A submissive is one who chooses each and every time if he /she will submit.  A submissive often comes with a list of his / her restrictions and requirements.  While a true slave is one who comes to serve in the manner in which the Mistress desires. A true slave makes the decision to submit one time for always.  A true slave may have desires, dreams,  and  fantasies but he / she is not selfish and he / she relinquish their selfishness to serve the Dominant.   It takes a very strong person to live the life of being a slave to another.  To observe a slave growing and one day to see him /her become the perfected specimen  in which the Domme  has created is the goal. The submission of a slave is very admirable.  I seek that slave! The one who will serve Me always, under My safe keeping, and owned  by Me.   

Lately I feel like a lot of my time is spent being adulty. I could really use some unrestricted time to not have to be doing and thinking and being responsible. I've been thinking a lot about coloring, which is not a typical hobby of mine. I don't age play, I don't have stuffies and binkies and pink sippy cups with glitter unicorns on them. But I find myself wanting the freedom to be less complicated, and maybe coloring is a way to do that. After a very specific search, I found a couple of simple books with bold outlines. They sat in the kitchen for a few days. Today, after a responsibly busy morning of chores, I grabbed a pillow and dropped to the living room floor with a box of crayons. Swinging my feet back and forth in the air as I lay on my stomach, selectively choosing colors and testing them on the side of a page like I was being paid for my efforts, I completed my first picture of a cup of ice cream with sprinkles and cherries. I hummed. I deliberated on the correct shade of pink. I carefully stayed within the lines. It's a perfect picture.  Here's what I noticed... I like being little, doing little things. If someone had stuck a binky in my mouth I'm pretty sure I would have happily sucked on it while swinging my feet and asking for a snack. It turns me on. Weird? I'm not really sure what to think of this. Or maybe I don't need to think anything of it and let it be. But great googlie mooglie, am I a little little? I already know that all those cute little names and specific praise all but set fire to my panties, but little activities? What do I do with this? Who even am I right now? 

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. 

New Kink Unlocked! She told me on the phone... You invite me in and walk me back to your bedroom. You order me to strip and to get on the bed in a doggy position. You are still clothed and slide a blindfold over my eyes. I can hear the shuffle of clothes as you disrobe and feel your weight shift on the bed behind me. Your fingers slide between my legs and can feel how wet the anticipation has made me. And then I gasp as you slide the length of your cock into my pussy, feeling your size for the first time. It has been quite a while since I was last with anyone and you are surprised by how tight I am. You grab my hips and begin fucking me from behind. You tell me that I am just a dirty cum dump and that my only job to take the fucking you feel like giving me. Your rhythm quickens and I can feel you filling me with your cum. But you don't pull out, and I feel your hands spreading my ass cheeks apart. You feel my pussy twitch as you rub my asshole with your thumb. You tell me another part of being your dirty cum dump is to take your cock in every hole. You tell me that you are going to fuck me in the ass and that I'm going to take your load there as well. You squeeze some lube on me and begin working in your finger to prep the hole. You ask me where your cock is going and I tell you "my ass sir." You "And why is it going into your ass?" Me "Because I'm your cum dump and my job is to take you cock in any hole you choose." Your cock has gotten hard again inside me and your fingers have lubed up my hole. You pull your cock out and I then feel your head pressing against my asshole. You lean your weight forward and over me, whispering in my ear to relax and take it as you slowly slide your full length into me. I feel so full and the size of you initially feels impossibly large. You give me a couple second to adjust to your size before you start a slow, gentle rhythm. You feel feel my body accept your and tell me "I'm going to fuck you faster now," and I feel a spike of nervousness as I already feel pushed to my limit of intensity. You are fucking me a bit harder and tell me that I'm doing a good job taking your cock so you are going to give me an orgasm. One hand reaches below me and starts playing with my clit... palm pressing perfecrly. The other hand reaches around and finds a nipple to pinch and squeeze. Your touch sends me over the edge, forcing me to cum hard on your cock. You cum as well, my orgasm essentially milking your load from your cock. You tell me I was a good cum dump and did my job well. I love it when you praise me for being a good toy. You roll me to my side and your mouth finds my tit as you finger me again with your fingers. You have me keep the blindfold on as we cuddle for a bit. Then I clean you and get ready for bed... wanting to sleep in your arms... but also thinking, worrying? wishing? you will take me in the middle of the night.

The meal The table was laid.  It was an important dinner party, but the table wasn’t overly fussy.  It was going to be a simple meal: the steak already in place on warm plates at either end of the six-seater table, wine in the goblets and terrines of buttered vegetables in the middle.  One plate was set between the other two chairs.  Chairs which stood, side by side, along one of the longer sides of the oblong table.  Next to the plate were two glasses of water, a plate of small cubes of fresh bread and crudites and a dish of oily, dark balsamic dressing.  The lighting came mainly from the open door to the kitchen and the two tall candles on the table. Two women stood, close but not touching, each behind one of the chairs.  They were dressed the same: black heels, black stockings, black suspender belt, but they looked different.  One was significantly taller than the other, and much curvier.  The curvier sub had dark blonde hair which fell in a straight curtain down her back, the other had shiny brown hair which fell in soft curls just past her shoulders.  The brown-haired sub had pubic hair, neatly trimmed very short.  The blonde-haired sub was completely bare.  Both wore a narrow black leather collar around their necks with a metal ring centre front.  And both wore leather cuffs with a similar metal ring around their wrists. Two men entered the room and both women stiffened.  Each one cling their elbows tighter behind their back pulling their shoulders back and pushing their breasts out; nipples already erect from anticipation and from being exposed.  The older man walked towards the blonde haired sub and turned her collar so that the ring was at the back.  He threaded a chain through the ring and attached it to her cuffs; holding her wrists in place behind her waist.  Each man pulled out a chair and motioned for the women to sit. Suctioned to the bare wood of each chair seat was a dildo, glistening with a thin coating of lube.  It wasn’t very long, maybe only 4” but it was a little thicker than a standard dildo.  Both subs placed themselves over the dildos and slowly eased themselves into their chairs.  The blonde sub could feel it slowly stretching and invading her cunt and she felt heat spread up her belly.  She turned to the older man and gave a barely noticeable smile.  The older Dom said “You are not to speak unless spoken to.”  “Yes sir,” replied his sub recognising the smile in his eyes behind his stern words. When both women were seated the two men took a moment to check the state of their sub.  The older Dom placed his hands on his sub’s shoulders.  He gently ran his fingernail down her back.  He heard the intake of breath, saw her breasts rise and felt her rock slightly forward – dildo inside her and clit bumping onto the hard surface of the wooden chair.  He let his hands glide down the swell of her breasts, pinching each nipple between his fingers and using them to lift her heavy breasts; feeling their weight and seeing his sub rock forwards on the seat again.  He gave each nipple a playful, sharp flick and the second Dom said to his sub, “Feed her first.”  Both men sat down and began eating as the brown-haired sub, with her hands still free, turned to the blonde-haired sub and smiled. The meal continued.  The men and women talked normally to each other.  The shorter sub fed the blonde sub bread and vegetables, dipped into the balsamic dressing.  Whenever a small drop fell onto the lip, chin or breast of the blonde sub, she kissed or licked it off.  After a while the blonde sub began to squirm noticeably in her seat. When the next drop fell onto the top of her breast the brown-haired sub leaned forward and grazed her tongue over her nipple before catching the drip.  The blonde sub squirmed again and moaned aloud, the dildo deep in her cunt, her clit swollen from constant bumping and squirming on the seat.  “I told you not to speak sub.  Are you such a slut that you can’t eat a meal at the table without moaning?”  the older Dom spoke sharply but quietly.  “Over the table now.” The blonde sub eased herself off the dildo, ging again as it left her cunt.  She walked, wrists still bound, to the empty edge of the table, opposite the other sub, and leaned her body over it, feet shoulder width apart.  Her Dom could see her slightly gaping, wet cunt.  Without warning he stuck two fingers into it and everyone at the table heard how wet it was.  Removing his fingers, he rubbed her juices over her swollen clit and gave a quiet chuckle at the low moans his sub made.  “I think she needs more tonight,” he said to the younger Dom.  From out of his pocket he took a metal butt plug with a flared base.  The blonde sub could see that it was her medium sized one; the one she had been wearing recently for periods of time outside the house.  Her Dom applied a little lube and then she felt it pushing gently but insistently against her arsehole.  As she felt her arse open and suck the metal bulb in, her Dom grabbed her hair, turned her face towards the other Dom and delivered six sharp smacks to her arse.  She felt the heavy metal plug jolt inside her and she closed her eyes and moaned with arousal and embarrassment.  After the sixth smack he pulled her upright by her hair and delivered another six slaps to her breasts, three on each.  She felt them bounce and her hard nipples screamed in pain, making her g and cry out.  “Sit back down and finish your meal,” her Dom said. On wobbly legs, she returned to her seat.  As she lowered herself back onto the dildo she felt an exquisite fullness as the dildo rubbed past the plug in her arse.  The brown-haired sub had been eating but, at a motion from her Dom, she began to lick and suck the blonde-haired sub’s sore, engorged nipples.  The sensation was arousing and soothing but, desperate to make no sound, the blonde-haired sub closed her eyes and tilted her head back.  Focused on allowing the soothing attention.  She didn’t notice that she was already rocking her clit against the wooden chair seat again, but the two men did… Mar 28, 2020

Seems there are increasing numbers of Dominants who use hypnotherapy here and even online. At a guess there must be a need for lengthy sessions and properly trained personnel to induce hypnotic suggestion surely?   Maybe i don’t get this method of control or my lack of understanding is the issue but ultimately feel there should be a need to be some kind of formal training to employ such a potentially powerful method of control of a submissive. 

Its been a loing time, but the writing bug bit again since Christmas. I have a novella pretty close to completetion. Looking for volenteers to help edit it. Here is the synopsis an AI created for it: In a shattered world ruled by ruthless megacorporations, eighteen-year-old Sophia clings to the last independent farm outside the megacity. Each night she dreams of the same man — tall, blue-eyed, commanding — who pins her against walls and claims her body with effortless authority.  When the farm faces ruin, her desperate parents send her to the black skyscraper that purchases beautiful, impoverished girls. Few ever return.  Under a merciless spotlight, Sophia meets the man from her dreams. He sees in her a rare, natural submissive ready to be broken and remade.  Stripped, examined, collared, and renamed Initiate 37XY8C, Sophia begins her transformation from frightened farm girl to obedient pleasure slave in a hidden world of absolute power and perfect surrender. A dark, intensely erotic dystopian tale of total submission.    

I am not on your schedule! You would be lucky to be on mine, period! If you send me a message, I will reply on my own time and accord. If you are so impatient that you will delete the msgs sent to me, please keep that same energy!  If there are so many options out there, that you squander an opportunity with me then know.... I don't give second chances!    I easily get anywhere from 20-30 msgs daily, which makes it easy for me to get inundated or have lost msgs. So be patient, and possibly send a reminder to bump your msg or you can find me in chat and ask to speak with me there.      

The Binder: On Wanting Things Unapologetically I have been thinking about want lately. The specific texture of it, the way it sits differently when you stop apologizing for the size of it and simply let it exist at full scale. I was raised, as most women are, to want carefully. To want reasonably. To frame ambition as gratitude and desire as practicality and to generally keep the whole operation small enough that no one feels threatened by the outline of it. I am done with that. The Binder exists because I am a woman who plans, and planning requires honesty about the destination. So here it is, plainly, without qualification: I want my dream home. Not a reasonable approximation of it, not a compromise that checks most of the boxes. The actual one, with the particular light in the particular rooms and the space that finally matches the interior life I have been carrying around in a series of spaces too small to hold it properly. A home that looks like me. That is the entire requirement and it is not a small one and I refuse to shrink it. I want work that deserves me. I have spent enough time being competent inside structures that were not built for someone like me, doing it gracefully, doing it well, doing it without making anyone uncomfortable with how much more I was capable of. The next chapter looks different. I am finishing my degree with the same intention I bring to everything: completely, on my own terms, and as the foundation for whatever comes next rather than a box I am checking for someone else's benefit. I want Japan and I want Zanzibar and I want the specific feeling of being a woman who moves through the world with enough ease and enough resources that distance stops being a reason and becomes simply a coordinate. I want to stand somewhere I have never stood and feel the particular expansion that travel produces in a person who pays attention. I want more of that, regularly, starting now and not eventually. And I want to be married again. To someone who understands, in their bones and not just in theory, what it means to belong to a woman like me. Not a partner who tolerates my nature or finds it interesting from a safe distance. Someone who meets me in public as my equal, carries himself with the kind of presence that makes other people straighten up slightly, and comes home and kneels. Who wears my marks the way some men wear medals: privately, permanently, with the specific pride of someone who earned something real. Who worships not as performance but as orientation, the way a compass points north not because it is trying to but because that is simply what it does. I want all of it at once. I want it unapologetically and in full. I want the dream home and the passport stamps and the letters after my name and the man who undoes me at the end of a long day by completely undoing himself first. The Binder is where I keep the map. This is me, reminding myself that the destination is real, that wanting it loudly is not arrogance but clarity, and that a woman who knows precisely what she is building is already most of the way there.   The rest is just time.

I just bought some new tangerine colored panties and thought about going to the ABS, so I went home to change into some pretty underthings. i then went to my go-to ABS wearing a shear white button down cover-up, a white bandeau bra and my new tangerine colored panties under my pants. i bought my tokens, and as i walked to the back room, i unbuttoned my cover-up leaving my bra exposed. I sat down in the booth and it wasn’t long before I was sucking on a nice cock. After I finished off the second cock, a guy came into my booth waving me outside of my booth and into another booth. i walked in - a guy was stroking his Big Black Cock. It was the biggest cock i have ever saw, i mean it was massive! He pointed to my crotch and I lowered my jeans showing him my panties. He pointed again, and i lowered my panties showing him my little clitty. He stood up and pulled my clitty next to his cock. It was extremely humiliating to see my little white clitty next to his massive black cock. He put his arm on my shoulder directing me down to a stooping position, right in front of his cock. At first, it was all i could do just to get the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly i was able to get further down his shaft. After a while, he start to moan and thrusting his cock forward into my mouth. Shortly after that, he started to cum. After he filled my mouth with cum, he pulled out and his cum was still dripping out of his cock. He pulled up his pants and left.                

Based on a previous relationship some time ago: Saturday Night Sunday Morning   It’s raining outside and I curse it for keeping me awake, a lie to myself as I know I never really sleep when you are out. I reach to turn on the light beside the bed and am reminded of the lock you have on me as it rubs my upper thigh. The clock tells me it’s coming upto 2:30 in the morning.   I roll onto my back wondering if you are asleep in the bed you have chosen for the evening, asleep in the arms of another. Or perhaps not asleep, in which case you will be ……….. occupied.   I try to put those thoughts out of my mind, and fail.   Thoughts of you crowd my mind whenever you are from me, thoughts of the curve of your thigh, the look in your in your eye, the taste of you, the way your waist tapers just above your hips, god that makes you so fuckable.   It’s coming up to three in the morning now and I have convinced myself that you are asleep after your exertions.   Your exertions…….. I can’t stop thinking of what you could be doing with whoever he is, in my mind’s eye I see you on all fours with your back arched receiving him your face wracked with the pure pleasure of it, I have seen that look when you are approaching the peak of your orgasm. It’s an addictive sight and a special reward for the man who gives it to you.   I decide to get up and get myself something, descending to the kitchen in a bath robe. With each step I take on the stairs I feel the weight of your restraining lock on me. It’s been ten days now and I have never felt so ripe, kept swollen and aching for you right down to the root of me.   In the kitchen I can see the dark rain running down the window panes as I make myself a cup of tea, coffee would be such a bad move right now.   I sit on a kitchen stool looking at a picture of you laughing and smiling with friends, the image captured is a night out and you are looking so elegant, so beautiful so enticing.   As I sip my tea I find myself gazing at your smile, you have such beautiful lips. My eyes follow their curve to the corners of your mouth. I feel myself absorbed in your every detail.   I love kissing you, feeling you on my lips, your wet tongue penetrating my mouth. One of those intimacy fixes that I crave so desperately. I can’t keep at bay the thought of how those lips have been occupied this evening.   I finish my tea and wash out the cup placing it on the drainer.   The rain seems to be subsiding, with daylight but a short time away I turn out the light and return to bed.   It’s nearly four in the morning and I find myself curled up around a pillow, every now and then rocking my hips into it, but it just makes me ache more.   As I close my eyes I feel so desperate for you to return to me.   The first few hours of dawn have past before the sun has risen to the point where it shines through the window and wakes me. It’s bright and shiny and fresh, the only signs of the nights rain is the dark wet dampness of the soil.   I look at the clock it’s nearly nine thirty, so I rise with a degree of haste to wash, shave and brush my teeth. Before donning my bathrobe again and descending once more into the kitchen.   As I am buttering my toast I hear you come through the door and my heart skips a beat. It’s that cusp of turmoil with thoughts of how you have spent your evening competing with the joy of your return to me.   I hear your heels clicking towards the kitchen as I turn towards the door, seeing you framed in the doorway, hair loosely brushed, braless under your blouse, a flush of red to your cheeks and a coy smile adorning your lips.   You walk upto me placing a hand behind my neck a fingertip or two running back and forth over that spot that you know makes my knees buckle. You hold my gaze for what feels like an eternity looking into my soul through my eyes. I can’t help but lower my gaze and look at your lips before you kiss me.   Its deep, passionate, consuming and ……….. musky.   Your other hand slips into my bathrobe as your fingers fondle the lock you have placed on me. I can’t help but give out a small gasp. As you break away from me.   “Make me a cuppa darling will you” you say as you turn to walk into the living room. I watch you from behind as you walk back through the doorway once again framed, your perfect silhouette accentuated in heels, hold up stockings and a short skirt.   Minutes later I follow you into the living room with a tray laden with cups and pots and hot toast, you are sat on the sofa with your phone texting someone.   As I place the tray on the coffee table you lower your phone, reach forward and take me by the arm. You are smiling and bring me towards you pulling down my arm indicating that you want me to take my position kneeling before you. My body slips into compliance as I kneel looking up at you.   You start to stroke my face and I feel my head tilting to feel your full caress.   “Mmm nice shave” you say as you grip my chin with your fingers tilting my head up as you lean forward and kiss me once again a slow roving kiss with your tongue exploring my mouth as your hand slips behind my head. Your lips slip away from mine “mmm you taste minty fresh” you say.   I am just gazing up at you lost in your eyes.   You lean forward and whisper into my ear “he dropped me off at the door darling, he found our place very easily” before returning to kiss me with passion and purpose. You disengage and then whisper in my other ear.   “I sucked him off in the car before he left”.   The deep pang that it creates in me is merged with my overwhelming desire for you and I feel lost, not knowing which way to turn.

2023-02-21 - Guy read a story and wants a replay USING HIM Read more stories at www.SirKel.top    I had been chatting with a new guy on FetLife. We're going to call him Pennsylvania Redstripe. He read one of my stories at my website www.SirKel.top titled "Forced to be my fagot" and said he wanted the same experience.   He had Dominatrix experience but I don't think he had ever had a Male Dom control him. I'm pretty certain he had sucked cock before but only while being used as a cuckold. After chatting online and then texting for a week or two we finally set up a meeting.   Driving all the way to Kent, Ohio from Pennsylvania was slightly over a 1 hour trip for him. But he arrived just a few minutes early, I was impressed he scheduled it so perfectly with his long drive.   As he had read in many of my other stories, when he first came in he stood there and waited for my first command. Which of course was, "strip."   He quickly stripped and put all of his clothing on the chair where he was directed to place them. Then he just stood there for a moment as I looked him over.   I walked to him and put velcro restraints on his wrists. These are very nice velcro restraints that are normally used for ankles when connected to some form of bungee cord for exercise. They have D shaped rings on them. I had a cl and was going to cl his wrists behind his back, but I could clearly see he was extremely nervous. So I decided to wait.   He had warned me of bad knees, so I had a couple couch pillows on the floor in front of the couch. I told him to get on his knees, on the couch pillows, facing the couch.   He walked to the couch and dropped to his knees. I came up behind him and slipped a leather hood over his head. This was exactly like the story that he had read and wanted to be part of. I lined up the eye holes and the mouth hole and began tightening the leather Hood from behind. It's laced up the back.   Obviously I started with the laces at the top, pulling and tugging, tightening them as I worked my way down to the base of the back of his neck. I continued to tighten, checking most importantly that the mouth hole was properly centered. Once it was completely tightened I wound up the extra cord and tucked it under the neck of the leather mask.   I slipped a blindfold over the mask covering his eyes. I slid around in front of him and sat back on the couch. This was very similar to the story he read, and I'm sure his mind was racing, not knowing exactly what was going on in front of him but hearing my motion and movement directly in front of him now.   With both hands I grabbed the sides of the leather mask and started pulling him forward and down toward my cock. I wasn't completely hard, but I was hard enough for him to get the first taste of my cock as I shoved his mouth down.   He was startled at first, I think I reached in with my fingers and pried his mouth open a bit wider and then shoved him further down on my cock. There are no ear holes in the leather Hood, so quite loudly I barked out the command, "suck my cock fagot, that's what you're here for, get to it."   He started sucking on my cock and it began to grow quickly. Soon his mouth was filled with my cock. He started to cough and sputter a bit, so I gave him just a second to catch his breath, then grab the top of his head and forced him all the way down to my balls.   Eventually we got into a nice rhythm. He was still slightly reluctant, but his body language was telling me he was starting to relax. His body wasn't quite as stiff as it was, he was getting used to being a cocksucker. My cocksucking fag.   I continued to berate him verbally, forcing him deep onto my cock, occasionally giving him a chance to catch his breath. At one point I pulled my cock out and pushed him onto my balls, without being told he knew to lick and clean my balls and taint.   I had planned to eventually put him flat on the floor face up and sit on his face making him eat my ass. From our conversations he was looking forward to it. But as luck would have it I either had a nasty pimple or the beginning of a boil, and definitely did not want to subject anyone, even him, to that.   He was actually getting to be a pretty good cocksucker. I had to pull him off my cock a couple times. Watching his leather clad head bounce up and down on my cock was extremely hot to watch.   I definitely didn't want to shoot my load yet so I told him we were going to head upstairs. I think by this time the eye mask had slipped off so I didn't bother putting it back so he could follow me up the steps to the bedroom.   When we got upstairs I directed him to The far side,

Read a profile tonight.  The dumbnant said that he is looking for someone he can tell "what a piece of shit she is even in front of others even her family".What ever happened to "don't scare the nillas"?Vanilla people didn't consent to be a part of your dynamic. Even other kinksters didn't consent.Who are you to do what we do in front of non-consenting people, especially if it can have consequences for your partner outside of bdsm circles?That just screams to me of someone who is an abuser, not a dom.Prove me wrong. For some reason, won't let me spell d-u-m-b-i-n-a-n-t right ..

The treat She popped on a playlist and smiled the whole time she got herself ready for this dinner date.  It was a real treat to be taken out to their favourite foody pub and she was tingling in anticipation of being out and about in public with him. She left her hair to dry naturally in soft waves and applied minimal makeup as she decided on a rberry plunge bra and matching stretchy lace panties.  She eased them on, over the suspender belt already in place, and then slipped the thin jersey dress over her head.  She looked in the mirror.  “Perfect,” she thought to herself.  The ditsy floral dress clung to her breasts and waist and the v-neck was deep enough to display a good amount of cleavage, before flaring out loosely over her ample hips and arse to stop just above her knee.  She pulled on her leather knee-high boots, grabbed her jacket and bag and skipped downstairs to wait for the door. He arrived not long after and she let him in.  “I have a surprise for you,” he said with a grin, holding his closed fist out.  She smiled broadly and put out her hand.  When he opened his fist something warm and heavy dropped into her palm.  “Go and put it in,” he ordered quietly.  She looked at the in her hand.  It was a shiny metal sphere, about the size of a large marble.  She let it roll around her palm and felt some kind of weight shift inside the smooth sphere. A little later, as she climbed into his car, she felt the weight shift inside her cunt and the anticipation of the evening ahead flared in her belly.  Before starting the car she felt him look her over and she became very aware that her breath quickened under his gaze.  He didn’t say anything, but placed his hand on her right knee and let it slide upwards, pushing the fabric of her dress ahead of it.  When her stocking-tops were exposed he briefly traced his finger over the soft flesh of her inner thigh, forcing her to part her knees.  “Hungry?” he asked.  “Very,” she replied, a little breathlessly.  Satisfied, he started the car and they set off. The pub was located in a small village a short drive from her home.  One or two locals were sat at the bar, but the restaurant area was dimly lit and virtually empty.  He walked her over to the corner end of the bench that ran along one wall - the end nearest to the small fire – and motioned for her to sit at right angles to him at the square table.  He had a good view of the room and the archway to the bar, whilst she was mostly hidden by the wooden dividing panels which were spaced along the length of the bench's back. She settled onto the cushion covering the wooden bench, removed her jacket and flexed her shoulders against the back rest.  A waitress brought two menus over and took their drinks order from him.  He picked up one of the menus but didn’t pass it to her.  Without thinking she reached out her hand for the other menu, still resting on the edge of the table.  She ged sharply in surprise when his hand flashed across the table and firmly grabbed her wrist, her fingertips still hovering above the menu.  “No choosing for you tonight,” he said.  The waitress had stopped uncertainly a few steps away from the table, holding a tray with their drinks on it.  She seemed unsure about whether to approach or whether she would be intruding.  They both turned to smile at her and he released her wrist, letting her return her hands to her lap.  They both thanked the waitress as she placed the drinks on the table and then she left quickly, without asking if they were ready to order.  Again, he studied the menu, occasionally flicking his eyes over to look at her as if matching the food to how she looked.  She felt her cheeks warm under his gaze and realised she needed to squirm in her seat to release some of the heat she felt in her belly and cunt.  The shifting marble inside her gave her no respite from the arousal that was building; instead she felt her nipples stiffen inside her bra and she had to open her mouth to return her breathing to normal.  He smiled behind the menu before closing it and placing it back on the edge of the table, waiting for the waitress to notice that they were ready to order. It wasn’t long before the waitress was standing at their table again, small notepad in hand.  She looked directly at the woman and asked, “What would you like?”  The woman blushed and rocked forward on the bench.  Her mouth opened slightly, as if she was about to speak, but she turned her head to the man instead.  The waitress frowned slightly – confused rather than annoyed – and turned to the man as he began to speak.  “We’ll have the sticky barbeque ribs for two, followed by one seabass with new potatoes and green salad, and one ribeye with fries.  MR for the steak and oil and vinegar for the salad please.” Finally, they were left to talk with no likelihood of interruptions for a while at least.  Their conversation flowed easily.  They spoke about work, friends (mutual and individual) and their plans for the next few weeks.  As they spoke she grew more and more aware of his gaze.  She could almost feel it gliding down her neck, over her collarbone and plunging between her breasts.  Despite their everyday, normal conversation she felt the heat from his eyes as they slid over her breasts, down her belly and she imagined them settling over her clit.  His hands were cled, elbows resting on the table as he spoke to her.  He didn’t touch her throughout their convers ation, yet she still felt her arousal swelling inside her.  Her voice became lower and breathy as she talked to him. She found herself leaning forward and turning towards him as they talked; her neckline gaping for his gaze.  She hadn’t realised, but her knees had spread beneath the table.  An unconscious way of allowing herself to press her clit against the thin cushion as she leant forwards.  All of a sudden, his hand rested warmly just above her knee and patted.  She instantly sat up straight and, moments later, the waitress set a large plate of ribs and two finger bowls on the table. They ate the sticky ribs without much talking.  The silence and having to eat with her fingers seemed to shrink her world to a private bubble around their table.  She felt primal.  Sucking meat from the bone, sticky juices staining her lips, she was very aware of the fact that her nipples were now hard enough for her to feel them rubbing inside the bra she was wearing and her clit was screaming at her to be rubbed harder and more directly than on a soft seat cushion.  He looked carefully at her as they ate.  Watched her body perform it’s little rocking motions in the seat, watched her green eyes darken and her tongue lick sauce from her lips.  He let her eat two more ribs and then told her to sit back and have a drink.  He finished the remaining ribs while she sat there, almost panting, as she fought to control herself.  He judged that she had got a good handle on herself by the time he had finished eating so he dried her fingers for her, after she had used the finger bowl, sliding the soft napkin along each finger to the tip.  She looked at him as he dried her fingers, the gentle tug of the napkin on each finger sending a shiver to her spine that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.  Her eyes pleaded with him, tried to convey to him how close she was to wantonly climbing onto his lap and grinding her cunt ont

In the tapestry of relationships, polyamory stands out as a distinct weave, one that has graced my life in unexpected ways. Today, I sit back to reflect on my experiences in MfM and fMf dynamics and the deeply transformative impact they have had on me.   Poly relationships, particularly those involving MfM or fMf dynamics, are not merely about the number of partners but the depth of connection, understanding, and mutual respect. I've always felt a special allure towards such relationships. It's an intricate dance of balance, emotion, and trust.   James, my late husband, played an instrumental role in my introduction to this world. He wasn't just my husband; he was a guiding force, teaching me the beauty of unconditional love, free from societal shackles. The way he introduced me to the world of BDSM, and by extension, poly dynamics, was subtle, considerate, and built on a foundation of trust. It wasn't about sharing for sharing's sake, but about expanding our horizons, about understanding that love isn't finite, and that sharing doesn't diminish but rather amplifies affection.   I remember our first experience. The trust between James and me was the anchor, holding us steady amidst the tumultuous waves of uncertainty. He would often whisper affirmations in my ear, reminding me of my worth, my beauty, and my agency. "You are in control," he would say, even when introducing me to a new partner. This wasn't about him, or even about the new partner; it was about *us*, as a unit, exploring, learning, and growing.   In an fMf dynamic, there was a certain softness, a delicate touch. The presence of another woman introduced a different layer of intimacy. It was in these moments that I found a sisterly bond, a deep understanding, which went beyond the realms of physicality. On the other hand, the MfM dynamic provided a sense of security, of being cherished, surrounded by an aura of protection from both sides.   But why do I like it? It's the feeling of expansiveness, the sensation that my heart isn't confined to a singular beat but reverberates with multiple rhythms. James ensured that I never felt ified. It wasn't about mere physicality but an exploration of emotions, boundaries, and profound connections. The journey made me more comfortable in my skin, understanding and accepting my desires, and seeing them not as taboo but as natural extensions of my persona.   James always reminded me of my worth. His unwavering support ensured I never felt "less than" or "used." Each experience was a shared one, a journey that we undertook together. There were moments of doubt, of course, moments where societal conditioning would seep in, whispering words of judgment. But with James by my side, those whispers were quickly silenced. His belief in the beauty and authenticity of our choices bolstered my confidence.   In the end, poly dynamics taught me the multifaceted nature of love. They made me realize that love isn't a zero-sum game. One can love multiple people, in varied ways, without diminishing the love for any single individual. It's about expansion, about realizing the boundless capacity of the human heart.   In these relationships, I've learned more about myself than I ever imagined. They taught me resilience, understanding, and most importantly, self-acceptance. Through the layers of shared experiences, laughter, tears, and deep conversations, I found a version of myself that's unapologetic, bold, and incredibly comfortable in her skin.  

COVID hit our community hard, and I have a few slave friends that lost their Masters.With no continuity plan in place, it is difficult for a slave. This, the House, helps address that. And it is a passion project for Myself. A way of giving back to a community that has altered My life for the better. On a personal egoic level, of course it is nice to be the Master of the House. But, it also is structured to survive My own passing and continue to care for its members. It is pan sexual in nature and can be grouped in different houses, gay, lesbian, trans, etc. as well as professional, career, orientation. There are a lot of moving parts to this. .... That said, the question is does one wish to be part of something bigger than itself. And to be owned and serve.you will be required to contribute to the home by being able to support yourself. It is a self sustaining operation.As a Master, My responsibility is to provide structure and an opportunity for the slave to serve and to be owned. Its primary service is to the Master, then its brothers and sisters, and then the House as a whole.That is what this Master offers all who come.

Just a thought My dear sublook at you. Lying there so patiently, a good boy eager to please. You know what's coming, don't you? You feel the anticipation, the delicious thrill of expectation. My cock awaits, and so does the sting. Yes, there may be a little discomfort, a little tightness at first. But you understand, don't you? This is necessary. This is how you earn my approval, how you make your Mistress C proud.I will be patient, for a while. I'll let your little hole adjust. I'll feel the warmth of your body as it yields, just slightly. It will be an exquisite dance, a slow burn of pleasure and pain intermingling. There may be tears, little whimpers of protest. But these are merely a testament to the depth of your surrender, the degree to which you are allowing your Mistress to claim you.Every inch will be taken. Every thrust will be felt.I will alternate, exploring each facet of your yielding flesh. This is for your own good, little one.I am both ruthless and gentle – a delicate balance that you are privileged to experience. You will learn to crave the sting, the pressure, the feeling of being completely at my mercy.And then... then the patience will end. The rhythm will quicken, the pace will become furious. I will pound your hole, hard and fast, until you are screaming through that pitiful gag of yours. You will beg for it to stop, but your pleas are just music to our ears.I will take your desperate cries and weave them into our own symphony of dominance.I will show you the true meaning of being owned. I will show you the power of a Mistress's touch. I will show you what it means to truly be mine.  

WELL FOLKS I HAVE GOTTEN MOVED AS OF LAST NIGHT MARCH 29. NOW HAVE TO GET SOME REST SO I CAN GET NEW HOUSE STRAIGHTEN OUT. I LOST ONE OF MY PUPS BECAUSE SHE WAS SO SCARED OF THE MOVE. SHE STAYED UNDER THE HOUSE. COULDN'T GET HER OUT. BUT I LEFT FOOD AND WATER FOR HER. SHE DIDN'T BARK LIKE SHE DID THE DAY BEFORE, YESTERDAY. THE NEIGHBORS WILL KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR HER. NOT MEETING ANYONE YET. BUT WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN. HAVE A GREAT DAY!            MISTRESS CATSTAR...

To paraphase an important message, turned on it's 'bottom' for us in the kinky world:    Ask not what your sub can do for you, but what can you do for your sub?  Most subs know what to give, how to give, how to submit, when to submit, and what's needed to give their submission to a worthy Dominant. But it's often the Dominant that doesn't realize it's a two-way street of giving, an exchange after all, and many Doms I have encountered here don't have much of an idea what they are offering to give to their subs, other than their time, their discipline, their specific knowledge. That's no small matter, but don't you give some parts of that to other important people in your life? Your charges at work? Your children? The question becomes, perhaps for BOTH of us, what unique values, attributes, feelings, expeiences, wisdom, are we exchanging, what are we giving to each other?  Let's talk about that. Let's see what we can offer and give to each other in order to grow and flourish, together.  That takes a deep conversation, a self and other knowledge. Let's go there! 

Hot Ash ( My Thoughts ) ...  Sir Hugo Atlanta   ... "Hot Ash" is the worship and adoration of CIGARS.Its not your typical submissive fetish.I started smoking cigars when I was 13 or14 and was living in Isle Verde, Puerto Rico.I was in Old San Juan walking the quaint cobblestone streets, when I passesd a small store, with two men in the very back, the walls stacked with wooden "trays" that held pre-formed cigars prior to getting the wrapper, and band.I watched for a good while admiring their craft of hand rolling cigars. I bought a dozen or so freshly rolled cigars and lite up in the shop. The cigar was mild and had the flavor of hickory nuts, earthy.I was a young dom when I met my first "human ash tray". This was in the early 80's.This submissive girl was obsessed with "ash". She loved if I flicked the white/gray cigar ash into her cupped hands, or if I flicked it into her mouth, or even if I flicked it at her.When I blew out smoke she would take in a deep breath. I would also take the tip of my cigar and singe pubic hair leaving a burnt smell in the air. Just the act of blowing smoke into her eyes and face aroused her.The cigar made a fun probe giving the cigar a TASTE of female sex in my mouth, and the smell of female Pheromones right to my nose!!!That's really about it for HotAsh I also love having a relaxing blow-job while sitting back puffing my Artuero Fuentes 8-5-8 Claro/Candella or smoking a Monticristo #5 while having my feet rubbed and my toes sucked, as I stroke my cock looking at my ashtray."Hot Ash"Sir Hugo (Atlanta, GA)

 ROFLMAO! Some moronic dumbinant just messaged me with pre-emptive butthurt and then immediately blocked me. It was against the site's TOS to paste others' messages into a profile or journal entry last time I edited my journal. It looks like that has been taken out again, but just in case, I'll summarise his idiot message instead, and share my reply that I typed, only to find myself blocked. He took the time out of his assuredly busy day to tell me that if I had read the site TOS, I would know why my links were rejected (a reference to my profile). My intended reply: "If you read the actual statement I made, you would know that the links themselves were not rejected, but that there is a limit to the number of links allowed in a profile. Any particular reason you are messaging a complete stranger just to attempt to throw shade?BTW, you used the wrong your. You're welcome."   I think he didn't like how my profile has limits and boundaries and stuff, which automatically preclude him from ever having a whisper of a chance. His profile consists of a couple lines demanding potential property be local or pay to relocate themselves, the typical, lazy, "feel free to ask any questions", in leiu of any actual bio, and has no interests selected, and his two journal posts consist of bitching and whining about submissives have standards.  One is about those who want to know what the prospective dominant brings to the table, advising all said subs that we don't belong in the lifestyle, and we should get out, and that any doms who tolerate such are "simps" The other laments subs whose profiles stipulate any limitations, such as excluding those with certain political or world views (the ones he specifically mentioned are usually to weed out bigoted assholes. Go figure). Charming fellow. I'm so sad that I missed out his domliness due to my totally unsubmissive insistence on not submitting to any old random loser on the internet.  

This is a topic which I have had more than a few conversations with other Masters and slaves. So I have decided to post what I believe here and what my house believes. I know this is going to rub some of the Masters/Doms or Masters/doms the wrong way. But we here at the House Of G believe in telling the truth, regardless of the cost to ourselves. Having said this let me launch right into the topic of my posting. "Collar of consideration or under consideration collars" 1.     The first thing that comes to mind is that the Master who has placed a slave under consideration is having trouble deciding whether he wants this slave to be wearing his collar and is unable to decided if the slave should be a member of their house. 2.     The next possibility is that the Master wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants the pleasure of controlling and using the slave, without making a commitment to the slave, thereby avoiding the responsibility of ownership. Both are fundamentally wrong. Either the slave is worthy or has the potential to be worthy of wearing the Masters collar or is not. If more time and communication is required, then the Master should do that. The undertaking of owning a slave requires that you know everything about that slave before placing your collar around their neck. If there is even the slightest of doubt or concern, then discuss your concerns with the slave. Collaring a slave is not something taken lightly. It is actually making a commitment that we and many others will agree is more serious than the wedding vows and in some cases more binding and lasting.   “The trust between Masters and Slaves is based on the same behavioral Rules that regulate social life within a herd: Those who have obtained a higher rank in the herd assume at the               same time the responsibility for the weaker members.” A Master should reveal to the slave what is expected of them if they wear the Masters collar and what their boundaries and duties will be. All of this should be discussed in great detail almost to ad nauseam. For many in this lifestyle it’s far easier to shed ones clothing and belongings than it is to open up and be revealing about your real desires. We call this being emotionally naked and it seems to be one of the hardest things that one of my slaves can learn. “I have accepted a collar.” 1. This is not dating in any vanilla sense. You may find a slave and initiate a conversation with them with the sole intention of putting the slave in your collar. Nothing is wrong with this. However, why would you, give the slave the initial upper hand in the relationship (before it even starts) with having the slave make the decision to either accept or reject your collar? By offering your collar to the slave and not waiting until the slave asks for it, has not the “Topping from the Bottom” already begun?   2. It is the Master who will structure, dictate, and control the parameters of the relationship not the slave. Hence it is the Master, not the slave, who will really do the bulk of the work in making the relationship successful or not. 3. The slave has a simple, yet complex duty ... please the desires and will of the Master. The slave does what it is told, how it is told, when it is told, without hesitation, remorse or embarrassment.  4. In reality, it is the slave who should offer themselves to the Master for enslavement and collaring. NOT the other way around. You're not seeking the slave to "take home to your mother." You're not seeking them to place an engagement ring on their finger. While that may happen at some point, it is not the primary goal. The goal is to help the slave become the best slave it can be and to guide them to that end.  5. You want that slave, kneeling, naked at your feet, ready and willing to serve you with every fiber of their being to satisfy and please your desires.  I have never offered a collar to a slave. I was blessed to have a lifestyle couple with many years of experience act as my mentors when I first entered this lifestyle, and along the way I have had the opportunity to work with and meet some great Masters, who have all pitched in and helped with my education and mindset. But the main thing I have learned is the differences between the structure of a vanilla relationship and the structure of the Master/slave relationship. The commitment of a slave is on a whole different level than that of a vanilla relationship. And because the slave made it of their own free will and with the knowledge that they were surrendering all of themselves to the Master.  This bond between Master and slave is unlike any other currently known. Think about it, the Master offers a collar to the slave. The slave accepts it. Then later if the relationship or some aspect doesn't go as the slave desires, you've already given them a way out. But if they have to offer themselves to the Master, what they are saying is that they are ready to give the Master their all and that means 100% of themselves.  So let me end this by saying that the slave’s submission is not a gift. There submission is who they are and what they are. And if it is a “gift”, then the slave has certain expectations already that again reverts back to vanilla dating, that their charms (subtly translated sexuality) is something to be held in high esteem and treated as such. Yes, you can love and care for them. But their sexuality is yours and for your pleasure first. If at any point they feel that their "gift" is not that treasured by the Master, you again have given them an easy exit or even much worse a means of "topping from the bottom."   

How many Dommes have found this to be true?   The Servant's Deceit I kneel before you, head bowed low,A perfect picture of compliance,But every "Yes, Mistress," every "No,"Serves only my own private science.   You think my submission is a gift,A treasure I place upon your throne,But in this carefully constructed rift,I'm serving only myself, and you aloneAre but the mirror to reflectThe pleasure that I truly seek,My true allegiance to respectIs nothing but a game, a trick.   You bind my wrists, you chain my soul,And think you've captured my desire,
 TulipGrace