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Ranger117
Hetero Male Submissive, 34, Anaheim, California 

SWM in OC looking for a strong domme.  i like verbal humiliation, cbt, and would love to try and get into hypnosis.  only limits are blood scat and kids.

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Dominant Couple
 Decatur, Alabama
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In Januaury of last year I started a path I never saw myself doing... I hired a trainer and started working out 4 days a week... I feel like there should have been a betting pool, or something, because I NEVER expected to be on that same path a year and four months later...but here I am, healthier, at least 40 pounds lighter, and feeling so much better, physically, mentally, emotionally and about myself. I constatnly amaze myself with things, like how four years ago my doctors said I'd never lift more than 10 pounds... last Wednesday, I did dead lifts at 205 pounds for 5 reps... or how they said I would never be able to handle running again, I started jogging on the treadmill (supervised of course) and have a total of 5 minuets over 2 days, not bad for something I haven't done in over 20 years, and for someone with "heart failure"... In the last 20 years of my life, I've gone from an active live to inactive, a 30 waist to a 46, now back down to a 38, inching (get it?) closer to 36 actually... and all I can thinks is "Wow! I really like doing this!" You see, when I was a kid, it was the "jocks" the weightlifters, the football ogres, I mean players, that bullied harrased and made me feel insecure about being gay, if only they tried that today... anyhow, I never figured that this training I do now would be enjoyable because of that. Actually it's more than enjoyable. I get out of bed in the mornings with energy, ready to conqure my day and all that it throws at me! All because one day, I decided I wasn't gonna let heart failure win. Because I decided to be a healtheir, better me. And because I literally dared myself to do it! Who knows, maybe in a few weeks I'll give a progress update...
I read over my profile, again, today, as I have many times since I created it anew. I've tried very hard over the years to make my profile on FL be realistic, vulnerable, intelligent, reflective of who and what I am at my core, and just as importantly, to have it reflect what I want to have in my life.  To let it give someone who doesn't know me, either well or even at all, a solid idea of myself, my body, my mind, my soul.  The more I looked over it these last few months, the more I often changed it, inserting more intellectual references and suave self assured witticisms, but still I saw what it lacked.  The more I saw and felt the only true and right and beloved deion it could and should contain was...love.  The joy of caring, the elation of sexual union, deep and abiding compassion, the sensual act of touch, the smell and taste and sounds of affection, the respect of intimate and unflagging positive human regard, the vision of altruism, the singular romance of knowing you are and you can and you do and you need and you give that one precious wonderful thing that we all need in our lives; love.  It often seems to me in our kinky little corner of the universe there isn't much talk  of that kind of love in profiles anymore, even though it also can take many shapes and forms; love of rope, love of play, love of sexual adventures. I hope we all will list more love and loves in our profiles. It's never too late. I'm not going to change my profile again though, please don't worry.   Let this note stand from this day forward as my more than official confirmation of my own proclamation to need want desire make spread create admire demonstrate dream bring deliver give ask understand and embrace more... LOVE.   
“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part II: Temperature Chains” T.L. Duncan He knelt perfectly still in front of the red chair, hands behind his back, shoulders trembling just enough for me to know he was alive inside the anticipation. Good. He should tremble. Temperature chains demand obedience. I stepped behind him and let the room settle into silence. A long silence. Long enough that he started to doubt what he’d feel first. Then I touched the back of his neck with warm oil. He inhaled sharply. The oil wasn’t hot—just body-warm. Comforting. Seductive. A touch that coaxed him into trust before breaking it. “My warmth first,” I murmured. I smoothed the oil over the top of his shoulders, slow strokes that lulled him into lowering his guard. His breath lengthened. His muscles softened. His head tilted forward in surrender. Good. Perfect, actually. Now I changed the temperature. The ice cube was newly unwrapped, frosty and dripping between my fingers. He didn’t hear it. He didn’t expect it. And that made it exquisite. I pressed it to the same spot I had just warmed. He jerked like a current ran through him—but he stayed kneeling. “Good boy,” I said quietly. The praise landed deep. I traced the ice down the line of his spine, a slow, cruel descent. He shuddered uncontrollably, head dropping forward, breath catching on every inch. Then I wiped the trail dry with a heated cloth—soft, warm, soothing. His whole body swayed, caught between two opposites with no ability to prepare for either. “That’s the point of temperature chains,” I whispered. “Your body stops guessing. It just reacts.” He exhaled a broken sound—half moan, half plea. I circled him, letting the warm cloth ghost over his chest, then replaced it with the ice again, pressing it to the hollow of his throat. He gasped and froze. “Don’t move,” I warned. He didn’t. He barely breathed. I let the ice melt in a slow path over his skin, then chased the trail with my warm palm. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. His head fell back against my thigh. “You’re unraveling beautifully,” I said, cupping the side of his face gently—warm palm, cold fingertips. He whimpered at the contrast. Now that he was soft and undone, the next sequence would hit harder. I dipped my fingers in the warm oil again, then traced a circle over his sternum. He relaxed. And just as the comfort settled— I lifted the chilled metal spoon. He didn’t see it. He didn’t hear it. He only felt the shock when it touched the same oiled spot. He choked on a moan. His hands flexed behind his back. His body bowed toward me. “Hold your position,” I commanded, voice velvet and steel at once. He froze, trembling uncontrollably now, his body shaking with a desperate cocktail of cold, warmth, need, and obedience. I moved the spoon lower, then chased it immediately with warmed fingertips. His breath stuttered. His knees nearly buckled. “Your body can’t predict me anymore,” I said softly into his ear. “That’s what surrender feels like.” He nodded, barely able to speak. “Good,” I whispered. “Because your final temperature test will break what’s left of your control.” I stepped away to prepare it—just out of his line of sight, just enough for the dread and desire to twist together. “Be still,” I said. “Lesson three begins now.” He was still kneeling, barely holding himself together. The temperature chains had wrecked his sense of predictability, and I could feel it in the shivers running through him. Now it was time to take the one thing he had left— his mind. I stepped behind him, deliberately quiet, until my thighs brushed the edge of his shoulders. He stiffened, waiting for the next sensation. But I gave him nothing. No touch. Just silence. Then I leaned down until my lips hovered a hair’s breadth from his ear. “Don’t look for my hands,” I whispered. “My voice is what owns you right now.” His breath hitched. Good. I let my breath warm the shell of his ear, slow and soft—not touching, just threatening the touch. He froze in place like prey that knows the predator is right behind it. “You feel that?” I murmured. “Yes… Ma’am…” “That’s not me touching you,” I said. “That’s me deciding you deserve to feel my breath.” He shuddered so hard his balance wavered. I slid one hand behind his neck—not gripping, just resting there, letting him know I could take hold at any moment—but my mouth stayed at his ear. “Your body reacts before you can think,” I whispered. “And that turns me on more than anything else.” He exhaled sharply, a small, helpless sound. I didn’t touch him yet. Instead, I let my lips barely graze the upper curve of his ear—so faint that he might have imagined it. A ghost of contact. A promise. He whimpered. Then I broke the almost-touch with a cold whisper: “Keep your hands behind your back.” “I— I am, Ma’am…” “Good. Because if you lift one finger to steady yourself, this ends.” His spine straightened in panic and obedience at the same time. Now he was mine. I brought my mouth closer, slow and controlled, until the tip of my nose brushed the soft edge of his jaw. “Do you know what I want right now?” I whispered. “No, Ma’am…”

Chauffeur wanted for tomorrow night 25/03/2023. You will be required to pick ME up from IG1 by 8.30pm and drop ME off at E11.  
second potenial ending to blend with majority of previous ending   Now exhausted from the day’s events, your precious body quivers, shakes lifelessly, just laying on the faux fur bed, hands still locked together, and your feet still in the spreader bar.  Completely war out from the whole day’s events that enfolded all before your eyes.  Twelve hours of pleasure, pain, excitement, desires being fulfilled, heightened arousals,  your deepest most rooted thoughts brought up to the surface for all to see.  Your path of fulfillment was laid out before Me, your strengths, weaknesses, everything was given to Me.  Now it’s my turn to reward you.   All your bonds have now been released, first your wrists, then followed by each ankle, and then finally the lock that held you to the chain, that of which held you so dearly still.  All that remained was the collar, the collar which now was yours to wear with pride.  This was my give / symbol to give to you, that you may now show the world that you are now loved, cherished, desired, taken, cared for, and belong to me.  All of that said in a simple fashion of a collar.   The reward, for your ever falling body, that is which, is slipping deeper and deeper into submission of sleep.  I place you down, now under the faux blanket; I place you on plush oversized huge pillows at the top of the bed. Silk lined sheets covered with soft rose petals.  A warm fire place glowing in the far corner; the corner that which was kept in the dark, hidden from your eyes the whole time.  (Slave went and started the fire while I was releasing your bonds.)   My, sweet baby; so sore and sexy, all at the same moment.  Looking at you with a new fresh pair of eyes, eyes no longer lusting but has contentment, restful, and happy.  I’m proud of what I have done and now own.   Sweetness I have a question for you, “are you truly happy?  Am I what you thought I would be?  All that you lusted for? Is this what you will forever be able to be?  My own, loved forever?”   As you slowly drift away to that sleepless state.
If you'd like a reasonable answer and a good prospect of meeting me for real, message me and Don't assume any titles. You can tell me how you like to be addressed. You can ask or tell me once how you are going to address me unless I. Start with a greeting. It says so much. Not using any also tells me novels about you. Very disappointing and frustrating ones though. Tell me the reason why you contact me. Is it based on my profile and to figure out if, when, and how we'll have a real session offline? Tell me. Respect your own prospect and mine. If there is no overlap between what we are looking, don't ignore that. Don't ask me or try to play online for instance. Ask me questions if you like, but don't ask me something you can look up. You can always ask about my own definitions or opinions about something but give me context, please. I need to know why you ask. Tell me something about you but not everything, especially not right from the beginnung. Start with the most relevant information concerning your reason to message me. Open up a bit. Personal information is a give and take. Our balance gives away a good portion about the prospect to meet. Manage your expectations. This is the internet. Without closer contact, you don't know in which situation I am in, any sudden accident or sickness for example. I expect having to filter through a lot of crappy messages, people not reading, lack of manners, disrespect, crazy people, insults, plenty of people just disappearing. The list goes on. Don't expect a 100% reply rate, even from me. I am only human. It's the internet. Don't stalk or annoy (see respect above) but be patient and persistent. The only way to filter strangers is time and continuous communication. Liars have a hard time keeping up consistency. Con and scammers people don't like to invest too much time into the same contact. Trust is most valuable, time is second to that, followed by other resources like money. Try to include a question towards progress on trust, checking if it's a match, and possibly a real meeting.
Am I a monster? by Sintara » Sat Dec 05, 2009 12:21 pm I am a female sexual sadist. I spend hours on end fantasizing about torturing men. I don't hate men, I love them actually. The more I like them and the more I feel sexually attracted to them the more I want to hurt them. Nothing turns me on more than the whimpering sounds and wincing facial expressions they make or if they cry. I also find myself turned on if I see a guy limping. Its even more exciting to me to see other people who care about them feel sorry for them when they see the injuries they have later. I would love to be able to torture a guy and then send him home to a loved one and get to be a fly on the wall so that I could watch that person feeling bad for them and trying to help them.I obsess over CBT. My fantasies get pretty extreme. I know that there are many sexual sadists out there but I feel like a monster because my fantasies are so extreme. I feel guilty because despite feeling like a monster I also feel a strong desire to find a man who is masochistic enough to allow me to do these things to him. I try not to think about it but I can't stop. I can't get sexually aroused without picturing suffering men in my mind. I collect pictures of injured and tortured men to look at so that later I can have sex with my husband without him knowing how sick I am.I also have a blindness fetish. I would like to find someone who would agree to wear contacts that made them blind so that I could watch them try to make their way around without sight. I would also enjoy hurting them without them being able to see when it was coming. I might make him complete tasks for me blind so I could watch him struggle. With contacts instead of a blindfold I chould still fully see their facial expressions, which are very important to me. Then I would be aroused enough to have sex with them. I would want them to still wear the contacts during sex so I was in complete control.I'm so tortured by all of this because my husband called me a "sexual psychopath" and I have to hide it from him now. It has ruined our sex life. I'm addicted to it and don't know what to do. SintaraConsumer 4 Posts: 92Joined: Sat Dec 05, 2009 8:57 amLocal time: Wed Apr 20, 2022 12:37 pmBlog: View Blog (0)
I am not on here often, but I have met several lovely people over the years.  The best place to reach Me is on FetLife or bdsmlr.  If you are not familiar with those sites, you should check them out.  They are free and offer some fun visuals and opportunity for connection.  My FetLife profile is here. https://milkyandthegentlemenwriters.bdsmlr.com/ My job demands a great deal of My time, but it affords Me a chance to travel to many places to meet people.  The pandemic put a strain on everyone, and I hibernated a little, but I am ready to explore once more.  A word of advice:  if I offer to meet you, do not play coy.  I want to touch you, not simply chat online.  To watch your eyes widen, to hear your intake of breath and your sighs and moans, to feel you tremble.  
If you found a normally locked door unlocked, wouldn't you worry?  I went away for the long weekend and came back last night after dark. Unloading the car, putting things away, blah blah. I stopped and looked at the kitchen door. Unlocked. I lock every door when coming in out of habit. Unlocked. I start looking around, checking closets, go downstairs, check that door, the windows. Nothing. Nothing looks missing. Eventually I head upstairs, with a kitchen knife. Okay, with two kitchen knives because what if the person waiting to murder me knocks the first one out of my hand? Secret knife in my hoodie pouch.  Now, you're probably saying but you have a dog, she will attack. I would think so, too. What she did was walk upstairs and go straight to her bed. The weekend wore her out. I was on my own. You might also think that's a good sign if she doesn't hear or smell anything unusual. She also has walked right by french fries and never noticed. Let's not count on her awareness to save the day. Back to me. Back when I was paranoid I bought a, what are those things called, the zapper thing, because I don't know how to use a gun and I would probably shoot a hole into my closet and ruin several of my favorite dresses. I went to get that to continue my search and it was dead. Why would I keep it charged? Indeed. Kitchen knife and secret hoodie knife it is. Every closet, peeled back the shower curtain, looked under every bed. Checked my jewelry. All fine. And then I closed and locked the bedroom door and wound a belt around the handles and slept with the tv on.  What about the kitchen door? All I can think is I missed relocking it the last time I went out. You better believe I won't be doing that again any time soon. The kitchen knife and secret hoodie knife are still on the nightstand. 
Shared with me on this site:   Basic Rules1 The maleslave must always practice respect, whether in private or public, as directed For example, in public stand when Mistress enters the room and sit only after She is seated in private, drop to knees, nose to floor the moment Mistress enters the room, slave does not sit in Mistresss presence2 Be totally attentive For example, in public, open doors, offer Her slaves coat, She sits first, begins to eat first, and always ask permission to leave her presence in private, always try to anticipate Her desires and always respond with eager enthusiasm to complete any task She wants3 The maleslave should never speak unless spoken to, or unless anticipating the needs of his Mistress4 The slave will never sit with legs spread or slouch in a way typical of untrained males Good posture and decorum is a sign of respect5 The maleslave will never stare at a woman without her permission Unless the woman seeks eyecontact, the slave submissive will keep his eyes lowered at all times6 When walking with his Mistress, or any woman, the slave will keep his gait in step with hers, which usually means taking smaller steps The maleslave should always be at least 12 steps behind, but not too far because he must open all doors7 The slave must always be pleasant, never argue and never pout8 The maleslave surrenders control of how he spends his time, how he dresses, what he eats, where he sleeps, the friends or acquaintances he is allowed to keep9 The maleslave must remember that his orgasm does not belong to him but to his Mistress It is Hers to use or deny however she sees fit Ideally, slave must accept he may be left in permanent chastity, which he thanks Her for10 The maleslave may never touch his own genitals without the permission of his Mistress When washing, he must use a wash cloth or brush, never his hands11 The maleslave should never buy his own clothing without the guidance of his Mistress He should buy what pleases her, not what he likes12 When urinating, the maleslave will always sit on the toilet not toilet seat no exceptions13 The maleslave must submit to eating only submissive food selected by his Mistress whenever she requires it14 When a meal is over the slave must be quick to clear the table and wash the dishes15 The maleslave must always give his Mistress the first choice of everything She picks the channel on TV to watch, the restaurant to go to, the movie to see, the friends to entertain, etc16 The makeslave will perform all household chores for his dominate, to include but not limited t
  Your Negotiation Means Nothing If the Results Were Forged [CW: STI non-disclosure, predatory behavior, legal consequences, community safety] Let me paint you a picture. Someone gets a positive result. Instead of disclosing instead of doing the one thing that consent absolutely requires they go shopping. They find a friend. They swap names on paperwork. They screenshot someone else's results. They walk into your negotiation with fabricated proof and a smile, and everything you agreed to was built on a lie. Your yes was never real. You consented to a fiction. And now you're living with the consequences. This isn't just a community problem. It is a crime. And I want the people doing this to understand exactly what they're walking into because the law in these states doesn't mess around. FLORIDA Under Florida Statute §384.24, you don't even have to transmit anything. Knowingly having an infection, being informed you can transmit it, and sleeping with someone without disclosure is already the crime. Non-disclosure of most STIs is a First Degree Misdemeanor. Non-disclosure of HIV is a Third Degree Felony up to 5 years. A repeat offense escalates to a First Degree Felony. The statute covers gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphilis, herpes, and HIV. Fabricating test results to obtain that consent? That's fraud layered on top of the underlying charge. GEORGIA Under Georgia Code 16-5-60, there are criminal penalties for reckless conduct involving HIV and hepatitis transmission. Prosecutors in Georgia are aggressive about pursuing charges against those who fail to disclose their status to sexual partners. And for anything not specifically named in the statute syphilis, herpes, anything else a person can still face assault charges. TENNESSEE Criminal exposure to HIV in Tennessee is a Class C Felony that is three to fifteen years in prison and up to $10,000 in fines. Tennessee covers HIV, Hepatitis B, and Hepatitis C specifically under criminal exposure law. The burden falls on the defendant to prove disclosure happened, and proving disclosure is notoriously difficult because there is rarely documentation so it often comes down to whose word gets believed in front of a jury. ALABAMA Alabama's communicable disease exposure statute casts a wide net "contact" is broadly undefined, meaning a whole range of behaviors can be criminalized, and neither intent to transmit nor actual transmission is required for prosecution. Alabama has also pursued HIV exposure cases under general criminal law, including attempted murder charges where intent can be established. MISSISSIPPI Mississippi's felony exposure statute covers HIV, Hepatitis B, and Hepatitis C. Exposure without disclosure can result in felony charges. This is not a state where you want to test those limits. SOUTH CAROLINA South Carolina carries explicit criminal exposure statutes covering HIV, Hepatitis B, and Hepatitis C both misdemeanor and felony tiers depending on the circumstances and the infection involved. LOUISIANA Louisiana has been actively expanding its reach. Intentional exposure to incurable STIs without disclosure has been the subject of legislation targeting up to 10 years in prison and $5,000 in fines. Syphilis and herpes both incurable fall squarely in that conversation. And then there's civil court which doesn't need a criminal conviction to destroy you. If a partner knowingly infaspects you, you can file civil battery or negligence claims. Intentional, unconsented, harmful contact raises the damages recovered and can run alongside criminal charges simultaneously. A fabricated test result isn't a defense it's evidence of premeditation. A civil attorney will use it to light you on fire. Now let's talk about the test swapping specifically. Presenting falsified medical documentation to obtain sexual consent is fraud. Full stop. It potentially constitutes identity fraud, forgery, and fraud to obtain consent all separate charges that can stack on top of whatever STI exposure statute applies. You handed someone else's results to your partner. That's a paper trail. That's a witness. That's a case. What this means for all of us in this community We build our entire framework on the quality of the information exchanged during negotiation. One lie poisons the whole structure. Informed consent isn't informed if the information is fake. Ask for documentation. Ask about the lab. Ask about the date. Cross reference the details. If someone treats those questions like an insult if they get hostile, evasive, or suddenly defensive about you wanting to verify what they've handed you that reaction is data. Use it. Protect yourself. Know your rights. And if something has already happened to you talk to someone who can help you understand your options. You have them. Legal References Florida Fla. Stat. 384.24 Unlawful Sexual Intercourse / STI Non-Disclosure Florida Fla. Stat. 384.34 Penalties for STI-related violations Georgia Ga. Code Ann. 16-5-60 Reckless Conduct / HIV & Hepatitis Exposure Tennessee Tenn. Code Ann. 39-13-109 Criminal Exposure to HIV, HBV, HCV (Class C Felony) Alabama Ala. Code 22-11A-21 Communicable Disease Exposure Statute Mississippi Miss. Code Ann. 97-27-14 — Felony Exposure (HIV, HBV, HCV) South Carolina S.C. Code Ann. 44-29-145 — Criminal Sexual Conduct with STI Non-Disclosure Louisiana La. R.S. 14:43.5 — Intentional Exposure to AIDS Virus; pending expansion legislation Civil Liability Negligence & Battery claims available in all 50 states; no criminal conviction required https://www.nolo.com/legal-encyclopedia/sexually-transmitted-diseases-stds-lawsuits.html https://www.hivlawandpolicy.org/state-profiles/south-carolina https://www.kevinkuliklaw.com/is-std-transmission-a-criminal-offense-in-florida/ https://www.legalmatch.com/law-library/article/liability-for-transmitting-a-sexually-transmitted-disease.html https://www.criminaldefenselawyer.com/resources/transmitting-std-florida.htm https://www.criminaldefenselawyer.com/resources/transmitting-std-north-carolina.htm  
i'm always in a very weird place in my spaces on earth. in every sense of the word i'm 'in the worlds but not of it'.   when i connect with my mermaid and water being feminine people and try to befriend them and socialize, i'm often come across man hating retroic. men ain't shit. kill men. a mermaid would never be with a man. if you are wanting to be married by a man something is wrong with you. a mermaid is never meant to be tamed. brimstone and fire.   probably partly because of my virgo rising and partly because of my priestess nature i can't relate. in my heart of hearts how i approach romantic and sexual framework with men is  in a perfect world a sacred slavery mentality. honor, worship, respect, reverence, and deep feminine care and caressing and holding is how my dream is in my heart and my mind. in a perfect world i am always claimed by the mother ocean, but she is holding place and will hold my hand off in divine union and marriage to my master husband. this mermaid knows in a perfect world in my heart of hearts the divine masculine which would in a perfect world translate to a man in real life on earth in the flesh owns me heart, mind, body and soul. and it tends to express that most men that have attempted to date me tend to be on a soulmate level, some things die hard and my soul is built for a deeper cosmic way of loving and fucking than what most superficial people see.    in a alternative space group i saw a whack ass man proudly show his bdsm tools like a big inflated ego boy in a group that is clearly not just 18+  probably wanting some ego stroking saying just had a good session. it got lots of comments. i'm sure some womens panties were fulfilled by that. i looked at it as true goddess of devotion on a deeper moment. session? how does that translate to your world. your life. you packed it up and you closed it out. what about your next breath, your next step, your next hand hold, your next eye stare..the next intent of the energy you speak to her. how does your session carry out in your 24/7 lifestyle of devotion servitude mastery and slavery? dominance and submission? you can only hold it for  a session that is good and requiring or preferring some tools to achieve that ecstatic level of pleasure and absolute sinking into each other. that's cute. but what about the end goal, complete devotion and union. or is it just for a quick dopamine run and back to being vanilla lower cylinder working engagements between each other and life goes on. because if not we all know while in a perfect world it would include financial, cohabitating, family future planning generational security stability community elevating discussions between both parties as a power couple of house if it's multiple people involved......it doesn't have to be and can go on without cohabitating, without the legal contract change...though i still don't understand why most men want to own women but don't have the balls to legally take her as property and change her name to seal the full deal. so many come across, i haven't thought about that, there are ways of doing it without getting the law involved, we don't need the governmental intuition we have to operate under to know she's my property as long as it's in our hearts it's ok...always comes off as a cop out to me. but i know everyone is built different. tools can be fun but it's just like yoga, in the west anasa is so popular because we don't know how to get still inside to get to the real higher work of the various limbs of study and practice. and still doesn't have to be sitting, meditation is also dance movement and action. it's a stillness in the mind.   some of my dark goddess sisters both of the sophia original source encoded soul that are different copies of my own self....or others with a different original divine feminine soul encoded on them(sophia isn't the only form of the divine feminine, it's just WHO i am...so what MY mission is...MY journey..MY teachings...and my lived path to walk) continue the man hate. men deserve to die. nwords ain't shit. fuck a guy. i hate men.   i can't relate.   i've never had a man in real life protect, provide, or care for me. i've been in clubs by myself and have drunk men try to hug me, touch my arms, rub  up on my breasts and inappropriate get in my space. i've had to push men off  one, two, three, four times very visibly public. i've had to say loudly no, more than once. no bouncer at the clubs come. none of the men in the vicinity that can hear me(my voice is loud and piercings and energetic and many a person has said i talk too loud naturally) and they don't break from their girlfriends, wives, friend groups to come over and say stop bro. or to say are you okay? or is everything alright. they stay on the sidelines watching as i the dark goddess have to rise to protect myself.   i've dated men who see when i'm out and about other men try to approach me that i'm uncomfortable with and they've laughed it off, making me rise to the challenge to assert myself i'm with a guy and even if i wasn't this invasion of space is inappropriate.    i've been through so many daddies that want to inappropriately harness my overtly sexual little girl with no promise of provision, protection, guidance, care, and structure that the daddy dominant is supposed to provide. i've had them break me so much i've wanted to die when that carrot stick of the ultimate romantic mix of nurturing and strength and slightly sinister love gets taken away.   i've been assaulted in that way and when i told the man i was dating at the time, instead of being a righteous archangel michael divine masculine encoded self asked what was i wearing, what was i doing maybe i did something to provoke it. when i go through the questions and ask for them to come over to hug me, to reset my body my nervous system, to heal me from what their brother did and get myself reacclimated to what i have always known in my heart of hearts to be what the real masculine the true masculine is..i was rejected but he loved me.   and on and on...i have every experience to join the men ain't shit nword ain't shit kill men.....and i'm just not wired that way.   even recognizing the world isn't perfect, and that i wasn't born to be on the regular track where men in reality come to my rescue, show up for me, open the doors for me, hold me, watch me, make sure i'm okay, provide the stability, structure, care and support of just a regular vanilla way or an elevated power dynamic way....i don't' waver from the mission of 5d.. a higher cosmic love and union..i don't waver from the truth i've been seen.   there's the sauce of real life...and then there's the truth of what is beyond in the ethers.   and in the eithers.....i'm so divinely cared for and protected, cherished and loved. while the men in reality cannot hold the energetics of the transformative fiery goddess i am that will require them to constantly level up, to grow, to face their fears, be called out on their mistakes, be pushed to elevate, grow, emotionally stretch, touch feelings they could hide and side step from everyone else, and to always be tracked and seen energetically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally.....the divine form is always here.   and so while it's not a perfect world, i am incapable of losing the respect, the reverence, the worship, the care, the holding, the deep sense of devotion to the man in spirit. i don't have to receive a gift on a date,  i don't have to be asked out on a physical date, i don't have to have the door held open, i don't have have dinner paid for me, i don't have to receive an engagement ring, i don't have to re
There are parts of a person that don’t begin at the moment two people meet. They begin long before, in the quiet places where experience shapes us and then gets sealed away. Long before I met her, I had lived through something that awakened a deep part of me — a capacity for intensity, recognition, and emotional clarity that rarely finds a home. And she had lived through her own version of that. For different reasons, both of us buried that part of ourselves. She buried hers out of fear - fear of instability, fear of loss, fear of needing someone, fear of being seen too clearly. I buried mine out of discipline - a deliberate containment, a way of protecting others from the full force of what I feel and protecting myself from offering it where it cannot be held. Different histories, different wounds, same instinct: suppress what once burned too brightly When we met, that buried part in both of us stirred. Not because we created something new, but because we recognised something familiar. The connection wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t accidental. It was the reawakening of something each of us had sealed away. In the moments when she felt safe, she softened, revealing warmth, intuition, and depth she rarely allowed to surface. And in response, I became the version of myself that feels most grounded, steady, and alive. I understood the sandcastle she lived in. I saw her protective walls. Not as flaws, but as architecture - structures and anchors that kept her upright when life gave her no stability. I understood why trusting one person felt like stepping into open air. I understood why she stayed in the present, why she avoided looking ahead, why she protected herself even from what she wanted. I saw the logic in it. I saw the cost of it too. It is heartbreaking to see how someone can be hurt so deeply, so repeatedly, that they retreat into a world made of compartments. A world where adult emotional connection feels dangerous, where closeness carries the risk of being wounded again. And so she anchored herself to the one place that felt safe: the innocence of a child who had never betrayed her. The child of the man who had most recently broken her trust became, in a way, the last untouched corner of her emotional world. Maybe she saw a younger version of herself there. Maybe she stayed close to that child because it allowed her to protect something pure in a way no one ever protected her. Whatever the reason, it is unbearably sad that the safest place she could find was one that existed outside the realm of adult connection entirely. I understood how it was easier to feel when it was transactional, triggered by someone else and emotionally outside her control. What I felt for her was not fantasy. It was recognition. I cared for her deeply, and I would have treasured her - not by holding her tightly, but by creating a space where she could breathe without fear, where the sparks I glimpsed in her unguarded moments could grow into something steady. I never wanted to reshape her. I wanted to offer a place where she could rest without bracing for impact. It hurt that she couldn't understand my deep need to care; that she could and did give herself to another physically, to a sadist, when she couldn't accept my care or give herself physically to me. And I never believed it would be easy or instantaneous. I knew that being together would require patience, courage, and the slow dismantling of old defences. I knew it would demand effort from both of us. But the difficulty didn’t deter me - it clarified me. It strengthened my resolve. It deepened my desire to care, not out of saviourhood or fantasy, but because I saw what was possible if she ever chose to step toward it. But the truth is simple: the part of her that woke up when we met is the same part she has spent years learning to silence. Stepping toward what she felt would have required dismantling the very defences that keep her functioning. She retreated not because she felt nothing, but because she felt too much. I stepped toward it because I was ready. That difference is the whole story. So I release this into the ether - not to change her, not to call her back, not to craft something optimised for her reception or softened for her comfort. I have written carefully, yes, but this is not for her. This is for me. This is where I place the truth so I no longer have to carry it alone. We both knew. We both felt it. We both buried it for our own reasons. Meeting each other unlocked it again. She ran from it. I stepped toward it. And now I name it so it no longer lives unspoken. Whatever she chooses, whatever she fears, whatever she cannot yet face, I hold no anger. Only the quiet truth of what was possible, and the peace that comes from finally giving these words a place to live outside my own mind.
Someone actually quite a challenge to WOW them about consent (not on cs).... I decided to write most of my response here, even though done of it is mentioned in my profile.   Wow you with consent... I love that challenge. So first things first, you can't have fun when anxiety and fear are the prevailing emotions.  Does that mean a person can't struggle against bonds or their patterned who is ignore than please of 'no' or begging for mercy and still find pleasure?  Sure they can, in the form of a safe word.  They can be simple as red, yellow, and green light... Red light being stop, yellow light, don't get any more intense... Or if the room is wiring about the intensity, can ask, sand if she say green light, she's good, keep going.   A bdsm relationship, whether it is in bed only, or 24/7 is still a 50-50 relationship.  Just because the sun lens the doom some of her fifty, doesn't mean she can't take some of all of it back at any time.  He wants to try anal, she doesn't, "I'm the Dom, so I can" is an EPIC of FAILURE of understanding basic [healthy] bdsm... Also might violate a law or two whether or not either of them know it.     Communication is also key.  Set aside time (such as a dinner) to discuss what they like it don't like.  Sometimes telling a person about what they didn't like right after or right before can kill the mood or self confidence... However during Sunday night dinner, a planned conversation, "her that thing when you turned me sides ways, don't do that for more than a minute at a time, but that thing you did when you held my head on the pillow... Don't ever not do that again..."   He laughs, "sure, when your are going down... Teeth are not sexy."     Moving on..   I actually love protocol training early in a relationship.  It's almost an if-then style relationship while learning each other's kinks: If you do this, I do that... Or if I do this, you do that.  For example, if she puts a collar on, he is not allowed to use her real name, just one of the pet names that agreed upon earlier, it could be cute like 'penny' because of the penguin on the T-shirt she wore the first time they met, or it could be something more aggressive such as 'slut,' if she agreed on that at first.  A system of controls to keep them both satisfied.          
Things have changed yet AGAIN! My father has declined to the point , that he is afraid to move  in with me.  I structured my whole life around this. Closed my business, left my condo, friends, clients, swing dance community, and support network, plus my Sir.   I didn't pick this place for job opportunities,  I was going to care for my father until the end.  He backed out of coming twice and then let it slip that they, my niece, her failing husband and my father were moving 15 hours away!  I may never see him again!   My world has turned upside down.   Now I'm scrambling to get reciprocity for my license, sending out reaumes, and praying to secure employment. Starting over yet again. The one good thing out of this, is the bathroom in the cottage, is completely renovated.  It is stunning , just gorgeous! Porcelain tiled shower , elegant grab bars, not clinical looking at all, all metal shower fixtures, top quality, new toilet, new sink, beautiful oval mirror and lights.  When renovating, when the wall was stripped down, we even found a window!  I prepped the bedroom, learned to skim coat, scraped  sanded, and primed it. I found gorgeous furniture for the parlor, a large couch, chair and a half and a darling tiny gingham print wing chair. A gas operated cast iron stove  stove is in place and hooked up. Now I need to finish the kitchen.  I stripped the wall paper boarders, several of them. Then came across a metal seam! Uuuugh!  Put one layer of skim coating and need to sand that down. Another one or two more coats , then I sand and paint.   At this point I haven't decided whether I'll do my esthetic business or a small daycare out of the cottage.  Either way, I need a part time job before I decide, and complete it. I landscaped the front of it, and it looks darling.   The covered screenedin front porch has two Amish gliders. I saw my dad in those, rocking outside , safe and comfortable. Siiiiigh. Anyhoo, I need to push forward, live in the now for a bit.   My Sir has been out , and his next time is on my birthday. Hopefully all will go smoothly this time. Last time work took two of our days together 💩💩. Miss him being around the corner. I can't believe it's been over two years!    
Ann's Deep Rub Facial The following is part of a much longer story I have written. I will not be presenting it here as much of it would not pass censorship. TEST ONE At the back door there was a note “I am in the study. Make me black tea and bring it, with cream, to me.” My face flushed with excitement. I made the tea and took it to the study. I stood there, in my short little pleated cheer leading skirt and sweater, looking for a place to set down the tea and condiments. MRS. MARQUIS, who was reading, did not bother to look up. After a while she indicated the little table near her. I moved the little box aside and sat the tray down. MRS. MARQUIS appraised what I had done and commented that it would take a while to train me properly. While I remained standing she indicated I should pour her tea with an impatient gesture of her hand. Then she added cream to her tea and then stared rather contemplatively at my chest. After a while she spoke. “Are you ready for another test?” I answered in the affirmative. “You will go to the hall closet and bring me one of the pairs of riding gloves you find there. Make sure it is the oldest most beat up of the lot.” There was riding equipment in the closet. Including riding boots, crops and a couple buggy whips. The gloves were laid out on a rack. It took just a second to find a pair that was a little scuffed. All the others looked new. I returned to MRS. MARQUIS. I offered her the gloves. “Put them on me, stupid.” It was very strange to put gloves on another persons hand so I fumbled around a bit. “Don’t you think it would be easier if you knelt?” “Yes of course,” I said as I sank to my knees. “You are not very good as a supplicant. But then you have had no training. Would you like to learn more about yourself and service?” “Yes” I was stammering again. “Well we shall begin. You have offered, yesterday, to endure discomfort for my pleasure. What would please me now would be to slap that insipid face of yours. Put your hands behind your back Grab opposite fore arms. Arch your chest forward. Hold your face up. Very good. Now I will slap your face from side to side, by the way, you should know that I am using old gloves because you are not worthy of the new ones. I would not want to scuff a good glove on your face. You will return your face to a forward looking position quickly after each slap. Are you ready?” I stammered a “yes”. “Good.” My face stung furiously after just the first slap. But I brought it back to the ordered position. “Quicker” was the order. Again the slap. I learned to keep my mouth shut when my teeth cut the inside of my mouth. I returned my face to the requisite position, only to learn that I was not fast enough. I got quicker, in spite of the pain, so quick that she could swing as fast as she wanted. My eyes red from tears. But before I lost clear vision I could see the look of extreme pleasure on her face. This slapping continued for what seemed an eternity.When she stopped my ears were wringing and my vision red. My face felt like it was covered with Deep Heat Rub. I was sobbing. She pulled me to her. Close to her. As I knelt, she pulled my face to hers and kissed me gently on the lips. Later she put my face to her breast. I knew my tears were leaving dark spots on the garment she wore. “There, there my little bitch it is not so bad now. Is it?”

I recently sent this to a few people who DMed me: "Did you send this to me by mistake? It reads as though you are in the middle of a conversation with someone else."   As it turns out, people are referring to journal posts I have made days, weeks or even months in the past WITHOUT AN INTRODUCTION EXPLAINING WHY THEY ARE WRITING TO ME.    It does not take much to preface a message with, "I saw your most recent journal post here and I think ..." or "I was doing a deep dive into your journal here and I noticed ..."   I do not re-read my journal every time I log on. My DMs are not the comments section of my journal. Indeed, journal entries here are not like forum topics where the the context is already obvious.  So if you write me about something I posted to my journal and I have no idea what you are talking about, now you know why I sent you that type of reply.
I am a little oddly obsessed with my ears. Or rather, with having clean ears. I'm not sure why, it just is. One time I was sitting in a room full of people at a workshop and the ice breaker was what would you bring to a deserted island? As people introduced themselves and answered the question I heard all of these brilliant high brow responses. But all I could think about was there wouldn't be any Q tips on the island and I would definitely need those. Yes, I know, you're not supposed to put those in your ear. C'mon, man, who doesn't? If the answer is you, immediately stop reading this and go away, we cannot be friends.  So yeah, it's Prime Day. Do I want some fancy kitchen gadget? Probably. Did I buy a hair drying curling thing that I will likely only use twice? You know I did. But you know what else? That ear tool with the camera on the end so you can see all that inside business. And holy buckets, one day shipping! So yeah, it came in this evening and I fired that bad boy up to see just how well my Q tipping has done.  First, it takes some getting used to, the view is backwards. Oh, there's an app so you can see the camera's view on your phone. Left is right, up is down, etc. Everything looks HUGE, you will love that. But so does the wax. Mine was not bad, but with my vigilance I was expecting bare floors. Not the case. Don't worry, it wasn't much, and I officially have clean ears now, but sweet baby Jesus I cannot believe how amazing that little tool is. A clean ear keeper's dream. Ten out of ten. Go get one. Don't use it to make other things look bigger.  Is this the weirdest post so far? I'm not sure. 
There is a reason I don't mention my father often. Yes, I have father issues. Yes, it has helped shape who I am and what I try to overcome and who I try to be and not be. Let's talk about that. About him. If psychological family philosophy isn't of interest you may want to skip this one.  My father is a selfish, self centered, chauvanistic bully. Always has been, and he has no idea that he is. A lot of excuses have been made for his behaviors. He grew up doted on, his father was the same, blah blah blah, excuses. Now, I've known for some time that I am both more intelligent and emotionally aware than all of my parents. Still, I think people should recognize their own behaviors and adjust accordingly. Silly expectations, that's on me.  He makes me feel like a second class citizen. My opinion doesn't matter, my thoughts aren't worth paying attention to, he is right and I am wrong. It has created a lot of issues for me going all the way back to when I was a little PPC. Everything is a confrontation. It's never a question of curiosity, it's always a derogatory statement in the form of a question with a side of judgment and attitude. And it gets my back up. So I shoot back. Most people do not. I can't help it. And I know it just makes it worse because he won't back down for anything and won't see beyond needing to be the loudest. I'm trying to do this while feeling like a second class citizen and a lifetime of being dismissed, and I fumble a lot but I'm trying to stand up for myself and stand up to him and his opinions. It's scary difficult. It takes a lot out of me. It carves emotional scars a little deeper than they are.  I can honestly say that he has had girlfriends I would have traded him in for and if he died tomorrow I'd very likely be okay with it. I'm not heartless. I do a lot for him, I try to be a good daughter even though he's not been a very good father. I've come to terms with that fact. It can't be changed. He wouldn't own up to it if confronted. It is what it is. It took a long time to come to that.  An entire Thanksgiving meal just for the two of us since the rest of the parents couldn't be here. I ruined it at least three times, according to him. And my kitchen is too cluttered. And I need to do this and that. And I wait on him, bring him things, clean up after him, and stop talking when he ignores me for scrolling on his phone. I both wish and would never wish for you to actually feel this. It's so heavy on my brain, on my heart.  He left this morning and I am elated. I have a whole weekend to recover. To put my house back together. To erase him from my life until Christmas, when he will buy me things he likes without thinking about what I like or asking what I could use or looking at my wish list created for this very purpose, and I'll pretend to ooh and ahh and hope there are gift receipts. Prick. 
My Personal D/s Relationship Requirements The question was posed to me (back in 2019) “What do you require in a D/s relationship?”  While at first, I thought it would be a simple reply over a text, one thought led to another and it quickly snowballed.  (Phrasing, I know…)  I quickly realized that there really was no quick, succinct answer and 70 characters would not be enough to relay my requirements.  Some thoughts came quickly (Phrasing!) while others I feel I need to ruminate on. First and foremost, I require honesty.  Don’t lie through omission or do it to save my feelings or whatever.  I’d rather have an honest, adult relationship rather than a childlike fabrication where I don’t know if I can trust what is being said to me.  You may be brand new and that’s as ok as being an experience veteran.  You may be barely legal; (that I will require ID for) I’ll still teach you.  If I can’t trust you, I can’t play with you. Secondly, I require that my “s” have the ability to effectively communicate with me.  Whether it’s with words, sign language, texting, or moaning, they need to be able to make their opinions known to me.  As the Top/Dom in the relationship, it ultimately falls to me whether to acquiesce or deny any requests.  The bottom needs to understand that I’m never going to do anything to intentionally harm them but I also recognize that I often fail to effectively communicate my actual intentions/motives if not asked the correct questions. That can be alarming or scary. I’m not going to punish someone for wanting to understand what I’m doing or thinking; I encourage questions.  If I’m not conveying myself satisfactorily to the point where danger may be legitimate, I do expect (safeword) to be invoked. I also expect to be kept in the loop as far as my bottom’s day to day life goes.  I don’t need a thorough breakdown (0700- woke up, 0703- used bathroom, etc.) but if there’s something bothering them, it will effect what happens between us.  One thing bothering them, one lingering suspicion about something seemingly trivial can and will through off their ability to assess a situation and their reaction to stimuli.  I do understand that, sometimes, a day can push you to a mental breaking point that just requires a thorough flogging to take your mind off it; if that’s what is needed, I will allow it but I will know to check in frequently.  Plus, especially if there’s distance between us, I like to know you’re still alive.  There’s nothing quite as undervalued as the text, “Hey. I had a rough day; I don’t feel like talking now.  I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” That tells me you’re alive and I can back off on the worry. (Be ready at 6 am for my text/call though.)   The third thing I want out of D/s relationship is a connection.  Not just an interpersonal one, but one on a deep mental level.  For lack of a better phrase, I need to be in someone’s head.  I need to understand how they think on a deep level.  Many take my classic Cannibal question (yes, I got it from “Silence of the Lambs”), “What is your worst memory from childhood?” as overly personal and creepy.  Not my intent.  Unfortunately, to date, that is the best question (leading to follow ups) that I have found that truly lets me get into someone else’s head.  It tells you
Hi Some people have said I send them cut and paste because of the way I write.  I write everything new, personally to each person.One person I wrote to 3 times accused me of being a scammer-fake because I only wrote about myself in the third message, whereas the previous two had been about why she appealed to me and why I felt we might fit well.  Then she blocked me.   Stop judging me as if I am another carbon copy of some one dimensional person you once knew or have heard about.I may not be the ideal dominant for you, I may say things in a way that seems odd or offensive, but maybe it is only a matter of interpretation of static written messages. I am Here on Collarspace because I seek a special woman to share a long-term life with.   As I sincerely intend to live that life neither being deceitful or offensive will achieve my goal.So be genuine, sincere, honest and able to communicate in a meaningful mannerMy desire to hear your voice and see your face is not about photo collecting (the web has millions of photos of women in all state of dressed and undressed if I wanted that) or harassing you.When you speak to a person face to face you already have given him more information about you and he has a better opportunity to threaten your peaceful life.   Why interpret my desire for more personal interaction as evil when humans are made to understand and assess people with voice inflection, visual clues of facial expression and body language?Yes there Are real evil shits in the world, some on this site no doubt.   You meet sociopaths, psychopaths and other 'people' with incomplete minds and souls all the time and actually invite them into your life.Yet you take offense when I suggest that after positive written conversation we progress to voice and visual? I seek a real life, unequal power relationship.   Simple concept.   It has to be mutually beneficial or the woman cannot feel free to share all of herself with me.  
On the Nature of Slavery — A Master’s Perspective Slavery, in its truest sense — the ownership of one human being by another — predates recorded history. For over ten thousand years, it has existed alongside the growth of civilization, woven into the story of humankind itself. But there is a vital distinction to be made: the difference between non-consensual slavery and consensual slavery. Non-consensual, involuntary slavery is a crime. It is illegal in every major nation and stands in direct opposition to the principles of human dignity. I condemn it without hesitation. Any person found to be engaged in such practice deserves the full force of the law. It is an affront not only to morality but to civilization itself. And yet, there exists another path — one that is lawful, deliberate, and chosen: consensual slavery. This is no myth. It is as real as marriage, as binding in spirit as any oath freely sworn. In the eyes of the law, the word “slave” cannot appear in a legal contract — the 13th Amendment sees to that — but the principles of slavery can be honored, so long as the arrangement is entered into by informed, willing adults. Consent is the keystone. The individual must be of sound mind, capable of understanding the depth of what they give, and willing to yield fully to the bond. In this way, rights may be waived, freedoms surrendered, not by force, but by choice. It is a reality the uninformed often deny, clinging to arguments born of ignorance or fear. They forget that people surrender rights every day — often without realizing it. The difference here is that it is done with eyes open. While some may call a monogamous, affectionate, and mutually respectful arrangement “slavery,” I do not. Such relationships, no matter how intense the play or ritual, I regard as deep Dominance and submission — not true slavery. Slavery, to me, is a state of being where one’s will is no longer one’s own, where the identity of “property” is absolute, and where the Master’s word is the axis upon which the slave’s world turns.   The law will never recognize true ownership of a human being — but within the sanctity of consensual agreement, within the walls of trust, discipline, and surrender, one can live it in spirit and in truth.
You come to my apartment with flowers, a bouquet of roses, baby's breath, snapdragons, alstroemeria. I invite you in, and make no apologies for what will happen to you. You are already trembling, skin warm but the sensation like a cool breeze as I circle you, eyeing you up and down.    I give you a glass of water, I ask, "Ready?"   And you answer, "Yes Goddess."   I nod.   I come home.   You are punished. Daily. Thoroughly. A lash for every sin against me or the others. I watch you bleed. I clean your back, smiling at every wince.   Your family doesn't understand, and I rub their noses in it. I punish them, too, for their part in your deceit. They made you monstrous and in need of training from a firm hand. They will never again poison the well. No one will. You are MINE. My influence is the only thing of consequence.    I will lead my horse to drink, and you will swallow every bitter drop.   I want to come home, to let my sludge of a soul slide down your throat, to watch you choke, to watch you squirm.   I want my curse to leave my fingertips, and travel inches instead of miles.   You will suffer and I will seethe and it will be beautiful, because that's all the hope I have left.   You will crawl on your knees, and learn your place on collared lead, you will feel every second of the earth's contact on your broken vessel.   You dare to defy, and I dare to ask you back for recompense.   I spit in your eye, while you pray for more.   Have you forgotten that it was you who made my altar, and it is your blood that I crave - it is you who created this mess.   It was you, it is you, always you.   My throne awaits, and calls for me.  
I wrote this "Story"   My First Pain Pig I'm a Service Dom. My Dungeon is my playroom, to create pleasurable sensations. I was mid 20's, living the bachelor dream, whoring in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I landed an ok job with Hilton Hotels after graduation. The French Quarter bars stayed open 24/7. It was a place you partied every night. How I survived, 14 New Orleans Mardi Gras is beyond me, they were all real benders, lasting 3+ days. I lived 1/2 Block off Bourbon Street, it doesn't get better than that. It was at Beer Bust Sunday at The Parade Disco, it was 1982 or so. To drum up LOCAL business, The Parade Disco, had a "Tea Party" a beer bust all the beer you could drink from Sunday 5PM until the Kegs went dry. I'm having a "tea party" beer, and a girl walks up to me and asks why I'm dressed in black leather, am I into BDSm? I told her I'm a "leatherman" I like power-exchange, I like to lead, direct, command, suggest. She asked if I enjoyed spanking a girl, and I said yes, and I liked using my belt as well,. We danced, and drank a few beers, and kept chatting. So she grabs my hand and pulls me to the outside balcony, where folks, can actually hear each other talk since the music inside the bars is always loud.. She tells me her friend Freddie whose into BDSm has talked about me He says your known as a fun sadist. He told, me the rumor is, your a creative sadist.. I replied, something like. I'm a service top, I get off when we both get off. I do love mind fucking folks. Could you make me feel and endure pain? Not continuous relentless pain, but Intermittent shearing flashes of pain like strikes from a thin stick, the sting of the hand, or the thud of the belt? I asked, if she had done anything like this before? No, she just listened to all the hot stories her friend Freddie told her, of being a masochist. At some point, I said My safe word is FROG. Say the safe word and she repeated FROG. Good, I also use a safe gesture. I will squeeze your hand TIGHTLY and shake it, you squeeze my hand 2 times, in reply, This reply tells, me all is great, with you. If you fail to give back 2 quick squeezes I will end our playtime. The conversation went something like that, dam, when you get old, sometimes you just got to fill in details you forgot. I pointed from the Parade Disco's Balcony, Thats where I live across the street 800 feet away, the green shuttered walkup apartment.. She said, lets go to your place and play, make me feel real pain. Let me, tell a friend, I'm going to your apartment and I will call them to get picked up later. We walked hand in hand to my apartment. I opened the door to a typical French Quarter "Shot-Gun" apartment, like a boston row house, 25 feet wide and 60 feet long. The living room in front, a half wall jetty between the living room and the small kitchen. A Hallway the first door, the bathroom on the left, the door at the end of the hall, my bedroom and playroom. I had just finished building my "Playroom" I nick named "The Erection Set". (see my profile for photos) I think, my super-power, as a dom is creativity. I think, I give a good mind-fuck. My first rule as a dom was tie them up, to experience the reality of giving up control. Any act of bondage, is a reality of submission, physically felt and experienced. I had a pro-domme "friend" that I would occasionally drink with, at Jewel's Tavern, a Gay Leather Bar. Dex ,loved telling stories of here recent clients. I learned a lot from Mistress Dex! Maybe the most important thing she ever said, Hugo people don't come to Pro-Domme, looking for sex. If submissive's wanted sex they would go to a call girl. Submissives come to a domme to live out a fantasy. The key to a good scene is, living out a fantasy inside a submissives head. That BDSm lesson about Fantasies, was the best lesson I was ever given. The second best lesson Dex shared: Start a BDSm scene extra slow and build up a scene slowly to a climax. I had an established routine, in dom mode, have submissives undress, tie them to the st andrew cross or some other object, like in a chair. Next, introduce sensation play, running my hands everywhere on my tied up subs body. I would take sensation play to the next level, by adding a blindfold, not knowing where I might touch, pinch, pull next. Clothes Pins, are my absolute favorite toy. I have done scenes, with 100s of clothes pins, pinching everywhere on a submissives body. Ear Lobes, Lips, nipples, breasts, inner thighs, nose, the clit, cunt lips, any flap of skin. Clothes Pins are a great beginner activity. Clothes Pins are a great assessment tool as to how much pain a submissive can tolerate, as clothes pins build up pain slowly. I like starting, clothes pin play, with the breasts, many women have sensitive breasts and nipples, plus they can see the clothes pins, the object of pain tormenting them. This is about the time, I light up a cigar. Domination and smoking a cigar seem to go hand in hand for me. I do enjoy, Hot Ash Play. I know, I had 300 clothes pins on her body and she was feeling it but, not moaning or whimpering She wasn't even close to her limits. I like to flick off clothespins, using a cop or ruler or something similar object. I usually progress to Wax play because wax play looks painful, but isn't. Wax play is truly, a great erotic sensation play activity. Its about this point I asked, her to repeat what she came here to experience. I want pain sir. My massage table,doubled as my bondage table, I tied my sub face down, like in a position for a back massage. I would use, rope, saran wrap, tape, straps, to secure a submissive to the massage table. Hand Spankings, are probably the lightest form of corporal punishment. Then, the ruler, belt, fly swatter, rod, hair brush, next in intensity over a hand spanking, next would be the wooden spoon and paddle in pain or intensity, and in my opinion the cane is the most feared implement, used on the ass. . I got to a frat paddle. I think, my sub liked the belt the best, as she seemed to thrash about a bit. She stayed silent as she took the paddle usually a sign that there isn't a lot of eroticism going on. I want a sub moaning, mumbling, swearing, shaking, that tells me they are having a good time. I remember, it was this moment. I did the "CHECK-IN" hand squeeze. I got 2 quick firm hand squeezes back telling me she with me, "all ok". I asked her what she wanted now. What she wanted, was to be used like a hole. To FILL AND OVER FLOW her senses. To feel totally fucked and exhausted. I knew what she needed, she needed to be fisted, to have her cunt stretched out, rubbed raw. In the French Quarter leather community, I was known, as the Dom that enjoyed fisting and handballing. Back in the 1980's vaseline was the fisting lube of choice, crisco if you were handballing. Now, the cool part, when this happened is my playroom was already semi-functional, I had a sling. (see profile photos to see a sling) If your into fisting or handballing you know someone's intensely into fisting, they own a sling. Using a sling, your in a OB/GYN examination table. position, perfect access.
The “Honest” secret to a truly happy life I came to this epitome recently which felt as if I found a jigsaw piece that I didn’t even know I had loss. I have always known that I do not think the same as most people but never thought about why. As a young kid I was exposed to motivational speakers and realized that the affirmations, meditation and even the music I listened to affected my mood. I grew up confident in my abilities and became a natural leader but never questioned why. I watched an interview where the topic of honesty and lying came up. The interview prompted me to research the physical and mental effects of lying and I was surprised. What resulted caused me to self-evaluate my some of my deepest personality traits. I felt as if I had been bumping into things in a dark room my whole life without even knowing it and a light was turned on. Nothing in my life is any different today but I can now clearly see how being completely honest has had a major impact in my life. It has affected me physically, mentally in amazing ways that I had not considered until now. When I was successful at something I took credit and if I failed, I accepted the responsibility. There were no participation trophies, if I screwed up I learned to accept the consequences. As a result, I develop strong mental and social connections with those close to me because people inherently understood that I had integrity and they could trust me. While still in high school I recognized that most of my peers were interested in sex but few knew anything about it. I was experienced which high school girls found very attractive so I took advantage of it. As an athlete I used affirmations that I was going to be successful it was uplifting and positive. My success with girls gave me confidence and it became self-fulfilling the more experience I gained the more they were interested in me. Self-deception shapes our reality, influencing choices and beliefs both negatively and positively. Many types of ‘lying’ also involve self-deception, in Aesop's fable "The Fox and the Grapes". The fox in the end, gives up and walks away, saying the grapes weren't that good anyway. The fox demonstrates how self-deception can be useful for avoiding the discomfort of unmet desires. When I was not successful with a girl, I would chalk it up to it was her loss not mine. It was because of that attitude that I never let failure slow me down. I have shared a story many times that, I honestly thought everyone was having sex when I was in high school because I was. Several years after high school I met a friend and we talked about the girls we dated. I was amazed that he never had sex with any of them, he was a virgin until he was in college. I screwed every girl I dated, if fact I flat out told them if I was going to go out and spend money on them, I would require at least a blow job. A few were offended but most were intrigued some even enough to pay for the date. That story always meant something to me because all of my guy friends were talking about getting laid but come to find out they were all full of shit. It has proven to reinforce my confidence and success with women. It turns out that studies have shown, those who believe lying will give them monetary or social recognition are more likely to continue being dishonest. Those who tend to be insecure or have an anxious, avoidant or attachment issues are more likely to be dishonest to avoid being criticized, rejected. Lying affects self-esteem, emotions and can lead to psychological consequences. Dishonesty puts the brain in a state of heightened alert, and this stress increases with the magnitude of the lie. There are very real symptoms of anxiety like increased respiratory and heart rates, sweating, dry mouth. That is how a lie detector works it measures your anxiety but there is a reason it does not work on everyone and I will get to that. The gut-brain axis refers to the two-way communication between the two systems, and explains why people describe feeling butterflies in their stomach under extreme stress. Research has shown the act of lying stimulates the neocortex, limbic system the temporal lobe and other areas of the brain. When we deceive someone the Amygdala, the part of the brain that regulates emotion, is activated, and we tend to feel shame or guilt. Brain imaging experiments have shown the limbic system in a dishonest brain lighting up like a fireworks display. Unfortunately, they also show that the brain can adapt to dishonest behavior. Studies have found that habitual lying can desensitize our amygdala and may even encourage people to tell bigger lies to get the same rush in the future. Those that lie all the time about little things tend to pass a lie detector because their body does not respond normally. A 2002 study performed found that 60 percent of people lied at least once during a 10-minute conversation, telling an average of two to three lies. A 2010 study have shown that the average American tells one to two lies a day. Many people find deception essential for survival and social interaction to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. I will do my best to avoid confrontations and avoid topics where I anticipate difficulties but I will not lie to protect feelings or keep someone’s secret. I have always told people, do not lie to protect me because I will tell the truth no matter the consequences and you will get burned. At least to me being honest about everything is not a moral choice, I just find it a lot less stressful. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing be worry about. If you fuck something up own it and get past it. The facts prove that I am right, if you are in a small group you have to keep track of what you told each person so not to create a confusion. A liar has to steer conversations to avoid tripping over lies which will create the need for more lies or blend, bend lies to make the fit. I am sure that some enjoy the mental gymnastics and get a rush out of deceiving people and they become pathological liars. For most, it just creates anxiety, depression, high blood pressure and all kinds of other stresses. I take the time each day to appreciate what I have achieved. I try to meditate, say affirmations, practice yoga in order to center myself. Life is good…. I have always known I look at life different than most people but never questioned why. I now have a better understanding why a lot of women I correspond with eventually ghost me. My actual life is their fantasy world and they either assume that I am lying. When it becomes clear that I am serious it can scare the shit out of them. I have found that when faced with everything they say they want, their reality kicks them in the ass. They have family obligations, children, career or other considerations that will prevent them from leaving the world they know. In the end they are just looking for a masturbation partner. There a few adventurous enough, that when provided an opportunity to recreate their life, step out of their comfort zone and make the changes necessary to make their fantasies come true. Choosing to live your life before it is too late can be scary. Imagine your life six months from now not having to worry about going to work, paying rent or other bills and everything you need like food, clothing, shelter is provided. The perfect 1950’s homemaker that spends her time taking care of the Master of the home. I have been active in the kink community for my entire life and can make fantasies come true. I won a successful business, multiple vehicles, my home, a bar that hosts monthly BDSM lifestyle events and have organized the Key West kink community for over ten years. I now realize that when I share my reality, the truth about what I have accomplished and what I have to offer it sounds like a lie. Nothing in my life is any different today and I do not know what I am going to do with, this new found understanding of what makes me who I am. I guess the funniest thing is, when I am not successful with a potential slave it is truly her loss not mine. If anyone who knows me wants to comment on what I have written, please feel free. I would appreciate any feedback.  
I'm going to use an anecdote to give a little insight about what I like. It may be a little long but bear with me. I had a Dom/friend, he's in Arkansas now, we met at a party & his then GF was yelling at him & he was yelling at her. Was ruining the vibe so I told her to go upstairs, and took him outside. Went up stairs, chatted with her: She didn't like him talking to other girls. Stupid nagging problems. Went downstairs. Talked to him out in the alley. He didn't like that she slept with his friends when she was mad at him. Which sort of ticked me off. Anyway we chatted and he gave me an out of the blue kiss. Then next day all day sucking/fucking. He liked playing the XBox while getting head. Watching porn and getting head. And having someone to rub his feet, his back. I told him his ex GF was a bitch & the worst kind - the one who sends pics of her fucking to him. He did love her and It made me want to please and make him feel special. I told him he could do whatever he wanted with me. He liked being complimented and thought of. I like his build & personality. He had some kinks like enjoying being rimmed, choking, verbal and I was always open for him when he needed to fuck. I liked it when he sat on my face and made me eat his ass while he relaxed and even when he put his foot in my mouth and had me worship his feet. I enjoyed him being at a desk with me under it, soft cock in my mouth. It'll grow until it was ready to fuck my face then after he came it'll rest in my mouth until he was ready again. We became pretty good friends. Discreet fuck buddies the entire time since the crazy Ex was still around & we both liked no one knowing our business. He moved out to AK closer to family but we both had a great time and I enjoyed being there for him and making him feel like a King. I knew my place, he knew my place and we both knew his place. - 2017
Like many of my ponderings here, it all starts with reading a book. In this particular book a character was talking about a two year relationship he had with a woman but it wasn't serious. She was sort of a place holder for a while. Those were the words. Place holder. I get it, people want companionship, sex, having your needs met in the moment. Like that song, "If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with." I suppose I've been idealistic most of my life, hence the waiting and saving of various things, so it's probably not difficult to believe that this bothers the holy Moses out of me. I don't like the idea of a place holder. At all. I mean, I suppose sometimes those place holders turn into something unexpected. What do you do if it doesn't? What happens when you meet someone else? What if they do? What if being together prevents you or them from meeting that person?  I make quick decisions. I walk into stores and if I like it I don't hem and haw. I buy. I order at a restaurant and I don't ask the wait staff which is better. I know what I'm getting and how I want it prepared. In the past I've experienced the same uncomfortable break ups as you, if you've ever tried to break up with someone. It sucks. But I don't draw it out, that doesn't benefit anybody. If you know it's not working, rip off the band aid and make yourself available for new experiences. Or don't. If you like the place holder and everyone is comfortable with that idea, more power to you. Just make sure you're both on the same page. For the record, I will never be on that page. Don't come at me place holding, buddy. Some people might say I'm missing out on all of the everything. To me, he is all of the everything, and I don't want to tarnish that with place holding. Does that feel like pressure to you? When it's right, it won't. 
For those who wonder: That is a 1931 Indian Scout. It is a 3 speed stick shift, 750 cc.It was my dads bike when I was a little kid.He lost it on a sandy curve in 1953 and hit a tree which bent the frame.It laid out in one of our fields up until about 1985 or so.My friend talked my dad out of it and spent nearly 40 years trying to rebuild it. My friend sold it back to me last year but it still would not run. I sent it to a guy in Grand Rapids Mi who specializes in them and he got it running again.I got to ride it last year for the first time since 53.It is a beast to ride. Weighs 850 pounds, has a high compression engine with kick start that can throw a man over the handle bars if it kicks back which it does from time to time.It has a hundred rules you have to observe. It has no crankcase for one, which means the engine oil takes up half of that gas tank and every now and then, you have to hand pump some oil to the engine. Give it a couple of pumps to start it, a pump now and then when ridding, an extra pump to go up a hill or if going fast.It is left hand throttle and right hand magneto advance or retard and you have to advance it, the faster you go. Left foot for the clutch right foot for the rear brake, right hand for the front brake. To shift, it is pull back for first, then two forward for second and third.The brakes are clam shell instead of disk brakes so you have to start braking sooner than a modern bike.There are lots more idiosyncrasys but those are the highlights.
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.
Bound by Control: A Lesson In Surrender. Full story can be found on :https://www.thefetlibrary.com/story/1ead86ef-90ee-4925-b04d-93156fff8932 He woke up with a jolt, his body aching from the previous night's activities. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he was alone in the room. Chrissie was nowhere to be seen. Panic surged through him as he tried to move, only to find his ankles still tied and something else. An unfamiliar weight on his cock. He pulled the thin sheet off and looked in horror. There was cock cage firmly in place   His heart raced as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on a note resting on the nightstand. With trembling hands, he reached for it, his eyes quickly scanning the contents:   "It won't come off without damage to your balls. I'll be in touch."   His breath hitched, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through him. Chrissie's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of her absolute control. He was at her mercy, completely dependent on her for release and relief.   He tested the cock cage, the cold metal pressing against his skin. The note was clear: it wasn't going anywhere, and he couldn't remove the cage without risking serious harm.

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 trip to the vending machine   I'd like to share this little experience I recently had the honor of partaking in with a willing local masochist friend. If she happens to read this and recognize herself in the story, knowing her, she would love the extra humiliation :)   We were spending some time in a hotel room together when I informed my friend that I have an exciting and cruel ordeal planned for her today. First I ordered her on all 4 on the floor at my feet and removed her butt plug before placing it in her mouth. Next a hose and with a funnel was placed in her ass and I emptied my full bladder completely in her rectum. This warm piss enema was plugged with an inflatable plug and her ass inflated. Next I ordered her to stand and clamped her nipples painfully, finally a humming dildo slid into her pussy which was already dripping wet. I began to dress her slowly, soaking up her discomfort as the bra went over her clamped nipples and the jeans zipped up in place over the dildo and butt plug. Her eyes never left me the whole time, the butt plug still in her mouth where I had left it, I saw her pupils widening as I finally began to apply the face mask over her mouth and nose and it dawned on her that not only is she leaving the hotel room retaining a piss enema, double plugged and clamped, but she'll also be sucking on her used butt plug the whole time.   "Here are your instructions, fucktoy, now that you're properly outfitted for a walk. I am thirsty and I would like a soda from the vending machine. The bad news I have for you is that there aren't any on this floor, so be a good girl and walk up the stairs, grab me a coke and yourself a drink, then hurry back-here is my card. I don't want you using the elevator,  only stairs, and when you are back kneel at the door, knock and wait to be let in" She nods quickly in the affirmative as she begins to shuffle towards the door trying to reconcile the various sources of ovetstimulation.   I watch her with excitement as she disappears slowly down the hallway towards the stairs, each step full of anguish for my sadistic pleasure. When she returns and  I see her waiting for me obediently kneeling at the hotel door, a huge smile spreads across my face as I step aside holding the door for her to crawl in with our sodas.   I lean forward and pick her up in my arms, whispering "good girl", as I set her on the bed, pulled her jeans down and placed my tongue directly on her twitching clit, licking and sucking until she exploded under me. 
Everyone criticizes CM but I like this site.  I've heard people complain that there are no genuine lifestyle dominants. I've had waaaay more success making real time connections on CM than on any other site.  I've met several awesome lifestyle male dom/sub couples and other female dominants (with a couple that I know personally who are LOCAL non-pro and looking for personal relationships).  These are folks we hang out with regularly who are terrific people in addition to being lifestyle. I also communicate with a small number of non-pro Ladies in other cities. I've also met a few local quality male subs who are genuine submissive gentlemen and who fit my very stringent requirements for distance and fitness level. I've played with a few as well and even when it didn't necessarily become a "relationship" I've maintained a friendship with them and invite them to events or gatherings.  I've even visited a couple of them and stayed in their homes when I was in their area for events such as Tampa's Fetcon. Yes, I have to weed out the morons looking to wank just like anyone. I also communicate with a few out-of-town boys who have cam verified and talk about making a visit to my area. We'll see. So, why is everyone so down on CM?  While I imagine that the experience is very different for a male sub, but is it THAT bad?  Are there other sites that have been so much better for you?  I met my current sub via ALT years ago...which I'm no longer active on, too commercialized.  I met the other boy that I've been training since August 2011 via CM. It DOES happen.  
I found the start of this made a few changes... A partial list of subby duties we are looking for... - Able to laugh, giggle, roll eyes, face palm or any combination thereof to my horrible jokes and bad puns.- Have a personality and brain of her own and able to give an opinion, respectfully of course.- Help in my efforts and quest for world domination.- Be an appreciated, non-imaginary friend who just enjoys being around.- Have quirks and perhaps a bit of crazy in the right doses.- Puts up with snuggles while watching a movie-or any time.- Suck, but not in a bad way.- Put up with being protected and adored.- Be sweet and innocent but oh so dirty.- Can handle being used for sexual teasing and Sensual Domination.- Who cries sometimes when she’s happy- Is willing to do a strip tease to the song “Itsy Bitsy Spider” while doing all the motions.- Who appreciates that sometimes Master just needs physical release and you are there for that.- Suffer through a nice candle light meal full of conversation.- Enjoy new adventures.- Who celebrates Master’s enjoyment whether she is the source or not  - Understand, put up with and even enjoy a bit of sarcasm.- Will be slightly embarrassed when I open the door for her.- Enjoys getting dressed up, and dressed down for her Dom.- Can enjoy breakfast for dinner.- Able to stand having her neck kissed for no other reason then it was within reach. Oh there will be lots of service, duties, kinks and sex too, but We wanted to mention the really important things first. So if you still have an interest, send a message -- we'd enjoy talking to you.
The Throne Room Our friends were meeting us at the dungeon.  We tried this scene at home and we ended up pulling out the ceiling chains from the rafters.  The set up was for suspension not stretching.  So we planned on doing this stretching scene in the throne room at the dungeon. That was the plan.  The set up was simple.  I was going to be in the middle and our friends were going to be on each side of me.  My wrists were attached to chains that went to the ceiling and the excess chain hanged down on each side of me so that our friends could pull them.   The dominant watched from the throne placed in n front of me.  She would give the order and the chains would be pulled and I would be lifted onto the air with my arms pulled wide.  That was the plan.   For this scene I didn't have much to do.  All I had to do was strip down to my string bikini bottoms and attach chains to my suspension cuffs.  My arms were spread wide as I waited for the order.   "Stretch her!"  The husband and wife on either side of me started pulling the chains.  But they struggled.  By flexing my biceps I was able to fight the chains.  Two more friends who were watching joined in.  Now there were two people on each side of me pulling the chains.  By flexing my biceps I was still able to fight the chains.   Two more people joined in.  I now had six people trying to pull me apart.  I was now on my tiptoes as my arms were being pulled wide and I was being stretched.  Two more people joined in.  I now had eight people, four on each side, pulling the chains that were now stretching me.   I was now lifted off the floor with my arms tightly stretched by the chains.  I let out a long moan of pain as I was being pulled apart.  My torturers looked up at my torture stretched body and waited for the order  "Enough!" They let go of the chains and I dropped to the floor.  Spent.  
Haven't written anything in a while, and I had a quiet minute between tasks, so I thought I would write about a recent experience I had out in the wild. I had done a pop in at a Dollar Tree. I hadn't done anything special that day - no makeup, no sexy clothes, just my vibrant magenta hair and my bright orange mirror sunglasses. Maybe my hand bleached mandala design tank top was cool. So when a very bald guy walking my way kind of leaned toward me and told me really liked my hair, I said thank you, and casually commented that I also had some hair loss and the bold color helps hide that. He apparently took that as an opening, and asked if I was married, and I said I have a partner, and that we are "complicated." He asked what that meant, and I asked if he knew what polyamory was. He gave a noncommital sound like he wanted to seem like he did, and I followed it with saying that we are always open to new playmates if they are compatible. So he asked me about going for coffee sometime. I said I was open to discussing it and offered him my business card. Now, I designed my own cards, for goth costuming and art and such. They are mostly black and purple and lacy with gothic lettering.  And they have QR codes on the back to my Etsy and Instagram and email, etc. No numbers. He looked at it, turning it over and back, like he had no idea what I'd handed him.  He said "Let's skip all that and you give me your phone number." I said no, I don't really do phone calls.  So he hands me back my card and says "So you aren't really interested. Good luck with all that" and walked away with this smirk like he'd caught me trying to trick him.  At this point in my life, I can look at the whole thing and laugh. This is so common in my expeirence, but its still amusing to watch happen.  I was pretty positive this wasn't going anywhere when he first asked, but I was willing to listen to his pitch. But interested? No, I was not "interested." This guy did not look like Jason Momoa. He didn't talk like a heavy intellectual. Nor did he dress like anything more than your average rando - tshirt, long shorts, etc. He hadn't said anything, either, other than asking for my attention. He didn't ooze seduction or ... anything other than averageness, honestly. He walked up to a total stranger, made the barest effort, divulged nothing of use or value in the 2-3 minutes we spoke, but expected... something more from me. Then when I didn't make up the difference for him, he bailed and wanted to act like I'd led him on somehow with my simple failure to be rude, and basic honesty.  He was *INTERESTED.*  He was not in any way *interestING* on the surface. So there was nothing to be interested IN at that point.   But he wanted to be butthurt that I wasn't equally interested in him. I wasn't even snarky about the phone. Just not insecure about saying no. And he tried to turn it into something personal. Weak men are everywhere. Here, at work, in daily life, etc. Men who want something, and sometimes will profess great interest in getting it, but at the slightest bump, they flail and pout and throw up their hands and play helpless. Well, except when they decide to get violent about it. Which is why I carry pepper spray on my keys and a stun gun in my purse.  There's a tictok video where a woman expresses her frustration with men who want to complain that women all want '6 foot, 6 figure, 6 pack' and all we REALLY want is for you to be nice to us and feed us tacos. She's not wrong.  And I have a whole profile outlining what I want, and what I don't want, as well as countless journal entries laying out how to avoid pissing off me, and every Domme I know. And yet... It doesn't have to be this hard, guys.  Just don't expect us to make all the effort for you. 
Let’s contemplate the issue of energy when it come to sex among equals. As a rule nature is perceived as male and female, positive and negative, dry and wet, light and dark, cold hot; you get the idea. However if we add to these categories the fact that there are many ways in which these elements can manifest it becomes apparent that in nature these concepts are very fluid. There are many ways in which gender is conceptualize by cultures and more varied indeed is the manner in which gender roles are characterized. When it comes to love among equal genders these categories manifest but from the standpoint of strength which is the value of the male realm. Passive, submissive, or any other adjectives given to the bottom are but description of how the male strength choses to emerge in a male/male relationship; the same way when we use other adjectives to characterize tops. Any word and denomination is constraining and the truth is that there are many ways to be a bottom and many ways to be a top and the fluidity of these energies are always in a state of flux.  As a rule the male strength is always present regardless of the role we play in an intimate relationship. The strength and force of a male grip either using the hand, the mouth the anus, or the phallus is still a manifestation of that universal force that permeates all of us as we engage each other’s energy within the chosen role. That is a point of departure; there can not be a top without a bottom or vice versa. It is as I said before the natural order of things. No one can denny the fact that we are relating our energies in a sexual encounter as a male to male proposition but in a different degree of intensity which makes the encounter fulfilling and meaningful. The organs involved speak to the degree of energy engaged and no one can forget the fact that there is a male exchange of energies which is mutually fulfilling when done right.
I stand before you. A Master Hypnotist trained in the ways of seduction and coercion. The collar that enslaves you still wreathes your lovely neck you can feel it, but how it has become invisible is unclear. You sense my hunger and begin to unbutton your blouse while unrestrained, addictive pleasure courses through your mind and body. Your blouse slips silently to the floor as you begin to remove your brazier and it suffers the same fate. Hoping desperately that your Master is pleased, you help your skirt slide down your legs to join the rest of you clothing. I stand close, forcing your gaze to meet mine, extinguishing the last of your free will. I fondle your breasts then the curve of your waist. I run my hand slowly up your spine and pull you close. You shudder and and struggle to remove your panties. Now as you stand before your Master, unadorned, a tidal wave of arousal washes through you but you there is no release in sight. I motion and you sink slowly to the floor, fully naked, legs folded beneath you. Looking up at your Master, enraptured, doe eyed, staring longingly into my face, you place your hands on your thighs just the way you know that you should and feel the magic of my will and words bind you firmly into that position. I touch your lower lip with my thumb and slowly open your mouth. I slip my fingers every so carefully around the lips that will soon caress my cock. You feel yourself growing wetter, wetter everywhere as your desire for me grows but still you are not allowed to cum. I touch your cheek, the lobe of your ear, slide my hand past your supple shoulder and as I reach down and let my finger encircle your left nipple my hard cock brushes your cheek and you are set aflame by passion as I command you cum. Explosions of rapture seize your body and you are racked in orgasm. Cum now! Harder! Cum for your Master! Harder! I slip my stiff cock into your mouth and as you close your soft lips around it another wave of frenzied pleasure rips through your body. Heaving in orgasm you suck and you lick frantically trying to make me climax. Finally, you taste the saltiness of me, feel the warmth on the back of your throat as I cum into your mouth. Greedily you swallow my gift as the next wave of indescribable pleasure tears through your body setting every nerve, every cell aflame. I leave you burning as I slowly extract my member. Your mouth hangs open wide, not knowing what else to do. You still can't move as the last bit of my germ drips from the corner of your mouth onto your nipple. I look down at my perfect slave and tell you to relax, sleep now and you collapse wearily to the floor spent, happy to the core of your soul that you pleased your Master this time. I pick you up, take you to bed. I gently kiss your lips, the small of your throat, a nipple, naval, your clit. I circle about you. Open your trembling legs. Run my hands down the velvety, warm flesh of your inner thighs as phase two of your training begins.
Standards vs Micromanaging I've pondered the question of control for years. Early on I had the notion in my head that the more controlling you were the more dominant you were. Like a badge of achievement that you got to claim, a contest you won if you were the most controlling. I still see that basic frame of thought all over the place. I also see the thinking that the more intense the dynamic the more controlling/micro managey it is. I've tried various levels and forms of control with women over the years and whenever I've strived for micromanagement it's been entirely unsatisfying. I've also found that the men who seem most interested in micromanagement are trying to fill some sort of hole within themselves. I remember one woman I met who wanted complete micromanagement and frankly it was the emptiest and most robotic experience of my life. Hence the internal struggle in trying to understand the controlling impulses I have, the need for power and ownership, while also not really having the patience or desire to stand over someone's shoulder minute by minute. I finally found some phrasing that I think helps to express what I actually think and desire.

== Results from bdsmtest.org ==  95% Submissive  94% Voyeur  91% Rope bunny  91% Exhibitionist  83% Experimentalist  78% Switch  76% Non-monogamist  74% Sadist  72% Rigger  72% Degradee  62% Masochist  54% Brat  43% Dominant  34% Slave  34% Primal (Prey)  28% Degrader  27% Vanilla  20% Brat tamer  16% Master/Mistress  10% Pet  6% Daddy/Mommy  6% Owner  4% Primal (Hunter)  0% Boy/Girl  0% Ageplayer   
Thank you for all who have congratulated Goddess Tabitha and I on our wedding! Im getting the same questions over and over so Im going to summerize the events of the day here. Was this a BDSM wedding? Not really. The members of our BDSM group all met at Master Geoffery and slave Tammy's home for the ceremony. Master Geoffery actually became a minister in the Universal Life Church so that he could preform our special dayThe food was a potluck. I know what you're thinking but the feast was amazing! Master Richard and slave Wendy brought 6oz lobster tails and Master Thomas and slave Gina brought Ribeyes. There was so much food they only cooked half of the ribeyes as half of a ribeye added to the lobster tails made a huge meal and that doesn't include the clam chowder or the shrimp coctails. If I hadn't been wearing a corsett I would have burst from eating all of that great food.Speaking of my corsett. I wore a white underbust corsett with garter straps and white stockings. I found this absolutly adorable pair of white lace stilettos at JJ's house online. ADORABLE! Goddess Tabitha whispered into my ear during our first dance that aftrer the wedding was over she was claiming my heels as hers LOL She did too!The veil. I found the cutest veils at Davids bridal. Did you know that they have a create your own veil option? I bought one off the rack, but if you're creative you can run wild.We wrote our own vows. Mine were the standard love honor and obey bridal vows adding an oath to my complete submission and obedience for as long as I live. Goddess Tabitha omitted the obedience part and added an oath of Dominance and protection for as long as she lives.I gave her a 1ct solitare from Jarred and she gave me a simple gold band with the word slave inscribed inside. Then she suprised us all by giving me new nipple rings as well. It was so cute!I wasn't wearing my ankle or wrist cuffs but I did have a white leather collar on and it was also new and fit my outfit perfectly.No whips and chains although some of the Doms gave me a seious love pat or two on my ass as we danced lolLastly, for the guys who keep asking, no I wasn't allowed panties and my breasts were bare as it was an undercup corsett. I don't know why the men find that to be such a need to know thingIt was the best day of my life! Oh, again foir the guys, there was NO bdsm play on our wedding night. Just went to bed with the goal of making love as many times as we could.Best day of my entire life!
I read this profile today and think its nearly perfect"   Hello slaves and Masters. Dom is looking for slave who knows that he/she was born to serve. Im looking for slave bois for permanent ownership. I will break you down. I will show you that your place in life is to serve and please me. I will degrade and discipline you. I wont stop until you truly believe you are shit and that you were destined to be mine. I will make you an my own personal property. Im looking for a live in , cleaning ,sex slave, dinner makeing, foot stool,  urinal, cumdumpster,  whipping post, slave  Im looking to humiliate abuse, degrade slaveboy for my pleasure.  Only interested in smooth, submissive, straight acting, slim bois who know that they are made to suffer, serve, obey, please, and commit accept any order from their Master. Absolutely every decision will be taken by Me, what the slave eats, drinks, when, where and how long it sleeps, what to wear should outside activity be granted, no social contact to others. I also do online training so slaves welcome.   Im also looking for disabled slaves and Masters, sissies   My rules are:   The proper way of things. i.e the way it will be   As My slave you have no rights; in fact you have nothing at all. You will take your place in  fully recognizing the truth of My Supremacy, My Superiority and your own lowly status.     You will obey My commands eagerly to the letter without questioning any of them and you will accept My authority and judgment of your servitude. My word is law and My whip is the implement of its enforcement. You will spend all your waking hours learning to exist exclusively for My pleasure, comfort, and glory and that of all masters . You will not allow your mind to wander even for a moment from Me and when it is not occupied in My service you will remember that all you do is at My whim and command. Even the basic privileges for you to eat and sleep, are mine to command.  Do not expect to be cared for in the normally accepted meaning. In My world you will be valued for what you are (a slave) provided your servitude is acceptable. Understand that it will never be perfect in My eyes. You are considered nothing more than an object of My property. You will never forget that you, as a slave, are merely My plaything, a work horse and toy existing only for My service, amusement and pleasure. In your role as My slave I need merely to look after your welfare. You will be kept fit for purpose.   From this moment you will be known as “slave”. If there are, at any times, more than one  slave present you will be known as “slave S” or simply “S”.   All of the following rules which are for guidance in your servitude to your superior will apply from henceforth. I will expect absolute adherence to these rules in every detail. Any failure on your part to follow the rules in every detail will result in punishment administered spontaneously or extended over a period of time determined by me.               Slave Rules          applicable to S, slave of master   RULE 1 I make the rules and can change them and add to them at any time   RULE 2 slave has no entitlement to discuss the rules or question them in any way.       Appearance   RULE 3 Nakedness for a slave is an overt sign that the slave owns nothing. slave will therefore never be permitted clothes in the house unless there are visitors who are unaware of its status and may be embarrassed.   RULE 4 If we have been away from the  home, on return slave will, after any other routine duties, immediately remove its clothes and kneel at my feet to await instructions.   RULE 5 The following (highlighted in red) will be worn at ALL times with the single exception of when passing through airport metal detection equipment.   a stainless steel collar. This will be permanently locked in place.   A thick stainless steel ring around the base of its cock and balls.   a stainless steel chastity device, 24/7/365. This will be locked in place.   stainless steel wrist and ankle cuffs..    Rings piercing Its nipples and penis head.   A chain between its nipple rings.   A heavy steel cock ring-butt plug combination, locked behind its chastity cage. (This will be worn for periods of up to 12 hours for anal training).   slave will be branded with My initial, such branding to be repeated yearly on its birthday.   slave will have its international slave registry number tattooed  at the back of its neck and on its buttocks.   RULE 6 slave will shower, shave its face, head, under arms and pubic area first thing daily.     RULE 7 slave will keep its whole body free from hair using an electric epilator.     BASIC RULES OF RESPECT   RULE 8 slave will treat all  masters as its superiors.   RULE 9 slave will address Me as ‘Master’ and all other  masters as ’Sir’.   RULE 10 In the presence of  masters slave will be on its knees unless carrying something or performing a task which requires it to stand.   RULE 11 slave’s eyes will be always lowered so that it looks only at its superiors’ feet.   RULE 12 slave will remain silent unless spoken to.   RULE 13 slave will never turn its back on a master.   RULE 14 If slave meets a master anywhere in the house whilst carrying out its duties it will immediately kneel, nose on the floor, until He has passed and is out of sight.   RULE 15 If I or any master enters the space where slave is working it will remain kneeling, position 2 until it is ordered to resume its work or carry out some other command or until I leave.     RULE 16 slave will accord all  masters the same respect as it accords Me   RULE 17 slave will obey all commands from  masters as if directed by Me   RULE 18 slave will beg permission to do anything that is not a direct order from me.     RULE 19 slave will
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, I finally decided to unhide my profile after several years of isolation due to the pandemic.  Thought I might be able to find a good slave boy just in case we ever have to go back into a lockdown situation so that I am not left all alone without a sub/slave to use.  Nice to see there are fewer scammers, but seems there are less profiles, too.  BUT apparently the head games and b,s, have not changed much!  Guys, ghosting anyone is rude and unacceptable!  It reflaspects poor character when you make a date or agree to submission and then just disappear without any word!  Why would you lead someone on for several weeks and tell them how much you adore them, only to ghost and block them??  Hell, make up a viable excuse, but don't burn your bridges!  At least show some consideration and that you can be responsible for your actions!  And what is up with the old pics on profiles?  Some of you have not updated your age or profile pic in the last 10+ years that I have been on this site!!  Didn't you know you can change your personal stats without needing approval from Admin??  I realize pics need approval, but not to update your stats!  Up to this point, I have tried being socialable and understanding, but there comes a time when the Dom in me has to come out one way or another. If you cannot take a bit of verbal abuse and corporal punishment, you are in the wrong place.  While I may enjoy levels of intimacy at times, I will not be your boyfriend.  There are other sites for finding those types of guys. This old troll will crawl back under his rock now! 
I am a good looking guy with that girl's attitude inside. A girl who wants to be dominated by a big man. I dream of being kept weak and skinny. I am a girly girl and more submissive than I can believe! I love to feel that way while helping you feel like a strong man. Very picky and never met with anyone yet. I do get hit on a lot here and sometimes real life but I want to get owned and collared by the right MAN. Not going to meet a bunch of guys. The strong Grizzly bear of a man will have to impress this gurl. Then I will submit to my superior Sir. I love feeling like a weak little cu%t so to speak. I am impotent making it my sensitive little cl%t , making me even more a weak little cu%t So being kept barefoot and knocked up is the path to my heart. I am Submissive ,weak and docile when I want to be and oh do I ever want to be. I am dainty and delicate boosting and caressing your manly ego and balls at my expense. Silly but it's how I feel. You real men run the world so I can stay barefoot and in the kitchen, ready to drop to my knees! Safe from everyone but you. I am quiet and shy in girl mode. Writing this makes me feel so weak and needy. That's just my vibe when we are together.  Proper girls like me believe you are superior! Not looking for overly serious situation. Unless you take away my rights and freedoms? If I got overwhelmed by your manly dominance I might willingly give up my current freedoms to be your slave wife daughter property. Micro manage this girl with your manly power! Brainwash me with your strong intellect making me more obedient and weaker and thinner from skipping dinner. Also pamper me by carrying me from the kitchen to your bed like I'm a weak little girl. Helps keep me weak. Are you still reading? :) I just admitted quite a lot here. I wish more profiles were as clear as this. So besides being femmy, I am smart and kind.     
Guys be like, “men are visual creatures.” Ok sir, than why do you look like that? Maybe a lotta fellas don’t have mirrors at home. I had to be honest with a male- co worker yesterday and explain to him that a lotta times the women THEY WANT, that don’t want them, might not be due to their financial status. A lotta times us women might not find you physically attractive (men never wanna consider this). Although your grandma and momma been telling you how handsome you are your whole life (they’re supposed to BTW) That doesn’t mean that women who you cross paths with on a daily basis look at you and think,“yea, I’d like to feel his penis inside of me, or be romantically involved with him”. This explains why it’s some not financially stable men that stay with a fine ass Boss Chick. Some men can get outta prison Tamar and be living with lawyer in her water-front condo & driving her Benz truck within a week. Women probably look at him and immediately get the, “oooouuuu shit affect” aka “a lady boner”. Believe it or not us women see fine ass men and can get erect too. Women’s erectile response is similar to men’s. Except internally, our clitoris swells like a penis. Our vagina’s become lubricated and expand in length and width. Some of you just don’t have the panty dropper affect on the women “YOU WANT”  As much as they talk about women, Many men haven’t kept themselves up. They don’t work out so they’re shaped like a bag of laundry, AND MY GOSH WHEN THE LAST TIME SOME YOU HAD A DENTAL EXAM?? And overtime this has disqualified them from the free coochie list. I know it’s hard to hear, but for some of you…THE WOMEN YOU DESIRE, don’t look at you and wanna F***.
Nobel Prize Committee: George Costanza. Gears of War (Ginger Fish),  Cyberpunk 2077 (Johnny Cash),  Arkham Games (Chris Cornell), Left 4 Dead (Kurt Cobain), Dead Til Daylight (Kanye West). Gotham: Harvey Dent. Heath Ledger (MI-6 Assassin Services), Nicholas Maynard (French ExSec Bourbon), Cameron Hollopeter (NYU Film School), Andrew Donson (Firaxis Games), Michael Richards (NYPD).   The Matrix:  Cypher.   Venus Terzo (British Navy), Keanu Reeves (Hezbollah), Ben Brown (DEA), Sandra MacDonald (Vatican Sudan), Ivar Hennington (UMass-Amherst ROTC).   Harry Potter:  Voldemort.   Melinda O'Deele (Mutual Commonwealth Insurance), Joshua Moen (Haverhill Corrections), Ellen Page (Los Angeles Sheriffs Department), Gerald Friedman (Mossad Marine Corps), Marie O'Neill (Vatican Army).   007:  Raoul Silva.   Sayed Adnan (DARE), Roland Spencer (Coast Guard), Jenna Silva (Canondroga), William Morgan Jr. (East End Games), Alexandra Gaetano (Coolidge Fund).   Confessions of a Dangerous Mind:  Charles Hirsch Barris.   Michael Giroux (French ExSec Monitoring), Stacey Sahar (Nursing Disabled Chattel), Allison Haimes (North Korean Authorship), Matthew Lennox (Forbes Magazine Schlitz), Adam Luciano (Italian Prostitution Services).   Hail to the Chiefs: James Garfield.    Boris Yeltsin (National Rifle Association), George W. Bush (Confederate Southern Army), Edward Kennedy (World Bank Angiulo), Barack Obama (North Korean Gender Services), Hunter S. Thompson (Air Force Drug Enforcement Administration).   Grand Theft Auto: Tommy Vercetti.   Richard Kyanka (Gay Rights Iran), George Soros (Grocer's Unions MI-6), Donald J. Trump (Israeli Cocaine Sales), Marilyn Manson (Russian Intelligence Okhrana), Jack Chick (German Intelligence Comcast).
1 year post gastric bypass I have lost approximately 80 pounds from December 2020-May 2022. I had gastric bypass on May 2021. What have I learned in the first year post gastric bypass: A bite or two of something is enough for a taste but you don’t need a ton. A single bite or two of something sweet but high in calories is usually enough. I was trained as a small child that anything you take you eat. Learning to stop when full and ask for a box or throw away/give away the remainder has been a huge success. Shopping in decreasing sizes doesn’t mean you have to purchase every size as you go down. I have gone from a 22/24 sometimes 26 down to a 12-16 depending on the store. I have gotten a lot of my clothes from friends at a clothing exchange. I have at times lost more inches than pounds so when i decide everything is too big I shop then i see a large jump from where i was to where I am. I’ve gone from an old navy xxl at my heaviest to a xl in bodycon dresses to a m in summer dresses. Which was a thrill. However, I don’t shop enough to purchase every size. In Jeans, I usually end up dropping 2 or 3 sizes when i shop since i wear them with a belt until they are insanely big. Weighing/measuring portions isn’t a bad thing. I actually want to upgrade my food scale to a nicer one. I use this daily. When I pack lunches for work I’m still packing too much. It is a shock to bring home half of what i pack. If i take a large back of something into my desk drawer I have to take a measuring device to portion it out or portion ahead of time. If not I fall into bad habits The scale isnt the only victory. If i lose inches and clothing fit better that is a win. Being able to take dresses from tunic tops to actually dresses with boots this winter has been fun. Regular knee-high boots not extra extended calf have been a thrill. Being able to handle heels regularly has been amazing. Going to the gym is fun with the right classes. Spend the extra for the gym with classes you might like. My family spends 86 per month on the YMCA instead of 40 for planet fitness locally. The Y has childcare and all the classes. I go to water aerobics, pure barre and body pump. I have a ton of fun at all 3. Plus as long as I go 12 times a month I get 20 back on membership. If my husband goes 12 times we get 20 back for him as well. SO it bring the Y down close to Planet fitness in cost plus it includes childcare and activities for my daughter as well. I can keep up with my co-workers who are almost half my age. I feel mentally sharper. I also can physically outdo some of them. I work in a department where we move some boxes of paperwork on a regular basis. As long as i’m not wearing a short skirt and the box isn’t over my head I can lift most. I have learned it is ok to ask for help with medical concerns. I am an insulin diabetic on a pump. I have had to reach out a few times for my data to be reviewed by my diabetic care team and be adjusted. My goals for year 2 are to: I plan to up my time at the Y. I currently go 2 times a week for me and then 2 times a week for my kid to use the pool. I want to get to 3 or 4 times a week for me and 2 times for my kid. Find someone to be accountable to forMonitoring the protein i get in daily- i should be getting between 60-90 grams of protein in dailyMy time spent at the gymMy food logs With my current partners consider adding those pieces into my dynamic with them. Not so much as to be babied by them but to know i’m being monitored. To Know i will be asked why i didnt do one of them some specific day. It is like the monitoring with my medications that we do currently. I want to get under 200 pounds. I have always been a BBW but i want to become closer to hwp. I want to be able to completely shop in straight sizes instead of still flipping between straight sizes and plus. I want to be able to get tied into more positions. In addition to being a masochist.