Well its week after the Montreal Fetish weekend and I can't help but to get depressed after being immersed in an environment which Is so conducive to acceptance. Having some impact play with VagaBound in the VIP dungeons was a breath of fresh air and him doing the photo shoots for me on the streets of Montreal And especially a City like Montreal that welcomes you so well being fetish and kink and being able to so freely excepted doing photo shoots around and on the streets of Montreal was inspiring. I cannot wait till next year MFW 2025 to create more content and hopefully I find the owner as the Rubber sub and Rubber Doll i am that can consume me and complete my existence. Its been a long journey. I am trying to concentrate on the next events that are ahead of me like Folsom Kink street fair SF September 29th 2024 and then DOMMETRIPS Cozumel Mexico October 5th to October 12th. As a early 57th birthday present. Then I also have to find a costume ball or event for Halloween for September. To go full latex Cat hood, catsuit too. Need to keep the constant rush happening for the adrenaline rush and excitement showing the rubber doll in me.  I am also have my attention on Claiming my tickets for MFW 2025 when they go on sale January and Fetish factory Florida Anniversary 5 day event 2025.

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. 

We've gotten a few questions, people asking for more info about me dating the Trump supporter. We're still dating! When Kamala entered the race, I teased him a few times about losing to a woman and he'd always make it a point to tell me later (when I was tied up or bent over or otherwise had him inside me) that November wasn't going to change anything for me, that I'd still be fucking him on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, basically anytime he wanted. We don't get too into the details - he's not super politically engaged and it's actually kind of upsetting to think about the state of the country, and how rights are being taken away all the time, when I'm in a relatively privileged position and choosing to indulge in this kind of play. A few people asked how we met. We're in the same grad school program and he's always starting arguments about politics and "how come people don't just get a driver's license if they want to vote so bad", that kind of thing. I'd always jump in and push back, and he told me later that he liked getting me riled up. He said he liked seeing me flush and get upset and try to convince him of things when he didn't really care. We chatted a few times before classes and he'd be incredibly forward so he knew I was married, knew I wanted kids, made a few comments if I wore a choker or a fashion collar. After class one night, my car battery was dead so he came over and gave me a jump. We were the only ones left in the lot so while we were standing outside in the dark, he slid his hands in the back pockets of my jeans and pulled me against him. I instinctively reached back and he trapped my hands and held them behind my back while kissing me, jamming his tongue in my mouth. I blew him in his car and we made plans to go out that weekend. He's pretty rough and he loves being in charge. My husband will buy all sorts of bondage toys and I'll take them to the cop's apartment and that's where they stay. He keeps bondage straps on his mattress, has a spreader bar that he straps my hands and ankles to, has all of my favorite ball gags and blindfolds and plugs. He's also incredibly respectful, in his own way. He doesn't push limits we've discussed and I've gotten him to say things like "do you want me inside you?" which is as close to consent as he's interested in, but is still a huge deal. I let him take pictures of me tied up and naked as long as he obscures my face. I know men always show their friends and there's always the chance he revenge porns me if we break up, and he totally understood without arguing. He said he hears about that at work from teens and he knows it's a huge problem. Last story - he had me tied up recently, wrists and ankles on the spreader bar, gagged, a black hood over my entire head. Then his doorbell rang and he let in one of his buddies. We had discussed before that I was open to other men but I wasn't going to let them fuck me without protection. And here I was, ass up in the air, a stranger carassing me, unbuckling his belt. I started whimpering and wiggling my fingers. I was starting to make our safety signal when I heard him say "dude, condom, come on." I'm not going to say chivalry isn't dead but it made me feel good that he wasn't like "huh huh huh just fuck her in the ass huh huh huh." I gave them both a hell of a ride in gratitude. And to answer the most common question, no I'm not pregnant yet!

since my last journal entry my wife only visited her bull once and then covid struck. However now we can mix again she has met him a few times, however his situation has changed somewhat. He now has a live in partner, she is also a keen swinger which is how he met her and very happy for Sue to visit them. Although Glenn is now 70 he's still vigorous and apparently his cock is still as big and hard as it always was which Sue enjoys telling me. His partner Debs is a divorced lady in her 40s with apparently a very slim figure.  Their latest meeting was the week before Christmas and Sue arranged to stay for 2 nights which she was really looking forward to. Glenn told her that a couple of parcels would arrive for her and she was to wear what they contained but not to open them until the day before she travelled to see him. When the day arrived we were both incredibly excited to see what was in the parcels. One parcel was a red velvet naughty santa dress which was fairly short and matching g string. The other parcel had a red studded dog collar, red fishnets  a red suspender belt and a long blonde wig. He told Sue she had to wear those, as well as her red thigh boots and leather corset on the 40 mile drive to his house. 

strength is gone I am so done being strong im breaking and shattering like a broken mirror i cant stand this feeling im breaking down and i am so annoyed with myself but taking it out on everyone around me as i lay here tonight theres not much more i can take the tears are shedding and my self confidence is non existing just what i fucking need im still breathing so i guess thats an upside but fuck it all im so done pretending that im okay and if you cant accept me the way i am than whats the point of being my friend im just so over it

AcadaMay CFNM Ladies Cocktail Party - Saturday February 121st 19.00-23.00 You may contact me here to reserve your place. Most alternative events objectify women, but there is one particular event that reverses the rôles. This is the Clothed Female, Naked Male party. CFNM by definition gives the power back!  Ladies of elegance and sophistication are cordially invited to take the opportunity to mingle with their peers whilst sipping their cocktails and enjoying the entertainment. Come & join the the AcadaMay CFNM Ladies' Cocktail Party for an evening with lashings of decadence. All whilst being served by underlings who will be there solely to serve and cater to our every whim. You will never want to go to a vanilla party again! Ladies, this is your chance to be served by men and objectify them. CFNM includes activities that are not particularly oriented towards female dominance and superiority, but a modicum of humiliation and punishment to the nude men not behaving according to protocol would be expected, nay, encouraged! Gentlemen, this is your chance to parade yourself in an elegant social setting, to have the opportunity to serve and make yourself compliant to the request of any lady present without demur or backchat. If you wish to have this experience, come and join the ladies for an afternoon of CFNM.

Awaken to gentle licks upon my labia and the tickle of your facial hair on my inner thighs    You knowing my body and realizing that sucking my clit is not what gets me going    But that gentle tongue massage on my lower lips causes me to softly moan and drip with wetness    I'm in the euphoria of emotional bliss    Slow intense grinding along with the need to run    I'm about to explode    What a way to wake up,  as the main course   I've trained you well and you know how to please    Now, I will lay you back, tie you up, or leave you free    I know before I'm done you'll be screaming please!

November 4, 2024 @ 4:35pm  Hello Everyone,  I understand this profile is a little confusing to some, let me clear things up for you all.I will always be an Domme first, then second I am an Alpha submissive only to Sir Silverback G which is my life partner. I hope this Clears up any confusion. Have a wonderful Morning, Evening, Night.  SG 

Smart, successful, strong and structured.  I wasn't born this way, these attributes were my choice.  As such I don't overlook or yield these principles to anyone.  If these are not qualities that you admire in grown men please move on.   I'm straight forward and I expect the same.  If picture swaps, video calls, or personal meetings are a hard line for you then I am not the one.  If you get together with me you will be giving up the PT&A.  If that's not an issue keep going.  I may be good conversation and a well of knowledge, but I am here to find another partner, not a chill buddy.  I work hard and need an outlet.  I don't intend for you or this site to consume me or my time.  This simply means that I may not be on as often as someone with a lot of extra time on his hands.  I have many differing likes, yearnings, ambitions, and needs to be satisfied.  I'm interested in hearing your's.   J²

The Weight of Three Minutes - An Erotic Short Story  The marble is cold under your knees. I designed the room precisely for this quality of cold, for the way it travels upward through a kneeling body and reminds it, without a word from me, of exactly where it is. The morning light moves across your bowed shoulders and finds the faint lines on your skin, my lines, exactly where I left them.   You hold the cup steady. I will give you that.   My fingers brush yours as I take it. A conductivity test, reading the current of you through brief contact. You do not tremble. Good. I bring the rim to my lips.   The first sip tells me everything. The base notes are correct, the Darjeeling first flush I require. But beneath it, the steep is wrong. Three minutes would have given me what I require. You gave me four. The tannins have opened in a way they should not have been permitted to, and the result is an astringency that sits at the back of the palate like a small, deliberate insult.   You know. You felt it before I tasted it, felt the error in the air the way a barometer feels weather. Your world has narrowed to the space between my slippered feet. Good. That is where it belongs.   I say your name. Just that.   "Yes, Goddess." The word hangs in the quiet room like an offering I have not yet decided to accept.   "The specifications are precise and they are not suggestions. Water temperature ninety degrees. Steep time three minutes. Measured. Not estimated. Not felt."   "Yes, Goddess."   "Explain the deviation."   The muscle in your jaw tightens. I catalog it. "The leaves were newer stock. I thought a longer steep would develop the flavor more fully. Bring out the muscatel notes you prefer."   "You thought."   I begin to circle you. Slowly. I am never in any hurry. I place my gaze on the back of your neck with the deliberate weight of something being pressed into soft material.   "You introduced variables. You assumed. Perfection does not accommodate feeling. The muscatel note I prefer is arrived at in precisely three minutes. Not your interpretation. Not your instinct. Three minutes, measured, as specified."   "A flaw in the cup is a flaw in the man. Do you doubt my parameters?"   "No, Goddess. Never."   But your fingers curl inward where they rest on your thighs. I see it. I note it. Nothing is too small to matter.   "Stand."   You rise in one fluid motion, taller than me, broader. And yet you make yourself smaller in my presence, as you have learned to do. It is one of the things I have built in you that I find most satisfying.   "Look at me."   Your eyes meet mine. The familiar desperate focus is there, the terror of demotion. But beneath it, a flicker. Not defiance. Something more interesting. A spark of independent thought, alive and un-extinguished.   My fingers, cool and precise, trace the line of your jaw. The shudder that moves through you is full-bodied and involuntary. Your breath catches.   "The grade for today's service is pending. We will see if the rest of your performance can correct the imbalance."   I turn toward the lounge. "Follow."   Two steps behind, as trained. The cage sits in its corner, black steel and clean lines, always the outer boundary of the visible world.   "Kneel here. You will remain until I have need of you. You will not speak. You will not move. You will contemplate the difference between three minutes and four."   You sink into position. Back straight, hands on thighs, head at the precise angle I have trained into you. You are, when you are like this, a beautiful object. I have made you that.   Not a muscle moves. Your breathing barely disturbs the air. Every resource of you pointed at the single task of being still enough to please me.   And yet. You chose to deviate. You chose to trust your own palate over my doctrine.   Something uncoils in my attention. Not anger. Sharper. Interest, which in my world is rarer and more dangerous than fury.   I say your name again, soft as a petal released from a great height.   Your eyes lift instantly.   "Come here."   You cross the distance on your knees and stop before me, your face level with my lap. You wait with your entire body.   "The grade is failing. A failing slave is placed in the cage. Denied touch. Denied sight."   Your throat moves. "Yes, Goddess."   "Do you wish to be caged?"   "I wish only what you wish, Goddess."   "That is not an answer. It is a recitation. The one who extended the steep had a wish. What was it?"   "I wished for it to be perfect for you. Not just correct. Perfect. The new harvest felt like an opportunity and I wanted to find something in it that you had not yet tasted."   There it is. Your ambition, layered over my specifications, believing itself generous.   I slide my fingers into your hair and close them. The breath that leaves you is unsteady. Your eyes close. "Your wish introduced error," I say, close to your ear. "Your personal pursuit of my pleasure contaminated the delivery of it. That is the failure."   I pull your head back. Your eyes open, wide, stripped of calculation. Simply present. Exposed. Looking up at the only person in your world who matters.   "And yet," my thumb finds the pulse hammering in your throat, "it was a beautiful ambition."   I release you.   "The grade remains failing. But the correction will be hands-on."   "Remove your shirt."

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.  

7/31/2024 6:49:25 PM   A very warm and grateful send out to those who have contacted Me to share of their own story and their strength and well wishing.  This was quite unexpected and I appreciate the consideration shown and stories shared.  My very best to you and yours and thank you for the kindness, it means much and has indeed given Me some strength in carrying on.  xox

Some things I enjoy that don't fit neatly in a check-the-box type space, and are fun to explore once the service need is met: Predicament bondage - putting the sub/slave in a position where they are bound from full movement, and maybe can't qutie reach something, say a fleshlight just out of reach of their errection, or in a more mundane case, weights placed so that when they releive pressure on one body part, it shifts to another, making a comfortable position impossible. There are a thousand variations on this, all lots of fun. Obj-ect-ification (spelling modified to fit requirements of this place)- this can be literal "Be a table" or treating the person as an for pleasure, with a hood or mask or other thing that covers/hides their individuality.  Chastity - for the right person, chastity is a powerful tool. But not everyone responds to it in fun ways.  So it could be a metal or silicone device, or just the honor system. But it allows for a highly personal reward system for desired behaviors or behaviral changes, and shifts focus to the Dominant partner.  Obedience - and by this I don't just mean jump when I say jump, I mean I give a series of instructions, and the obedience is considered successful based on how closely to the instructions it is completed. Sometimes this is to build a listening skill, sometimes its for fun. 

In other news, I am time-sharing a local, submissive, polyamorous, older boytoy with a few other women. He is busy, but if I work at it I can get a little time in with him each moth and we text almost daily. I like him. We get along well. We have compatible dietary situations so we can dine together without it being an issue. We saw Pillion together. He's got wonderful hands and I crave his massages. My queening chair is his new favorite toy, and we officially christened it on our ... second date, I think? He wears a chastity device during our dates by my request, but since he is free-range I do not keep him locked. I might unlock him if he can arouse me to orgasm, and our next date is going to be a more instructional R&D session about how to get me there, if I can keep him from distracting me while practicing: being the instructor and the practice model is a challenge, but can be so worth it.We have been to each others homes, seen each other starkers, and have even given each other tips on how to drive each other to distraction, so ... I am hoping that this could be a long-term situation. I have also met one of his other partners and his daughter.  So, that is my status update. I hope that you all have been well!

What do I seek in a submissive? The submissive I seek is between the ages of 18-40. Body type well proportioned. Not model status, but pleasing to the eyes. I'm sorry but I just don't have an attraction to BBW or SSBBW type of women. Ideally I would like to be able to lift my sub up in my arms, or throw her over my shoulder even. Though I am not opposed to women that are thicker than normal if they take care of themselves. A woman that is not completely indecisive and has an idea about what she wants in any manner of her life. Often times it does not matter to me what choices she makes, just as long as she make a choice. She should be masochistic, enjoying spankings, paddlings, floggings, roughness, bites, and bruises on the ass, to name a few things that I enjoy to dish out. These are just things that come to my mind the quickest and are by no means completely set in stone. I am willing to make some exceptions based on the mind and personality of the submissive, that WOW factor if you will. I do not have a desire for long-distance relationships, so any inquiries should be made by a submissive in the same state as me. However distance does not matter if you just want to be friendly and chat me up for fun. Nothing wrong with making new friends.

Chapter one - Sweet Slave (Or, How it all Began). A story I wrote for fetlife.I take the bottle of wine from the fridge and pull the cork, giving it a little time to breathe. I dice the onions, and throw them in the pan. I like that sizzling sound they make... I add the spices, then diced chicken breast. I let it brown a little, before adding the coconut milk and putting the rice on. I get a text from you - you're on your way. I start dressing the table - a rose in a vase, a candle in a brass candlestick, nothing too fancy. I'm not the fancy kind, I don't want to give the wrong impression this early on in a relationship. If this works out, I want it to be for the right reasons. The doorbell rings shortly afterwards. You're smiling as I open the door and ask you in, you genuinely seem pleased to be here - pleased to see me. "I didn't know what else to bring," you say, handing me a bottle of red wine. I smile and kiss your cheek, then take you to the kitchen, where the meal is spread out already. You give me a coy smile as I pull out a chair for you to sit down. "This looks amazing." You take a bite. "You weren't lying, you really do know how to cook!" you exclaim. "This tastes amazing, my local takeaway could learn a thing or two from you..." you giggle a little as you speak. "Honestly, it's such a simple recipe, and I just add a little double cream, it gives it something extra," I say, glad that you seem to be honestly enjoying the food. I pour you a little wine and smile at you. "I'm really glad you agreed to this, I know it must make you very nervous," I say. "I haven't had much luck with first dates in the past. I don't seem to make a good impression until someone truly gets to know me. I guess that's why I wanted to chat online for a while before we actually did this." You smile and look down at your plate, pushing food around, then taking a bite. You glance up at me and smile again, blushing a little. "I'm very shy around people I like - you know, that way," you say. "I was glad you wanted to go slowly at first too." I smile back at you, a sweetness seems to wash over me from your direction. I'm a little enamoured by you already, but I dare not say that to you, in case it scares you off. Something inside me feels your submissive nature - your little glances at me, the way you hide your face partially with your silky hair. The way you blush when our eyes meet, and immediately look at the floor, smiling. I like it. I kinda want to growl at you, but that feels premature. We finish dinner, then we sit down to watch the movie we'd decided on beforehand. Amélie. We've both seen it before and loved it, but neither of us has seen it in a long time - so it seemed a safe way to spend a little time together. I put my arm around you and we watch the film, wonderfully quirky yet romantic, watching Amélie fall for Nino. As the movie ends, I find that you've wrapped yourself up in my arms and you're clinging to my arm, resting against me like I'm a giant teddy bear. You start sucking on my thumb... I look at you for a moment. I'm not certain what to make of this action. You turn to me and smile. "I'm... I don't know why I did that..." you say, looking concerned. I smile at you, letting you know I don't mind, and you smile back, relaxing visibly. I kiss you... You tense up and squeak, then let out a little sigh as you relax. I put my hand on your back and pull you closer, you put your arms around my neck in return, and we kiss - gently at first, but heat builds up between us and it's not long before we're kissing with a fervent passion. I push you down onto the sofa and pin your arms above your head, kissing you into the sofa. You moan and put your legs around my waist. I break the kiss and growl at you. You squeak again, then look at me like a naughty schoolgirl. You have the same thing on your mind as I do. I pick you up, carry you to the bedroom, and put you on the bed gently. I start undressing you as I kiss you, getting a little rougher with each garment tossed aside - until finally I tear your panties off and toss them who knows where. I rub your pubic mound in circles as I kiss you, teasing you, and you let out a little moan. I break the kiss and look into your gorgeous, sparkling eyes. You look comfortable, I see no fear in your eyes, just a naughty twinkle. "I have something for you," I say. I take a pair of fur-lined cuffs from my side table and I secure your wrists to the headboard. I pull your legs apart and I settle between your thighs, my face so close to your sex you can feel my breath. You have a buttplug in your ass, topped with a heart-shaped crystal. I rub it gently in circles for a moment, teasing you with it. "Oh, oh, I umm..." you start to say, but I lick your clitoris and you let out a squeal. "Oh, lordy, please don't stop..." you whisper, breathlessly. I lick your clitoris until it starts to engorge, then I start sucking on it gently. You squeal again, looking down at me, and we lock eyes as I pleasure you with my mouth. "I've never... No-one's... Oh, my god..." you say, seeming a little overwhelmed. I push a finger into you gently and you gasp, your breath hitching a little. "Please, please don't stop, or I'll explode," you say to me, eyes practically begging. I feel you open up and I push another finger into you, fingering you for a few moments before I turn my fingers upward, find your G-spot and massage it gently with both fingers. You hit the back of your head on the pillow repeatedly, then lie back and whisper "What... What are you doing to me??". It barely takes a minute and you're panting. I build up pressure on your G-spot, licking and sucking your clit with more enthusiasm. You start to roll your hips involuntarily, which I take as a sign that you're close, so I up the pressure a little more, watching you closely for signs I'm overdoing it - but you just squirm on the bed, eyes closed, rubbing your cheek against your arm and gasping. You seem to be trying to say something, but you're clearly too overwhelmed to manage to get your thoughts into some cohesive form. I feel you tighten around my fingers and your body shudders. Your legs tremble gently and you arch your back. "Ohhh... Oh my... My lord... OOOOH! OOOOH FUCK!" I smile. I know you're not big on profanity, so I take this as a very good sign. Moments later, you're smiling down at me, panting. You look at me with such affection that I think you're going to propose to me for a moment, but then you say "No one's ever done that to me before. Please tell me we can do that again sometimes, it was amazing". I smile up at you. "Only all the time, gorgeous. But now, it's my turn." I pull your legs up either side of your head and penetrate you gently. You immediately squeal out in pain, screwing up your eyes. I pull out. "I... I haven't... It's been a long time..." you say. I stroke your hair and push a finger gently into your wetness. You let out a sigh, and I finger you gently, slipping in another finger, then after a while, I feel you open enough that I can slip in a third. "You're extremely tight, gorgeous," I say. You look embarrassed. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie. I'm sorry I hurt you." "I... I kinda liked it..." you say. I look at you and let out an involuntary growl. My fingers come out of you and my dick goes in. You bite your lip and squeak again. "Tell me how you feel," I say. "It hurts a little... But I like it... Please, don't stop..." you reply. You

I have a few minutes to sit still, so I figured I could follow up on my previous post, and discuss the topic of pictures a bit more.  But I realize I'll probably never do better than what I wrote a few years ago, and I know no one ever scrolls back and reads, even if I few do read the current posts. So I'll re-post that, and maybe it will help someone. ____________________________________ Women are not men. I know it seems obvious, yet the majority of men still pursue women without really considering what that means. They write profiles based on what THEY would like, what men value, what men think is impressive, and what they wish they saw on women's profiles. They take and post pictures the same way - based on what they value, what they think is impressive, what they wish women put in their pictures.  If they crossdress, they take and post pictures similar to those of women they found sexy - scantily clad in lingere, posed seductively or sluttily, etc. without considering that those pictures, like porn, were meant to appeal to men.  They send emails, again, that same way. I repeat - Women are not men. Dating, at it's bottom line, is marketing. You have something. You want something. You want to exchange what you have for what you want. In a store, you exchange money for goods and services. In dating, you are mostly hoping to sell. You are hoping to purchase the attention of a partner, in the long or short term, in exchange for your attention, your time, your services. You are selling you, in exchange for them. That's actually a very basic equation. You can't sell to someone unless you know what they want, and find a way to market what you have to that want. This is where most men fail - at the basic premise. They know what THEY want. They don't spend a lot of time researching what their target market wants to BUY. So they market based on what they know, and what they think they know. They know themselves. They know men, in general, and they know what commercials and movies and tv and all media everywhere has told them is attractive to women. They, being men and raised in a male dominated world, never seem to realize that all of those things are ALSO targeted to men, to get men to buy things, usually by appealing to male egos. They show women draping themselves over men who drink this beer, or drive that car, or wear that brand of clothing. They show this to men so that men will want to buy those things. Most of the time, women couldn't give less of a fuck about those things. But men are surrounded by all of this input, so they think we do. I'm not going to try to define what "all women" want on here. Not all women want the same things anyway. Right now, I'm just going to clarify that what WE want is usually not the same as what men want. You need to find out what those things are and tailor your pictures and profile to market to that. Basic things like "don't use a picture of your penis as your profile pic" have been said a million times but it's always the first thing we see everywhere we look. Yes, I like to see a pretty penis. No, I don't see a pretty penis in a picture and become suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to have it right this second. I can't say that I've ever gone looking through the internet just to look at pictures of penises. And when I get one shown to me when I haven't asked to see it, I'm not horrified, but I right there decide that the guy showing it is a pushy, insecure jackass. I lose all interest in interacting with him. It's not that the penis itself is a problem, but that it tells me something about who he is when he has to insist on showing it around - that he's not interested in pleasing ME. He's interested in his own pleasure. And I can do better than that. And honestly, a picture of your chastity device is pretty much the same as a dick pic. You don't want your profile to be a long list if things you want, either. Yes, you want things. You will need to communicate those things. And the world you were probably raised in told you that women do things for men, even Dominant women. All that BDSM porn? It shows lots of women in black leather and rubber getting a LOT of enjoyment doing those things to men. Again, that is written specifically to be bought by men, so they show men what they want to see. Yes, I like doing those things to a man. I like doing them to my partner. I sometimes want to do them to someone other than my partner. But I almost never want to do them to some total stranger just because I like doing them. Your accountant may like his job, but he doesn't go out on the street offering free tax jobs to strangers, ya know? Your profile on a dating page is your resume. Your sales pitch. Your introduction to make us think you have something worth our giving up a few minutes of our time to read further or possibly even have a conversation with you to get more details. This site is a kink/fetish site. This particular discussion is about 'finding a dominant woman.' If you are reading my journal, your target audience is a Dominant Woman. Most Dominant women I talk to are drowning in emails and offers from men who call themselves submissive. Most of them are requests for US to do what THEY want. Which is the first mistake. It's usually their last. Your sales pitch should NEVER NEVER EVER be "I'll let you spank me!" One, why do I WANT to spank you in the first place? Two, why you and not someone who is offering something I want? I'd rather talk to the subbie over here that is offering to give me a full body massage, no strings attached.