Another special day for me, My ex and mother of my children finally succeeded in what she promised me.  She "destroyed everything I held dear in life".  She can't take all credit for it though.  A huge contribution was done by the total madness that is our Belgian justice system.  Where the whole world lives by the statement: "innocent till proven guilty", our justice wanted something different and chose: "guilty till proven innocent ".  Which means that if you just file false complaints?  The person who receives them will be scarred for live, and will end up with his children taken from him, homeless, and with a mountain of debt for the rest of his life. That second one was me... Since I'm gonna be living on the street anytime soon, a phantasy of mine has become a necassity in order to survive.  I'm sure y'all know what I mean by that. As a consequence, the mistress/master who takes me in as a 24/7 sissy maid will receive a great amount of gratitude and obidience.  So if you're interested in a broken but sweet and passionate sissy that's willing to relocate inside western Europe?  Make sure to give me sign. Love, Nikita❤️ 

Master's WritingsFoundations: Deep Honesty and the Butterfly EffectAs I see it, there are three core elements, communication, trust and honesty, that together form the foundation for feeling safe as we explore the lifestyle. Each element is interdependent with the others, and intertwined in such a way that to fail any one breaks them all, leaving us unsure and at risk, while when they all work right, we feel able to explore the greatest depths imaginable.With regard to honesty, we, in the lifestyle, are far better equipped to get it right than anywhere within the vanilla world. Power dynamics, the emotional nakedness of play and the acceptance of near infinite diversity among our interests and population make total honesty far more achievable within the lifestyle than others then you might think.Yet honesty can suffers from the crushing weight of a single butterflies wing. As children, we learn to lie because we get away and it always starts with the smallest of lies or the things we hide from those we love. As we grow, we believe that lying is acceptable with those we love and in society in general. This acceptance allows us to learn to lie even to ourselves, and as we mature, we discover that we have grown comfortable being false to others and even to ourself. We no longer know what is authentic and the distance between those close to us grows and decays. And we wonder why. In fact, as a society, we have entered an age where falsehood and lying is now the norm and an accepted practice.In a dynamic where “Total Honesty” is practiced, lies are never allowed, not in part nor in full, not even lies of omission or hidden truths of any kind. Sharing is always total, free and open. The freedom of an open mind and heart is the only acceptable mindset. While nearly all in the lifestyle preach this in one form or another, we must be aware of the impact of that single small butterfly wing. For just like the child growing up, a single allowance of a hidden feeling, an uncomfortable truth left unspoken, or a fear not communicated, has the potential to become habit forming and thereafter impact and erode the beauty and depth of a dynamic. A hidden feeling can undermine the understanding one partner has for the other. An uncomfortable truth can lead to the birth of resentment and anger when not spoken where it is allowed to fester. A fear left unchecked causes stress, clouds the mind, undercut trust, causes stagnation and allows anxieties to run unchecked or worse.Within a dynamic, the expectation and practice must be to understand the impact, the cause and effect, of that single delicate wing of the smallest of lies and/or omissions, remaining fully open to each other, totally authentic of self, and emotionally naked before your partner. For it is only within a dynamic filled with such honesty that we make possible the deep, beautiful and magical experiences we all seek. 

At first, they pleaded for me to be tolerant. I obliged.   Next, they requested that I accept. I acquiesced.   Then, they demanded that I include. But I learned that to include is to convert. I did not want that, so I politely declined.   They insisted, refusing to take No for an answer. I stopped accepting.   They condemned me. I stopped tolerating.

January 25, 2022 - My Leatherboy wants fucked.   It's been a while since I have written a story. Because of asthma and lung problems, I'll be honest, I hid out for quite some time during the beginning of the pandemic.   After I received my first two shots I became a little more active, and after the booster shot, things are starting to return to normal.  But we won't talk about the pandemic, because I always try to stay away from conversations on religion, politics, and now... The pandemic.   This story is about my leather boy who came for a visit.  He visited before but I didn't write the story.   In fact, if I'm not mistaken, on his second visit I took his virginity. This is his third visit.   We didn't waste much time after we got inside the house, he stripped naked almost immediately. I know how much he loves leather, the smell, the texture, even the taste as he licks my leather. So before heading upstairs to the bedroom, I grabbed my leather jock, which is actually a codpiece.   Once we got upstairs to the bedroom, I stripped down and handed him the codpiece and told him to put it on me. It is entirely made of leather, and the front of the codpiece is a flat piece of leather with a hole in it large enough to pop my cock and balls through. Then there is a leather waistband that snaps in the back. And finally an "up the ass crack" piece of leather that loops over the waistband.     He snapped all the leather pieces together around my waist with the bright silver snaps. Then looped the piece going up my ass crack over the waistband and snapped it in place also.   I turned around and handed him the pouch that snaps into place over my cock and balls. He snapped the bottom snap in place below my balls at my taint. Then after slightly and gently fondling the smooth soft leather, he gently pushed the pouch over my cock and balls and attach the two side snaps, one on each side of the base of my cock. My cock and balls are now almost completely hidden by the Leather pouch.   As he started to snap the first of the three across the top, the cock of my head was peeking out a little bit.  I stopped him, and unsnapped the two side snaps he had just completed.  My growing cock spring free, and I told him, "Why don't you suck on Daddy's cock for just a moment before you close it up."   He anxiously took my cock in his mouth and started to work on it. It felt wonderful, warm and wet. His tongue darting around my cock as it grew stiffer and stiffer. I knew he was enjoying the smell of the codpiece as well as the taste of my cock. I wouldn't be surprised if I was already starting to precum a bit at this point.   I let him suck my cock and lick my balls for a while and then told him to close it up. He reattached the two side snaps, stuffed my hard cock in the pouch as best he could, and then attached the three snaps across the top.   I told him to get in bed face down. He quickly complied of course. I grabbed a long soft rope from the table and walked back to the bed. I took his right wrist in my hand and put it behind his back. I think it surprised him a bit. I was a little bit aggressive at this point, maybe that's what surprised him.  Then I grabbed his left wrist and put it behind his back on top of his right wrist.   I started wrapping the soft rope around his wrists using a special technique that I had learned at CLAW quite a few years ago that keeps the rope from tightening around the wrist and cutting off blood flow. Eventually his hands were tightly secured behind his back.   I lubed up a couple fingers and started playing with his ass. I felt his hips push back against my fingers as they penetrated his tight hole. Deeper and deeper I pushed until I found his prostate. I started massaging his prostate which caused him to moan. I continued adding more lube and more fingers until he was nice and loosened up and relaxed.   I have a small dressing mirror on the wall that is positioned in the exact place so that if a boy looks to the right, he can see the reflection of his own ass as I work on it. I noticed that my leather boy kept turning his head to the right, I'm not sure if he was watching the scenario unfold in the mirror or just changing his head position.   I walked over to the table and got a very small string of anal beads. There are only four beads and are probably only 3/4 inch in diameter.  I wanted to leave something in his ass as I was planning my next move.   I pushed the first bead against his tight hole, and kept pushing until it popped inside his ass. As I started to push the second bead into him I felt him push his hips back to give me full access. He was enjoying the feeling as the second bead popped into him. I started to push the third bead up his ass but at the last moment decided to pull and tug so he could feel the second bead pop out. That only meant I had another opportunity to push that bead back in place where it belonged. Soon the third bead joined the first two in his warm lubed hole.  I pulled all three beads out just so I could start over again.   Occasionally his arms would move or jerk around as I would pop the beads in and out of his hole. This was accompanied by many soft moans slipping out of his lips.   After a bit of play all four beads were snuggly up his ass. With only the final Loop showing which would allow me to pull them out when I was done with my next task.   Although his hands were tied behind his back I told him to scoot down on the bed a bit. When he did, I climbed in near the top of the bed with my legs on each side of him, my cock near his face. I reached down and unsnapped the codpiece pulling it completely off. I laid it next to me on the bed because I knew I would be using it again soon, but for a different purpose.   Because his hands were tied behind his back, it was slightly difficult for him to lift his head to take my cock. So I grabbed his head on each side with my hands, lifted him up a little bit, and slid my body down a little closer.     He instinctively knew to open his mouth for my cock which was now in front of his face. I lowered his mouth onto my cock. Once again it felt wonderful. The muscles in his stomach were working overtime to allow him to bob up and down on my cock. And hopefully he could still feel the beads that were penetrating his ass. I know it was only a matter of time until those muscles started to wear out.    A few times I would pull him off my cock and push him onto my balls and let him lick and play with my balls with his tongue. Sometimes arching my back so he could look that area between my ass and my balls. It's one of my trigger spots, it really gets me going. I think I'm going to have to teach him to rim my nice clean ass sometime in the near future.   Occasionally using my hands on the size of his head I would force him deeper on to my cock, or if I felt he needed a breath of air, I would pull him off my cock so only the head of my cock was left in his mouth.  As I expected, after about 10 minutes of this position his stomach muscles were giving out.     He could no longer pull himself off my cock.  With no muscles to pull him off, his face fell forward, my cock finding its way to the

I want flowers. I want to whip you. I want to stroke your cheek and smile into your eyes. I want respect and awe and understanding and love. I want foot rubs and leg rubs and back rubs and anywhere rubs. I want you to know when to reach out to touch and when to kneel and wait. I want you to want me fiercely, desire me utterly. I want kisses. Little ones, fast ones, fierce ones, thigh-clenching-good kisses. I want you to touch me like you’re trying to memorize the texture and shape of me. I want affection and cuddling. I want you to drop your eyes when I demand and meet my eyes when we talk. I want you to miss me terribly when we’re apart. I want you to know what you mean to me, how I cherish you. I want humor and debate and dialog. I want you to kiss the side of my neck while your hands grip my hips, my back. I want to see you crawl – just for me. I want to look at you in that special way and see you breathe deeply with desire and anticipation of what you know is to come. I want to fuck you, penetrate you, tease you, deny you, please you, torture you. I want You.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

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.  

a nite out w/my Dom&Domme Tonite was to be my cumming out. i dressed in my simple black dress & w/Your help my garter belt, cheeks-hi fashion black stockings & peep toe heels that framed my shiny fluorescent pink nails. Sir, bent me over, slapping my cheeks made me spread them inserting a jeweled butt plug. Bent over my balls were hanging low. Taking advantage of that You forced them thru several rings adding  weight. Then pulling my clit back separated each into two enormous labia. When i stood straight You were holding  pink thong which i slipped into. Pulling it high on my hips it seated the butt plug so it would tickle my G-spot with every step +  making a huge, Camel's foot obvious. i donned my blonde wig,  blondes do have more fun, You added my pink collar + Rainbow leash & w/one of You on each arm off we go to a local LBGTQ bar. i was most anxious entering the crowded bar, buTT You lifting my hem striped my butt with Your crop teling me to strut like ths slut i am. So i made it to a stool, hiked up my dress to sit & ordered Your drinks. The sexy barkeep with a wink asked mine & You told her, "she'll have a CD Cocktail" soon enuf, L0l! Sure enuf we'd attracted attention. to be Continued? 

When any male decides to go to a Slave Master to become a gay, submissive, life-time slave it needs to be thoroughly and properly broken down from all it's humanity it thought it had in it's life before going to a Slave Master . Once the slave is broken and reduced it can then be trained as a slave and once properly trained as a slave it will be ready to serve any Master that takes it for Permanent Ownership. From that point on there are no choices and no turning back and the slave is a slave for life. This slave is now gay and submissive and ready to serve and go where ever it's New Master takes it. it will be honored to service it's Master's Dominant Cock!!!  it will drink Master's Golden Nectar/Piss, and eagerly swallow Master's Precious Cum as often as Master demands and desires and expects   slave to follow this routine Protocol of it's Master/Owner. slave will submit without question to all body modifications Master may require. slave will perform all mandatory protocol/duties each day. slave will be grateful to it's Master for all that is required of it. This includes Master's punishments and when Master just feels like Whippingor Spanking slave for His Entertainment which also serves to remind slave of it's subjugation to Master's Dominance and Ownership. slave is a slave and has no tittle or name anymore and will always only be known as "it" or "slave"

Hedonist: I am an explorer, in search of adventure, within a vast ocean of possibility. I take a versatile approach to opportunities that present themselves, chemistry is everything, but safety is paramount. In that regard, I am definitely more RACK than SSC.. It has been said, slave girl gone rogue. "I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me" ~ Dylan Thomas Primal: I have a strong primal side. I identify as wolf and am heavily instinct driven, often basing my decisions in life on what sniffs right or wrong. I am also arguably feral when my need calls for it. The beast inside me has teeth and provoking her is a game that you are unlikely to win. And yes.. for the relevant humans our there, if you are reading this, that is a challenge 😉 If nothing else, a chew toy is always welcome. "Woman's destiny is to be wanton, like the bitch, the she-wolf; she must belong to all who claim her. - Marquis de Sade - Philosophy in the Bedroom Sub-Leaning: Nature VS nurture is a complex argument, all journeys are unique, my needs are constantly evolving and often flex based on who I am interacting with moment to moment. "There are two kinds of strengths: the strength to lead, and the strength to follow; the strength to control, and the strength yield. There are two kinds of power: the power to strip away another’s soul bare, and the power to stand naked." ~ Yaldah Tovah Submissive me: I have had the privilege of serving some truly wonderful Men along my journey, and whilst the submissive inside me still craves release, it takes a very strong hand and a unique kind of strength to draw her out and inspire her to stay. As such, it is rare for her to put in an appearance.  Not-Submissive me: With other women, I am an Alpha bitch, or a soft / pleasure Domme when the chemistry presents itself. Submissive men can expect very much the opposite, worms will know their place, obey without question and not speak to me unless invited to or fuck off and do not waste my time.  Sadomasochist: I love pain. Certainly a smart arsed sadomasochist, as my mouth is all too skilled at writing cheques for my (insert body part here) to cash. Aside from that - I have a sadistic streak a mile wide.. I love to Top and take a lot of pleasure from leaving my mark, with kisses, teeth, toys, the possibilities are endless and a body is a beautiful, blessed, canvas.  Everything Else: As my profile and fetish list suggests, I've met very few kinks that haven't made my pulse quicken and I wouldn't want to do again. Life is a rainbow and there's so much to explore, ideas and inspiration are always welcome!

well it's was a Friday night and I had to go to a talk, in town, once there I was sitting have a bite to eat and a drink when a woman came over sat down she said are you here for the talk tonight I said yes , she said you will enjoy my chat too, she ordered a drink and said she was staying here for the weekend and while we chatted she stroked my cock till I was nearly cumming in my pants. The bell rand the conference was about to start she said take my key and I will see you afterwards, she gave me her key the conference went on for an hour when it finished I went to her room just as I was to enter another woman stood ne to me she said am here to get you ready Mistress demands total submission, I was a little confused . But once naked and cleasned inside and out , placed in a short maids uniform blind, and a penis gage locked on all fours on the bed. Mistress arrived placing her ass in my face she removed the penis gag and pushed back I felt the first of six different cocks fill me . And cum. When I woke up I was locked in chastity and she said you are now my bitch . get use to not cumming till your full of my cock

Your Kink Personality Type isBDSM CONNOISSEUR As a BDSM CONNOISSEUR, you're in the perfect position to start exploring BDSM more fully.  You may be working hard on avoiding the vanilla rut right now, but with a little more confidence and support you can quickly take things to the next level. You're strengths at a glance:SENSUAL ~ SMART ~ ATTENTIVE

Too many people say they want an FLR when what they really mean is, “I have a fantasy I want you to perform for me.” A Female-Led Relationship is not a shortcut to kink. It is not instant authority, automatic discipline, or a woman becoming your personal manager because the idea excites you. This week’s blog post breaks down the common mistakes people make when asking for an FLR — from leading with fantasy, ignoring her needs, rushing authority, confusing service with performance, and expecting rules without accountability. If you want a woman to lead, begin with respect. Then prove you can listen. Read the full post:  https://www.tlduncan.com/post/common-mistakes-people-make-when-asking-for-an-flr

I've been following the discussion about the idea behind sexuality, gender roles, and gender of the Gods as it relates to those who worship the spirit of nature. One thing that need to be clear is that when it comes to the spirit world according to most religious traditions (paganism included) gender is a characteristic of the physical world. Granted that we all conceive the divine according to cultural patterns that shapes our understanding of what and how the Gods relate to this world. One important characteristic comes from the way we choose to relate and express intimacy with each other and by extension to the divine. If we assume that the divine realm is an ever present reality then when we perform any duty or activity they are infused with that numinous quality that elevates everything to the realm of perfection. Having said that, our sexuality which is as they say "an accident of the flesh" attract the Gods as a way of communing and partaking of that that is universal.  I we establish a divine relationship with the God of nature let's then look at nature to guide us in ascertain the true nature of the God. In nature the diverse ways in which sexuality is expressed provides a canvas to see that the God is at times active, at times passive, and at times neither.   Male to male sex is a show of strength on a different power stream. One partner is the guiding energy and  and the other is the guided energy. Both partake of the divine order of things. So that was divided becomes one in the union of both forces mating. Who is then the divine? Both are because the God moves freely from the phallus to the receiving vessel and back uniting what was broken into a divine whole. The idea of Top or Bottom is foreign to divine; love and bliss is its true nature. Unity is the key to that that makes us human, sex and fulfillment. Then the God is neither a Top or a Bottom he becomes what his lover wants him to be at that glorious moment in which orgasm elevates our humanity to the realm of eternity.

Hello to all of you who actually take the time to read my profile. Please, IF you contact me, don't just send me a one liner; I will not respond. Send me a real introduction to you as a person, not just you as a sub. ! I will not try to vet you through this site. Please be prepared to text! I have signal and telegram. Also, be prepared to send me real world pictures, you gardening, you going on a walk, etc. , be prepared to voice verify and video chat verify within a few days. You must also be prepared to travel to Parkersburg WV for a public, vanilla, in person first meeting.  I will discuss fetishes, interests, desires before we meet because this is a sex based relationship; however, I will NOT dominant, sext, role play, cam or DO anything sexual to you virtually until AFTER we have met in person and you become my sub! You ask, you will be blocked! If you want pics, go to my fetlife. I have over 120 posted and I post new pics regularly. A real sub will not hesitate to follow my requests and tbh, I'm not interested in you if you're not prepared to show me you in fact are real, committed and will show up, day after day, and not just when you're horny.

Seeking a final addition to my home, my pack, my fife. I want someone who identifies as submissive or slave. Someone who would enjoy being part of my kink friendly Famale Domme led pack of hubby and boy, enjoying life with us in our beautiful Florida home. I have a room waiting for you, set up to work from home as I do, and 4 friendly dogs who make life better. I still have my kink room and equipment and crave obedience and someone to use for my sadistic whims. There are not many skills in the kink world I am not skilled in, but there are a few I do not prefer to practice. If you are bi sexual that is great, boy is interested, if you are not that is fine too as I am more than enough Lady for everyone.  I now have a brief chat and meet because waiting has not been productive, a lot of chating then ghosting when it is time to meet. I am real, I live the lifestyle 24/7 but of course I have my vanilla/professional side. I have lots of photos and am not afraid to give you my phone number soon. I do not chat on any of the platforms most seem to ask about.  Reach out, your life can change this year. 

Draw a symbol on your wrist or hand for me denoting you're mine. Could be a star or a heart. But make it small and cute.Then you can go about your day. And every time you notice it, you'll be reminded of what you really are. How badly you crave to be owned. How submissive your true nature is. How quickly you aim to please and obey.Make sure to keep track of how many times you looked at it. You'll be edging later to that amount.

Many folks have a difficult time trying to figure out if they are submissive and so I thought some definitions maybe helpful.  Submissive definition  A submissive:   “one who gives over their rights, their desires, and themselves to another. As a gift” (Urban Dictionary);   “willing to obey someone else” (Merriam Webster).    

When my ex and I were exploring BDSM and doing research, I was more attracted to the submissive role for myself. I encouraged her toward taking the Domme role, and I would be her submissive, but she wasn’t interested. I even created a website dedicated to FLR, but she wanted me to be her Dom. But, my core was really very submissive to women. Now that I am single, I am very interested in exploring my submissive side with an amazing Domme. If you would like to see the FLR website I created, it’s    http://amazingflr.byethost8.com

Well this is John no this is February I'm sorry yeah 2022 I haven't put a journal entry in a couple years now I really upset with the collar space people because I continue to write probably two different people everyday just let him know what's going on in my life and let him know that yeah I made this purchase of a house to use for people that have a hard time transitioning and giving them a place to come stay you know I I first ask him if they have a job if they have a car they have transportation otherwise what will you know we'll try to help some people if we can but I expect the people to come and you know make an effort and it doesn't matter to me you know what's your fantasies are a lot of people just want to talk to you and probably talk about their fantasies and get all horny and get off and then you never hear from him for months I'm not into all that people I mean you know I understand your your needs I've been there I've I've probably done the very same thing. There's people out here that have written to that I've never heard back and probably a couple years it shows if they haven't even been online in a couple years they're very cute very young very naive and I'm hoping that they're still alive that didn't get hooked up with a serial killer I mean that happens anyway so I wish people would just tell me to you know go to hell or yeah hey I'm interested in talking to you and hear when can you talk back to me I mean like stuff like that I'm not looking to fulfill your fantasies I'm looking for friendships lasting friendships just like in the real world folks so I'm transgender yeah I'm kind of a little and I'm real so I mean if I don't understand what's going on with covid here my God people yeah I'm all alone I hardly have contact with any of my friends because they're afraid to come outside their houses well I'm safe I I wear my mask I'm inoculated I've done everything I possibly can and yeah it's my freedom to do so so anyway with that said I'm done with this entity so as I always say it's ciao for now  

  Tonight's play party was a huge success with hundreds of people attending.  Still filled with adrenaline we did not want to go home yet.  It was early in the morning so a group of us decided to go someplace to grab a bite to eat.  We ended up at a diner located near the industrial part of Houston.   My friend and I ended up in a large booth with a couple of acquaintances, Jim and Heather. Jim was a nice looking man, 50ish with salt and pepper hair.  Heather was in her 40s, petite and long wavy brown hair.  We were chatting about the party and sipping on coffee and juice.   Jim looked at me and said, I watched your suspension scene tonight and I was impressed. Heather was smiling and looking at me. Me: I'm glad you liked it.  I've been doing that for a long time.   Jim: Do you know me? Do you know what I do? I glanced at Heather and looked at Jim.  Yes I know what you do.  You make porn films.  To be honest I don't think I've seen any of your work.   Jim smiling: Ah yes, my reputation precedes me again.  Yes I've made a lot of films over the years.  I I think I have a pretty good eye for these things.  Do you know much about the business? Me: I can't say that I do.  Why do you ask? Jim:  I'm having a pool party later.  I think you should come.  It'll be fun.  Heather:  Have you been to Jim's house yet?   Me:  No.   Heather:  You will.  It'll be fun.  Next, Pool Party  

June 2024 All the years that have passed since my last entry and I'm in an insane mirror world where I'm trapped with him again. Choosing the kids again. My soul is gone, there's no love and laughter to greet with, no holding hands and thrilling looks, no anticipation... of good or bad. I am still No longer in steel, proof how I'm undesirable. He is a hollow shell, a ghost of who he was - all he was. The man who hobbles through my apartment is bitter, broken, deeply unhappy.... the attitude has become apathy, the confidence has become bitterness. The grief muscles cover his face until he's unrecognizable and the missing limbs make him think something inside is missing too. What once was powerful now is pitiful and whatever we once had; faded memories. I try to force him to leave, but he laughs as he curls up on a chair outside with his laptop... homeless yet not in the least. the kids scream at me about why can't I just be a good wife, a good cook, a better housecleaner? Why can't I just shut my mouth and let him die in peace? (Though they know i may go first) They can't understand the sorrow in my empty eyes and as he revives again in simple motions. They also don't understand... the hate, the rage, the abuse, the ugly words and texts. Neverending abuse I lived through for more than decades to TRY to give them a dad. They can't see what I go through - both good and bad - every time he rounds a corner. The way I flinch when his head whips around or the way I refuse to put my back to a wall... anywhere. They don't know I remember his magic hands on my body or the best friend by my side for decades. They don't see when we smile at a shared memory that it hurts both of us.  They blame me, as well he's taught them. Hell, I did right, but I blame me too. I've tried, so. Fucking. Hard. For years to forgive and forget. But when his hands grab my neck I react, when he gently touches me, and I know what pain is next, i can't stop freezing. When he kisses me and I sob.... he walks away with a look of disgust, hate, retribution. Away enough to hear me cry and beg forgiveness, enough to hear me beg to be his again, no love even, just property. Beg for the gag, the collar, the pain, the burns and broken. The plead for the hood so I don't see him and he can't see me. To even be taken, this life from the kids in exchange for death or use. Anything but this horrible hell I suffer every single day.  But what is it a sadist wants? REAL PAIN. What is more painful that making a slave a single mother? Anything more soul destroying to hear her beg to choose you over them, to see you've won. They don't want her, they want you. To hand her the loaded gun and laugh that she won't pull the trigger because she won't leave the kids with that final thought.  My mom destroyed my childhood, but in disliking herself - my mom ruined my life too, by taking hers.  I can't  

 I am pleased  to be very strict highly Disciplinary controlling to a fault and an everyday spanker   all for a girl like you If you are true servant a service oriented woman  who does her best please and thrives in a strict  and demanding environment so my goal here is in  your Ownership   based on TPE protocols all taught to you within a relationship of apparent  domesticity  and normalcy but strict rules  you will abide by within rules governing  as many parts  of your life  as I wish to take  into my hands  and put under my authority     you will have domestic duties and household protocols such as  dress rules your clothing choices  will no longer  be yours to decide..  your demonstrable humility as you serve..  no huffing  no puffing  no eye rolls…    everything you  are given to do  will be carried out  with your  Respectful Obedience  as its base  and as its framework    you will be helpful  useful and a  very well Disciplined woman  my use of you  will make you  worth the time  it takes to  keep you  and train you   and pls understand  there will always  be the strap  for you to deal with if you don’t do things as you are  expected to thank you for reading    and if your profile  describes a very  nice girl needing  a new home… a good home…  and much further education? do say hello..  BMcB ---------------------------------     so I am revising my  profile here as I reconsider  my needs of the moment  the bedrock for me  is the slave I wish to Own  for the long term  to possess  to guide  and control  down to her smallest details  the one I am after is  obviously service oriented  maybe even genetically so  a born servant?  very likely as there are  born slaves in my experience  she is a girl needing to be found and collared  then trained  and put to work  learning the lessons of her submission  and her best slavery  and put to work in domestic ways  made to earn her keep  tending to chores..duties..  and my whims…  …daily work requirements  with strict oversight of  not only what she does  but how she does it  she will have tasks  to complete even  if it is decided to  allow her to work  outside her home  and she will complete them  and satisfactorily  before she is permitted  to sleep she will be a pleasant girl  in all she does  and certainly in carrying out  all her domestic things  no huffing no puffing no eye rolling  she will be monitored  and overseen  in her free time  as well  and in another epoch  she would be understood  to be a scullery maid  recently come down from  derry or belfast I believe where she would be  not so much  banished to the basement  as simply located there  where she would cook clean  and make tidy  the lives of those she  was Owned by… and again all my slaves work will be carried out  under strict oversight  and a good hard caning  of her bare ass  for any disappointments  she will be permitted  very slight unsupervised time  in addition she will receive  training in basic Obedience  with Disciplinary inspirations attached  to ready her for confinement and service  in her eventual TPE lifestyle  her submission will be intensely  exploited and can enjoyed at anytime  she is available for the pleasure  and gratification of her instructor  mentor employer Master care taker Owner pick one!  and any others she  might be given to  for whatever pleasures  they might decide  to use her for  her cooperation in doing  whatever she’s been told to do  is fundamental to her  successful Ownership  and her training and use are envisaged as providing  much pleasure for all involved  except for the slave herself  and before I forget  her slave pussy is going to be  closed for business  and will remain so for her foreseeable future  however she will be ‘teased’ daily  and very intensely with her orgasms properly denied ...this is btw only the initial training  of a slave in service…  -------------------------- MstrB writing from nyc I am here to find an appropriate slave and to Own that slave I will only consider full Ownership and complete authority over the girl I will decide most if not all of the slaves affairs her life her training her education and her uses these are mine to decide and I will use them I prefer to be strict with a slave and I am close to being a lifelong Disciplinarian who enjoys judging correcting Disciplining I am well aware that servants need attention sometimes words suffice but more often the strap needs to be brought into the conversation the slave will be taught to concern herself with being helpful useful and pleasing and above all Obedient she is going to be a very useful girl for me and never ever make my wonder why I took her into my life to begin with MasterB  

The Weight of Three Minutes: Continued I do not move quickly. I have never needed to. I circle him the way I circled him earlier, when the tea was still cooling on the obsidian table and the correction had not yet taken its shape. He tracks me without turning his head, feeling my presence move around him the way you feel a change in light, knowing without seeing. This too I have built in him. This particular sensitivity to where I am in a room, to the quality of my attention when it lands on him, to the difference between my stillness that is simply stillness and my stillness that is preparation. I stop behind him. I let the silence hold for a moment, long enough to feel it settle into his shoulders, into the careful architecture of his maintained posture. His breathing is controlled. He is working for that control and I can hear the effort underneath it, the slight and deliberate evenness of someone who has decided composure is the one thing left available to him and is holding it with both hands. "You ruined my moment of peace," I told him, and I made sure he heard every word, felt the shape of my disappointment. "So now, you will provide the entertainment." I released his chin and sat back, beginning to unbutton my blouse with deliberate, unhurried movements. The pearl buttons slipped free one by one, the fabric parting to reveal what I wore beneath - sheer black lace that left nothing truly hidden, everything offered and yet withheld at my discretion. I shrugged the blouse from my shoulders and let it fall behind me, uncaring where it landed. "Expose them," I ordered, and I watched the conflict play across his features. The desire to touch warring with the knowledge that he had not been granted permission, only command. His hands rose, trembling slightly as they found the edges of my bra. He pushed the lace down with careful, reverent movements, revealing my breasts to the cool air of the room. I felt the immediate response of my nipples tightening, the subtle shift in my own arousal at being displayed, at being seen so completely while he remained bound by my rules. I leaned back slightly, presenting myself to him with deliberate cruelty, close enough that he could smell my perfume, feel the warmth radiating from my skin, see every detail of my arousal. But not close enough to touch. Not without permission he had not yet earned. "Warm them," I instructed, my voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. "With your breath. Only your breath. Hands behind your back." He obeyed with the desperate precision of someone who knew the cost of failure. His hands found each other behind him, clasping tight as though the restraint were physical rather than commanded. He leaned forward, close enough now that I could feel the ghost of his exhalation against my skin, the careful warmth of each controlled breath directed across my nipples. I watched him struggle, the way his jaw tightened with the effort of restraint, the way his eyes kept darting between my face and my breasts, searching for any sign that he might be permitted more. His arousal was unmistakable now, visible in the strain of his posture, the hunger in his gaze that he could not fully disguise. I let him continue until I could feel my own wetness gathering, until the tease had sharpened into something that required resolution. Then I shifted forward abruptly, closing the distance he had been forbidden to cross, pressing my breast against his parted lips with deliberate force. He made a sound, something between surprise and desperate relief, but I denied him even this small satisfaction. I held him there, my nipple resting against his closed lips, using his mouth as nothing more than a cushion, a warm surface for my own pleasure. He tried to part his lips, to taste, to suck, and I pulled back just enough to deny him, then pressed forward again with the same cruel restraint. "You made the tea too strong," I reminded him, my voice steady despite the arousal coiling tighter in my belly. "So you can be my cup holder. Nothing more." I shifted my grip to the back of his head, my fingers threading through his hair with controlled pressure, and pulled his face forward into the valley of my breasts. I held him there, my skin pressed against his mouth and nose, feeling the desperate rhythm of his breath hot and trapped against my cleavage. He struggled slightly, instinctive panic at the restriction, the need to breathe and I tightened my grip just enough to remind him that even this was at my discretion. "Stay," I commanded, and felt him still, surrendering to the constriction, accepting that his comfort was irrelevant to my pleasure. I held him there longer than necessary, feeling the subtle shifts in his body, the tension in his shoulders, the controlled shallowness of his breaths, the desperate patience of someone who knew that any complaint would only extend his punishment. The power of it thrilled through me, sharpening my arousal to something almost painful, a heavy heat between my thighs that demanded attention. I released him finally, letting him gasp against my skin, feeling the desperate gratitude in the way his hands clenched behind his back, still obedient, still restrained. I leaned back enough to meet his eyes, watching the dazed hunger there, the submission that had settled deeper than before. "Unzip my skirt," I ordered, my voice rougher now, the command firm. "Slowly." (TBC)  

Reflecting i sit here in chastity, reminiscing on my past, contemplating the decisions i have made, rationalizing some and regretting others.  It is the ones i regret which pierce deep into the soul, humbling the spirit, causing conflict within, creating a helplessness that overwhelms me into a deepening slavishness. Recollections of disobedience consume my mind, no relief, no escape, an affirmation that i am not perfect.  Is it possible for me to make reparation? Are there limits or do i kneel quietly and endure whatever is given to me for my disobedience?   geo

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

Looking for someone local in dallas texas     Listen up, boys. I’m looking for a local sub who actually knows how to kneel, beg, and worship me the way I deserve. Over 35? Perfect. Mature enough to know better, still foolish enough to want it.   You will worship me in every way I please:   Pegging (because sometimes I want to see you squirm) Ball busting (you’ll learn pain can be pleasure… my kind of pleasure) Foot worship (my toes aren’t optional—they’re sacred) Strip roasting (I’ll verbally roast you while you grovel) Body worship (kneel, lick, beg, repeat) Trampling (I like to feel your desperate little body under me) Impact play (spanks, paddles, crops—you’ll earn every one)