Dear Men, I have had a few admirers and they all in some ways reveal they admire my sexual ambition but could not participate. I have no interest having finding 2 gay men, I am sure the feeling is mutual. I have no interest in seeing 2 men demonstrate an affection for each other. I was curious in exploring a dynamic where I have an open relationship with 2 men. I was curious to build up to situation where 2 men would feel comfortable pleasing me at the same time. I feel I am just a true bachelorette, no kids, no drama, independent. It is easier developing a relationship where the 2 men are single, not married, no kids (nothing wrong with having kids just I don't want to be blamed for not playing the step mum role).   Some men have said they are interested in cuckhold. Some have said they are bi-curious. but all seem to fear I want to covert a straight man into a gay lifestyle. All it takes is for me to get on really well with 2 men and to just supply the whisky and on with the show.  :)

Bridget Choses Enslavement   Bridget’s emotions were running wild.  The ride up to Master’s gave her ample time to reflect on this special occasion.  Bridget was to be enslaved today.  Master had often told her that all women secretly wanted to be possessed and owned by a dominant master.  Collared.  Be an enslaved slut.  Bridget had embraced her inner slave and wanted the delicious certainty of being a strong Master’s owned property.  What a glorious feeling to have no need to carry on with the soul killing charade of denying her sexuality, her submission, her needs and desires. Bridget was so sure.  She couldn’t wait for their special ritual.  The ritual was ordered by her Master but she had made adjustments and additions that had delighted Master.  She knew Master treasured her and all of her. He often remarked on her intelligence and how it drove her kink and also drove his passion to be her owner.  Master always said women with a desire for the collar, for enslavement were usually the very intelligent ones.   Before she left home Bridget paid attention in the shower.  Her shaving was meticulous. Her legs, arms, and pussy were smooth as possible. She thrilled at the thought of the way Master would cup her smooth, oiled pussy and run his hand back and forth as she squirmed and moaned. She knew Master loved to lick and kiss her clit.  He also like to use his Hitachi and a soft makeup brush on her.  He’d alternate the vibrator and brush on her clit.  Sometimes he’d just stop and listen to her breathing.  Bridget loved it when he chained her wrists and ankles in his bed and made her come over and over until she screamed.  He’d gag and blindfold her and make her come some more. Master had learned early in their play to put a towel under her.  The wet spot was something to see. Bridget’s enslavement ritual outfit was all white and had been her idea.  Master had suggested adding long white gloves and she agreed with relish.  Once out of the shower, at Master’s direction, she installed two Ben Wa balls in her pussy.  They went in nicely.  When she walked around she could feel them as she moved.  She wondered if walking in heels would accentuate the sensation.  Oh well, she’d find out soon.  Bridget loved Master’s toy collection.  He had a veritable fleet of vibrators including a very useful remote controlled beauty.  Master said he was shopping for an internet controlled vibrator for some long distance fun.  He also had a selection of nipple clamps, some fun and some she feared.  There was a lot more and she was sure the list was growing After carefully pulling on her white stockings and attaching them to her sexy garter she slipped on her skimpy white panties.  A curvy white push up bra completed her underwear.  She had a nice white blouse with a plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage. Her brief white skirt would expose her slim legs and white stockings.  Finally she slipped on her white high heels with thosecute sexy little ankle straps.  Naturally she added accessories like a string of pearls and a bright red lipstick.  She decided she’d add her fragrance and put on the white gloves when she arrived at Masters. The miles rolled by.  Her heart sang.  She had made her decision.  It felt so right.  All the things she wanted to experience would be hers in a safe and protected place.  Master would help to explore all the dark kinky places she dreamed about.   The highway intersection appeared on her GPS. She had to turn north.   It was time to call Master.  She heard the phone ring.  Her emotions ping ponged.  Master answered with a pleased voice.  She was close.  He could almost sense her.  They both reveled in the joy of anticipation.     Master remarked that he was looking forward to draping her with his new 1/8” stainless steel chain.  Perhaps chaining her breasts with a nice halter.  When he mentioned that he’d like to chain her in Sirik Bridget’s was incredibly turned on.  The thought of the chain running from her collar to the chained wrist manacles and finally ending on the ankle manacles.  Sirik chain bondage allowed movement but served to remind her that she was owned, protected property.  Master loved everything Gorean and spent a lot of time finding ways to practically adapt the mores of Gor to earth.  A significant Gorean notion is that bondage enhances a woman’s beauty.  Bridget agreed but also concluded bondage made her horny as hell. The rural setting, the trees, the quiet appealed to her.  Here’s the driveway.  Turning right and pulling up the long driveway she found herself next to Master’s car and she knew, the beginning of her life changing event was close at hand.  She put her car in park and applied the parkingbreak.  She felt that she also applied a break on her normal, vanilla life.  She would enter the BDSM Sea.  Enter it as one of the more exotic and nuanced denizens.  She would be a slave girl, specifically a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  Bridget and Master had discussed many aspects of enslavement, slave protocols, sexual ownership, and what they each wanted.  She agreed with Master that after all, it was at its heart, an exotic adult game.  They both knew few could play the game, few could accept their role, and few could adhere to the rules and enjoy them with intense satisfaction.  Bridget loved her role and while their private play was so satisfying, she looked forward to their forays into various forms of public play.  Public Play involved exposing part of her BDSM life to the vanilla world.  Bridget always found it surprising.  She couldn’t believe the naughty sense of excitement she felt when she was exposed.  Was it humiliation, she wasn’t sure but it was very kinky indeed. She applied the bright red lipstick.  She loved the color and loved that her Master had told her he loved bright paint on her lips.  He said she was so attractive and luscious and he wanted her lips prominently displayed for him.  Next her fragrance, chosen because it was both understated and exotic.  At last she pulled on the long white gloves that came up to her elbows. Bridget and Master had discussed how she’d wear the long white gloves and he’d hogtie her and use his ball gag.  The picture in her mind of the helpless position always made her wet and horny.  Master had done this before.  Usually he rubbed a rabbit fur all over her body before he pulled her hair and squeezed her tit while he told her how he felt, what he wanted, and what he’d do with her next. As she turned toward the house she found the garage door open and as she had been instructed, she entered the garage and went to the back door leading into Master’s Rec room.  The lighting was subdued but she saw two large shapes draped in thin cloth.  She knew these were their BDSM toys.  Master had built a large cage for her amusement and a sturdy St Andrews cross that would fulfill her desire to be suspended and held helpless. Master had promised to cuff and chain her to the cross.  She knew she’d be naked and looked forward to the way master slipped a gag into her mouth before he applied something to her ass. Usually he forced a silicone bit gag into her mouth before he used his snake whip on her.  She could bite down on the bit and scream at the same time for the serious relief she craved.  Master had assured her she’d receive a serious whipping and perhaps caning that would leave some minor marks.  She wanted the marks.  She wanted to feel his touch afterward.  She wanted all of the things that ownership demanded. She knew Master had plans for an interesting combination Stocks and Spanking Bench.  Bridget had told Master she’d love to be placed in stocks and have her ass molested, pinched, bit, and butt plugged. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to administer an enema while in the stocks.  Master had a lot of toys and equipment.  He had showed her the enema paraphernalia and it included an interesting flow meter that Master said was important to ensure reasonable flow and comfort.    Climbing the stairs she heard Master’s voice and it made her heart skip a beat.  She loved the way he spoke to her.  He didn’t speak at her rather he spoke with her, sharing his thoughts and sometimes emotions.  Master was sitting in a large black leather chair.  He was wearing his black suit with a black mandarin shirt and a nice red pocket square.  He leaned forward and motioned for her to come up.  He wondered about her trip and if the Ben Wa balls were still in place and how she liked them.  She told him about her journey and, yes, the Ben Wa twins were still in place and had directed her attention at the oddest of times, like stepping on the brakes. He asked her if she was ready, if she wanted to go through with their plans.  Did she really want all the things they had planned for, had discussed.  She knew what he was asking, giving her a graceful out.  Her mind was made up but his trust and care made her even more convinced that she wanted enslavement, wanted slavery, wanted to be an owned woman, Master’s property.  All of their discussions had led to this decision.  They both saw a Master/slave relationship as the purest and incidentally most fun form of a BDSM power exchange.  Both of their roles had been defined in term that made sense to both Bridget answered him by unbuckling her shoe clasps and removing her heels.  Pulling the ribbon from her hair she let it fall loose about her shoulders.  Bridget smiled at her Master and began removing all her clothing.  Finally she stood before her Master totally naked.  Master seemed very pleased. He rose and ran his fingers gently all over Bridget.  Master believed that a Gorean Master took great pride in his Kajira, his slave and should be familiar with every inch of her. Bridget knew that her actually collaring demanded that she be naked. She knelt gracefully before him, raised her arms over her head and crossed her wrists.  Bridget had assumed the Kolar or collar position of a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  She knew the message she was sending was that she was ready to be bound and collared.  Naturally she looked down and waited for Master.  The decision was not only made but by showing her acceptance of their planned bond to her Master she knew it was done.  How happy, how fulfilled.  She almost wanted to cry the emotions were so strong. Her life as a Kajira, a Gorean slave was about to begin.  See accepted that she must always be pleasing and offer perfect obedience. Master formally asked her why she was before him and what were her deepest desires for enslavement.  She continued to look down and at first her voice was a whisper but as she gained confidence she became secure and spoke with a clear steady voice.  She asked to be enslaved.  She pledged to serve Master in all ways.  She would be pleasing at all times with perfect obedience.  She would be the owned possession of Master, subject to his commands, dressing as he directed.  She spoke the words of enslavement, “bind me master”. She spoke the timeless pledge saying she wished to be enslaved and then crossing her wrists in front of her asked that Master bind her.  She felt the ceremonial tying of her wrists with the traditional Gorean yellow bindings.  Master then said he would complete the ceremony, their enslavement ritual, by collaring her.  She felt the collar begin to encircle her throat.  She gasped as he pulled her hair back so he could buckle the collar.  Her formal slave collar was polished metal and had a screw driven locking mechanism.  It would be difficult or next to impossible to remove, not that Bridget would ever think about removing the symbol that encircled her throat.  Master completed fastening her collar.  He took her chin in his hand and remarked on her beauty and suitability to be his Kajira. Master removed the bindings from her wrists and ordered her to stand and had her turn around slowly to display herself. She looked at herself and saw the beautiful collar.  All she could say was “La Kajira, La Kajira”, Gorean for I am a slave. Bridget now understood in a most intimate way that her master treasured her and wanted to enjoy his treasure.  Master had two more things to complete the ritual and the first had Bridget very nervous.  Bridget knew she was to be branded.  Thankfully the branding didn’t call for a real white hot branding iron.  Bridget received a henna dye print representation of the Gorean Kef, a very delicate elaborately beautiful “K”, leaving a sharp red image high on her left thigh.  Next Master spoke her new slave name. When Bridget and Master were together in their new roles, she would be “Sefa”.  Master explained that her new slave name was pronounced SEHF-ah and meant pleasure.  He said she was named that way to remind her how she must always be his pleasure slave.  She didn’t think that would ever be a problem. It was done. Bridget had been collared, branded, and named.   Master said he accepted her as his Kajira.  Master directed her to put on her garter, stockings, panties, and heels.  He snapped a leash onto her collar ring and said “bracelets”.  Bridget immediately put her wrists behind her back, slightly bowed her head, and turned around to receive Master’s manacles. Using the leash and her bound wrists he moved her forward.  Master led her around a bit and then out around the deck. Master often told her that bondage made a woman more beautiful and that served to make her move in a sensuous, elegant manner.  Bridget agreed and could think of nothing better than to be on her knees with her Master’s cock in her mouth. He took her over to a chair by the deck table.  He motioned for her to kneel.  He unclipped the leash and attached a short piece of chain to her collar.  The chain was connected to a d-ring embedded in one of the large deck posts.  Bridget was chained to a post with her wrists bound.  Never before had she felt so at peace.  She was owned.  She had been confined on her Master’s deck.  She felt the chain on her chest.  Bridget’s excitement was mixed with embarrassment and humiliation.  She was on her knees dressed like a tarty slut, out in the open for all the world to see.  She realized that Master was exhibiting her as his prize possession.  Of course she thought, it’s highly unlikely we’ll be disturbed.  We’re out in the woods on a secluded property with foliage all around.  Master laughed and said UPS or FEDEX might show up. Bridget’s life as a slave had begun.  She wished and waited for what was next.  Master said she was to be caged in his slave pen after they had discussed their enslavement ritual.  Master took a plate of fruit and picked up a small piece of melon.  He held it out for her to nibble. She daintily nibbled the fruit.  She was being fed by Master’s hand.  She felt a deep bond and happiness.  Next Master poured some of his cool drink into a small bowel.  He placed it before her and motioned for her to drink.  He was watering his slave, caring for his prize possession.  She knelt before the bowel and lapped at the drink. She felt so humiliated to be made to drink in this fashion but it also was so deliciously kinky.   Her journey had begun.  Life would never be the same.  A calmness, a fullness, a richness had descended on her soul.  Master caressed her cheek and breasts and then checked the manacles.  He also adjusted her collar.  Bridget knew master would always make sure she looked her best.  She was his prize possession. Master leaned back and took a small velvet sack from the side table.  “Nadu” Master commanded and Bridget went into the slave position that had her kneeling with her wrists behind her back. Bridget was fascinated  She knelt with her thighs spread wide, back arched, wrists crossed behind her back.  Master produced a bright red ball gag and told her to open her mouth. Bridget felt the ball pressed tightly into her mouth as Master firmly buckled the gag in place.  She found her hands bound behind her back, and the ball gag reduced her to small whimpers to communicate.  She knew she was vulnerable and totally in the control of her master.  It was delicious.  It made her wet just to think of all the things he would do with her.  The bracelets were gleaming metal and had a short length of chain between them so they were relatively comfortable. Master helped Bridget to stand.  He pulled her panties down to her ankles and helped her bend over. He guided her to lay across his lap and began to stroke and kneed her ass cheeks.  Master remarked that she had a pleasingly plump ass that just begged to be spanked.  Bridget felt her Master applying some kind of oil on her ass cheeks.  She wiggled across his lap into a more comfortable position. It made her feel exposed, controlled, at her Master’s mercy.  Bridget couldn’t believe how excited she felt, how she wanted more, more attention, more control. Master told Bridget that he wanted to assert his ownership, make sure she knew she was his property.  Bridget whimpered her assent. She wanted to be his,begged her master to have her, to make her his own, anyway he wanted.  Just do it now. Master began a slow rhythmic paddling of Bridget’s ass.  Slowly at first but soon faster and harder.  Bridget moaned and gasped. Master paused and asked Bridget if she was his, his property. Bridget thought “yes, yes, yes, have me, have all of me.  I am your Kajira and want to be nothing else”.  Master held up one finger which was the signal for silence Bridget was surprised that Master had shut her up, to be quiet.  She understood that he wanted to be in control.  He told her he felt so completed by their rituals.   Master loved the idea that they had built their own kinky world and Bridget loved the way he ruled it. He could silence her with a command or perhaps a gag.  She loved the delicious excitement when he placed a nice red silicone ball gag in her mouth.  Naturally Master could silence her by imposing speech restrictions and she always complied but the ball gag was so hot. Master reached behind her to the small table by his large leather chair.  Bridget felt his movement and turned her head.  “Oh my” she thought as Master’s hand held the red ball gag, a shiny bright metal butt plug, and a tube of lubrication.  Her heart beat faster as she realized she was in for another anal training session.  

Struggles of a Sapiosexual/Demisexual in a Hyper-Sexual WorldAs I have matured thru the years, it's now clear that without finding someone mentally, and emotionally attractive, it all just feels somehow incomplete. Without some connection to a real person with a genuine personality, they can be pretty and sexy, but . . . It really doesn't do it for me.And here in lies the problem.In today's hyper-sexual, transactional and instant-gratification society, how does someone like me, take the time to connect with another before the tug of physical exceptions frustrate the individual and kill the tempo.Yeah, I know. Its easy to say, I'm just not finding the right people who are also Sapiosexual/Demisexual, but we all know everyone is comprised of shades of grey and even those who lean in that direction feel the pressure of the "quick-fix".Not sure what to actually do about it, other than to continue to be clear up front about who I am, what my needs are during the "approach" and look harder for alignment with the individuals I talk with.But it is still frustrating.

Dinning Out with slave I expect My slave was excited. At least I was hoping it would generate expectations in its little brain. it had not been fed solid food in the last ten days. it was being treated to My lose weight regime. Yes, it had lost a little, but, far from the goal I had determined for it. Outside its cage I had enjoyed leaving pizza fresh from the oven in order that it might enjoy its denial. Actually, I doubt it was ‘enjoying’ smelling the pizza while slowly starving. What it enjoys is not an issue of My particular concern. Needless to say, I enjoyed its discomfort. In its journal it was recording dreams of gorging itself on delicious pizza. So, I offered a torture by way of tantalus for My pleasure. In any case I watched its face closely as I announced it would be accompanying Me out to dinner. it had just finished its required ten miles on the tread mill and was sweating profusely. I let it catch its breath and cool down to the point of an onset of chill. I took a bight of a large corn-beef sandwich while its eyes devoured the sight of My pleasure. I slowly chewed the sandwich while My slave involuntarily chewed nothing but saliva. When it seemed to be at the point of crying with the frustration of dental and hunger, I swallowed to clear My mouth and, negligently dropping the half eaten sandwich on the floor, I began to speak. “Slave, tonight it will accompany Me to dinner out. I will allow it to wear ladies panties, the tight little boy shorts and a T-shirt. it will play chauffeur to the restaurant. it will sit on its hands and not speak without a nod of approval from Me. Before I go out to eat, I will beat it in order that it might keep its servile position in life firmly in its mind. I grant it the opportunity ask a question now about tonight’s adventure. Remember, any answer including punishment for any impertinence I perceive must elicit profound gratitude from it. Ask now, slave.” Poor thing, it could not resist the crying need it felt for, at a minimum, the prospect of receiving food. “Master will it be fed tonight?” To which I responded with a series of face slaps. At each it did as it had been trained and forced its face up to face slapping position with its eyes firmly fixed on mine. No matter how hard I struck its impertinent cheeks it thanked Me profusely for a number of things. The ‘things’ included that it was receiving attention from a Better, it had the opportunity to serve, that it was learning etc.  Later that day, still wondering if it would be fed, the slave although in advanced years of age was dressed much like a little boy included Buster Brown shoes was kneeling by the front door waiting to drive Me to My repast.  As I approached the door ready to leave My residence, I thought I heard My slave properties stomach growl its protest at the lack of something to digest. Darn if I thought I heard the same little growl as I passed it through the door it held open to the interior of My car. I gave it the destination from My comfortable seat. I suspect the slave was pleased to be driving rather than locked in the trunk of the car as it usually was.   It did a competent job of driving, holding the door for me at the entrance of the restaurant and then parking the car. I enjoyed the sight of it running back to me to open the door of the eating establishment. When I announced My name we were conducted to a both. My slave used a handkerchief it carried for just such occasions to wipe down the seat I was about to occupy. As I sat, it waited at the ready should I require anything else in the moment. When I was comfortable, I took a moment to survey the table. The linen tablecloth was spotless and was not overly starched. The flatware was sterling, the plates were all porcelain and the glass all crystal. It pleased Me to see such an elegant setting before me. All the while My slave property maintained a standing posture ramrod straight with eyes focused on My face waiting for instructions. I casually looked at My adoring chattel and nodded slightly. At this indication from Me it took its seat on its hands. The reader may skip the following digression. Sitting on one’s hands sounds simple enough. However, hand sitting is far from comfortable. The reader might like to try a little experiment and spend some time sitting on hands for a while. The longe one sits in that fashion the less comfort afforded. Further, there is the question of palms up or down. Up or down question in My realm depends on the surface the ass is to rest on. A hard surface with palms up leaves discomfort to mount slowly to the ass while the back of the hands almost immediately suffer from the weight of the sitter and the hard surface the knuckles and back of hand are pressed into. A soft cushion, such as the current eatery provided would receive the back of the hand with grace and ease. However, if the hands are palm down, the soft surface causes the hands to bend backward and over time gain certain agony to the sitter. Guess which way My slave property had been trained to orient its palms? Water was in each of the crystal water glasses provided. There was a carafe of H2O on the table as well. I sipped My water while I perused the menu. My slave property kept its eyes on My face should I require anything, even as its thirst remained unquenched. I discarded the wine list. My drinking days are long past. However, I was aware My slave was a drinker (the reader should note the past tense.) The waitress arrived to collect the order. She enquired about drink preference. Noting My decline and nothing by way of speech from My companion, went on to the food question. My order was rather simple, a crab cocktail, followed by a caesar salad, main course of prime rib.  “And for the gentleman?” enquired the wait person after turning to face it.  I watched as My slave’s face reddened ever so slightly. I looked forward to reading its journal entry regarding this whole dinner, especially, its reaction to the “for the gentleman” inquiry. I sadistically savored its quandary of imperative sustenance need and secure knowledge it was to have only what I allowed. “You may bring one dry piece of toasted white bread, please.” With a very well, Sir, she turned to place the order with the cook. “it may have a sip of water, slave.” Of course My slave property could not resist taking more than a sip. It even allowed some liquid to dribble down its chin as it downed half a glass. “Remind Me, slave, to beat it severally for taking more than a sip and for removing hands from under its ass without permission.”

 LittleReaper