Sissy Bimbo Journal Entry: Hello, darlings! 💕✨ This is your cute little bimbo sissy, just putting it out there: I’m ready and begging to be used in any and every way that pleases you! I’ve totally embraced my role as the ultimate sissy toy, and I am always eager to fulfill every hardcore fantasy you have in mind. My mind is nothing but pink, sparkles, and submission, and I’m craving the chance to be molded, trained, and pushed to my limits. 💖 Ultimate Bimbo Doll Training 💖 I’m fully ready to be turned into the perfect bimbo doll, trained to speak, move, and think in the way you desire. Take control of my wardrobe, my body, and my entire mindset—teach me to be the obedient, mindless bimbo you crave, with nothing in my head except the need to please. 💋 Public Play Object 💋 Imagine me out in public, dressed in the skimpiest outfits you choose, completely exposed to everyone’s gaze. I’m ready to be humiliated, shown off, and paraded around like the little sissy I am. I’ll follow any command you give me, no matter how embarrassing or degrading. 🔒 Chastity and Control 🔒 Lock me up and hold the key to my most private parts—I don’t deserve any pleasure unless it’s from you. You can decide when, where, and how (or if) I’m ever allowed to feel pleasure. Keep me teased and denied, desperate and begging, while you revel in the control you have over my helpless, needy body. 🔨 Degradation Play 🔨 I’m nothing but a sissy bimbo, ready to be verbally torn down and reduced to the lowest possible level of worth. Humiliate me, call me worthless, make me feel like the trashy toy I was meant to be, and I’ll love every second of it. I’ll wear any degrading outfit, repeat any humiliating phrase, and sink into complete mental submission under your control. 🩺 Medical and Sissy Transformation 🩺 Feel free to turn me into your personal project—use me for extreme body transformation fantasies. From forced feminization to body modifications, I’m here for it all. Shape me, mold me, make me the ultimate sissy that exists to fulfill your twisted fantasies. 🖤 Total Objectification 🖤 I exist to be used. You can treat me as an inanimate object—whether that means being your human furniture, your pet, or something more extreme. Use me however you want. I have no thoughts, no desires, no goals except to be a perfect plaything for those who crave power over me. So, if you’re looking for the ultimate sissy bimbo who lives to be used, abused, and degraded, I’m here, fully willing and desperate to be the toy you desire. Let’s explore your wildest, most hardcore fantasies together—I promise I’m ready for anything. 💄👠 Message me and let’s make your most extreme dreams come true. I’m here to serve, sissy bimbo style! 💕💋 Love and submission, Your Little Sissy

What a maid should bring to Dragao Verde For your first visit, or if you have nowhere to store anything at home, I can probably lend you anything you have not yet acquired on your first visit, though I cannot guarantee it would be a good fit, flattering, comfortable, etc.! From top to bottom; Unless your hair is long enough to be styled in a credibly feminine style, you will want a wig. A long-hair hairpiece can look great, but will be difficult to keep it in good condition if wearing it daily. So I would recommend something that can be more easily maintained. I can offer one as a loan, but it may not be of good quality, the colour that suits you, or in tip-top condition. If all else fails, I will have you wear a snood cap over your hair and/or wig. I have something suitable. If you have pierced ears, small studs or sleeper-type earrings are fine; big dangly hoops are not. Or you can wear clip-on sleepers. If you want your ears (or anywhere else) pierced, I can probably arrange it. If you normally wear spectacles, try to have a pair in a gender-neutral or a feminine style, or wear contact lenses. (Sometimes when you buy a pair of glasses, they will offer an extra pair free, and you could have those in a suitable style.) If you want to show a bust-line, but don't yet have breasts, then you will want silicone breast inserts. No bigger than C cup, ideally. Definitely no bigger than D cup. It is hard to make bigger sizes look realistic. With a bra, and spare, to hold them in place. A chastity device, that you know you can wear for the whole period without pain or problems. My current recommendation for a chastity device is the custom Cherry Keeper. It is made to measure using 3D printing. You can choose the ring-size, cage-style, diameter, length, colour, and even finish.  See recent photos of Jessica's device in my Fet Life photos and read the captions and comments. I recommend an open-cage design, in white, and the minimum size you can get your flaccid penis into, to eliminate any chance of erections or chafing in the best possible finish. An anal plug, again, that you know you can wear for the whole period without pain or problems. Get one and some lube and try it. If too big, get something smaller, if you think you could wear something larger, get a larger one, and so on. A suspender belt and several pairs of black stockings. These are optional, but most girls like to wear them for evening table service. If one or more of your dresses is a pastel colour, not black, bring some in tan or nude. Black court shoes, modest heel, no more than an inch and a half for day wear. A pair of Crocs, or imitations, in a neutral colour, i.e. grey, white, black would be a less expensive alternative, the back stairs are very hard on shoes! Perhaps a second pair for evenings with a ~3 inch heel, but these are optional.  Maid dresses, ideally 2 or 3 to allow for laundry. Plain pastel colour or black, in cotton or polycotton, white collar and cuffs optional. I can loan you one or two dresses in your size, but it is better to have your own. The ideal would be at least two in grey, blue or burgundy or black. But anything similar would be fine. We look for a shared style, but not total regimentation with identical uniforms. There is an informal code on hemlines, above the knee for slave-maids who give sexual service, below the knee for those who don't, bondmaids. So everyone knows where they stand, or kneels. My rule is that the apron should never go below the hemline, but usually be quite close. Several white aprons, full and waist aprons, plain and fancy, ideally 2 plain in each style to allow for laundry. Again, I can loan these, if needed. If you have a fetish French-maid outfits or costume, whether in conventional fabrics, latex, PVC or whatever, bring that too, as you may be able to wear it doing table service at our kinky dinner parties. Makeup kit. Some practice in private beforehand will help. Wash-bag, toothbrush, paste, flannel, etc. (There may be some shampoo and conditioner available for communal use, e.g. left behind by other visitors.) Perhaps a skimpy, shortie nightie. If you have nowhere discreet to leave a uniform, you may store it in a plastic box in our loft until you use it again, though if it is there unopened for more than a couple of years we'll message you and ask if you are coming back. If not, we'll put it into stock.

Year's ago I went to this intriguing open lecture from a historian who published a book about sexual novelty. He described meeting people with what seemed like an unusal fetish but could be linked back to a childhood encounter. I guess my early encounter links back to my childhood, seeing my mother neglected, disatisfied in her one relationship.  She is one of those Christian women, who has been with one man here whole life and put all her hopes and dreams into one man that shattered her expectations of a happy life and marriage. I guess I lived part of her experience, which is why I am extremely independent always pursing a life goal, always helping others. 90% of my life has been helping other people and I honestly can say if I was hit but a bus, my last thought would be I have helped thousands of people. Just self-reflecting I don't think my sexual fantasies are in the BDSM remit.  I think leather is overrated.  Owning a BDSM dungeon is just bad furniture and B&Q rope.  I just like the idea of three people, entering a space and saying fuck what other people think, what do you want to try and what do you enjoy and leave the rest behind. I am sure there will be some who will show judgement and these are always individuals ignoring the cavities of their own life filling up with shit.  Life really is too short and I would rather in my public life carry on as I am and in my private life explore who I am.

1/25/25 Are there Dommes of quality in New England or NYC?     As I have said in my profile, I'm nominally a dominant man, very much the take-charge sort of person, and have fully explored D/s as a MDom. I was hoping that there would be a few Dommes who could make my head spin, my heart race, and shift my libido into overdrive. Someone to make me want to throw caution to the wind and put myself in your hands, kneel and worship you.     Sadly, the landscape is pretty barren, barely out of school “dommes’ who want money, or others who wouldn’t catch my eye on the street. Engage my mind as well as my libido and I will worship and please you as only a well-rounded, complete man can.  

I'm not quite sure how this site works or where this post will show up, but I'm up late and wondering....another post got me thinking, and I'm off on a tangent. I guess I'm trying to make a shift from my vanilla life to this new and exciting life. The vanilla life is easy, I guess, kinda, I can have sex, yay, it's easy, I can lie and say I like it, I want to be with you, and have a relationship. But all the time my brain, and penis, knows better, I'm thinking how I can convert you to be my perfect kinky partner. I CAN'T. I KNOW! FU#K! So now what? I'm tired of lying, feeling guilty. Virginisinism sounds good for now I guess.

Let me clarify what I am seeking here instead of changing my profile.While all the crossdressers having the fantasy of being "kept" and on hormones and living as a woman 24/7 with nothing to do except be a sex toy seem to have plenty of masturbatory fodder, and some constantly write to me seeking this exact thing, let me make a few points as to what I am seeking personally. I am seeking a sincere PART TIME cd, closeted or not, that is willing to work hard as a male in the day and switch into femme mode at nights and on weekends. If you believe some sort of a collapse is NOT coming and think everything is going to be just hunky-dory in the future, then please move on from my profile and back to your fantasy world. I am looking for people that share my vision; to be living on a ranch and create a sustainable life. If we need to go off grid that is certainly an option that I am getting prepared for. But it is HARD work. I know, I know, nobody wants to do that anymore. If you are willing to put in the time, and the effort, the rewards will be great. As far as our mutual crossdressing fetish goes, we will indulge that every chance we get. I am the strict Domme Mommy type and very into tight and shiny fetish wear and bondage games. I seek someone that can find her place at my feet. I am hopeful there is one c/d out there that all this resonates with and wishes to relocate. If so, write. 

Push Limits!!! Why? Lack of experience and imagination or just to make make a submissive do things they stated as a limit. Fully understand pushing and developing a submissive towards the Dominants desires but those who start off by concentrating just on pushing & testing limits surely lack a true understanding of the lifestyle. As always i welcome the views and comments of O/others.

  slave rules slave must only use the 3rd person to refer to itself slave must confess that is is just an or garbage slave must always be honest slave may not have dignity or respect of any kind slave must show total respect for Master or any humans slave may not speak without permission slave make not look at its Master without permission or look at other humans slave is always wrong if its Master or another human tells it so slave may not use a human name slave must always accept punishment, abuse, or a beating if it pleases its Owner Master slave may only live if it pleases her Owner Master slave must never close its legs, they always must be apart its holes must be available to its Master any time or any place  it must use every part of its body to please Master  slave must always be nude when it pleases its Masters   slave must be chained or tie up any time it pleases Master  slave must dress any way its Master orders it to dress  slave may never talk back or say "NO" to her Master  slave must always speak in a low sweet voice  slave may never own anything   slave may never use big words or else it must be punished  slave Master has complete control of how it moves: walk, crawl, speak, breaths, kneel, etc  slave must worship its Master’s cock and all of his body  slaves Master pleasure matters, its pleaser means nothing  slave must never edge its self without permission or take any sexual pleasure without permission slave dignity or feelings are worthless slave must not sit or use human furniture unless it is given permission  slave must ask to enter or leave a room slave must ask to poo or pee  slave must whip, cane, or abuse its body when ordered to  slave must drink piss, cum, spit when it is ordered to  slave may not remove spit, cum, or piss from its body unless it is ordered to  slave must not sleep unless order to  slave must use degrading names when it refers to its self, for example: piss pot, cunt, inferior human, cum bucket, ugly, pig, whore, sick o, tits, ass hole, cunt hole, slave, fuck toy,   slave may never speak to another human without permission slave must thank Master for using it, for allowing it to cum slave must clean off Master's great cock after he is done using it slave must perform any sexual act that it is ordered to do, no matter how degrading, painful or humiliating slave must write down every single thought is has for its Owner Master's review slave must sleep on the floor, or in its cage, cell when it is not serving its Master slave must eat on the floor and its food must be cold with little taste unless it is given permission to eat people's food. its hands must always be behind its back slave must now beg for anything it needs, food, water, etc, it must beg to be punished, abuse, beaten also     ***slave may be punished or abuse or beaten because it deserves it because it is inferior, stupid, weak, and worthless cunt   ***slave must repeat its rules over and over every day

I'm told that I should say what I offer as part of this, so here goes: I'm a skilled writer, proofreader, editor, and researcher, and can deliver information in a sensible, easy to absorb, fashion. I can perform basic admin tasks, including maintaining databases, answering emails/messages, and taking minutes. I'm intelligent, a good listener, with a good level of empathy, and am told I give a good massage. I can cook, clean, bake, and am (slowly) learning to make my own clothes. I do my share of emotional labour and have a good memory (for some things, at least). I can provide references. I hope at least some of that catches the eye and makes you (whoever you are) feel that I could be a really useful person for you.

Juxtaposition: A Simple Truth for Some, an Impossible Puzzle for Others This post is going to be stylized a bit differently from my others because I have to use my natural learning and life skills here. I’m naturally an auditory learner, which means I process the world through sound, music, voice notes, and talk-to-text. The world is mostly designed for people who process through reading and typing, but this is a much more nuanced conversation, so I’m using talk-to-text to work through it. I’ll be editing as I go because the point of this is for others to understand what I’m saying. If I were just journaling for myself, I’d keep it internal, but I feel like this is something important for the collective that needs to be shared. As this message has been brewing in my head, I’ve felt an internal pull stronger than usual. Everything I talk about is controversial to people outside of these conversations, but this one might even cause a split within the community—those who are involved in submission and dominance, particularly in a lifestyle or spiritual sense. There are a few ways this could go, and I’m aware of that. There aren’t many women who are naturally wired for this kind of dynamic. You’ll see some who know, without needing to look it up, that they’re born with a mindset geared towards service, nurturing, honor, and worship—not as a duty, but because they see the divinity in others. They have a deep sense of care, even when hurt or upset, and they hold on to that unless a line is crossed. When that happens, sure, all bets are off. But in the natural ebb and flow of relationships, they hold a deeper understanding of the bigger picture. Some of us are just born with a slavery mindset in relationships. I know that sounds intense, but it’s true. Of course, how that looks varies between individuals, but it’s a fundamental orientation. For some, like me, this manifests as a 'little girl' mentality within a servitude dynamic. And even that is rare. Most people associate service with traditional roles like being a housewife, but it’s more than that. It’s about attention, effort, care, patience, receptivity—seeing the other person’s needs and deferring your own preferences because you understand the give and take, the bigger picture. The thing is, people often don’t recognize that level of care as service. They take it for granted, especially in vanilla relationships. But for people like me, the ones who orient this way, it’s second nature. And when we have conversations like this, it feels like we’re saying the same thing over and over because, honestly, we are. People write books on this, give workshops, travel the world to talk about it. None of this is new or unique to me. But what I do know is that we, the ones who truly live this dynamic, are in the minority. Even in the lifestyle community, where you’d expect people to understand this more deeply, there’s still a divide. Some just play or role-play, and they don’t get it. And then there are dominants or submissives who think they want this level of intensity, but when they experience it, it’s too much. They didn’t realize how much work it actually requires. They didn’t know that being with someone who is always in that mindset—who is a slave at their core—would challenge them in ways they weren’t prepared for. And that’s the juxtaposition I’m talking about. People think they want this dynamic, but once they experience it, they realize it’s not what they expected. It either deepens them or makes them realize they’re not capable of holding what they thought they wanted. The smaller conversation I want to have revolves around the part of surrender that comes with letting go of certain expectations, such as: "He doesn't respect me because this is what I'm used to," or "If he's not willing to meet me halfway, then he isn't serious about this," or even, "I need him to communicate a certain way, or else it's just not right." This kind of thinking stems from a need to hold onto something—be it a method of communication, an idea of respect, or even just a preference for how things should flow. But true surrender, especially in the context of power exchange, involves letting go of programming and societal constraints. It's about asking yourself, "Is this truly a need, or is this a want disguised as a need?" For those who are naturally oriented towards deeper levels of service and submission, there’s a realization that much of what we think we need in relationships is not a necessity. Instead, it's a projection of previous experiences, of societal conditioning. What I've found, especially in lifestyle relationships, is that many people claim to live 24/7 dynamics or say they are 'lifestyle' D/s, but there’s a vast difference between identifying with that and actually doing the internal work required to embody it fully. This work doesn't come from hopping from one relationship to another or from constantly seeking physical experiences. Instead, it starts internally. It’s an emotional, mental, and spiritual journey before it becomes a physical reality. I've seen this disconnect repeatedly in the community—people who are drawn to play parties or physical acts but haven't done the internal work to match the energy they’re trying to manifest. Yes, play parties, toys, tools, and skills are exciting, but for those who live the lifestyle, the real work begins deep within. For those of us who are spiritual, it starts even before that, on a soul level, and then trickles down into emotional, mental, and finally physical realms. What many in the lifestyle don’t realize is that physicality—sexuality, play, and even basic physical touch—is something that can be improved and refined. There are sex educators, workshops, and so many tools to practice and elevate physical aspaspects. But you can't fix a fractured mindset, a shaky spiritual foundation, or a disconnected emotional core by just improving the physical. If you're starting out rocky in those deeper levels, you'll never

As required by my Dom, I publicly declare the following: I am subMeghan, and as I type this this, I am completely nude, except for my dog collar and glasses… Today’s Journal Topic Is: Why The Fuck Haven’t I Posted Any More Journal Updates! I actually get this question a lot.  Unfortunately, that’s part of the problem.  Apparently, you guys are actually reading my journals!  And why, pray tell, is that a bad thing? Well, I’m going to tell you… When I first started journaling here, I wrote as if I was speaking into the void.  I wasn’t writing for an audience, rather I was writing merely for the sake of publicly letting my inner thoughts leave my body and go forth into the vast e-universe.  I thought I was just a “voice in the wilderness” to be lost in the chasm of anonymity. It was a stream of consciousness, a flow of thoughts. It was kinda like talking outloud to yourself, not thinking anyone was listening. However… that was not the case...  You were listening.  And now you all had access to the part of my psyche that I kept hidden away, kept in the shadows, away from “polite” society.  And worse yet…  You had questions! I had mistakenly thought that CS was just another fetish website that was here today, and then be gone tomorrow like so many other sites.  Boy, was I wrong.  LOL I stopped writing because I became very self-conscious.  VERY self-conscious.  I quickly ran away from the spotlight as soon as I felt it’s light upon my exposed soul.  Who the hell am I to have the audacity to think I have anything of substance to say to a listening world? I have never liked being the center of attention.  I am a wallflower, the kind of gal that always stands at the edges of a crowd.  I am quiet, reserved, and passive.  I am a watcher, an observer - not a performer.  And certainly not, heaven forbid, an extrovert! Over time, I’ve been able to reflect.  I’ve decided to start posting again.  I suspect the tone of my journal entries will change, much like Schrodinger's cat, now that I am aware that I’m being watched.  We’ll see.  I will let this journal entry be the start of a new chapter in subMeghan’s ongoing adventure. Here’s to the journey! subMeghan    

Having spoken to you for a few weeks now, we understand each other. Our face to face meeting is at hand. I know what motivates your need to serve and please your man. In the vanilla world, you have confidence - or at least a veneer of confidence you maintain - but internally you feel yourself unsure, uncertain and that sometimes you just want to run away. I pick you up, dust you down with warm encouraging words, embracing you as you feel the strength of me and know I give you care and comfort. I know you. I know your thoughts, I know your experiences and I know what you need from me. I know your hard limits and the agreed safe signals.  We share a strong connection already. We have an emotional bond and an excitement between us as we plan to become a unity, planning our homelife and talking about our values of partnership and family together. I value your intelligence, your feminine elegance and your utter submission to me, only me. Your devotion, loyalty and eagerness to please whilst still maintaining your vanilla pride and confidence - I respect that and appreciate those qualities. You enjoy the guidance I give you, my mentoring, the boundaries that I give you and my affection.  Soon, you will arrive. We have discussed this many times. We know what to expect of each other, and yet, there is still that excitement. I hear footsteps approach my front door ... 

  Not my words but found this interesting;   Five Stages Of Degradation   Stage 1: DenialThe subject has not yet acknowledged the reality in which it exists. It may see Your intentions but believe You are not willing to go through with them, or it may imagine You are playing a game with it. Moving quickly beyond this stage is typically not difficult, but while doing so, keep Your longterm goals in mind.   Stage 2: AngerThe subject begins to realize what Your intentions are. it frequently reacts with outrage, threats, or aimless animosity. The louder these are, the greater the subject’s potential for eventual harnessing and use, since loudness is directly proportional to fear.   Stage 3: BargainingThe subject has exhausted its capacity for anger. It is now prepared to accept some degree of Your authority. Exercise care in this stage, as overt force may induce it to regress to the previous stage. On the other hand, any slackening in Your authority will produce an unsatisfactory result. Make use of its weaknesses, physical or mental, in order to unbalance and debilitate it further.   Stage 4: DespairHaving failed to retain any scrap of its persona at the bargaining table, and seeing no way out, the subject falls into despair. Take this moment to step back calmly. Allow it to understand what it has become.   Stage 5: AcceptanceIn order for the subject to move out of despair into a productive state, You must draw its attention to a goal outside itself that it can achieve. Any task will do that will occupy its deflated faculties and give it a feeling of success. Some subjects may take a perverse pleasure in the state of degradation itself, but don’t count on this. Examples of good tasks include retrieving an , obeying simple commands, or expressing gratitude to You.   Not all subjects will present all stages in the typical order. A subject accustomed to degradation will likely already find itself at stage 5, while a raw subject may need multiple revisits of stages 1 through 4 before it has been adequately broken down. 

Therapy was downright brutal tonight. Reliving and explaining childhood medical trauma I wouldn't wish on anyone. That shit is hard. So many unwanted tears. Present day, I mean. Back then it was screaming and crying because that was the only power I had when I was on a cold metal table in a dark room by myself and had to keep perfectly still. I screamed when I was allowed to move between tests. Spending time in that memory makes me feel powerless and angry and really fucking emotional. After the session was over my therapist told to me to snuggle my dog, which I am always happy to do. And then I dropped in on my latest obsession. I discovered these coloring videos, but they use markers and create very detailed pictures beyond what is on the page. I mean, it's still coloring, but it's intricate. I like it. I want to do it. Yes, you're right. I already ordered the markers. And um, a book or two. Small happiness. Especially after living in that memory. Childhood me survived, and mostly grown up me is in charge. Less trauma. More coloring. 

I really dislike trying people on. The awkward small talk and insincere laughing, picking through the rolodex to create temporary common ground. Sorting feelings. I don't like dating, don't like more people touching me. I am a one person person. The right person. Maybe a number of people fit that, I'm not of the soulmate mindset. Rather, a click. A feeling. A knowing. Instinct? I tried waiting. Waiting brought sadness and pizza. A lot of time in neutral. Or maybe sleeper mode, good ol' ursa time. I'm ready to wake up. Still don't want to sift through the racks for the right fit, keep your hands to yourself. Maybe just window shop for a while. Or better yet, put myself in the window and see who wants to shop. The flower and the bee, friends. Know your role.  I was in such a serious mode right there, and as I reread for autocorrect typos my dog started snoring. Sweet girl, she brings lightness to my heart. He may come, he may not, but she is mine, and sometimes that's enough. 

After my first marriage to a cheater, I developed the confidence to start exploring bondage. I have a strong need for connection with a lover. Random hook-ups don't feel right to me. On the other hand, I love to flirt and have no problem meeting people anytime, anywhere. To balance this out, I experimented with chastity, both mental and physical. Around this time I made some good looking friends who got me comfortable with showing off my body for them. This was all very exciting but was not matching my desire for a relationship built on trust that includes times of intense sexual expression. I wanted to have a bondage partner that was as strong minded and aggressive as I was.With years of searching, it is dawning on me that my natural manner attracts compassionate and often sexually submissive women. My hidden desire is to be the submissive partner, however, I wanted to feel my submission during daily life rather than in the bedroom, without squashing my masculine personality. I'm searching for an unusual balance where I am appreciated for being a responsible man navigating every day life but with my happy partner having the power to flip my switch into a lusty and aggressive lover who will pin her down and take us both into sexual adventures in bondage and submission. I am now picturing a scenario in which my I commit to someone by surrendering the keys to my chastity belt. On days of her choosing, she provides me an opportunity for freedom knowing that I am quite frustrated with lust for her. This is my license to drop my normal demeanor and become a little meaner, taking what I need in the way that I want. When the time to revert to public persona returns, it is understood that she should claim the keys and remind me that I belong only to her. This is what I might term a submissive led switch, with the role-reversal determined by the woman not by playing domme but by choosing to let the dogs out! Yes, I want to have to freedom to using my ability to capture and dominate, but I don't want to have to suppress my desire to do so. If I hand you the keys, I want us to be comfortable knowing that when sex happens, it happens only because you want it to happen. You will know I am always ready when you are because you are my only release.

Who knew so many here were full of bull crap?  I honestly didnt believe a friend when he said that the amount of submissive men who actually show up from this country is laughable, never mind from another country. You guys are something else and unfortunately really sour the landscape here with your empty promises.  Good riddance I say, but what a waste of brain cells.  Regardless, the reigns are tightening up.  Funny thing, sincere men don't hesitate when called to action. Most of yall kid yourself into thinking your are submissive or slave (LOL) and that you worship women or worse yet, you convince yourself you are different from all the rest.  Stop lying to yourself and everyone else.  You are here to satisfy you and only you and are ruled by your cocks and expend every effort to satisfy YOU.  Help Me, again laughable. True submission is not about you.  If you believe your submission is a gift to be treasured, pass Me by.   Watch out ladies!  Get proof straight away and know that geniune and sincere men are not only a rarity, they have no issue verifying who and what they are straight away. They are supportive and uplifting, seeking out the ways in which to be of service and benefit to you.  

Structured Devotion: The True Depth of Littles in D/s     i'm reshaping some of my older soundgasm posts and transferring them to audiomack for more streamlined platform.. this was one sparked by a common misnomer about littles like myself by the old guard members of bdsm..or to be more accurate the loud old guard members who say that is their education, background, and experience in the scene and yet tend to be always judgemental of the evolved nuances of archetype descriptors of dominants, masters, submissives, and slaves out there. so if you want a slightly more(i'm still wordy and keep my whimsy and little-ness in the recording in there) streamlined version of an older concept of mine back in june, check it out. Littles often face misconceptions about being undisciplined or solely playful, but the truth runs deeper. This audio explores the structured, dedicated side of being a little in D/s dynamics. It challenges stereotypes, highlights the growth mindset, and redefines what it means to live a 24/7 lifestyle. From compounding discipline to addressing outdated narratives, this is a journey into the balance of submission and personal development. Let’s break the myths and explore the truth together!

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."

Live the Life You're Meant to Live You were not placed upon this groundTo stumble aimlessly around.A spark was lit, a flame was cast,A purpose born to hold you fast. The breath you take, the time you spend,Was gifted with a higher end.Not just to drift, to merely be,But shape the world, your legacy. Each talent, dream, and burning fireCalls out to lift your spirit higher.To squander it, to let it fade,Is to betray why you were made. For those who idle, waste their light,Who fear to step or fight the fight,Will watch the world, a fleeting stream,While drowning in a shadowed dream. But those who dare, who strive, who seek,To live their truth, though strong or weak,Will find the path that calls their nameAnd leave behind a glowing flame. So rise, and live the life you’re meant,A fleeting gift, so wisely spent.For failure’s not to fall or trip,But to forsake your sacred script. ~ Miss Dar      

  Hello long time no see.  For those of us who have lived the lifestyle and have lived this way of life for a long time we've endured trials and tribulations and it seems more than our share of failures as well as some success.  For those coming into the lifestyle,  some things are new, most things are not  BDSM is the natural order of life.  There will always be dominant, submissive, property, owner, slave, submissive, bottom, top, all these are just words used to describe that order. There's no going back, No utopia to the human condition Someone will always lead, someone will always follow, some will always use, some will always take, some always give, some always do nothing except sit there and not move forward for a lack of fear for lack of decisiveness for lack of just Not wanting to take that chance. Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, Masochism  are the tools of the lifestyle, the sex all that pretty much remains the same. The only difference is who's doing it,who's using it,who's living it. Humans are a short lived species better to have lived life then to wait until end to experience it at death's door.      

An evening, recalled by the lady, written by me.It was late afternoon and it had been a tough day at the Commission. His kiss when he met me at the station was warm and affectionate; we chatted on the way to the hotel and as we checked in. When we arrived in the room I dumped my stuff on the bed and went out onto the veranda to look out over the lake. A few minutes later I heard him say ‘come here please’. I turned to see him with an impassive look on his face and standing in the middle of the room pointing at the floor just in front of his feet. He took hold of me around my waist and as he kissed me deeply, his hands travelled from my waist down my hips and across my bottom. Then up my back to my neck and then he felt my hair. He murmured ‘give me your tongue’ and I slipped it between his teeth. He nipped it and held it between his upper teeth and tongue. It was uncomfortable but not painful, he had done it often before and I had grown to like it. His hands resumed their journey around my upper body. They were firm, confident and moved without any hesitation. I could not have ed even if I had wanted too and the welcome feeling of melting inside began. He then released my tongue, kissed my lips then he turned me around and bent me over so my elbows were on the bed. He lifted my skirt and folded it over my back. His hands then roved freely over my bottom and between my thighs. He felt my mons, traced the line of my slit and ran his fingertips between down the crease between my buttocks, pausing to press on my anus. He then held me firmly against his thigh and began to spank me- this had recently become a regular beginning to our time together. One spank per cheek, then two, then three, they landed on my upper thighs and the curve of my bottom. He stopped at six and spent a few minutes gently rubbing my bottom, occasionally slipping his hand between my thighs. At ten per cheek it was stinging a lot. By twelve I was having difficulty keeping still. It was the knowledge that if I moved he would start again that kept me in position. The spanking was not unexpected and it had the desired effect. I felt myself starting to melt inside even more as he rubbed my stinging bottom and thighs once again. He stopped and made me stand. Then looked me in the eye, and then said ‘I have a few issues to resolve with you’. My stomach took a lurch, I’d been here before, he had shown no sign of real annoyance with me recently but then he never really did. He took me by the chin, looked into my eyes and said ‘strip and kneel’. He then turned and went to the veranda. It only took a minute to remove all my clothes and jewellery. I knelt, apprehensive about his return, embarrassed it had been a warm day; I had been wearing tights and had not had the time to wash and prepare myself for him. My make up had gone and I knew I did not look my best. He returned and pushed me forward to my knees and elbows. Pulling back my hair he locked my leather collar around my neck. It felt strange after the long break since I last wore it. The wrist cuffs were fitted next before he clipped them behind my back pinioning my wrists. He pulled my collar by its short leash to make me kneel up and then buckled a gag around my neck and pushed the red ball behind my teeth before tightening   it. He turned me so my back was to the mirror and placed a low backed chair in front of me. He could now see both the back and front of me. Sitting on the chair he told me to part my thighs wide and to emphasise the point his foot nudged my knees wide apart. I hoped he wasn’t going to touch me between my thighs as he so loved too, I so regretted not taking a shower immediately we arrived in the room. From his pocket he took some butterfly style nipple clips. I hate them and he knows it, he threaded their chain into the ring at the front of my collar and after pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger to make them fully erect he clipped one to each nipple. The discomfort was almost unbearable, I instinctively closed my thighs, and he ed and gently tugged the chain, sending sharp jolts through me. I did as I was told and spread my thighs wide, pushing my mons forward as far as I could. The gag muffling my weak protests. He spoke slowly, jerking the chain on saying each word. ‘Three weeks ago you forgot your make up, two weeks ago your stockings, last week your high shoes. You have arrived in my company wearing tights for the last 4 weeks, hence the immediate spankings. You have not kissed or greeted me properly on meeting for the same length of time. You make up today is poor, your hair isn’t brushed and you have not left your pubic hair as I instructed. In short young lady you are marring your beauty. You are fully aware how beautiful I think you are and you are distracting from it by being sloppy and that disappoints me. I will not accept you detracting from the pleasure I take in having such a desirable woman as my lover. Do you understand?’ I nodded, my eyes starting to water from the discomfort in my nipples and the realisation of how I had disappointed him. There was also the knowledge that I had been here before and if it followed a similar pattern then this was the case against me. By nodding I admitted my guilt. So I was about to punished for being a sloppy and inattentive submissive who had disappointed her Dominant.  He helped me to my feet by lifting me by the collar on my ring; it also had the effect of tugging on my nipples. He reversed his chair and tugged the chain as he removed each nipple clip. It stung as the blood filled each nipple, my knees almost buckled each time, the gag muffling the g. He then connected my wrists cuffs in front of me, and bent me over the back of his chair so my weight rested on my elbows. ‘Part your legs’ he said, I complied and hoped he would decide to have me, not cane me. I was to be disappointed, though recently spanked I accepted I had earned this too. He fetched a cane from his bag as I waited anxiously. Holding the back of my collar he rested the cane against my bottom, drew it back and struck me. ‘One‘ he said. All I did was hear the sound then the harsh sting reached my brain! He was using the flat cane.  A piece of flexible wood two feet long, an inch wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It didn’t leave tram lines or scars; I knew its stinging would last for ages and leave a square red mark on each buttock, but it would not bruise very much. Not that it seemed important at that moment. Though I find the cane painful, the thonged whip he occasionally uses is worse. Its thick strands inflict weal’s and their tips can get into the most intimate parts of my body. I’ve also known him use it on my breasts and belly. Each cane stroke went slightly lower until the last 3 all struck where the tops of my thighs and my bottom met. My legs kicked out from the stinging, by now I had dribbled spittle around the gag, my eyes were streaming and my nose had started to run. He let go the back of my collar and returned the cane to his bag. Returning he pulled me upright by my collar and turned me to face him. I refused to look him in the eye; I must have looked a real mess. He took my chin again forcing me to look into his eyes. I felt so ashamed of my appearance. He had told me I was beautiful so very often and it made me feel so proud when he said it. Now I had let him down by being too complacent. He unclipped the wrist cuffs, reattaching then in front. He said ‘Do you understand what I have told you?’ I nodded. ‘Then get down on your belly on the floor and spread your legs, I haven’t finished with you yet.’ My mind raced, would it be the whip now, on my bottom? I knelt and lay on the floor, my bottom was really stinging and the carpet was rough against my sore nipples, my belly and mons. I spread my thighs wide, dipped my spine and waited. I heard the pop of a tube of lubricant being opened. It wasn’t the whip!! The lube felt cold against my anus as he applied just enough. He undressed, I could feel him looking at my prone body, the line of my sex and the rose of my anus. I was fully exposed because it was how he wanted me to be. He knelt between my thighs and pumped his cock to make the head larger. He spread my bottom cheeks with one hand and pressed his cock against my anus with the other. The tip entered me, it was so uncomfortable. I had forgotten how tight a caning made the cheeks of my bottom clench. He pushed into me, stretching me. I struggled and tried to object; he held me and reminded me of the presence of the whip. Once he was past the muscular ring I relaxed as the discomfort subsided somewhat; I felt the cool of his skin against my hot bottom. He reached and took hold of my hair and collar, pulling them back. At the first slow thrust he said ‘one’. The thrusts were slow and firm, they made my bottom sting though my anus soon adapted to the presence of his cock. He told me to squeeze my buttocks together as he withdrew his cock, and relax as he thrust in. I tried to do so; each time I failed he added two extra thrusts. He was punishing me and reminding me of his dominance by not taking pleasure from the stimulation my anus could give him. It was a reminder that sexual pleasure could not be an excuse for a lack of submission. It was a relief when he reached 100 and stopped counting and thrusting. I was glad he was no longer forcing my nipples against the rough carpet, and his tummy was no longer making my sore bottom sting more. But I immediately missed the closeness and intimacy of the man I so wanted yet had disappointed. He pulled me to my feet by my collar, removed the ball gag and lifted my chin. I must have looked a real mess as I worked my jaw to stop it aching, I certainly felt a mess and I promised him and myself not to let my appearance or behaviour slip again. He kissed me and said he loved me; I’m not sure if it made me feel any better- or if it was supposed to! He led me by the arm into the bathroom and told me to wash his cock and balls. I took a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous! Mascara running, the marks of the gag around my mouth, spittle around my chin and collar and my nose running! I looked away ashamed as he wet a towel to clean the lube from between my buttocks. He turned me around so my back was to the mirror and rubbed the wet towel firmly between my buttocks, it stung where it touched the red marks.  I heard him say, ‘You have 30 minutes until dinner. Be ready on time.’ I knew that I would make him the proudest man alive when he let me take his arm to dinner. 30 minutes wasn’t long. But I so wanted to see that look of desire in his eyes that I would ensure I was just as he wanted me to be. I knew just how good he would make me feel in return. He went to the veranda to watch the sun set. I set to work, though I did sneak a look at the red marks on my bottom. They made me feel strangely proud because they were his marks and I had submitted to him. He had put them there and there was nothing I could have done about it even if I wanted to. Now I didn’t know what he was going to do with me later, but after being disciplined he always had something special planned for me! 

My profile text as of 15 yerars ago. It was much too long.   I am a submissive TV with small bones for a male, a slim waist line and slender, fine features - very full brown hair down to shoulder length (as you can see) - very passable and used to living in female clothes - quite fit and great endurance, but below average brute-strength abilities for genetic male. I am generally submissive to those I admire, respect and/or fear, and eager to please them - have also been told repeatedly throughout life that I am abnormally humble and gentle for a genetic male. I'm quite adept at various stereotypically feminine pursuits such as cooking, sewing, house cleaning, laundry, ironing, clothes maintenance and gardening. I have some experience (though not abundant) serving life-style/non-pro Dommes and Dom/me couples, though not for longer than a week at a time. Acknowledging that the specific individuals are more important than the particular concept, I could see myself as open to and being happy in a number of possibilities, depending upon the details:   - a more mild monogamous long-term relationship with a dominant woman. It would probably be best, if You leaned toward the sensual domme end of the spectrum.- full-time enslavement to a Domme or lesbian dominant couple: Although I would hopefully provide You with the basic emotional and domestic support that You seek in a long-term TPE relationship, I recognize that You may have cravings for a manly man (or men!), and would try my best not to show the jealousy I would no doubt feel to some extent, should You decide to satisfy these cravings.   Regardless of the particular concept, it would be desirable, if You were enthusiastic about strict feminization and enforced chastity of the trans submissive.A situation involving old-school domesticity and self-sufficiency will be a distinct plus, and, in this case, I will be quite happy to carry the domestic bulk of that burden in the relationship; I just don't want to serve someone who'll insist that I buy processed packaged foods only, for instance.     Thank You for Your time!  

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

Personal information about me  single male, never married no children full head of hair have all my teeth none tobacco light social drinker self-employed flawed, work to be better kind, honest, trustworthy genuine and seek it too relocatable within USA  Important Lifestyle Relationship must knows i believe in Safe Sane and Consensual. i believe in being of value, not a doormat. turned on by women who are dominant and aggressive inside of relationship. it's hard to turn down a beautiful set of feet and ten toes. kneeling at feet of Goddess, feels so good. attracted to women who have kindness and stern when need be. turned off by women who are just right down mean in life. high priority for worshipping women as a my Goddess, showing and giving her respect. yes i will cook, clean and wash the window. Always leave the toilet seat down, never up. mutual attraction, both inside and out. i want to get to know you. being geniune, honest, trustworthy and good communication. good sense of humor, able to laugh at one's self and enjoy others. not looking to be paid or looking to pay anyone. 

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.                

I'm reading this book on habits. There's a little bit of the science, but mostly it's anecdotal moments of famous and not so famous people and how one small change created an avalanche of positive changes. Sometimes just within themselves, sometimes branching out to entire companies. It's fascinating. As I'm expected to, I'm mining the nuggets and looking at how they fit into my life. A lot of times an easy answer to why you do or don't do something is I don't know. Maybe you don't know, even when consciously thinking about it. And then you're listening to someone else's story and it comes to you, THAT'S why you do the thing! Or you already knew the thing but hadn't figured out the alternative better habit, like replacing junk food with a bowl of apples so when you need something quick and lazy it's the better option. I know I'm going to forget more than I remember, but right now its helping me to piece together the reasons why I fall back into certain habits and how to move beyond the comfortable to solidify the new, better ones. Not today, of course. Today was a shit show. But it's a plan for tomorrow. Progress. 

A small respite is coming, but it wont last long then it will be back to OT and I will watch my summer disappear.   Little heads up to anyone who may even remotely care.  Folks need to grow up.  If you are not into a person, then dont lead them on only to just poof one day with no explaination.   I will not be the one to text first normally.  Nor will I be up all night chatting.  My sleep schedule just does not permit it.  If you truly are interested, then make sure I know it.  Dont think if your coming for a visit, you will be staying with me.  Not happening like that.  We have a little hotel just up the road.  I wont be putting miles on my Jeep traveling a thousand miles unless I am headed home.   Often times I wonder why I even log in any more.  I have people who just dont get my job or schedule that comes with it right now.  They dont gr that I just am not a huggy cuddly person.  Even to the point of telling me "but your a woman".  What does that have to do with the price of biscuits?  I like my alone time just as much as I enjoy good company.  My traditional upbringing often wars with the lifestyle.  My geographical culture shock wars with where I really am from.   And people ask why I am so guarded.  What is the point of opening up and feeling anything for someone only for them to just disappear?  So if we talk for an extended period and I am just not emotional, sorry but not sorry.  I wont continue to live that shit.

Thoughts on a new 'person' one step removed . Sending messages to new people is fraught with nervousness and trepidation as there is no real way to know how they will be received. A non-reply obviously shows something, but only if the sender knows the message was received to then be ignored. Age, sex, orientation, role, even distance, of both parties, will also give an indication of how it will be read and dealt with, but this can be offset by the BDSM world where some of the more obvious criteria do not apply so ‘strongly’. Asking the question(s) that you really want the answer to, but almost dare not ask or do not ask, does not make life any easier – for both parties. Being submissive or ‘overly’ friendly can lead to misunderstanding when replies are sent. Or lead to further messages to clarify the previous text ‘meanings’. Obviously, this is like real life too, social media is also full, maybe more so, of miscommunications. So, from the perspective of this writer, being: Male, semi Straight, Dom, Creative, of no discernible cult or type (unless being a keen biker counts), older than most, slightly shy and as arrogant as fuck concerning his own Domly skills. Writing a message and sending it out into the ether to land at a stranger’s mail box is still a thought provoking act. Therefore, after drafting a message, editing it, almost sending it before seeing ‘there’ and not ‘their’ so editing it again and then rewriting half of it you press the send key and sit back and try not to wait for the answer. If no answer appears after a week, or a month, then you don’t need to think about it anymore and file it under ‘ah well, that’s a shame’. If a reply appears, especially with witty words ‘linked’ to your (what you hoped were) witty words, then a whole new set of ponderables start to take form as you sit in front of your keyboard about to reply. Was the reply sent because ‘she’ is a polite submissive, because 'she' was a polite human being, liked the style of the message compared to the dross many send, or is ‘she’ actually interested in getting another message? So, message 2: More forward, Certainly. More confident, hopefully. An easy question or three, taken from their profile info to show you have read it, is a good idea. A little more information about ‘Me’ and even more about why the first message was sent – bravery test time. The wait begins again! If a quick reply this is either a good sign with answers and questions of ‘her’ own or a version of ‘Go away, I was polite once don’t push your luck’.If a long pause, then the normal questions nag at your lizard brain again until that ping sounds, and a reply appears – the previous 2 types obviously still apply. If the reply is positive then now it is time to stop pussyfooting around, ask the question, give your reasons why they really should say yes and agree, and, if using a useless forum, like FetLife or the million other internet sites, give them your email or phone number, for text or WhatsApp, for easier chatting. This will either get a happy 'ok' response or the ‘maybe later’ reply, which is not so encouraging, If you reach this point, then it should be fairly plain sailing to send the next message, getting to know them and even meeting or, obviously, putting your foot in your mouth and getting a 'goodbye'. Thoughts over, now just need the 'she' to see this in the hopes it helps with My communications.

  More Male Energy  I've come to realize that all of women in my inner circle are tomboys.  It's not like I'm attracted to them exclusively.  I just seem to like athletic women.  Take my Romanian girlfriend for example.  She's definitely the head of the household in her relationship.  She makes all of the money and makes all of the major decisions.  In fact, she's been with the same guy for years and they're not married.  She likes the idea that she could split at any time.   My other girlfriend is very much a tomboy.  Rather than doing girly things she's much more at home working on a car or building a deck.  She also likes being nude and playing pickleball.  We get along because she's a bikini girl like me.  We spend lots of time together sunbathing and talking.  She loved the swinger lifestyle.   I have a gay girlfriend who's been with the same girl for a long time.  We don't spend much time together as I'd like because my wife is very jealous of her.  But we have a lot in common and I know she's attracted to me.  Her significant other is butch looking.  She runs her own business and is very smart.  The last thing in these girls mind is a man! And then there's my submissive wife.  She spends most of her time thinking about how to please me.  To the outside world she's this dynamic ball of energy whose ready to pitch in for the fight.  At home, she wants to do everything I want to do.  She can turn that male energy on and off like a switch.   We both know who is in charge here.    

Secret Room "They met, irregularly, at the secret room and at his apartment in the Haight. She had the feet of a ballerina and the temperament of a harpsichord, and she possessed a certain willingness to be cold." -Lindsay Hill, Sea of Hooks    

I've been back and forth, since before Thanksgiving , with the contract I have on a cabin In WV. Unfortunately the agent was a flake. Over the years , I've bought and sold homes. This agent was a hot mess. Finally had to get the broker involved, and replace the her.   The present one is on the ball. D and I drove to the cabin and he checked it top to bottom. There were concerns from the home inspection, and he calmed my mind. He said the place had great bones, the windows were all in good shape, the hot water heater was two years old , gas furnace will out live me, metal roof is fairly new... There is a cottage on the property, off the back set back from the cabin.  Its about eight hundred sq. feet , plus a screened in front porch! Perfect for my father, and he can't fall off. It has a kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom and full bath. It too has a new metal roof.   Added an addendum  for a few things, we'll see if they accept or counter. Saying a little prayer and crossing my fingers.   M.

At Her feet… …a place to kneel in devotion …a place to listen attentively …a place to adore Her mind …a place to worship Her body …a place to understand a lesson …a place to feel home …a place for so much more…

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

    Desire fires: a machine gun Turning love to hate. You could never Be my mate... Tears fall, heart aches. i poison myself Day after day till  Pneumonia hits In ways You never did. Grief buries feeling, As i cleanse, Breath by breath, Coughing sadness Till life deceives, yet i defy death And hate, For God knows As i let go In prayer, love feeds What love makes.   6/14/24    

Many messages- let's addres and be clear and concise.  So many have this aversion to Dominants who are interested in transactional ects of this lifestyle and so many have been taken advantage of, hurt, scammed. I am so sorry you've put yourself in such position, except- own it and wear a helmet. If youre that desperate but only wish to live bi-curiously through your online persona, behind the security of a screen and your cowardice; please do not judge and condemn those of Us who truly are committed to who We are as dominants.  This may not be the absolute truth, it is simply My experience in over fifteen years in this particular site, lifestyle and walking in My truth and acceptance as a Dominant Woman, you seek leadership, direction, guidance, for someone else to take the responsability (often times, the burden) of where you are and guide you to be the best you can be, to serve Us. Power exchange is not, at least for Me, a kink. It is My identity, in every ect and area of of My life. So, approach with humility, accountabilit and honesty to your own self, to who and what you say you are. Do not, however, message me with aimless superficial comments, idle or vain conversation or the worst- requests as though you are pulling up a drive thru window topping from the bottom making requests and commands.    Infinite question?-" How does one earn a spot at Goddes' feet?"   Through committed, consistent actions. Bdsm aside, that’s how a man, woman( however it is you identify as)who knows who he/she is/ they are, what he/she/they is/are doing, what his/her/their purpose is and what he/she is /they are willing to be or become to get it knows the price for anything is actions for it speaks of who he/she is they are, his/her character and value. Values are simply what W/we value most above all else. Values are Priorities. The higher the priorities, higher the standard- My standards. The higher the price paid in any power exchange is and will always be submission and sacrifice of who you are through your actions, not words.  sacrifice of your time, commitment and honest and consistent actions and communication. That in itself is money, is the kind of money, finances, many here do not have  because as subs or slaves the are simply not it or are not at the level I and many dominants deserve. All is well, so lukewarm and flakes or those who revel in nice ideas and words but are not in a covenant and commitment towards who they are. Many are not even aware they are required and must take ownership of their identity. Who it is you, as a sub or slave, at best are mediocre, and at worst are cowards. so they’re filtered away by their limitations and mediocrity. Many of you discarded and ignored to continue to repeat the same level, course, process, lessons over and over and over because you are completely comfortable in your discomfort, victim hood and mediocrity whilst continue to complain why you are where you are, why you suffer, for you do not see that is you who limits yourself. Without said self revelation and acceptance, there cannot be space for the discipline and obedience to your own self as a submissive, slave. Taking ownership, accountability and responsibility of this self awareness is to be committed and loyal to who it is you are at your core and pay whatever price necessary; whether it is parts of yourself, to be transformed, upgraded, or simply let go and let die so your true self can be liberated through deed. This is one very finite answer to what I mean by “earn a spot at Goddess’ feet”- at any dominants feet quite frankly.   We are what W/we give and in return what W/we are and give is also what is returned to U/us ten fold. To serve is a privilege that requires sacrifice and courage, to give is also to receive. Both are one and the same. For Me? This is the standards I adhere and live by- so whatever is done for Me I know is the minimum for I know who and what as a sub or slave with trust, committed actions and guidance My subs have flourished and transformed into their own personal and professional lives. 

Kneeling, he slid her high heel back on to her foot. Cautiously, he raised his eyes and gazed up at her for approval or perhaps his next instruction.   Miraculously, she levitated up off the couch and stood towering above him. His nose level with the hem of her skirt. Pheromones flooded his nostrils.   With authority of command she bent at the waist placing her mouth next to his ear. A throaty whisper poured slowly like honey falling sweet on his brain. “ Follow me out to my car”   Click click click, the heels announced her departure. Heads turned. She wet her lips with her tongue.  Tugging her gloves firmly over her hands, she fastened her jacket and strode through the lobby and out to the parking lot.

What if being a subbie is not about sex? WHAT if being a subbie is about holding the hand of the man she cherishes as he dies slowly over 14 months. When he can't be the DOM he used to be. When he needs her to help him use the bathroom or eat or simply sit with him for the whole night, playing him Viking music. THERE is nothing he can do for her. There are no floggers or commandments to 'kneel'. All the hundreds of hours of kneeling are done in the Catholic Church by her, praying for his Atheist soul to have a peaceful death, which he did have. Brain cancer is one of the worst ways to die and he did not feel pain, right to the end. She offered G-d her life just so he would not go to hell...she cried and cried and cried...on her face at home alone, in church, in the street, in the bus, while cooking and cleaning she lamented and weeped till it hurt her to breathe.. for his soul. So what is a subbie? I get these messages asking me what I WOULD DO FOR YOU IF YOU WERE MY DOM. Do you want me to help you use a bottle in the hospital to relieve yourself? or change your wet clothes because the nurse is too busy? or walk 3 miles to buy your favourite biscuits? Do you want me to continue living nearly even when my money runs out months before your life runs out, so that I stop eating for 24 or 48 or 72 hours so I can keep living nearby, losing 16kg and not caring. Do you want me to be berated by your mother because she thinks I am weak and pathetic and flaky and not a strong woman and I take it and take it and take it, because it means I can be near you? Do you want me to wait until you die before I think of 'moving on' as you have been telling me to do for 4 years, but hoping that I will not? Do you want me to be indifferent to the criticisms from others for not getting over you, long after you stopped making love? Do you want me to keep on talking about you even when they are stripping your flat of your belongings and kicking me out and you are still not even in the ground but in a cold fridge somewhere? Do you want me to cry into your puffy jacket as I smell deeply your faint smell...almost gone but my body knows and remembers...? Do you want a slut and a cunt and who knows how to beg for sex or do you want a woman that will lie on your grave and wish it would swallow her up so she can be close to you? Do you want 'until death do us part' or do you want her to offer her body and life and blood to G-d in exchange so that you can be redeemed?  Do you care what she is going through, the pain that is ripping her heart from her chest, if it just means she will stay available until the day you die and beyond...? Do you? Do you? Or do you think you are invincible? Do you think you are the BIG MAN who will always be there for her? Do you write notes and stick it to the fridge saying you will always have her back, and it turns out you cannot fulfil your promise? Do you think you can replace her the way you replace a car because she does not have the 'options' you wanted and you think you can upgrade, but found out you could not? Do you wish you had not rejected her because she got fat and instead had helped her lose weight? Do you want the perfect barbie out of the box, and not someone who has flaws and mistakes in her? Do you tell her off all the time for the tiniest mistake she makes until she is wracked in nervousness but keeps on loving you, even when you get cancer and cannot walk straight or use your phone and need her to turn the key in the door? Are you a prick and should of stopped treating her like a cunt? Do you know that you missed the whole bloody plot of what a slave is...that she is at your feet, devoted like a dog to its master, and you could not see the tree for the woods.? Do you imagine the perfect slave is pretty so as to impress your mates but do not see that the perfect slave sheds tears at your bed that only you see fall? Are you too busy planning the fantastic life you want to have and wonder if she is good enough to be your partner in these great schemes, but years after she has left, she is the one you send a message to when they find a tumour in your brain? Are you humbled by your own downfall and she is the one who supports your 205 meter /150kg frame with all her might so you do not fall over like a tree that has been felled? Do you? Do you? Do YOU? Are you in a fridge somewhere, waiting to be lowered into the ground and you let down the slave that was at your feet, even when you sent her away and told her to find another Master...and she tried, oh she tried, and they all told her she is flaky.... and you look down from your disembodied soul and cannot wipe the tears from her eyes as she cries alone in your flat...? Are you sorry? Are you? Did you wish you were less angry with her for not closing the curtains properly and less angry with her for tripping when she could not keep up with you on the pavement, and less angry with her when she dropped the shopping? Do you wish you had not read so many bloody forums about slaves and subs and wanted the cut-out of the perfect little version and could not see that a slave is human like you and old and fat and not a barbie? Do you wish you saw that she has a heart that bleeds for you? Do you wish you had given her some lovin' and a cuddle instead of punishing her with chastity and never told her why because you are a bastard? Do you wish you could go back to 2017 when she arrived at the airport in total trust and you could do it all again? Do you wish you had known then what you knew now? Do you wish you knew she was the last women you would ever enter and feel that warmth wrap around your cock and cling to you and tell you she loves you? DO you? DO YOU? What if you could go back 9 years and tell yourself she was the last one? What if you could go back and be more gentle when she arrived and not have a list as long as your arm of all she was supposed to do to PROVE HER WORTH? Do you wish you knew that she would prove her worth not in the beginning but in the end...when the cancer had eaten your brain and you could no longer talk or walk or hold up your head but she was there, holding your hand? DO YOU? and what if...what if you could tell all the pricks and bastards out there to WAKE UP and smell the roses! TO appreciate the imperfect little slave in their life. TO let her know she is cherished. TO stop beating the crap out of her emotionally each time she makes a mistake but instead mould her through love and not rules...OH BUT YOU WOULD NOT, WOULD YOU...not if the other blokes thought less of you...no you prefer to send her away and pretend you did not, and that she left because she had somewhere better to be than at your feet. You would lie to everyone but SHE KNEW AND SHE KNOWS and she still came back as soon as you made that call from the hospital saying ' I need you'. She came, just like you knew she would. She stayed just like you knew she would. She mourned and weeped and pleaded with G-d, just like you knew she would...and when you died...she is turned out like the useless bitch that she is, because you never told anybody that she was more valuable than gold...They throw her out with the trash because your ego was bigger than your love for her... and she will say mourners kaddish for 11 months like a widow even though she is not even considered your girlfriend... yet all along she was your slave...and slavishly loved you in a way you did not deserve. The very last thing you said to her when she leaned over to kiss you to whisper how beautiful you are and she loves you was to say 'I am not worth it'. THE LAST HONEST CONFESSION OF A DYING MAN. You lost your ability to speak in the days that followed and could only hold her hand and hold her gaze and hoped she understood how sorry you were....

Dinning Out with slave I expect My slave was excited. At least I was hoping it would generate expectations in its little brain. it had not been fed solid food in the last ten days. it was being treated to My lose weight regime. Yes, it had lost a little, but, far from the goal I had determined for it. Outside its cage I had enjoyed leaving pizza fresh from the oven in order that it might enjoy its denial. Actually, I doubt it was ‘enjoying’ smelling the pizza while slowly starving. What it enjoys is not an issue of My particular concern. Needless to say, I enjoyed its discomfort. In its journal it was recording dreams of gorging itself on delicious pizza. So, I offered a torture by way of tantalus for My pleasure. In any case I watched its face closely as I announced it would be accompanying Me out to dinner. it had just finished its required ten miles on the tread mill and was sweating profusely. I let it catch its breath and cool down to the point of an onset of chill. I took a bight of a large corn-beef sandwich while its eyes devoured the sight of My pleasure. I slowly chewed the sandwich while My slave involuntarily chewed nothing but saliva. When it seemed to be at the point of crying with the frustration of dental and hunger, I swallowed to clear My mouth and, negligently dropping the half eaten sandwich on the floor, I began to speak. “Slave, tonight it will accompany Me to dinner out. I will allow it to wear ladies panties, the tight little boy shorts and a T-shirt. it will play chauffeur to the restaurant. it will sit on its hands and not speak without a nod of approval from Me. Before I go out to eat, I will beat it in order that it might keep its servile position in life firmly in its mind. I grant it the opportunity ask a question now about tonight’s adventure. Remember, any answer including punishment for any impertinence I perceive must elicit profound gratitude from it. Ask now, slave.” Poor thing, it could not resist the crying need it felt for, at a minimum, the prospect of receiving food. “Master will it be fed tonight?” To which I responded with a series of face slaps. At each it did as it had been trained and forced its face up to face slapping position with its eyes firmly fixed on mine. No matter how hard I struck its impertinent cheeks it thanked Me profusely for a number of things. The ‘things’ included that it was receiving attention from a Better, it had the opportunity to serve, that it was learning etc.  Later that day, still wondering if it would be fed, the slave although in advanced years of age was dressed much like a little boy included Buster Brown shoes was kneeling by the front door waiting to drive Me to My repast.  As I approached the door ready to leave My residence, I thought I heard My slave properties stomach growl its protest at the lack of something to digest. Darn if I thought I heard the same little growl as I passed it through the door it held open to the interior of My car. I gave it the destination from My comfortable seat. I suspect the slave was pleased to be driving rather than locked in the trunk of the car as it usually was.   It did a competent job of driving, holding the door for me at the entrance of the restaurant and then parking the car. I enjoyed the sight of it running back to me to open the door of the eating establishment. When I announced My name we were conducted to a both. My slave used a handkerchief it carried for just such occasions to wipe down the seat I was about to occupy. As I sat, it waited at the ready should I require anything else in the moment. When I was comfortable, I took a moment to survey the table. The linen tablecloth was spotless and was not overly starched. The flatware was sterling, the plates were all porcelain and the glass all crystal. It pleased Me to see such an elegant setting before me. All the while My slave property maintained a standing posture ramrod straight with eyes focused on My face waiting for instructions. I casually looked at My adoring chattel and nodded slightly. At this indication from Me it took its seat on its hands. The reader may skip the following digression. Sitting on one’s hands sounds simple enough. However, hand sitting is far from comfortable. The reader might like to try a little experiment and spend some time sitting on hands for a while. The longe one sits in that fashion the less comfort afforded. Further, there is the question of palms up or down. Up or down question in My realm depends on the surface the ass is to rest on. A hard surface with palms up leaves discomfort to mount slowly to the ass while the back of the hands almost immediately suffer from the weight of the sitter and the hard surface the knuckles and back of hand are pressed into. A soft cushion, such as the current eatery provided would receive the back of the hand with grace and ease. However, if the hands are palm down, the soft surface causes the hands to bend backward and over time gain certain agony to the sitter. Guess which way My slave property had been trained to orient its palms? Water was in each of the crystal water glasses provided. There was a carafe of H2O on the table as well. I sipped My water while I perused the menu. My slave property kept its eyes on My face should I require anything, even as its thirst remained unquenched. I discarded the wine list. My drinking days are long past. However, I was aware My slave was a drinker (the reader should note the past tense.) The waitress arrived to collect the order. She enquired about drink preference. Noting My decline and nothing by way of speech from My companion, went on to the food question. My order was rather simple, a crab cocktail, followed by a caesar salad, main course of prime rib.  “And for the gentleman?” enquired the wait person after turning to face it.  I watched as My slave’s face reddened ever so slightly. I looked forward to reading its journal entry regarding this whole dinner, especially, its reaction to the “for the gentleman” inquiry. I sadistically savored its quandary of imperative sustenance need and secure knowledge it was to have only what I allowed. “You may bring one dry piece of toasted white bread, please.” With a very well, Sir, she turned to place the order with the cook. “it may have a sip of water, slave.” Of course My slave property could not resist taking more than a sip. It even allowed some liquid to dribble down its chin as it downed half a glass. “Remind Me, slave, to beat it severally for taking more than a sip and for removing hands from under its ass without permission.”

 thumper