I purchased them this spring. I'm saddened by the plants that looked promising in the spring, yet didn't survive the summer.  Much like those plants, although pleasant for a while, apparently I need to reassess some of the relationships in my life and consider finding others that have the potential to last longer and grow even more beautiful. Who wants to frolic and grow in my garden? *ominous grin*

For whoever needs to "hear" this.. It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring — they’re just busy and self-focused.. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unlovable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are — that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others — is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough.  

Rush I could feel the blood coursing through my veins. My skin was flushed and I could feel my heart beat with excitement. I cast my gaze downward, taking in the full length of the beauty who had submitted to me. Sweat glistend from her soft skin. Her arms and legs stretched to their full extent. Her eyes pleading. Her mouth clentched on the gag which stifled her words, but did little to muffle her moans. It was her idea. She wanted to have her limits pushed. Pushed beyond her previous play. I was riding her edge in so many ways. Keeping her on the brink. Permission withheld. Applying pleasure, and pain according to her liking, but never enough. She could flirt with her orgasm, but I held her back. Torture, but not from pain. Torture from the pleasure without release. I abandoned her to her need. That look on her face. Pleading with her eyes and body. I wanted a break. Taking my time. Poured myself a tall ice water to cool off. I walked back the ice clinking in my glass. The bed complained as I settle next to her. She did not. I was greeted with an expectant look. A smirk even. She was ready for the next chaper. She knew that the story had not run its course. I admired the marks that I left on her body. Hand prints and crop marks set upon a pink background from a generous amount of flogging. I plucked an ice cube from my glass. Gentlly traced my marks with the ice, leaving a trail of water and a slight shiver from my submissive. My tracing spiraled around her breasts encouraging her nipples to their full extent. I teased her belly button then towards her clit. I alternated between a vibrator and the ice until it melted. I retrieved the remaining ice from my glass. Traced her inner thigh. I rub the entrance before slipping the ice inside. I could see the discomfort, as I relished my control. Inserted another piece for good measure. I could feel the blood flowing to my cock. Engorged and ready. I rubbed the head against her, before sliding inside. I savored the cold created by her internal ice bath. It was time to get started...

Columbus has been feeling… quiet lately. Not in the peaceful sense—more like the kind of silence that comes when there’s a lack of presence. A lack of structure. A lack of men who understand what it means to offer themselves with intention. I’ve been observing more than engaging, and what I see is a pattern—too many who talk about submission, very few who live it with consistency, discretion, and discipline. That’s where my attention has been shifting. I’ve been considering creating something more… curated. A private space designed for those who understand devotion beyond surface-level interaction. Not performative. Not chaotic. Structured, intentional, and centered around real standards. Access would not be given lightly. If you’re the kind of man who needs constant attention, reassurance, or direction just to function—you won’t last. But if you’re composed, self-managed, and understand that true submission is proven in silence just as much as in service… then perhaps you’ll find yourself exactly where you belong. Columbus may be quiet—but I won’t be for long. — Mistress Nikki Vixen

Looking for permanent companionship.  I am poly and unpartnered currently.  What I am looking for is obedience and full time servitude. I am not a nice person.  If you please me, you will be rewarded.  If you displease me, you will be punished.  None of that bratty punishment.  You will be punished in a way that you genuinely dislike.  If chaining you up and leaving you alone is something that distresses you, that can be your punishment.  If you dislike pain, or public humiliation, or anything really, I will make it happen so you genuinely suffer.  If you want to be playful and want some of these things, just ask at an appropriate time and I will make it happen as long as you have not displeased me. Also looking for genuine hypnosis subjaspects I am not a monster, I am not a nice guy either.

(There is apparently a way to actually change the entire background color of a post: I have seen other users do it. All I can figure out to do is to use a different color "highlighter" to contrast against the font color. I guess it is essentally the same thing, but dang.) I got contacted by a man on FetLife who fits so many of my criteria that I'm actually tempted: lives one city over within 7 years of my age in an open relationship (he's separated ad casually dating) has a car He already has some chastity devices, and we have overlapping interests. We're sizing each other up, but he sounds eager to meet. eeeee!My only concern is his interest in "intox play," which Urban Dictionary defines as: short for intoxication play, It is a type of BDSM scene where one or both partners get intoxicated and have consensual sex. I put that one down as a hard limit: it's too easy to forget important things like negotiating safe-signals before someone is tied up and gagged. Not *cough* that I'd have any direct experience with that. *ahem* However, we have plans for a coffee date this week, so here's hoping. However, since the pandemic it's not like I've been a social butterfly, so if nothing else I'll get points for making the effort.  

Oh Sir, your bitch is waiting for you to grab me by my pussy hair and push me onto the bed You tie my hands over my head, put a spreader bar between my legs and then wisper in my ear, how dare you come to me with all this here My bitch is hairless you hear me You pull out your shaver and take off my hair, spanking my clit and pussy as you go Mmmmm When you are done you go into the bathroom and get a soapy washcloth You rub and scrub my lips and pussy You dirty bitch as you flip me onto my belly trying to decide which hole youll shove your big hard almost still cock You spank me first with a wooden paddle that I actually brought zwith me Ill show you who your Master is bitch You grab the back of d hair as you climb on top of me shoving yor dick into me hard I cry out    M  

Knowing how I like poetry, a potential sub wrote the following poem in my honor.  Not bad, though I didn't tell him that.  Wouldn't want him to get a swelled head, lol.   Ode to Her Eternal Grace Beneath her gaze, my trembling spirit bows,Her sovereign light outshines the dawn’s first rays.In every word, her wisdom she endows,A queen whose might commands unending praise. Her steps, a melody of measured grace,The world itself bends gently to her will.No mortal man could e'er deserve her place,For she ascends where lesser hearts stand still. Her beauty’s flame ignites my soul to ash,Her voice, the tempest and the calming sea.Through her, my pride is but a fleeting flash,Erased by truths that only she can see. A woman's throne is carved in nature's law,Her reign, a testament to perfect right.To serve her power leaves me naught in awe,For she alone transforms the dark to light. Oh Mistress, sculptor of my humbled frame,Through you, I shed the chains of man's disguise.Your glory burns, eternal as your name,A beacon shining from superior skies.

A lot of people don't realize who they are. Like my neighbor, who says she doesn't want to gossip, I suspect because it's frowned upon, and yet can't wait to get juicy details that are none of her business. She sticks her nose in where it isn't needed all over the damn place. I don't think she realizes how much she thrives on it. She definitely doesn't use it to her advantage in a field where it could be useful.  Or my pain in the ass direct boss, who loves authority, who has to be right, who treats women as slightly to moderately inferior depending on the situation. He's insensitive. He's loud. And he doesn't seem to give one single shit what anybody thinks. This man has no idea that people don't want to deal with him, men or women. That at least a handful of good people have left because of him.  I think a lot about who I am and how it is portrayed. What sometimes comes out instead and if that's me or reactionary. Then again, most of my life has been reactionary, so maybe I don't even know who the real me is. I'm learning. I made the decision to switch careers and I am giving myself a year to do it. Research, learn, prep, etc. And just like that, I care a whole lot less about my boss because now he's temporary.  It's another moment where my life is on hold, but it isn't. This time I'm like a duck swimming; serene above water, paddling like crazy below. I think I'm moving in the right direction in figuring out who I am and where I want to be. It begins. 

Outcomes over urgency. When the roles change, so do the rules. Old paths seem to have a way of reopening because timing is always tactical... What's understood doesn't need explanation.     

When fantasy meets reality, some men find themselves lost in the space between what they imagine and what truly exists. In a world filled with movies, games, social media, and idealized images, it becomes easy to mistake fantasy for attainable truth. They may chase unrealistic versions of women, power, or status, forgetting that real life is imperfect, complex, and grounded in responsibility. When the line between fantasy and reality fades , disappointment, frustration, and confusion often follow. Learning to see life as it is—not as we wish it to be—takes maturity and self-awareness. True strength lies in facing reality head-on, appreciating genuine experiences over illusions, and building a life that is real, not imagined. Men...you need to do better.       

What's in a name? Obligatory attention getting headline: Every time you say your Dom's name, you reinforce everything he is to you. I've been in this life for a long time now. I've been called many things, from Master/Daddy to everything else under the sun. What you call your Dom isn't just a cute pet name, it reinforces what he is to you every time you say it. Each name means something different, and when you use it, you’re shaping the dynamic between you and your owner. So here's what these names mean both to you, and to Them.   Sir Lets start with the basics. Here is how and when to use your Dom's name: - Yes, Sir - No, Sir - Please, Sir - Thank you, Sir - Sorry, Sir - Sir, may i... Sir is an honorary given to any random Dom out of respect to the position, not necessarily the person. Should the individual in the Dom position lose your respect, you may stop referring to him with that honorary title. The respect must be lost though, saying "it must be earned" is no excuse. While some, after collaring, choose to keep calling their Dom "Sir", most choose a new title that more clearly emphasizes their relationship roles.   Master When you call your owner Master, you’re telling him you want to feel possessed, controlled, and kept. It’s the title you choose to call your owner when surrender is what you crave, handing yourself over fully and feeling the thrill of being someone else's prized possession.   Daddy When you call your owner Daddy, you’re asking for more than just authority. you’re asking for safety, nurturing, and guidance. It’s discipline wrapped in comfort. You’re saying, “I’m yours, but I’m also protected.” For many, that mix of strength and softness is exactly what they need. There’s often a paternal craving behind it too, which is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Embrace your desire to be cared for, corrected, and cherished the way only a protective father could.   my Lord When you call your owner my Lord, you’re putting him above you. Not just as your Dominant, but as someone you revere. It’s about hierarchy, about structure, about finding peace in knowing your place beneath his dominion. It’s old-fashioned, sure, but it carries a kind of ritual weight that can be deeply grounding.   Sire When you call your owner Sire, you’re giving him the tone of nobility, but it’s not quite the same as My Lord. My Lord is reverent, almost worshipful; it places him above you in a way that feels ceremonial, tied to the safety you find in his dominion. Sire, on the other hand, leans heavier into command and authority. It’s the word subjaspects would use for a king, not just a nobleman, but the one who rules, whose word carries absolute weight. Where My Lord can feel romantic or devotional, Sire feels sharper, more commanding. Saying it is like kneeling at the foot of the throne and swearing loyalty, not just offering service.   Mister (Lastname) When you call your owner Mr. , you’re looking at him as a figure of moral authority. It’s like the strict teacher who praises when you do well and corraspects you when you don’t. You live for his approval, and you fear his disappointment. Punishment becomes penance; obedience becomes devotion.   Vicar When you call your owner Vicar, you’re placing him in the role of a guide, someone who leads you not just with rules, but with care. It’s a name that carries a sacred weight. Correction feels like absolution, rules feel like doctrine, and obedience becomes something almost holy. You’re not just following him, you’re finding both forgiveness and salvation through him.   Maestro This is usually for the more latin-oriented as Maestro is a Spanish name. The slave who called me this was a beautiful Nicaraguan who I had named "bonita". When you call your owner Maestro, you’re seeing him not just as someone in control, but as someone creating something with that control. Maestron litterally translates to "Teacher", but think conductor, artist, master craftsman. Think of yourself as a blank canvas, and your owner as the one who will shape you.   Every name you choose carries weight: Sir is about respect, and the starting point before a deeper title is chosen. Master is about possession. Daddy is about protection and nurturing. My Lord is about reverence. Sire is about command, your loyalty sworn to a ruler whose word is absolute. Mr. Lastname is about moral authority.</

Once agion I am reminded that "Werner Heisenberg — ‘Not only is the Universe stranger than we think, it is stranger than we can think. so there is hope

Inspection The first step in the process of a slave becoming My property is inspection.  I have been asked many times what is involved with inspectuin,  Here it is: Inspection is its opportunity to demonstrate its desire to become nothing but slave property: an it. Inspection may take just a few minutes. How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat? What will happen at inspection depends on how it pleases Me. it may be sent away with nothing more than a casual viewing. it may be offered the opportunity to demonstrate its desire to become nothing. At inspection, it may leave at any time without any restraint. In other words it will still have choice. However, if both Master and potential slave property agree more may take place. For example, Master may take the time and trouble to explain the process by which the slave becomes property. The slave may have the opportunity to ask questions. Further activities may, or may not, follow.

Here is a lil update:  You'd like to turn your ass all sorts of colors, pleasure you, control you,                         restrain you, explore you, use you and care for you.                         You want to fill your holes, devour you, make you cum repeatedly.                         If this is not a normal daily routine or something there in, then  I'm not interested in you being                          My Dom, My Daddy or anything of the sort. Simply not the girl for you. Ty

Stirring of the Mind Well it was asked in a forum of recent why guys often date younger and I had a quick response for it but it left my mind a stir. So I felt it better to write it out. Why do guys date younger?For myself it is rather simple. Is it the thrill of something so taboo? The sexual conquest? Not for myself. At a certain point men become tired of the drama from women of similar age. In my case I was given options like a single mother who wanted me to buy her a car after a single non date to fix her laptop, or a person who made it her mission in life to crush the souls of those she married out of financial gains and to feel that rush of power. I often found myself in a position of lifting my partner up whilst sacrificing myself and my own needs. Whereas when dating younger you may deal with immaturity, drama over things you now know are really petty, but you get that chance to guide the relationship down a better path than I may of chosen when younger. She trusts me to do whats right and to pull from my years of experience. She respaspects me truly and can be molded into the best form of herself as I help her gain her confidence, knowledge of life, and wisdom she may not of otherwise of gotten with guys her age.

 Exoticpie2024