It was a mixture of arousal, curiosity and his final reassurance that made her mind up. She knew she could say ‘Stop’ and he would, though that could be permanent, it was an instinctive decision that made her move towards the lift and later she realised why she made it. There was a logical progression to it. She was a stubborn person with a rebellious streak and a free will who made her own decisions and didn’t blame others when they went awry. Here she was reigning in her rebellious streak of her own free will and her natural instincts reinforced this. Her stubbornness would make her comply with what she wanted in this regard, even though it seemed counterintuitive.  Now it was a rush to the receptionist’s desk to get a pen, the envelope was already open and had the room number written on it. The contract was one piece of A4 paper and the male receptionist must have seen the bold type headline which stated ‘SUBMISSIVE’S CONTRACT’. She didn’t have time to read it all, her instinct told her that he would not put anything in it that he had not said. And what would be the point as it was a symbolic act, not a contract that could be legally enforced.  She hurried the short distance to the lift; the concierge seemed to have anticipated her need and he had pressed the button, she momentarily wondered if he knew. Once inside she selected the 4th floor. Her heart missed a beat when just before the doors closed a woman stepped into the lift causing the doors to recycle again and they selected the 3rd floor; she knew this would delay her further. She willed the lift to move faster but still almost in two minds about what she was doing, but she wanted to be the decision-maker on this and not subject to an arbitrary cut off due to time. Her pride ensured she used the time to check her hair and lipstick in the mirror as she would not countenance the thought he would not find her attractive.  The lift reached the 4th floor and according to the large sign room 417 was to the right, she almost ran, nearly tripping over her heels on the thick carpet.  The door to room 417 was slightly ajar, and a ‘do not disturb’ sign was hanging on the handle. She stood for a second or two to let her breathing steady, it seemed to take ages for her hand to travel from to the door, her knock was timid and her stomach almost jumped as she heard the noise her hand made.  A firm reply was forthcoming a few seconds later. ‘Come in Joanna’. She swallowed, took a deep breath and gripping the envelope, pushed the door open and whilst trying to look calm she stepped inside and the door closed with an almost imperceptible click.  The room was warm and gently lit from the lamp above the desk he was sitting at. His jacket was over the back of his chair and the few papers he was attending too were lying about.  Nonplussed for a moment she stood there waiting for some sort of guidance, she knew what she had to do but some sort of signal from him seemed essential.  He understood, or knew, and stood before quietly saying, ‘Come here Joanna’. It was about 4 steps and he stood almost impassively as she greeted him properly. Her arms went around his waist and she pressed herself against him until he said that she could stop. This time it seemed natural and gave a moment when she could do something that seemed familiar and that she was in control of. It also served to break some of her tension before she stepped back ready to kneel. Kneeling seemed a strange and almost alien act; she had been on her knees in front of a man before, but then she was in control of him, she forcibly overcame her rebellious streak and found it disappeared almost entirely.  Her eyes cast down she noticed her knees were together, it seemed inappropriate so she moved them further apart. Taking a larger breath she looked down at his feet and with the envelope in both hands, she held it up to him.  He didn’t seem to move for ages, and then he took it from her hands. He checked her signature was on the contract before placing it amongst the other papers on the desk. This was a small action, however, it made her realise that she had voluntarily signed this part of herself over to him. He had taken possession and she was now his.  He turned the chair to face her and sat on it.  She was on her knees only a few feet from a man she had just given her submission to in writing, she was no longer so nervous, it was now anticipation mixed with exhilaration and her senses were alive! She was now free to be what he decided. He leant forward and lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eyes, ‘Joanna, you are now mine’ he said quietly.  After a pause during which he just looked at her he then continued ‘The photography will wait until tomorrow as there are a few matters from earlier today I will address straight away.’ He wasn’t asking for a reply, he told her to stand and rest her elbows on the desk. She was a little taken aback, whilst earlier considering what might happen this evening she thought he might just photograph her. In a way that would be easier to contemplate, she could understand it would be a reasonable first private meeting, however, she knew it would disappoint her.  But now he was going to ‘Address some matters’ and that sounded ominous, it made the butterflies in her stomach come alive again. She did as asked, putting her elbows on the desk. He told her to arch her spine downwards, this meant she was bent over much further than she felt comfortable, it made her bottom more pronounced and her skirt was tighter. Her knees flexed as she tried to contain the nerves generated by her bottom being so vulnerable, he ordered her to straighten her legs and keep them so, as it tightened the skin of her buttocks. What he did next was unexpected, he ran his fingers around her neck gathering her hair into his hand at the nape of her neck. He expertly wound it into a ponytail using a band that must have been around his wrist. She now felt even more vulnerable without the usual shield of hair that would normally surround her face. She nervously moved her weight from one foot to another. He told her to spread her legs wider to shoulder width. She glanced up into the mirror above the desk; she could see him standing a few meters behind her, looking at her in a way few men had done. It was not simple lust, his face was almost impassive, she could see he was comfortable looking at the salacious view she presented.  His voice was calm as he told her that she had been disobedient when she broke away from the greeting before she had been told she could, she had also been demanding in their early email exchanges. For these, she was going to have her bottom spanked, he said it would be a ‘cumulative dozen’ and if she made any of these mistakes again it would be a stricter punishment.  He told her to raise her skirt over her back, this unnerved her more, it was one thing to have her skirt lifted, but another to do it herself! She thought she could not, but his curt statement of ‘disobey and I will use a strap instead of my hand’ encouraged her. She rested her forehead on the desk and reaching behind her with both hands she lifted the hem of her skirt until it lay over her back. He then described the view he had of her bottom in very basic language. His description of the way her swollen sex lips bulged into her panties was particularly crude and said with distinctive pleasure.  A short while later he moved to her left side. He reached over her back and pulled her right hip towards him, holding her still by trapping her against his thigh.

Hey the journal function is finally fixed!! Time to write a story about one of my (our) experiences: I shut the car door and wave goodbye to my husband, P. He blows me a kiss and pulls away. I wait until he's turned the corner and out of sight until I begin to walk up my master's driveway. It's a short walk, the house set back from the street but my path leads me into the open garage. Once past the threshold, I press the button to shut the garage door behind me. As it trundles on its tracks, I grab my sweater and pull it over my head in one quick motion. I won't need it again this weekend. My shoes, jeans, panties and socks all follow. I savor taking them off and folding them neatly, making the moment last. My backside is still sore from the punishment I received one week earlier. It had been a maid week and I had done an inadequate job with the chores. My master did not let it slide and he wanted to make sure I remember. As I stroked my bruised cheeks, I hoped it would be a kitten week. Something nice and easy, where I could be cherished and all I needed to think about was pleasure. The crate is open and I place my clothes inside. My cell phone follows along with my keys. With a sigh, I shut the crate and padlock it. Master will come and take my phone in due time, better to document my weekend for P's enjoyment and my potential humiliation. But the clothes are gone. Feeling the chill of the garage on my feet, I enter "the servant's entrance" as we jokingly call it.  Three boxes await me in the foyer. Oh shit. This is different. Usually I have no choice in how I spend the weekend. It's always one box, with either the maid's costume, the cat ears, or ... the other. But with three gift wrapped boxes in front of me, it's up to fate.  I can't open one box and change my mind. Not that disobeying master is ever an option. Whichever one I open is my weekend of service.  Can I weigh them? As I reach for the first box, I see a string attached. Nope, he'll know. I have to pick. Eenie. Meanie. Miney. "Ahem." A cleared throat from the other room. I'm in trouble already.  I make my decision and tear the wrapping paper off. Inside the box is ... Nothing. The slut this weekend, then. I walk into the living room, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes down. Master is sitting in his chair, drinking whiskey and reading. There's a pillow in front of him, directly between his feet. Keeping my eyes down, I kneel. He makes me wait, finishing this week's New Yorker. Occasionally my eyes flick up as I weigh my options. I could reach up and begin undoing his belt - the stretch of fabric in his lap tells me he's interested and excited for my weekly visit. I went for a wax earlier in the week and made sure to put my perfume on my skin so he could smell me no matter what I wore. And in my role as the slut, that would be in line with expectations. But I'm so conditioned to serve at command that I stay frozen.  He shakes his glass and I spring up to take it from his hand. I walk to the bar and as I reach for the whiskey, he says "The drawer." I open the top drawer. Inside is my collar, simple and black, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a red ballgag.  "Shall I--?" I start to ask. "Don't ask questions you should know the answer to," he says with disinterest.  OK then. I put the glass down and pick up the gag. I push it between my teeth and secure the belt behind my head. Next, the handcuffs. Does he want them in front or behind? I wish I could ask. The maid gets handcuffed in the front, so she can work. The slut, behind, so she has no control. So I slip the cuffs on behind my back, hearing the satisfied clink. But in my haste, I forgot the collar! It takes me several tries, standing on my tippy toes, mmphing with effort, to pick the collar up with my cuffed hands behind me. I trot to master happily. He finally looks at me. "My drink?" He asks. Damn it. What to do? I blink at him, fluttering my eyelashes. Push one foot in front of me and circle it back and forth on his loafer. Don't blame, I don't know any better? He takes the collar from me and cls it around my neck. Seizing my throat suddenly, he pulls me in close. "A slut does not mean you're stupid," he whispers in my ear.  One of our agreements when I first began serving him is that he'd never call me a bitch. A slut is something a person chooses to be. It's a sigh of power, both mine and his. I feel my body warm at his words and I lean down to rub my gagged mouth against his neck. He indulges me for a moment and then grabs a fistful of my hair. It's been a little while but I remember how slut weekends go. I'll be confined to the bedroom, chained to the bed most of the time. He'll film my submission and send it back to P. There's an entire box of toys for me to (mostly) enjoy, though the word "no" is gone from my vocabulary until Sunday night. My rest will be dependent on how often master wants me and how he wants me.  It will be a long, fun weekend.

Cookies. I promised several people that, if this adventure happened, I would write it up and share it in my journal. well, it indeed did happen last evening, Saturday, but not exactly as I thought I had it planned.  The set up for this story is that I did some work for a woman living in a over 55 community and only charged her for the material costs which I commonly do when I first work for someone I want them to like the work and not worry about the price. she was very grateful and gave me one of those looks like she was ready to pay me back in a way if you know what I mean and then she said: I'm sure you can think of something that I can do for you and shot me a wicked smile I knew that was my opportunity so I very calmly said: Willl you bake me pecan chocolate chip cookies? She let out what could only be described as a horse laugh, which I'm sure they heard in the adjoining units on either side. and then I followed up with, but that's not all, I want you to bake those cookies naked with 8 inch by heels, fishnet stockings and garter and a bright red ball gag. there was a long pause, kind of like dead air on a radio station and she finally opened her mouth and said you've got to be kidding! I'm not burning my boobs so that you can get off on some weird fetish! And I said OK what about wearing a tight swea and no bra? I expected another flat out no response but she said yes I think I could do that. But I'll also be wearing a skirt, nothing less than that, and no ball gag! And if That isn't good enough then you can go bake your own cookies! While it wasn't what I'd hoped for, I was still going to get my cookies, so on Saturday I came over with the ingredients she told me to get, and I sat in her kitchen, drinking coffee, while she walked back-and-forth across her kitchen in her very tight, white fuzzy sweater, and a very tight short leather skirt, plus stockings and heels, and she was an absolute delight to view. The blush in her cheeks said it all. But the best part was, she was actually baking my cookies! Once they were bagged, she Pulled them from the oven, tucked the tray up under her breasts and she said, would you like a cookie little boy? YES, Yes I would! then I asked so are all those cookies in the tray mine? Or should I ask if everything on the tray is mine? She just smiled and put the tray on the counter. She grabbed me by the hand, pulled me down the hall. We walked into her bedroom and she took off her sweater., God, those were better than any cookies!  We did all sorts of things that evening and late into the night. Considerind we're both in our mid to late 60s, so it wasn't like your first high school sex, in the back of your dad's car, but it was close.  in the morning, I woke up to the sun streaming in on my face lying next to a woman who still had her stockings and garter belt on, my head nestled between her large breasts, one of her arms underneath me,the other around my neck, and I thought to myself.... life is good! Lou  

I have surrendered to you absolutely,Given myself complete and whole,I have given you my mind and body,But then you also took my soul.You have broken the essence of my being,To shards and pieces spread about the dust,Then molded me into a creation,Solely for your pleasure and for your lust.You have taken everything out of me,You plucked my logic again and again,That when I crave for desecration,I welcome the punishment.You break and make my spirit,When the void you fill is just as muchAs when the words fail me you flail me,That my flesh welcomes your touch.This goes beyond all worship and adoration,When your commands are the breaths I need,And I know I’m not worthy of this servitude,When you drink the tears I bleed.

my latest fantasy:  You are going to subject me to a CFnm party. i meet You at a hotel party.  i have two choices. A) i can remove my clothes and You can escort me the the party space, or B) You can bring me to the room and my clothes will be ripped off of me. i chose to remove my clothes, leaving them behind, and now totally helpless.  We get to the other room and as the door opens i hear the voices of the Women waiting for me. i see Your friends standing there, but then i am horrified that i see some Women that i know. Some are Friends of mine. They have never seen me this way before and now i can not escape. You announce to the room that there is only one rule, there are no rules. i must remain naked the entire time, and the Women will never show anything that could not be shown in public. One of the Women i secretly have a crush on. She walks over to me, looking me up and down, smiling. She said she says, "I know you like me, and you are never going to get the courage to ask Me out. So I have to take things into My own hand, literally, She statrs to stroke me and pulls me into Her chest, and laughs. “That is as close as you will ever get to Me!” i am pinched, spanked, and passed back and forth between Your Guests. i am embarrassed by my Friends seeing me naked but i have way of leaving. i beg my Friends to help me, but no one comes to my aid. At the end of the party all of the Guests leave me. my body still aching in pain, but my body still crying out not to be left alone.

My Experience/Play History i have engaged in casual play with 4 mistresses, one session each. Two had no idea what they were doing, and couldn't seem to decide what to do next. Those experiences were deeply unsatisfying. The third apparently had no interest in anything but beating me, which She did with brisk enyed it, but there was nothing else. No training, no rules, no laying the groundwork, no teasing, no nothing. The last was skilled, had a very commanding presence, and went about Her work with energy and direction. Even though it was a brief session, it was quite thrilling. Unfortunately, however, She was all but impossible to communicate with regarding expectations and scheduling and suchlike, and after two weeks of trying to get together again, i gave up. i often regret this. en regret this.   0 loves

This is a somewhat tongue-in-cheek, somewhat serious exploration of how to get to know someone via collarspace.com. Or, I guess to put it honestly, how to get to know me. Step 1. Read the fucking profile. My profile is not short, but it’s not War and Peace. It has important content in it that will help you know whether we are compatible or not and save your time AND mine. When you see a photo of someone you are attracted to, a compliment is a lovely thing. But if you honestly want to start a relationship or dynamic of some sort with them, read their profile before writing. It’s a form of respect, both self-respect (keep yourself from writing to people who are wildly incompatible with you) and respect for the other. Step 2. Don’t call me Mistress. I don’t like unearned titles, and if you MUST address me by a title, Ms. is enough. Don’t call me Miss, don’t call me Goddess, don’t use one of a hundred other unearned titles. If the time comes when addressing me by a title is appropriate to our relationship, you will know and we will discuss the appropriate title at that time. Until then, you may call me Elorin or Ms. Elorin. Step 3. Three sentence minimum. This is my 95% rule for responding to a letter on collarspace. A rare exception comes in where I respond to an initial email with fewer than three sentences, but for the most part, that’s the rule. If you feel like writing three sentences is too much to ask from someone with no relationship with you so far, that’s fine. You can choose not to write or you can write less and I’ll just delete your message when I read it. And if you send a long, run-on sentence with no punctuation and capitalization, I’ll treat it as one sentence and delete, even if it should have been three sentences. This is a personal value of mine, and it’s important to me that my partners are literate and able to write and express themselves. I realize that some people don’t do well with writing, or expressing themselves online, and I have made an exception in the past to meet people in person and give them a chance to express themselves in person, but that is rare and again, 95% of the time, if you can’t write and sustain emails with me for a short amount of time, you won’t be compatible with me in person. Step 4. Don’t immediately ask to go to another media.

Femdom should be about finding joy and pleasure in a dynamic that suits you and your partner(s). Not about fixing a sub's sexism- not that it would work anyways. Most people I've talked to say that their desire for femdom predates knowledge of femdom, or of sexual arousal. While some people may have a more concrete "I'm into femdom because of a specific reason" most people I interact with like it because they like it. Vanilla people don't have to have reasons to like vanilla sex.

Master's WritingsCategorizing Levels of SubmissionOthers, in an attempt to categorize submissives, have described submissives by the levels of their submission, moving from role play to slave, while others suggest there are distinct categories of submission, where the motivation behind one’s submission drives their role such as for fantasy, relationship and/or fetish. Acknowledging that all submissives are different and any such categories could only apply in the loosest of terms, I find both model instructive in its own way, yet somehow missing the mark in some aspaspects.The creators of both models clearly identified that each individual submissive is unique and comes to their submission and depth of submission in their own way for their own purpose. And to this, I completely agree. Yet we are humans and we live to label things, so I will offer my own model, recognizing full well that mine too will fall short of describing all submissives and their motivations. I would also note that what I suggest here may have already been put forth. If so, I offer this only as my own ideas without the knowledge of their contribution to our body of knowledge. Thus I would offer a third model for consideration and discussion.I see it more a kin to the structure of Maslow‘s hierarchy of needs, Where Maslow identifies our most basic needs, moving from basic survival to self-actualization, I see submissions moving from role play to self-realization. The model I put forth is as follows:     Role play. A connection to the role based on whatever preconceptions or second hand knowledge they may have. While one might act the part, they have no emotional or mental connection to the role.     Exploration. The beginning stages of submissive awareness where thru trial and error or training, real experiences begin the development of a connection to a submissive’s awareness and one's submissive self. This level usually includes an over indulgence or over compensation of doing what they think a sub "should do".     Connection. The birth of inner connectedness to one’s submissive self, and the realization of what it feels like to give of one’s self to another. Hallmarked by a greater sense of self awareness, a growing identity as a submissive and a struggling to reconcile their submissive life with their vanilla life.     Identity and Belonging. The inner awareness and shift of self-identity as a submissive or having submissive side (as in a switch), as a genuine and acknowledged part of their persona. While they may not share this openly with others, inwardly there is a growing conviction that being a submissive is core to their being. While connection can occur at any stage, at this stage, connection to a Dominant becomes more essential to allow for further growth.     Confidence. As identity as a submissive grows and self-esteem relating to the role increases, their confidence of self grows. The focus can now be more inward to understand their submissive needs, who they are as a submissive, and the beginning of blending their submissive self into their vanilla life and identity.     Self-Realization and Connectedness to their Id. Full acceptance of their new identity, as submission is fully integrated into their sense of self. Submission can now fuel their lives and relationships with greater meaning and richer experiences as they fully integrate their submissive-self into their vanilla life. Not every submissive will reach or choose to reach this level. I would welcome comments and ideas for the improvement of this model if others see value in it. 

Messy Little Piggy  Had the best time today rolling around in the bath in piss and custard. Oinking as I poured it all over my head, down over my snout and finishing by rubbing it all over my tits and pussy. Piggy piss play and sploshing, yum, my favourite. What food do you like to wallow and oink in?

The Cuck is a gentle submissive slim built guy. He can be orally bi but is not into anal or any other form of gay sex. He is  happy just to watch his wife used by other men or group of men. He is just as happy to be made to wait outside once any action is due to start. He sometimes likes to strip his wife naked in front of a bull or a group of men. He will then offer her for play. The wife is a true polyamory woman who enjoys the attention of other men but has no desire to leave her loving husband. She is a natural submissive woman who happens to enjoy degradation in many forms. She also enjoys the finer things in life. Taken out for dinner or drinks by the bull with or without the cuck. She can dress for any occasion but likes to show off in sluty clothes. Taken out in see through tops and micro skirts aspect, this also pleases the cuck.

I could Not update my profile without risking a long approval period, so I am updating here! my age is 47, not sure why that never updates. I am Heterosexual not pan sexual (not sure how that got changed). I am worth the time and effort, a one of a kind woman, who is not soon forgotten.  Looking for a male Dom in my area for real time. I am a sub, I will NOT send you dirty pics. Please be single and available, please be real, please be honest, please have your life together, as I do.  I am again looking for real time, would prefer a HOH type arrangement or relationship. Please be ready to verify who You are and meet within a reasonable timeframe! I am a loyal sub, I am kind and understanding, and mostly obedient ;).  I do not play games and expect you wouldn't want to either.  I like to travel, read, go to the beach, and write. I can hold a conversation. I hope you can as well!  I am passionate about this lifestyle and see it as a way of life, not a bedroom game.  thank you for looking at my profile! 

== Results from bdsmtest.org: ==   100% Submissive  90% Rope Bunny  88% Brat  81% Masochist  77% Experimentalist   57% Degradee  52% Voyeur  45% Primal (Prey)  38% Vanilla  21% Pet  20% Slave  18% Exhibitionist  9% Non-monogamist  6% Owner  4% Rigger  0% Daddy/Mommy  0% Ageplayer  0% Brat tamer  0% Degrader  0% Dominant  0% Little  0% Master/Mistress  0% Primal (Hunter)  0% Sadist  0% Switch   

Co-Top Co-topping is when two tops are sharing control in a BDSM scene. A typical BDSM scene has a top and a bottom, with the top in control and/or giving sensation and the bottom giving up control and/or receiving sensation. In a co-top scenario, two tops are sharing the control in a negotiated way. More About Co-TopThere are many different situations in which two tops may choose to work together. There are coordinated forms of play, such as two people wielding whips at one recipient. Their are collaborative forms of play where one top may be taking more of an assistant role. Co-topping can be a way to mentor a new top so they can practice their skills in a supervised way. It can be a way for friends or partners who are both tops to play together in a scene, or it can simply be a way to provide a more intense or complex experience to the bottom.

Embracing My Feminine Submission 🌸✨ Today, I find myself reflecting deeply on my journey of submission, a path sprinkled with the soft petals of my femininity and the resonating echo of my girlish heart. There's an undeniable intertwining of these identities, each one validating and magnifying the other, creating a tapestry of self that I continue to weave with delicate, yet eager hands. 🎀. OMG, Total introspection! Like, deep-diving into my submissive heart and its BFF relationship with all things girly and femme. It’s crazy how these parts of me just click together. It’s as if the universe went, “Hey girl, here’s some sparkle for your soul,” and BAM, I’m living my authentic self. 💁✨ Being submissive isn't just a role I've adopted; it's a celebration of my most authentic self, where my natural inclinations to yield and please are not just accepted but revered. It's in this sacred space that my girlishness - the sweet, effervescent joy I find in the simplest things, and my feminine essence - the flowing well of nurturing, intuitive emotion, come together in a beautiful, symbiotic dance. 💃❤️. It is like...my heart’s home. It’s where my love for pleasing isn’t just okay; it’s adored. And this space? It’s where my inner girl - all giggles, twirls, and happy tears - gets to hang out with my woman-self. They chat, they laugh, they cry, they share skincare tips (lol), and together, they’re just me. 💕👛 Now, let’s talk fashion, because honey, my subby side loves to dress up. It’s like every outfit is a secret message, all “this is me, this is real.” The fabrics kiss my skin, the swish of a skirt, the jingle of my bangles - girl, it’s all part of the symphony, you know? 🎵👠 I dress myself in the aesthetics of my submission, each garment a symbol of soft surrender. The silk feels like whispers against my skin, the colors, pastel or vibrant, mirror my mood, and the act of choosing what to wear is less about fabric and more about wrapping myself in a visible representation of my identity. The bangles on my wrists sing with every movement, a gentle, constant reminder of the delicate strength I carry within. 💅👗 But real talk, submission isn’t just a look. It’s like...a heart agreement. It’s built on mega trust and this super special respect-package. It’s not a solo gig, either. It takes two to tango, and when His strong, guiding hand finds mine? Magic. It’s like I’m free in a way only us in the know get. 🙈💫. it goes beyond the tangible. My submission is painted in the strokes of trust, painted with the brush dipped in the hues of reverence and devotion. It's an artwork that requires two, though - one to surrender and one to accept the offering. It's a mutual dance, and when guided by a firm, loving lead, I find the purest freedom, a paradox that only those in this intricate dynamic can truly understand. 🌹🔐 In my day-to-day, whether I'm tending to my tasks, engaging with others, or lost in quiet moments of reflection, my submission hums softly in the background, a soundtrack only I can hear. It's in the way I craft my space, a blend of comfort, beauty, and order. It's in the way I express my care for those around me, a pour from the pitcher of my heart. And it's most loud and clear in the stillness of the night, when I journal my thoughts and experiences, each word a thread in the tapestry of my submissive journey. 🌙✍️ The resilience of my journey isn't lost on me. There's a profound strength in vulnerability, a courage in femininity that the world often overlooks. As I continue this journey, I do so with an open heart, celebrating the girly joy, the sensual submission, and the intricate femininity that makes me whole. Here's to the paths we walk, the roles we cherish, and the selves we continue to discover. 🥂💕

Vanilla interests/conversation starters. I am not looking for a hook up, I am looking for a connection. Also, I'll still respond to small talk if you are respectful, it's just that I honestly dont understand the point of small talk on a dating site. If the point is to find your person, let's get out of the shallow end and get into some deep thought provoking conversation, actually get to know each other, right? I am the type of person who gets a stronger social charge from deeper conversation. Small talk drains my energy. I think it's vital to a healthy relationship to be able to support each other's interests, too.  Psych Honestly, just about any topic within psych I could have a conversation on, or want to learn more about.  History What gets my interest is the stuff that you have to dig a little to learn about. I'm not as interested in the same old topics that we have been talking to death for years. I want to talk about the stuff I dont know about. I want to share the things you didn't know about. I want us both to share thoughts and have a conversation we haven't had with anyone before. Think about things we never pondered on before. Something more original as opposed to the same old regurgitated bs. Religion I am not religious myself, but I do like to learn about religion. It tells you a lot about people, history, and social psychology. Really, I just like to learn about people. The history of people. Genetics, DNA, human migration. Again, this one is really just learning about people Politics This one obviously is a touchy subject, it's easier having these conversations with people of similar views and a literate mind.I will talk politics with an opposing view, but once it moves past a debate, where both sides are talking but no one is being heard, that's the point I walk away.  I am interested in psychology and history, with politics too. Things like Machiaveli.  As I have said before, you are also welcome to share your interests and see if there is enough mutual interest to have a good conversation. I am also open to talking just to talk, If I am on here, it's likely I dont have anything better going on anyway.