When you message me and live in another state, you should plan to attend a munch that I am attending in California. I require a face-to-face meeting sooner rather than later. You need to make the trip out to me if you are serious about serving me. There are no guarantees, but a meeting needs to happen sooner rather than later. My rule is not negotiable.  I have the same meeting sooner rather than later requirement for the men who live around me or in the state. The question I am considering is, Do I want to have dinner with you? Do I consider you worthy of my time while enjoying a meal? (Seinfeld: When Elaine was deciding if suitors were sponge-worthy—We all have a thing.)    If you aspire to be my submissive, you will have a job and be able to provide for yourself, a car to transport yourself in, and a home to live in and commute to my home to serve as needed. 

I am finding all about change.  The difference when talking with Dom's, Dommes six years ago.  Now talking, I am answering different to questions . I see things different. I am vulnerable, afraid at times, this is different. I feel I can't do it alone I need that voice telling what to do and following . I feel in pieces need to be reassembled. I feel it's time I surrender to be guided in this process.

I want to thank those who have reached out. I appreciate you.  If I haven't answered your message, most likely it's because you used limited words, such as "Hi, how are you?" or something equally short. I don't consider this a conversation or reason to start a more extended conversation with you.  The other reason I've either not responded or sent you my well wishes regarding your search is where you are located. I am clear that I am looking for someone local. I expect to meet with you face-to-face at a local munch (to me) and in person. (Face-to-face and in-person are the keywords.) This isn't easy if you are not local to the Bay Area.  Service to me cannot be attended to if you are not local.  If you want to meet with me, you must travel to the Bay Area, have a place to stay and transport yourself at your own expense. You should plan on attending a local munch I attend.  I'm not going to meet privately with you, and I'm not going to call you. 

Hmm...  a journal entry, eh?  Not quite sure what to say here... or even if this thing works.  Let alone if anyone out there will read this.   Let's just start with a basic confession: I love sex, and I like it rough.  I have had fantasies about being raped ever since I a girl.  Of course back then, those fantasies were pretty tame.  Mostly being captured by a villian who would tie me up and keep me in his dungeon where he would, G, try to kiss me!  As I got older the fantasies became...  how say I say it..  more graphic...  The more I think about it, the more I realize that my rape fantasies pretty much follow a basic pattern: I'm out and about...  It's night...  I'm alone...   and I find myself in a bad situation...  and then one or more (usually more) tough looking guys show up and start getting into my person space, then they start trash talking and insulting me, then they start touching me and pushing me around.  Naturally I resist and try to get away, I usually am able to run away for a bit then they catch me again.  after that, they usually rip off all my clothes, hold me down, and have there way with me...  The specific details change, but that's the basic formula...    We'll see who reads this... Catch ya later, subMeghan

 One of the hardest things to learn as a Domme type because it goes against a lot of societal programing, is extracting obedience when there is resistance and things are going wrong. These rules from a military prospective should be kept in mind to help us. -You can’t expect obedience because someone owes you.-You can’t expect obedience because you have won a popularity contest.-You can’t expect obedience because it makes sense to them.-You can’t request obedience.-You can’t bargain for obedience. It is something you must command.

Her hands held the pen, the black ink swirling across the page as she signed the contract. The last time she would ever see her real name, the last time her date of birth would even matter. She paused, holding her breath in her shuttering lungs… and as the seconds ticked by like years, her lung’s released and the chime rang. The electronic paper instantly sealed the contact and the encryption code saved to the nanochip.A metal arm came from the wall, and in a quick second her eyes blinked, and the chip engaged.She was still her, her personality, her smile, her spirit, but her body now belonged to the New American Order. She fought as long as she could, the price of housing and food had risen so high she was living so poorly. They had removed all unchipped teachers long ago, uncipped could not work jobs that paid in NAObitcoin. She could only get paid in paper money which only unchipped could spend. The black market was dangerous and she knew the consequences.The government now allowed people to elect to be chipped as household wifes. They would live a normal life, raising children, and making their families a unit, and thus rebuilding the community which once made this nation strong.She was a beautiful women, her long auburn hair landed in near perfect curls, her beautiful eyes could sink the universe. She held a PHD and would make an excellent home school teacher for a man who had a large family.She sat in the chair, gripping the skirt if the dress, and staring at the wall. A screen came on and the host started talking.“Gentlemen of the NAO tonight we have a wonderful selection of wives. They have all signed in willingly so there are no confinement rules for these women. Lets get started.”The door to her room opened and she stepped in to the hall. She took the step and closed her eyes, her sister got a nice man, they are so happy. She was going to have the same, she knew it.“First we have this beautiful older model, she will bare no children, but she is sweet and caring. She has a good voice, pleasant demeanor, tested level 9/10 in cooking and house keeping, she scored 10/10 in intellect. As you know gentlemen she will be tested for sexual abilities, her current rating in the outside was 4.6 so definitely above average but those chipless have no idea.”The door opened at the end of the hall, she walked quickly to the door, she had watched this millions if times on the tele. It had become required viewing but the poor only got to see the limited view, they put so many propaganda commercials in the show it was hard to really understand what was happening.The men in the room were all high class government officials, they were all men who had created the order, and their first wives were probably in work camps, or dead from the war. The rebels attacked their homes and wives, so many ran to other countries at the end of the war. Now other countries were turned to watch as NAO rebuilt and became the world leader of technology and education.The days of the starving poor was over, well as long as you chipped up. If you were a normie your life didnt change except you had no rent, no bills, but you worked for the government and ate what the government gave you. It wasnt a horrible life, you married in your class, and lived happy. The problem came with people like her. She was smart enough to live with out the system, pretty enough to be a wife, refined and well skilled, and her date rating put her on their radar.She only signed up to find a match, she was sick of her lonely home. They just started letting nochips on the site and she knew better!When her rating hit its highest the rent in her area went up, the power for vehicles tripled, food prices doubled. She got a speeding ticket and that was it… she couldn’t pay her rent… and there Lacy was, to offer her a spot in the highest ranked tv show in the History of the planet. It was required watching in the NAO and many international countries allowed their citizens to watch and participate, part of the new Jenniva treaty.So here she was, the room was black, the ceiling back, the bed and everything painted in the darkest black. She stepped to the door and the door behind her shut.“Remove your dress and precede to the bed.” The audience wouldnt see anything, its black, there is no light, but there are speakers and they can hear everything. She pulled her dress off and sat it next to the bed. She was stark naked, her large breasts we’re hanging from her, her body shivered as her hair tickled her back. She crouched down and lay down on the bed.“Place your right hand on the board. Place your left hand on the left board.” Her arms moved and then click the magnet locked, they had implanted her with magnets and chips throughout her body. The lights clicked off. For a second she could hear movement and then the headphones clapped down on her head. Hands ran down her body and the audience cheered as the meter stared to rise. His hands found her face and he pulled her in to a kiss, his tongue darting about and dancing with hers. His other hand found her pussy, and he clamped his hand down. The meter went to 1.0, and then his finger slipped inside, her body wetting for him, his head tilted, and his eyes flickered in to the darkness. “Ohhh a fun one.” He whispered in her ear. His fingers began working her clit and her body responded, he rubbed and twisted and pulled as she moaned loudly. Her chip holding her back from orgasm but leaving her right in the edge. He paused, and his mouth found her breasts which made her moan loudly again as the meter kept rising 3.0,4.0,7.0. The crowd started to whisper as no one had ever gotten higher than 8 and she was just starting. He pressed his cock against her, his large head pushing hard, as her rating went higher, and then he pushed in, hard. His huge cock filling her and pushing hard against the top of her as she moaned loudly, the harder he pushed the rougher he got the more she moaned and flooded him. Her hips moved with his, drawing him deeper, harder as she ground herself in to him. He reached up and put his hand on her neck, the default for allowing an orgasm during testing and she came. Her vagina pressed in on him pulsating hard as he continued to pound her, she came hard over and over moaning loudly. He stopped for a second and stepped back. “Turn over.” Her wrists released, and she flipped over, she had not had sex like this in years, she forgot it was anything other than a glorious night of love. He gripped her hips and pressed his cock in to her ass, as she arched her back and moaned out loudly. He started to work her ass slowly and then harder and harder pounding her hard. She shook as his hips hit her ass with a force she couldn’t believe. It almost took her breath how hard and good it felt. He reached up and grabbed her hair and held it tight slamming in to her harder, his other hand found her clit. He wouldn’t let her cum, he had decided now she didn't get anymore, they were all his. He pressed harder and harder, her body sweating and her breathing rough he continued, as he came he slapped her ass hard. The number blinked on the wall 8.7 highest first test score. The room blacked.. the commercial started, and men whispered among themselves.“I think i might have enough to purchasing that one.” A tall dark gentleman spoke. The room fell silent, as a bell rang which meant a second test was requested. The testing fee was not cheep, but someone needed to know her limit.Two men with night vision glasses came in and helped her straddle a round saw horse, her leg magnet locking in place, her wrists, she could no longer move.“Its time for the maximum orgasm test!” The host spoke in an over excited tone, his own body reacting to the sights. The lights turned off and above her head a digital board read 4.“According to the chip she has already orgasmed 4 times, remember folks the highest score ever is 70, in 2hours and 10 min. Once we start this test we will continue the auction.She was cold, but as soon as she felt it the sensation went away, the chip overriding the warning. A buzz starts in the background and her body starts to prepare, the sound of a milker clicking away behind her also made her body react. The buzz and tick tick take her in to a trance, and her body relaxes. He inserts a large 1 inch dildo inside if her, he clips the vibratior clamp on her clit as she lets out a loud yelp.“Mute her please.” The host says quietly. The man hits a button and her moans quiet and she starts to orgasm.“Oh no not yet kitten we aren’t even there yet.” His deep voice echoed in her ear, as thr command found its protocol, her body slowed the orgasm, and then liquid squirts on her ass as he presses in and works a large plug, its vibrations start to sink with the dildo. Her entire body clamped down, which only made the sensation stronger as she orgasmed hard. "oh yeah I should… release." as the word echoed in her empty mind the orgasms rushed in..10,11,12,13… her biometric system counting orgasm after orgasm.He smiled in to the dark as the goat milker cups attached to each breast and turned on low, then higher and higher, as it sucked her 38h breasts deep in to the glass, 22,23,26.He stood there watching with his night vision , his prize will be a percentage of her price, 30,31,32. He grabbed a flogger and whipped her ass hard, a flood of orgasms came in 41,43,44. He spanked her again, 50."Gentlemen our special purchase has hit 50! can you believe that? alright next is 35, rating 4.5, cooking 6 but comes with optional upgrade option, overall sex rating 8 with a maximum daily use 3 times… the bidding starts at her debt to the NAO of 100 Naobitcoins. Let the game begin. " the host pointed to the screen where bids were flying in from all over the world."The timer has started… bids are up to 2,000… 2,300… 3,2,1. 2,600 NAOBC… And your name is Cynthia. congratulations and may you live in the peace of your submission. " the audience said along with the host."now were are we at with our live test… 67 in 30 min, 68,69,70! she beat the record! She sucked breath in to her lungs as her body just kept going, she was dripping with sweat, her body begging for help, her moans muted her voice box turned off as she cameover and over. The machines clicked off her body shivered, and the chip took over, her hands and legs released as she stood, her brain not fully functioning. She walked to the bed her legs shaking and pulled her dress on. A door opened to a bathroom, an entire crew of beauty and glamor experts stood there. They had one commercial break to make her look fresh. She was pushed in to a shower the water spraying up and down on her in all directions. The water turned to warm air as she stepped from the shower dry and clean, the stockings slid on and clipped in to a pink and black garter. the corset top clipped in to place and then tied tight. her dress was slid over her head, and tightened down. Her hair was twisted and twirled and her makeup went on fast, a blinking light told the crew it was time.“Gentlemen it is time. How much would you pay? The time starts now…..” the     

So slightly better news.  99.9 percent of the people who get this cancer are either heavy smokers, heavy drinkers, or drug users, and have depressed immune symptoms.  Since I am none of those things, my chances of making it out of this alive is closer to 80 percent than 50.  I'll take it.  I go in for surgery next week.  They are cutting out a piece of the back of my tongue, a piece of the back of my throat, and going into the side of my neck and removing all the lymph nodes.  Fortunately, the surgical techniques have advanced a lot and they no longer have to take out all the bones and muscle in my neck along with it.  So I will have a scar on my neck, but won't be grossly disfigured.  I won't be able to eat solid food or talk for a few weeks, and it's still going to be horribly painful, but better than dying.  And hopefully, if they get it all, I won't need to follow up with chemo and radiation and it won't come back.  But this cancer does like to come back.  I will worry about that when it happens.  For now, I'm going to focus on getting through this and keep living my life as best I can.  Thanks to everyone who took the time to write me about their own survival stories, or to offer support.

Today I had a meet and greet with a man who was:   local within my preferred age range available for a publicly acknowledged relationship interested in some of the same significant kinks that I am cuter than his photos   The conversation flowed well. This seems promising.

Accuse me of having no manners. If you do, OI laugh at you. I have responded to many profiles out here over the many years and 9 out of 10 don't get a reply.  I basically say hi, mention a little about me, sometimes I mention they should read my profile, I ask questions. The other 1 out of 10 that do repley, usually seem to continue a back and forth in exchanging messages but whemn I bring up maybe meeting sometime or doing a chat online or something more interactive than sending the equivalent of email messages, people go silent. FRAUDS! That what this place chuck full of. I doubt anybody meets anyone anymore from this site in person. It is all fun and games and killing time and not being serious about meeting anyone. .

So, I got a message today because someone was offended by my responce to their message to me...  They felt my profile was too long to bother reading and wanted me to cut to the chase... was I still married.  The opening of my profile explaines that I am a WIDOW!  So, yes, the message ticked me off a bit and they got the full brunt of my anger.  Instead of going back and looking to see why I had called them an idiot, to see what they had missed that made them look so stupid and foolish, they wrote me again, trying to insult me this time, making themselves look dumber still!  Like guys, seriously, it is a special kind of stupid that writes someone who opens their profile saying they are a widow, and asks if they are still married.  Try, just try to send messages that don't totally insult someone if you are attempting to start a relationship that requires massive amounts of trust!  Just spend a minute and read the stupid profile people!

Dominus Mea SacramentumMente, cordis, et CorpusServitium cum HonorePraeceptum est mi

You know what’s exhausting? Trying to find a cuck who doesn’t think this whole thing is just porn with extra steps. I say I want a cuckold dynamic, and suddenly it’s like a casting call for some low-budget fantasy film—every message is dripping in desperation, humiliation scripts, and requests to be called a “worthless beta” before we’ve even exchanged actual names. Sir, I don’t even know if you can hold a conversation, let alone your composure. I’m not here to be your fetish vending machine. I want a cuck. Not a walking orgasm who calls me “Goddess” and short circuits the minute I say I’ve slept with someone else. I want the real power dynamic. The psychological play. The emotional tension. The devotion. The surrender that goes deeper than a dick pic and a dream. I want a man who’s secure enough to be insecure in front of me—who can handle the ache and arousal of knowing I’ll take what I want, with or without his permission. Someone who craves the emotional weight of being left out, not just the messy details. Where are the men who want to serve and surrender without turning the entire experience into a script from some recycled femdom clip? Can you be still? Can you be present? Can you feel it instead of just stroking to it? That’s what I want,But until then, I guess I’ll keep sifting through the inbox circus. At this rate, I’ll find a real cuck after I find Bigfoot and a man who reads full profiles. one can dream right   

== Results from bdsmtest.org ==94% Submissive91% Rope bunny90% Voyeur71% Exhibitionist70% Primal (Prey)66% Experimentalist 60% Non-monogamist58% Slave44% Masochist 43% Boy/Girl40% Brat 37% Switch36% Vanilla30% Pet17% Ageplayer 16% Degradee

Depression wears funky shoes...does not matter what they look like, anymore, they all hurt and bring tears to my eyes. Food fills a void. And then my reflection hurts as well. Days pass. Alone most of the time with little that asks to be done. Care becomes a bird with no feathers that cannot fly. Hope is my shoe sole with lots of holes. Nothing matters. Nothing changes. Especially me...days come and go and will, till i die, my next horizon, the grave, how exciting. Sun rises and sets as if change cannot happen. Tick tock...tick tock... Am i waiting for Godot? Should i pin my eyelids open or no, maybe closed. Maybe not seeing what is before would help. And...maybe not...ah well...time heals all or, if nothing else, takes what we want and leaves us to make a legacy. i have only words to hold what has been and could never be. Something happened and joy left me.

On Jealousy in the Master/slave Dynamic Jealousy is a corrosive force within a Master/slave relationship. It is the enemy of structure, the destroyer of authority, and the betrayer of trust. Where jealousy exists, leadership falters. A Master’s role is to stand as the embodiment of certainty and command, yet jealousy undermines this by planting insecurity where strength should reside. Insecurity breeds suspicion, suspicion breeds resentment, and resentment fractures the very foundation upon which the Master/slave bond is built. A jealous Master ceases to lead with clarity. Instead, he reacts from fear, clouding judgment and weakening authority. The slave, whose role is to serve in confidence and devotion, becomes hesitant. Obedience shifts into caution, and devotion turns to apprehension. A slave cannot flourish under the shadow of jealousy, for it suffocates the freedom of surrender and replaces it with doubt. This is why jealousy cannot be tolerated—it disrupts the natural order and erodes the respect upon which all dominance rests. Furthermore, jealousy is weakness exposed. A Master must be the anchor, the standard, and the pillar of certainty. To be consumed by envy is to show the slave that his authority has cracks. When a slave perceives these cracks, reverence diminishes, and the Master’s position is compromised. Authority that bends to jealousy is no true authority—it is performance without substance. A Master ruled by such impulses becomes no more than an equal to his slave, which destroys the hierarchy. Correcting Jealousy The cure for jealousy lies in discipline, self-mastery, and reinforcement of order. Several steps must be taken: Uncompromising Honesty – Communication must be enforced. A Master must demand full truth from his slave and give unclouded truth in return. Jealousy thrives in silence and shadows; it dies when exposed to the light of direct speech. Reinforcement of Structure – Protocols, rituals, and rules must be upheld without compromise. When order is maintained with precision, the framework leaves no room for insecurity to grow. Clarity in expectations eliminates confusion, and clarity weakens jealousy’s hold. Practice of Self-Mastery – A Master must control himself before he can hope to control another. Jealous impulses must be recognized, acknowledged, and dismissed without indulgence. This requires discipline, reflection, and the will to remain above base instincts. Methods such as journaling, meditation, or ritualized reflection may be employed to strengthen the mind. Seeking Counsel – A wise Master does not fear counsel. Speaking with experienced Dominants or mentors provides grounding and perspective. No Master diminishes himself by learning; he diminishes himself only by refusing to correct weakness. Commitment to Strength – A Master must remember at all times that jealousy is beneath him. It is weakness, and weakness cannot lead. The slave must see strength that does not waver, for respect and obedience are born only from confidence in the Master’s unshakable command. Final Teaching Understand this: jealousy is incompatible with mastery. It is a betrayal of the title “Master” itself. Where jealousy reigns, authority is false, and leadership is hollow. Only through discipline, honesty, and unyielding strength can jealousy be eradicated. A true Master confronts it, defeats it, and stands as the anchor his slave requires. Let it be known: a jealous Master is unfit to lead until he masters himself.

Just my philosophy   My husband is belittled kept in his place for his own good and my own pleasure. He or is a ward, a pupil, an infant, a sissy, a doll, a puppet, a pet, a toy, a plaything for a moment or a lifetime, as I so wish. He is a vulnerable yet potent creation of mine. I control and nurture him, as is my prerogative. My husband is enticed and regressed by me and transformed into a helpless and vulnerable state in my hands. My husband is physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually dominated by me. He is immobilized and incapacitated, disciplined and humiliated by me. He is made to submit to my will, my whim and my desire. My husband is stripped of his adult status and is laid bare by my natural seductive power and control. I utilize my manly wiles and charms to emasculate and disempower him for my benefit. His freedom of choice and movement is taken from him and he must do as told or suffer my displeasure. When I so desire, my husband is kept as a plaything in restraint, chastity, diapers and confinement. My husband has lost control of his most basic of functions of movement, feeding, toileting and sex. He is disciplined and punished when needed. Mocked, teased and cooed over, diapered at all times, displayed as a novelty, treated as a human toy for my entertainment when I'm in the mood. He is ashamed yet aroused at this humiliation and cruelty that he cannot stop. His inherent weakness is their sexual desire for seduction by his dominant and this is something I have perfected using against him. On the occassions I allow him out of his chastity device, his erect cock is the explicit manifestation of his desire that he cannot hide. I control his pleasure and pain, release and restraint, as I see fit. My husband has been made dependent on me for most everything. I do so love to tantalize and torment my playthings. I am very creative and cruel with my toys. My dominant friends...Capture their mind, restrain their body, pacify their spirit, control their desire, discipline their behavior, manipulate their sex, gag their cries, force-feed their hunger, confine their genitals.

A piece I stole from another profile. Slavery is not about control; Slavery is about letting go. Slavery is not about what is done to you; Slavery is about what you do for others. Slavery is not about abuse; Slavery is about acceptance. Slavery is not about proving anything; Slavery is about being real. Slavery is not about contempt; Slavery is about respect. Slavery is not about how you look; Slavery is about how much you care. Slavery is not about denying yourself; Slavery is about being open. Slavery is not about bondage; Slavery is about freeing your spirit. Slavery is not about punishment; Slavery is about discipline. Slavery is not about being unable to escape; Slavery is about being committed. Slavery is not about submission; Slavery is about obedience. Slavery is not about fear; Slavery is about trust. 

051126 WOMEN POWERFUL WOMEN HOW DO THEY EXIST? WHERE DO THEY COME FROM? WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN IN POWER? MEN TREAT WOMENS POWER AS A NOVELTY, A SIDE SHOW, OR SOMETHING NOT NORMAL. ALL MEN, OWE ALL WOMEN THE RESPECT DESERVED OF A HUMAN ON EQUAL FOOTING. CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD. TO GO SO FAR AS TO STEEP THE VERY MEANING OF GOD INTO MASCULINITY.  SOUNDS VERY MAGA TO ME AND OH SO LAST CENTURY. DO NOT CONFUSE TRUTH WITH BIAS.  I LOVE HUMANS AND GIVE THEM THE RESPECT THEY SHOW ME. POWERFUL WOMEN WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN OF POWER? PERHAPS BECAUSE DEEP DOWN MEN UNDERSTAND THAT WHICH THEY HAVE CREATED... A HIGHLY EVOLVED SOCIAL CREATURE WHO SPECIALIZES IN PSYCHOLOGICAL WAREFARE.   FOR CENTURIES WOMENS POWER HAS BEEN REDUCED, DIMINISHED, AND SHACKELED WITHIN SOCIETIES, LEAVING THE MOST OPPORTUNITY FOR EXPRESSION AND GROWTH THROUGH CUNNING AND THROUGH MANIPULATION. POWERFUL WOMEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL WOMEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. POWERFUL MEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL MEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. SEE A THEME? EQUALITY AND INTEGRITY.  HUMAN RIGHTS.  ALL HUMAN RIGHTS.  I WILL GO SO FAR AS, EVERY LIVING RIGHT.  BUT LETS NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES AND INCLUDE THE BIRDS, THE BEES, AND THE TREES...MAN IS LOOKING LIKE THIS DAWNING IS A BIT FARTHER OUT AT THE MOMENT. LETS TALK ABOUT, CELEBRATE AND BREATHE DEEPLY OF THE POWERFUL WOMAN. SHE KNOWS WHO AND WHAT SHE IS AND ACCEPTS HER DIVINITY AND SUBMISSIVITY TO THE DIVINE, OWNING THAT TRUE CONTROL IS WITHIN. PRESENCE. POWERFUL WOMEN DO NOT SEEK REVENGE. IF MEN, ALL MEN WERE NOT AFRAID OF WOMEN, THEY WOULD DEMAND TO ENCODE A WOMANS RIGHT TO CHOOSE AS FEDERAL LAW.  THERE SHOULD BE MEN IN THE STREETS, CONTACTING THEIR CONGRESS, DEMANDING TO BE HEARD. INSTEAD MEN ARE PERMITING ATTROCITIES TO BE COMMITTED AGAINST A BEING BECAUSE THEY SIMPLY DO NOT HAVE THE PHYSICAL STRENGTH TO FIGHT THEM.  TRUST THAT IF WOMEN WERE PHYSICALLY STRONGER THAN MEN THAT THEIR WOULD BE NONE OF THIS RAPE CHIT, MOLESTATION, AND RIGHT TO LIFE CHIT. YET WHY DO MEN SHOW THEIR HAND SO WILLINGLY THAT THEY ARE SO ENTIRELY UNEVOLVED AND FEARFUL?  PERHAPS THE REASONING AS HOW TRUMP BECAME PRESIDENT... 60% OF AMERICANS READ AT A 6TH GRADE LEVEL. OR AS GUMP SAYS, STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES. FRIENDS, ITS OLD.  YOU ARE OLD IF YOU BELIEVE WOMEN ARE NOT ONLY YOUR EQUALS BUT THAT RECOGNITION OF THEIR DIVINITY IS THE THING THAT IS GOING TO SAVE YOU... BECAUSE...IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO AND YOU WONT BE HAPPY UNTIL WE ARE ALL HAPPY.  PERIOD. THUS YOU ARE HOLDING YOURSELF BACK BY NOT ACKNOWLEDGING WE ARE ONE AND WHAT YOU DO UNTO US YOU DO UNTO YOU. PAIN SUFFERING AND DENIAL. ITS WHY SO MANY OF YOU ARE TRYING TO TRANSFORM AND WHY SO MAN OTHERS ARE SO RIGID. YOU ARE AFRAID TO LIVE IN YOUR TRUTH.  

A Raven and a Wolf   He sat, kneeling really, slowly panting, under a soft leather hood. It was laced tightly, almost preventing his every breath. And in the darkness, under the hood, he strained his ears to hear whether she was near, or far. He inhaled, trying to find her scent, but could only smell the leather of the hood. He tried to feel if he could sense her presence closer, but nothing. The air was still. His mouth, dry from nerves, with lips slightly agape, didn't utter a sound.   So he waited, arms bound, shoulder back, chest forward and exposed. Uncomfortably upright.    She sat before him, watching him lazily, like how a cat does with a weakened mouse, very still. A hunter and their prey. She was breathing evenly to hide the excitement pooling inside of her. Hands encased in buttery soft lamb skin gloves, the color of his hood, the color of her whip, the color of blood. The color of her lips. A red so beautiful. Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it coming from his body. Beautiful and broken. She could sense he was searching for her; a slight turn of the head, listening, perhap? Leaning forward gently; trying to smell? Like a dog, she thought, just like a dog. And she sat there far longer than even she desired to see how far this "dog" would go.    "Bark, dog" she commanded in a low voice  And he barked immediately, no hesitation. She pulled back her hand and slapped him, his head jerked, body lurched, chest rising and falling rapidly. A noticeable difference between his legs. There it was again, a hunger to bite into him. Taste his blood. Consume him. But only silence. No whimper, no moan, not a sound escaped him. She wondered if he were bleeding from his cute little mouth. Again she slapped him. Softer than the first, a loving caress, bits of his hair peeked through the laces of the hood and she wanted to grip them and tear them away. Would he let her? Perhaps.    The next slap, and the one after, opposite hand, and he fell forward just enough that his face touched her thighs only separated by the hood and her own stockings. The rule was he wasn't allowed to touch her unless she said. This was a broken rule, however accidental. She stood and let him slump forward in a stupor, supported only by the tension of the rope tied to the foot of the bed.   Bark, dog. Dog. He barked.  Up, dog, and he returned to his previous place, exposed and upright. She stepped forward, the toe of her shoe pressing down on the sensitive flesh of the head of his dick. She crushed it gently until he sat even straighter. She held his head in her left hand, caressed it gently, leather on leather. The smell intoxicating her. Raising her right hand she slapped him again, over and over until her hand grew hot even under the glove. Was he bleeding? She hoped so. She hoped to kiss him and bite his lips and taste his blood. She wished she could see his eyes, dazed, glassy, far away. She caressed his head. And whispered, "you may touch me" and he pressed his face into her hands, her thighs. Still no sound, he was so silent.   "Bark, my handsome boy" and he barked, hoarse and painful as she encircled his neck with her hands. This was his idea, he had inspired in her a lust for choking him until he was nothing and drifting away in the ether. She squeezed, her hands perhaps too small, until he gurgled. She wondered if his eyes were open or if they were dimmed. The hood obscured so much. She squeezed until he seemed to go limp. And she let him. Shoulders yanked uncomfortably under his weight.    He awoke. Arms aching, face hot but no longer enclosed by the hood. He could see her though his vision lacked acuity. She was standing over him, wrapped in pink except for gloves. He yearned for them then. Yearned for them to be around his neck, feeling the bones of her fingers threatening his very life. He wanted to ask for it, for her to choke him, strangle him, but knew it was to her whim that he obeyed. Obeisance was her pleasure. He looked at her, eyes soft, left cheek swollen, lips split ever so slightly and she leaned down and kissed him, sliding her tongue over the drying blood. He kissed her back, gentle, but hungry.    Her kiss was soft but grew more passionate until she bit him and suckled his mouth. Did he love this part of her? The softness before the sting.  She broke the kiss. Her lipstick perfect but her mouth and chin stained crimson with what must have been his blood. "Open your mouth, I'd like to try" she said softly. A shy whisper. So unlike the command to "Bark".  He angled himself upright, head back, lips parting painfully like a little bird. She leaned forward and let her own saliva pool in her mouth and slowly let it fall into his. He shuddered. His excitement excited her and she kissed him again before he could even swallow but this time it was wild and wet. Her saliva all over his mouth, chin, cheeks.    "I have to whip you now, are you ready?" She asked and he nodded. A question was not a command to speak. Dogs do not speak unless commanded to speak. She untied him and his body fell forward. Not used to its old range of motion. His limbs buzzed from having sat in one position for too long. He wondered about how much time had passed. Funny thing, time. Why did it matter now when he was in the moment with her.   Without the hood he realized he could smell her. A warm sweet scent, perhaps arousal. And he thought then about being forced to please her like they talked about in passing, forced until exhausted and even beyond. After play. Her, in her pink, looked like candy and he wanted to lick her. She must be sweet.      She looked down at him and his face was peculiar, his mind was somewhere else and he looked rather cute. But she was jealous at the idea that his mind wasn't on her and she kicked him in the stomach to bring him back to her. He coughed and curled up as she walked to retrieve her whip, preparing for the next step in her courtship.  "Up" she commanded and he got to his feet, winded, bruised. Arms still behind his back. She released them to tie them around the post of the bed. The bed post being the whipping post, isn't it somehow romantic, she thought.    "If you need me to stop, tell me, I won't be gentle otherwise" she said to him, her mouth on his ear. His hair was slicked down with sweat and he smelled musky. She liked his smell. She bit his earlobe and stepped back a couple of feet and threw the whip. Lash after lash until he tried moving away. Pulling at the post until it creaked. She wanted him to cry but he only moaned and groaned, no tears. Just a brow drenched in sweat as his back went from fine pink lines to slowly oozing wounds. If he didn't give her tears then she would have blood.  He pulled desperately as if trying to escape her and she threw the whip furiously, lashing whatever she could reach, his ass, thighs, calves, neck, even the back of his head. The post groaned as if it would break under the strength of him trying to flee.   "Do you want to get away from me?" She asked. His breathing heavy, labored, his body wobbled as blood poured from him, he shook his head no, weakly, and looked over his weeping shoulders with hazy eyes. Finally he spoke, a clear and clean "No, ma'am" from his lips now dry from mouth breathing, swollen from having been bitten and slapped.   The no rang through her body and she leapt at him and kissed and licked his mouth, his shoulders, his back. Barely containing her arousal, her hips moving in slow circles. She was so hungry.&n