Have you had a threesome? One or two, mmf with the Mrs. Do you like sex toys? I do, they are pretty. Would you ever have sex with your best friend? I experimented as you do with a male friend who was transitioning m to f. Something that will never fail to make you horny? Blood of course! Favorite parts of the opposite sex? Legs all the way, lips, eyes. Favorite parts on the same sex? Package obviously lol, smile, lips.

  A Quick Disclaimer:  I don't exactly "love" some of the things I claim to enjoy, like corner-time for instance (which is dread... mostly) Corner-time is one of the things that seems particularly effective in explicitly reminding me someone else is in-charge, which weakens my knees. (Un)fortunately (for me), I also find it deeply humiliating, but *this* side-effect means it is something that gives me "the feels" too. Just 'being reminded' such things are even a possibility is enough to get a reaction from me - for a while at least So, it's not something I 100% *want*... I mean, I'd rather just be "into" stuff that I don't find quite so humiliating and that don't leave me unable to respond with a witty retort (or sometimes with Any Words At All). But things that don't embarrass me and don't trigger the push-pull (aka 'my' version of a panic-boner) don't seem to have quite the same effect It's total agony; to crave the things I dread, but it's also where I find my bliss So, I guess my attraction to the very things that especially give me "the feels" is a bit more nuanced than can be conveyed by:  X = a thing I "love", but CS doesn't have a 'push-pull'/'nutcase-option', as far as I'm aware... And though I realise the site might break as a consequence, I still wish it were possible to both love-AND-hate a single fetish, b/c that how us contradictory people tend to operate (unless I am truly an outlier-amongst-outliers, in which case... *nothing to see here* o.O)  Anyway.  ~ Thank-you for coming to my Ted Talk ~  

On fitness... Having a partner who's physically active and fit has always been important. I want someone who is full of energy and excitement and can keep up, lol.  In the past, I've never really been attracted to guys who spend all of their time at the gym. For one thing, there's just more to life but second, I'm generally not attracted to huge muscle, gorilla types.  I recently spent several months with a retired firefighter-turned-chemist. Since he's retired, he wasn't nearly as bulky as he was in old photos--thank goodness. But clearly he still took care of himself. In bed one night, in a playful, flirty moment, he reached his arm over and wrapped it around My waist and in seconds I found Myself on top of him. I was almost a foot away from him but at 6ft+ tall, he definitely had a decent wing span. As I said, it was a playful moment but My word...it was also really fucking sexy. Obviously, I had to stick around for a few months to see what else he could do. ;)  I don't know what exercises you need to do at the gym to be able to lift 135lbs with one arm, but do those, lol. Don't do them until you don't have a neck anymore, because that's overkill. We're going for actual strength not just what strength looks like. 

I Wonder Who We Are... I often look at myself thru the eyes of my mind. Who do I **think** I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? I wonder how many others take the time to self-reflect like this? I try to do this weekly.  Sometimes late at night as I bask in the quiet night’s arms I find my mind drifting to the day gone by. I replay the days events and scrutinize my actions at times.  TODAY, did I live my life to my best potential? The gift of life I was given is a treasure that we so often under value. It's easy to get caught up in the daily struggles that inflict us as we sometimes dredge thru the day thankful it's over.  Guilty! After all we are all human.  In a world filled with hate, selfishness, struggles and woes sometimes its all we can do not to scream. Allow a blood curling sound to exit our lungs, travel up our throats picking up momentum as it exits our lips with a shiver echoing thru the darkness to find no respite.  A primal sound that perhaps evolved from our primal ancestors to never develop or change in the millions of years gone by. Signaling our frustrations and every other imaginable negative energy that exists within us today. As we yearn to release it all allowing them to somehow be absorbed into the cosmos, never to return. A cry for help perhaps? Perhaps.  Perhaps it's just an evacuation of all that we resent exiting us hoping we can fill the vacancy with the positive. I like to think that's the case with me. But as I look around each day, looking for positive energy, from my fellow man I am left starving. Wanting to see more beauty I can absorb to act as my muse. Guiding me to be a better me as it motivates me to want to feed love back into the world.  But alas, it has become a daunting task. Disappointment abounds the empty caverns of my heart and mind. Have we become so shallow as a society that the only thing that now defines us is instant and momentary self gratification? Often at the expense of others. Is this what thousands of centuries of evolution has led us to? NAY I say! Not I today! Unable to find it readily at the hand of my two legged peers I turn to nature. I find myself being blindly led to the pasture where my four legged friends reside. I hear their whinnies as they see me approaching. Running towards me anxious to see me. Besides me walks my fury four legged best friend. My canine soul mate who has dedicated his life to unselfishly and unconditionally love me. To never leave me no matter what I do or how I treat him. He is bound for life to me. Arriving closer to the gate a thunderous echo of stampeding hooves envelopes the air. Filling my ears with its roar as it approaches closer. Standing on the lush green carpet of grass I am surrounded by these four legged majestic creatures that so easily could do me harm. My smaller companion eyeing them carefully under his protective gaze.  Wet nuzzles against my hands searching for treats. This action is common place here. All fighting for my attention as there are so many and I am only but one. The creative one among the group, finding no need to challenge the rest for the position of my hands. He quietly walks up behind me. I am made aware of his presence among the distraction as I feel rubbing against my back. His side turned head using my back as a scratching post to satisfy his itch?  No my friends that is not the self centered case of this half ton creature. He is saying, "Daddy I am here. I missed you. Where have you been?" He is most certainly not the alpha but nor is he the omega. He falls somewhere in between the alphabetically defining realm of personality letters.  Turning to let him know I acknowledge his presence with rubs I manage just a few. The other horses quickly pushing him away to look to my moving hands for what they desire. Treats and rewards to fill their already fat full bellies. Yet he stands alone a mere stones toss away watching. Reaching into my pockets I retrieve a handful of treats. Allowing the surrounding herd to acknowledge them with their keen sense of smell I toss them in the opposite direction of my inamorato who stands there with no desire to chase such petty treats. The rest of the herd now busy vying to retrieve the hand tossed delicacies he approaches me. I hold his head against me with love and affection. It is as much his fuel as it is my own. I turn to exit, followed at a respectable distance by my adoring and adored friend.  Holding it open signaling him the permission he seeks to exit the field and the others who physically resemble him. As the three of us stand there, me enjoying and soaking up the moment, I can't help but observe. Acknowledging and absorbing the actions that just took place.  My plotted journey observed and responded to. The actions and reactions as I entered. The easily manipulated distraction I created that all but one fell prey to.  His dedication to follow me outside his defined boundaries and the company of the others physically like him who have near matching DNA. His choice to leave the safety of his peers signals to me that he finds safety and comfort in my company. His trust in me that I always have and always will be his caregiver, his provider, his protector fills my now empty heart.  The many journeys we have traveled together since his birth are safely tucked away in my mind. Easily retrieved to reminisce upon when needed. As I stand there admiring this majestic creature of God before me my mind retrieves from the filing cabinet labeled with his name. Quickly sorting thru day 3 of his birth begins to play.  He is laying curled upon a stack of hay within a stall of the barn. His protective mother standing guard over him. Her ears pinned back warning anyone that intends to do him harm to stay away. Her eyes soften and ears relax as she recognizes me as the source of the sound. Carefully not to startle the sleeping foal I slowly approach. His mother content with who the human visitor is allows me safe passage.  I find myself first sitting next to him admiring his beauty. Astounded by the miracle of birth that he is. His soft breathing seen in the way the straw beneath his nose moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales so gently. Leaning in closer to touch him I look at his guardian looking down at me as if silently asking for her permission to get closer. When I see no warnings of alarm in her I move my hand gently running it across his neck.  His days old fur so soft I am jealous not to have something as comforting as this to sleep upon myself. He releases a soft sigh as if finding comfort in my loving strokes.  Now realizing that the submissive love his mother has given me extends to the trust of her new born, I inch closer. Soon I find myself laying along side his tiny body. Curled up next to him I drape an arm over him. Another soft sudden exhale of breath reaches my ears. Is he communicating his pleasure in feeling my warm body against? Is he capable of such a thought process? I lay there for what feels like hours pressed against him. Only to realize as he begins to finally stir that it’s only been 10 minutes by my watches time.   Emancipated from this world lost in head space I return the the physical by his movement.  He turns his head, in what seems to be, a search to find the source of his sighs. I softly look into his eyes hoping he can peer into my own and see the love and adoration I have for him. THAT moment etched in my mind forever more NEVER to be lost or forgotten.   Slowly he rises as if not to harm me and stands over my still prone form. I find my heart overflowing with love. If only I could find this form of love in my own breed. His mother content that no harm will befall him under my watch, complete and loyal trust bestowed upon me finds comfort in our bond to now lay down herself.  Obviously exhausted by the ritual of birth and having to provide  protection to her child. Her 1400 lb mass taking up much of the stall but careful not to invade my space. Suddenly I find myself lost in thought. Who do I think I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? To THEM.  A brushing against my calf returns me to the world of today as the drawer filled memories are closed. In the universe of my mind I lost a momentary connection to this plane of existence.  My canine comrade standing now by my side waiting for direction. He looks at me then glances to the tack room and back at me. As if he is asking me, in the best way he knows, “Are we going for a ride?” my eyes look down at him as I rub his head. “Not today good boy. Today daddy just needed affirmation to who he is. My hearts full again. Thank you.” “Go get him and let’s go back in. Daddy has work to do.” Doing what he’s been taught to do under my caring tutelage he bounds off to bring back my blessed 4 legged gift. A simple double click from me, seeing his adopted brother heading his way, he knows its time to go back. With the look of a bowed head he walks to me as I rub his face and ears. I whisper in his ears, “Good boy.” As if content to hear these words he heads for the gate. Opening the gate I let him return to his pasture mates where he looks like just another horse. “Come on dog. Daddy has to go search for someone! “ he says as he turns to go back into the house. Because now I know who and what I am. I know what I was meant to be.

My Fool, My Leash, My Afternoon - a Fantasy for a Future slave   The morning of the faire I lay his costume out on the bed with the particular satisfaction of a woman who has planned something she intends to enjoy thoroughly. The motley is excellent, deep jewel tones, the bells on the collar catching the light, the cut of it deliberately absurd in the way that only works on a man with genuine physical presence. Foolishness on an unimpressive man reads as foolishness. Foolishness on a man like him reads as theater, as choice, as the most interesting thing in any room he enters. He understands this. He puts it on without comment, with the quiet dignity he brings to everything I ask of him, which is itself part of what makes it so delicious. The leash attaches to his collar with a sound I find unreasonably satisfying. I am wearing the corset, deep burgundy with black lacing, the kind of construction that does what good corsetry always does: makes the architecture of a woman into an argument that cannot be refuted. My skirts are full, my shoulders bare, and I carry myself the way I carry myself everywhere, which is to say as though the ground has been expecting me specifically. We make, I think, an extraordinary pair. The Goddess and her Fool. The implicit story of us readable to anyone with eyes and the wit to use them. He walks two steps behind me and slightly to my left, the leash held loosely in my right hand, and I feel the particular pleasure of his presence the way you feel good weather: as a condition of the atmosphere, something that improves everything around it simply by existing. The faire opens around us in all its chaotic, fragrant, anachronistic glory and I move through it with the unhurried ease of a woman who has nowhere to be except exactly here. It is the stocks that I have been thinking about since I planned this outing. They are positioned in the center of the square, heavy oak weathered to silver, historically accurate in their construction and entirely available for use by willing participants. I steer us toward them with the gentle but unambiguous redirection of the leash, and he feels the change in direction and does not ask where we are going. He has learned not to ask where we are going. "In you go," I say pleasantly, nodding to the attendant, who opens the upper board with the cheerful efficiency of someone who has done this many times and finds it no less entertaining for the repetition. He folds himself into position. The board comes down. His wrists and neck are held, his posture suddenly and completely at the mercy of the construction, and I step around to face him with my hands clasped lightly in front of me and look at him with the full and unhurried attention I reserve for things I am enjoying very much. He looks up at me from his locked position with that expression. The one I have catalogued. The one that contains too many things to name. I lean down until we are level, my face close to his, close enough that the bells on his collar would brush my cheek if either of us moved. Around us the faire continues its noise and color, children running, merchants calling, the distant sound of a lute being played with more enthusiasm than skill. No one stops. Several people look. Some smile. I do not acknowledge any of them. "Comfortable?" I ask. "No, Goddess." "Good." I straighten and produce from the small bag at my wrist a piece of the honeyed pastry I purchased at the last stall, and I eat it slowly, with evident pleasure, directly in front of him. He watches. The bells are very still. "You look," I say thoughtfully, tilting my head, "exactly right." A small crowd has gathered at a comfortable distance, the way people gather around anything that has the quality of performance, and I am aware of them the way I am aware of weather, peripherally, without concern. I reach out and adjust the bells on his collar with one finger, a gesture so proprietary and so casual that I hear the quality of his exhale change completely. "We will stay here," I inform him, "until I finish my pastry and decide I want to see the falconers. Which gives you approximately," I pause, taking another unhurried bite, "as long as it takes me to eat this." He says nothing. His eyes do not leave my face. The afternoon light falls across the faire in long gold bars and my corset is exactly right and my fool is exactly where I put him and I am, in this moment, precisely as content as a woman who has arranged her Saturday exactly to her specifications has every right to be. I take a very small bite.   I am in no hurry at all.

All set with game players and time wasters and dream killers.   I don't lie, cheat or steal. I am looking for the right slave.  Correction, I am looking for a right connection and a decent human being who knows how to treat a woman, and wants to explore together.  A right male is MORE THAN ENOUGH to be by My side and in reasonable good time.  I am looking for a live in relationship, not email, phone or text. I'm dominant and that isn't going to change.  I feel no threat from a man who knows his mind and has the ability to speak up for himself and be a team player.  Welcome.  We can co-rule our own little world together. My mother lives with Me and has Alzheimer's.  You serve Me, you serve She.  You are with Me, you are with her. Be real and ready to communicate effectively and get to know one another in the flesh.   Be terrific in your own right.  I require a man who is strong enough to champion Me and I offer nothing less in return.   DON'T WASTE  MY  TIME.  

Ok ok ok. I don't want to be online for any more time than is necessary.  I've decided there will be no nursing home and so I ramp up My efforts to find the right mix for a live in.  Let's get the communication right.  I need to speak to you at a time which is convenient for Me.  I will make some consessions, but if YOU CANNOT BE ACCOMODATING TO MY SCHEDULE than we are not going to go far and you are wasting My time for engaging someone who wants to make the time to get things moving!  I need.  Please do us both a favor and only contact Me if you are READY WILLING AND ABLE.   My suggestion out of the gate is we take this relationship association on for a set period of time.  Give matters a chance to work out and work up. I am not a menu providing dominant woman nor am I able to allow someone to control any aspect of Me outside of our engagement with one another.  I've come too far to be handing over any reigns to any untried handler and after all, I am responsible, legally, for a life.  So until you demonstrate who you are and I come to trust you, I will be running My own show all on My own.

Detecting stolen pictures in a profileWant to find out if a picture has appeared elsewhere on the web? There are three good ways I know of: Google Image Search (https://www.google.com/imghp), Tineye (http://www.tineye.com/), and Yandex (https://yandex.com/images/). Google is fairly comprehensive, but Tineye sometimes finds some that Google does not. Yandex finds lots that neither of the other two do.Just open Google Image Search and drag the pic from another window onto it* (first onto the tab, then when the tab appears, onto the main target page; a target area will appear). This is all one drag operation; don't release on the tab or you'll just go to the Collarspace profile.The same technique works with Tineye and Yandex except the entire tab page is the target.*There are some browser plugins for Tineye – but I suggest that adding plugins to a browser that aren’t necessary just slows it down; I recommend not bothering.*Collarspace sometimes does some security stuff that breaks the direct-drag URL access described above (Google will complain: "The URL doesn't refer to an image, or the image is not publicly accessible."). If the direct drag doesn't work directly, first drag the pic to your desktop, then in a separate operation, drag the result to search application.(Last updated: 10 Feb 2022)

“What do you mean, you can’t make yourself cum?”  He looked at her, incredulously, watching her stroke her pussy.  “I’ve watched you cum dozens of times.”   “No,” she started, her voice breathy.  “I just can’t do it…”  She closed her eyes, not wanting to say it.  “… I just can’t do it with my fingers.”  She shuddered, right on the edge of orgasm.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to push herself over, not like this.  “I need… I need a vibrator, or your tongue, or your cock…” She trailed off as she began to rub herself again, blushing.   “How does a grown woman not know how to bring herself off?” He sounded bemused, in that teasing tone that made her weak.    “Hey, I like my vibrator,” she said with as much indignation as she could muster.  Under the circumstances, it wasn’t much.  She was so close, so frustratingly close.   He laid down beside her and covered her working hand with his own.  He moved her fingers in small circles, gently, so their hands maneuvered in tandum.  “You really can’t?” he asked against her ear.  “What if I help?  Is that better? “   She nodded.   Their circles on her pussy became softer, slower.  “Helpless little doll, can’t cum on her own,” he teased.     She moaned.  “Please…”   “Please what, fuckdoll?  What do you want me to do with this newest juicy little tidbit, hmm?”  He lifted their hands away from her swollen cunt. “Let’s see.  I could make you learn.  Make you learn how to please yourself, without…” He seemed to consider his next words.  “…Any crutches.”  He lowered their hands and resumed the gentle circles.  “I’m sure it wouldn’t take longer than a month or so.”   “NO, PLEASE.”  HER BREATH WAS RAGGED NOW.   “No?  Think it would take longer than that?”  He increased the pressure of their fingers, wringing a g from her lips.  “Me too, I’m afraid.  I know learning isn’t the easiest thing in the world for a dumb slut like you.”    “Fuck, please… Please I’m so close.  Please just… Do me.  Please!”   “Bet you’d really like your little toy right about now, huh, Dolly?”   If she could form a coherent thought, she might have felt nervous about where this conversation was headed.  She nodded, because that was the only response her body allowed her to give.  “Yes, please, Sir.”   “And what are you willing to do for me, to get it?”  His voice was dark now, anticipatory.   “Anything, please!  Just give it to me!”   His face brightened, that perfectly charming, sweet veneer masking all but the lust in his eyes.  “Excellent, darling.  I had hoped you might say something like that.  Now go fetch me the cane, and we’ll see how much you really want that vibrator.”

Submissive men are sexy. Period.   It’s a damn shame how many don’t realize it—thanks to a society (and yes, even parts of the kink scene) that tells them they’re not desirable. Newsflash: I don’t Dominate because I hate men—I Dominate because I desire them. Deeply. I crave their surrender, their effort, their devotion. A good submissive man? Baby, that’s my kink.   What turns me off? Entitled dudes who slap on the “submissive” label just to demand kink services like I’m some drive-thru McDomme. Sorry, but barking orders while calling yourself a “sub” just makes you a bratty top with boundary issues. Gross.   And let’s talk about the trope that Dominant women have to look like leather-clad porn bots but aren’t allowed to actually enjoy sex—especially not with submissive men. Um, what? I like sex. I like desire. And I like submissive men who know how to bring both respectfully.   So here’s the tea: I’m not here to play out broken porn stereotypes. I want real, respectful power exchange—where male submission is honored, not humiliated. If you think submission means weakness, you’re not ready for a woman like me.   And female supremacy? Cute in porn. But in real life? Power is about character, not genitals. Respect is sexy. Submission is sacred. Get into it—or get outta the way.