She would probably have bent over the padded bench if he had told her too, but he had lifted her easily and firmly pushed her over it. If asked she would have reached forward and held the legs before he had secured her wrists to them. Likewise she might have spread her feet wide, but there was no choice given at all, and she was helpless. She would not have tied her hair in a ponytail but she was in no position to resist, or to stop him tightening the strap over her lower back that forced so wanton a display of her buttocks. He had bared her nipples by removing her bra with a knife. She was denied the modesty of her skirt when he tucked it up in the waistband. The tie sided panties were soon pressed into her mouth which he had been made it available by attaching her hair to the waist strap, forcing her head back so affording her only a forward view.  She was now displayed, securely bound and completely available. A familiar sound made her wonder if his intention was to use or discipline her.  He had a crop in a Velcro sealed case, it wasn’t often she regretted her music playing however it concealed enough of the sound to make her unsure, was it the crop case opening, or was it his trouser zip?   She involuntarily clenched her buttocks, this served to pucker her anus, almost inviting him to use her there. – she suddenly wondered if could serve to distract him?.. Then wondered again if he actually intended to beat her? Moments prior to her restraint he had demanded her tongue, ‘Good girl ‘he had murmured into her mouth before his hand descended and found her becoming aroused. She heard his step on the wooden floor; her curiosity would soon be resolved.

Ms. Cosmic, tell us how you really feel about the most recent election results... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8VZX4sHn-4 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35rHHEiNaIM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-3BI9AspYc https://www.google.com/search?q=war+pigs+women&oq=war+pigs+women&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOTIICAEQABgWGB4yCAgCEAAYFhgeMggIAxAAGBYYHjINCAQQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAUQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAYQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAcQABiGAxiABBiKBTIKCAgQABiABBiiBDIKCAkQABiABBiiBNIBCDU3ODhqMGo3qAIIsAIB&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:dddeac4f,vid:Vj4SJolBPt0,st:0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3SZu_KhWig https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vO1QyidBUPg https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EWqTym2cQU https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbNekA18FgM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgwQG3MYp3o https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1kEjj3Ej68 https://www.youtube.com/shorts/gv_K7G13sXo lol

  I am not owned nor I do I wish to be. That is what is written on my profile, simple enough I would have thought. Yet only today I have had two messages saying. face it you need to be owned. And Are you looking to be owned? Some thing don't change do they.

Im Back into feminization, tho it's a tough time and go of it. It's just I have always had this feeling of being born into the wrong gender. Don't get me wrong I'm all male. But I fantasize about what it would be like to be female.  Recently I have out my cock back into chastity. Which I consider my clit and i have purchased an anal diolatar set and have been training my asshole nownmy pussy to strech out. i also have a dilod that I use to penitetrae my pussy on and get use to building up the sensation and tolerance to the friction my pussy can take.  It's hard doing it solo and not having the motivation from another to keep training on a regular basis. Sometimes I hit a wall and don't feel like continuing. It makes me feel more feminine and sissy like. The end goal being only able to cum or orgasm through anal means. While still being locked in chasitity. Currently I'm on day 60 in chastiity and on my 3rd sized diolatar plug. Some times I fall asleep with it still inside me. 

It´s really funny what kind of user are here. Many of the user used the words reliable, serious, etc. but by the most is this bullshit.Very interesting is that many user who have photos with a nice body (muscled or athletic) are not able for a live skype check. And when you ask them why or when they will be able they block you. Come on, leave to call yourself slave. You are not ! A real slave never habit like that by a master ! You are a shame for all REAL slaves.I have no problem when somebody tell me he is not interested because I am not his type or for with reason ever, but not to answer or to play games is unacceptable and is an insult to every true slave

a throw back...then and now...how i talk about the spiritual dominant man and the slave woman referencing brooklyn baby in 2015 vs 2024. my writing and perspective growth   a bit not complete because the two service oriented and protection images i have shared back in 2015 cannot be added here due to the wonky layout of the site.   yes i've been writing about this for quite awhile on different platforms. i was going through my facebook where i first started writing this and trying to i don't know..gain some sort of dialogue, community, connection, recognition, semblance of back and forth over it back then and mostly stopping when i was met with silence and or resistance. nowadays i come to understand that my writings are more for me and while i'd love to find a community or people or to turn this into something more be ok if all that happens is it lands and holds a space on the sentience that is the internet! i wrote about my thoughts about brooklyn baby as the little girl and the daddy romantic power dynamic figure back in 2015.....somehow almost 10 years later i forgot about it.. and with my new lived spiritual, energetic, and cosmic awareness i recently wrote about it in 3-4 posts here. i asked my lovely chat assistant to compare and contrast...how do i approach the same lana del rey song  10 years ago vs now? what my writing style and my awareness used to be back then: "i was initially going to keep this on my fetlife side but after a request i am putting this on here too. dual post. talking about power dynamic stuffs, nothing sexually graphic but this is the okay with everything tag anyway so..ya know that'd be cool too .my vanilla friend on facebook posted a bunch of old 1950s ads which had of course a lot of natural male lead household media since that's how things were back then without options or visbilities of choice or other ways to live.   when i came across this one it made me a mix  of how cute, something i very much miss and one of those loss moments all into one.(first photo)this was the photo that stuck out the most to me. in both my  real life real time offline daddy/little girl relationships this was something that i frequently did and looked forward to doing on dates or as the first one when we eventually moved in together.it was comforting to have a routine to follow. to know what to expect was going to happen. it was safe and quieting for me to know that my man was safely allowing me to serve him in a way that was going to get rewarded, acknowledged, praised, and vauled for.it always goes back to this for me(second photo). added, i just found the full quote of where the second image takes its quote from..and it just fits what all of it was/what i wanted it to be/what i was hoping to get:"“I loved having a dad who was smarter than the New York Times, and I loved how my cheek could feel the hairs on his chest through his T-shirt, and how he always smelled like shaving, even at the end of the day. Being with him made my brain quiet. I didn't have to invent a thing.”― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"to find someone who makes me believe that they understand all of me and my crazy mentalness and the challeneges of my antisocial mom and all my brokenness and stays and commits to providing structure and care and rough brawns is just one of the biggest gifts in the world that could be given. and being able to care for them and thank them for the service and direction and guidance they provide is easy. is comforting and nice. with my first daddy parts of this translated into getting him his diet coke in the morning, picking out clothes for him, and getting his english muffin heated and buttered before he leaves for work. usually it invovled a kiss goodbye as well. i did this until he told me he no longer felt able or willing or wanting to be a daddy to me and he wanted us to be equals. after that i did it off and things just pretty much started to crumble after that...but while that was a standard for the 3 years we lived together i never felt obligated to...when i was sick he would do so. if i was late or off i would do what i could.  but i never felt obligated or had to or that it was out of my way to do so.with my last ex we never got to the point of living together. instead when i would go over to his house or i would rent hotels for us i would help him get dressed and i would usually buy him something to drink or some sort of item for breakfast. getting my daddy all set for his day was a big honor and fufilling feeling that i had. it was one of the top 5 things that felt right and complete for me.in return usually as with my first one he would help provide a chunk of the income to help take care of us and while i wanted to work full time i didn't find any full time work while we were togehter except the first few months of us being together. i would get tenderness and emotional care and consideration and gentle leading i never had. what i got in exchange just felt right.and in the further discussion of this and the ability of choice now my friend pointed out in regards to the times back then, 'wouldn't want to be frumpy' and thank goodness we don't have to be dressed up at all times.over the years i've changed and grown into being more femme with my outer apperance and playing with makeup. with my first daddy i didn't have that many clothes....but i did like dressing up for him. and with my last one of the things that just made all of my heart soar along with my little girl's heart and core was for him to take the time to commit to dressing me every day.this actually didn't work out because he started slacking and saying for me to just pick after he committed to it..one of the many signs...of course...but it went back to the safe contained space for mea safe contained space of my worthy man being able to take the time, energy, and effort to tell me how he'd like me to look like for the day.  the addition of no surprises and routine and knowing at all times i am to his pleasing. it was an intimate thing to be taken in and looked at and appreciated and fawned over for being such an addorble femme being. and one that was held and cherished and well cared for and taken like a prized possession. at least the idea that this was happening was. none of it was deameaning or a bother. i always had energy to get dressed up or to do what i can to help out. these are some of the things i miss the most and grieve over losing forever.funny how small little things bring  up things like this.i'm not sure why..but this song brooklyn baby by lana del rey really  fits the mood i'm expressing here. especially the vocal sound of it:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5xcnjAG8pE" i got a really sweet comment from someone that i'll anonymous share. it was the only comment i got from it, but on facebook back then pretty shocking i would've gotten any at all with a concept that radical back then. "J - I'm speechless. That was an incredibly powerful and beautifully written post! Truly! Thank you for sharing it here. All I can think of to say is that you are a very fine human being...and whomever you spend time with, they are LUCKY and fortunate to have found YOU. You are such a smart, beautiful and gifted soul. It's an honor to be your friend, my dear! ❤

I have not written a note in so long. Life has been changing so much lately. new job, different city, then another new job and another old city. Now I am on a summer sabbatical of travel through the Atlanta and Savannah areas because I find it peaceful and love both cities for different reasons.   I need a new boy. A real boy with great energy, quiet strength and a cute smile.   I want him to dance for me. I want him to cook for me and share his secret thoughts that he seems too shy to tell anyone else. I want him naked and begging for me. I want him to clean and work for me. I want him to smile for me. I want that sweetness that is calm and not weak while also not being arrogant. I want him to NOT know everything because I still do NOT. I should be the ONE who gets to decide everything but I should NOT HAVE to be the ONE who THINKS of everything.   I wonder if this is to be found anywhere? I will hope for it. You don't have to be a perfect boy to start with me, but you do have to HOPE to become one for me.

The sunset is rapidi will miss the intensityof blazing orange and rusted yellow.Hints of glorious red and hued pinksdissapearing; retreating fast the orb.Just one blink and half a century waslost behind the soft slopes of purple hills.Now, only a few clouds speak of whatwas once here. Their imperfect shapesreflecting a blaze of fire that hides in silence.i cannot handle Your silence.i will faithfully wait for You to rise and return.~ dirtydarling

Bridget Choses Enslavement   Bridget’s emotions were running wild.  The ride up to Master’s gave her ample time to reflect on this special occasion.  Bridget was to be enslaved today.  Master had often told her that all women secretly wanted to be possessed and owned by a dominant master.  Collared.  Be an enslaved slut.  Bridget had embraced her inner slave and wanted the delicious certainty of being a strong Master’s owned property.  What a glorious feeling to have no need to carry on with the soul killing charade of denying her sexuality, her submission, her needs and desires. Bridget was so sure.  She couldn’t wait for their special ritual.  The ritual was ordered by her Master but she had made adjustments and additions that had delighted Master.  She knew Master treasured her and all of her. He often remarked on her intelligence and how it drove her kink and also drove his passion to be her owner.  Master always said women with a desire for the collar, for enslavement were usually the very intelligent ones.   Before she left home Bridget paid attention in the shower.  Her shaving was meticulous. Her legs, arms, and pussy were smooth as possible. She thrilled at the thought of the way Master would cup her smooth, oiled pussy and run his hand back and forth as she squirmed and moaned. She knew Master loved to lick and kiss her clit.  He also like to use his Hitachi and a soft makeup brush on her.  He’d alternate the vibrator and brush on her clit.  Sometimes he’d just stop and listen to her breathing.  Bridget loved it when he chained her wrists and ankles in his bed and made her come over and over until she screamed.  He’d gag and blindfold her and make her come some more. Master had learned early in their play to put a towel under her.  The wet spot was something to see. Bridget’s enslavement ritual outfit was all white and had been her idea.  Master had suggested adding long white gloves and she agreed with relish.  Once out of the shower, at Master’s direction, she installed two Ben Wa balls in her pussy.  They went in nicely.  When she walked around she could feel them as she moved.  She wondered if walking in heels would accentuate the sensation.  Oh well, she’d find out soon.  Bridget loved Master’s toy collection.  He had a veritable fleet of vibrators including a very useful remote controlled beauty.  Master said he was shopping for an internet controlled vibrator for some long distance fun.  He also had a selection of nipple clamps, some fun and some she feared.  There was a lot more and she was sure the list was growing After carefully pulling on her white stockings and attaching them to her sexy garter she slipped on her skimpy white panties.  A curvy white push up bra completed her underwear.  She had a nice white blouse with a plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage. Her brief white skirt would expose her slim legs and white stockings.  Finally she slipped on her white high heels with thosecute sexy little ankle straps.  Naturally she added accessories like a string of pearls and a bright red lipstick.  She decided she’d add her fragrance and put on the white gloves when she arrived at Masters. The miles rolled by.  Her heart sang.  She had made her decision.  It felt so right.  All the things she wanted to experience would be hers in a safe and protected place.  Master would help to explore all the dark kinky places she dreamed about.   The highway intersection appeared on her GPS. She had to turn north.   It was time to call Master.  She heard the phone ring.  Her emotions ping ponged.  Master answered with a pleased voice.  She was close.  He could almost sense her.  They both reveled in the joy of anticipation.     Master remarked that he was looking forward to draping her with his new 1/8” stainless steel chain.  Perhaps chaining her breasts with a nice halter.  When he mentioned that he’d like to chain her in Sirik Bridget’s was incredibly turned on.  The thought of the chain running from her collar to the chained wrist manacles and finally ending on the ankle manacles.  Sirik chain bondage allowed movement but served to remind her that she was owned, protected property.  Master loved everything Gorean and spent a lot of time finding ways to practically adapt the mores of Gor to earth.  A significant Gorean notion is that bondage enhances a woman’s beauty.  Bridget agreed but also concluded bondage made her horny as hell. The rural setting, the trees, the quiet appealed to her.  Here’s the driveway.  Turning right and pulling up the long driveway she found herself next to Master’s car and she knew, the beginning of her life changing event was close at hand.  She put her car in park and applied the parkingbreak.  She felt that she also applied a break on her normal, vanilla life.  She would enter the BDSM Sea.  Enter it as one of the more exotic and nuanced denizens.  She would be a slave girl, specifically a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  Bridget and Master had discussed many aspects of enslavement, slave protocols, sexual ownership, and what they each wanted.  She agreed with Master that after all, it was at its heart, an exotic adult game.  They both knew few could play the game, few could accept their role, and few could adhere to the rules and enjoy them with intense satisfaction.  Bridget loved her role and while their private play was so satisfying, she looked forward to their forays into various forms of public play.  Public Play involved exposing part of her BDSM life to the vanilla world.  Bridget always found it surprising.  She couldn’t believe the naughty sense of excitement she felt when she was exposed.  Was it humiliation, she wasn’t sure but it was very kinky indeed. She applied the bright red lipstick.  She loved the color and loved that her Master had told her he loved bright paint on her lips.  He said she was so attractive and luscious and he wanted her lips prominently displayed for him.  Next her fragrance, chosen because it was both understated and exotic.  At last she pulled on the long white gloves that came up to her elbows. Bridget and Master had discussed how she’d wear the long white gloves and he’d hogtie her and use his ball gag.  The picture in her mind of the helpless position always made her wet and horny.  Master had done this before.  Usually he rubbed a rabbit fur all over her body before he pulled her hair and squeezed her tit while he told her how he felt, what he wanted, and what he’d do with her next. As she turned toward the house she found the garage door open and as she had been instructed, she entered the garage and went to the back door leading into Master’s Rec room.  The lighting was subdued but she saw two large shapes draped in thin cloth.  She knew these were their BDSM toys.  Master had built a large cage for her amusement and a sturdy St Andrews cross that would fulfill her desire to be suspended and held helpless. Master had promised to cuff and chain her to the cross.  She knew she’d be naked and looked forward to the way master slipped a gag into her mouth before he applied something to her ass. Usually he forced a silicone bit gag into her mouth before he used his snake whip on her.  She could bite down on the bit and scream at the same time for the serious relief she craved.  Master had assured her she’d receive a serious whipping and perhaps caning that would leave some minor marks.  She wanted the marks.  She wanted to feel his touch afterward.  She wanted all of the things that ownership demanded. She knew Master had plans for an interesting combination Stocks and Spanking Bench.  Bridget had told Master she’d love to be placed in stocks and have her ass molested, pinched, bit, and butt plugged. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to administer an enema while in the stocks.  Master had a lot of toys and equipment.  He had showed her the enema paraphernalia and it included an interesting flow meter that Master said was important to ensure reasonable flow and comfort.    Climbing the stairs she heard Master’s voice and it made her heart skip a beat.  She loved the way he spoke to her.  He didn’t speak at her rather he spoke with her, sharing his thoughts and sometimes emotions.  Master was sitting in a large black leather chair.  He was wearing his black suit with a black mandarin shirt and a nice red pocket square.  He leaned forward and motioned for her to come up.  He wondered about her trip and if the Ben Wa balls were still in place and how she liked them.  She told him about her journey and, yes, the Ben Wa twins were still in place and had directed her attention at the oddest of times, like stepping on the brakes. He asked her if she was ready, if she wanted to go through with their plans.  Did she really want all the things they had planned for, had discussed.  She knew what he was asking, giving her a graceful out.  Her mind was made up but his trust and care made her even more convinced that she wanted enslavement, wanted slavery, wanted to be an owned woman, Master’s property.  All of their discussions had led to this decision.  They both saw a Master/slave relationship as the purest and incidentally most fun form of a BDSM power exchange.  Both of their roles had been defined in term that made sense to both Bridget answered him by unbuckling her shoe clasps and removing her heels.  Pulling the ribbon from her hair she let it fall loose about her shoulders.  Bridget smiled at her Master and began removing all her clothing.  Finally she stood before her Master totally naked.  Master seemed very pleased. He rose and ran his fingers gently all over Bridget.  Master believed that a Gorean Master took great pride in his Kajira, his slave and should be familiar with every inch of her. Bridget knew that her actually collaring demanded that she be naked. She knelt gracefully before him, raised her arms over her head and crossed her wrists.  Bridget had assumed the Kolar or collar position of a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  She knew the message she was sending was that she was ready to be bound and collared.  Naturally she looked down and waited for Master.  The decision was not only made but by showing her acceptance of their planned bond to her Master she knew it was done.  How happy, how fulfilled.  She almost wanted to cry the emotions were so strong. Her life as a Kajira, a Gorean slave was about to begin.  See accepted that she must always be pleasing and offer perfect obedience. Master formally asked her why she was before him and what were her deepest desires for enslavement.  She continued to look down and at first her voice was a whisper but as she gained confidence she became secure and spoke with a clear steady voice.  She asked to be enslaved.  She pledged to serve Master in all ways.  She would be pleasing at all times with perfect obedience.  She would be the owned possession of Master, subject to his commands, dressing as he directed.  She spoke the words of enslavement, “bind me master”. She spoke the timeless pledge saying she wished to be enslaved and then crossing her wrists in front of her asked that Master bind her.  She felt the ceremonial tying of her wrists with the traditional Gorean yellow bindings.  Master then said he would complete the ceremony, their enslavement ritual, by collaring her.  She felt the collar begin to encircle her throat.  She gasped as he pulled her hair back so he could buckle the collar.  Her formal slave collar was polished metal and had a screw driven locking mechanism.  It would be difficult or next to impossible to remove, not that Bridget would ever think about removing the symbol that encircled her throat.  Master completed fastening her collar.  He took her chin in his hand and remarked on her beauty and suitability to be his Kajira. Master removed the bindings from her wrists and ordered her to stand and had her turn around slowly to display herself. She looked at herself and saw the beautiful collar.  All she could say was “La Kajira, La Kajira”, Gorean for I am a slave. Bridget now understood in a most intimate way that her master treasured her and wanted to enjoy his treasure.  Master had two more things to complete the ritual and the first had Bridget very nervous.  Bridget knew she was to be branded.  Thankfully the branding didn’t call for a real white hot branding iron.  Bridget received a henna dye print representation of the Gorean Kef, a very delicate elaborately beautiful “K”, leaving a sharp red image high on her left thigh.  Next Master spoke her new slave name. When Bridget and Master were together in their new roles, she would be “Sefa”.  Master explained that her new slave name was pronounced SEHF-ah and meant pleasure.  He said she was named that way to remind her how she must always be his pleasure slave.  She didn’t think that would ever be a problem. It was done. Bridget had been collared, branded, and named.   Master said he accepted her as his Kajira.  Master directed her to put on her garter, stockings, panties, and heels.  He snapped a leash onto her collar ring and said “bracelets”.  Bridget immediately put her wrists behind her back, slightly bowed her head, and turned around to receive Master’s manacles. Using the leash and her bound wrists he moved her forward.  Master led her around a bit and then out around the deck. Master often told her that bondage made a woman more beautiful and that served to make her move in a sensuous, elegant manner.  Bridget agreed and could think of nothing better than to be on her knees with her Master’s cock in her mouth. He took her over to a chair by the deck table.  He motioned for her to kneel.  He unclipped the leash and attached a short piece of chain to her collar.  The chain was connected to a d-ring embedded in one of the large deck posts.  Bridget was chained to a post with her wrists bound.  Never before had she felt so at peace.  She was owned.  She had been confined on her Master’s deck.  She felt the chain on her chest.  Bridget’s excitement was mixed with embarrassment and humiliation.  She was on her knees dressed like a tarty slut, out in the open for all the world to see.  She realized that Master was exhibiting her as his prize possession.  Of course she thought, it’s highly unlikely we’ll be disturbed.  We’re out in the woods on a secluded property with foliage all around.  Master laughed and said UPS or FEDEX might show up. Bridget’s life as a slave had begun.  She wished and waited for what was next.  Master said she was to be caged in his slave pen after they had discussed their enslavement ritual.  Master took a plate of fruit and picked up a small piece of melon.  He held it out for her to nibble. She daintily nibbled the fruit.  She was being fed by Master’s hand.  She felt a deep bond and happiness.  Next Master poured some of his cool drink into a small bowel.  He placed it before her and motioned for her to drink.  He was watering his slave, caring for his prize possession.  She knelt before the bowel and lapped at the drink. She felt so humiliated to be made to drink in this fashion but it also was so deliciously kinky.   Her journey had begun.  Life would never be the same.  A calmness, a fullness, a richness had descended on her soul.  Master caressed her cheek and breasts and then checked the manacles.  He also adjusted her collar.  Bridget knew master would always make sure she looked her best.  She was his prize possession. Master leaned back and took a small velvet sack from the side table.  “Nadu” Master commanded and Bridget went into the slave position that had her kneeling with her wrists behind her back. Bridget was fascinated  She knelt with her thighs spread wide, back arched, wrists crossed behind her back.  Master produced a bright red ball gag and told her to open her mouth. Bridget felt the ball pressed tightly into her mouth as Master firmly buckled the gag in place.  She found her hands bound behind her back, and the ball gag reduced her to small whimpers to communicate.  She knew she was vulnerable and totally in the control of her master.  It was delicious.  It made her wet just to think of all the things he would do with her.  The bracelets were gleaming metal and had a short length of chain between them so they were relatively comfortable. Master helped Bridget to stand.  He pulled her panties down to her ankles and helped her bend over. He guided her to lay across his lap and began to stroke and kneed her ass cheeks.  Master remarked that she had a pleasingly plump ass that just begged to be spanked.  Bridget felt her Master applying some kind of oil on her ass cheeks.  She wiggled across his lap into a more comfortable position. It made her feel exposed, controlled, at her Master’s mercy.  Bridget couldn’t believe how excited she felt, how she wanted more, more attention, more control. Master told Bridget that he wanted to assert his ownership, make sure she knew she was his property.  Bridget whimpered her assent. She wanted to be his,begged her master to have her, to make her his own, anyway he wanted.  Just do it now. Master began a slow rhythmic paddling of Bridget’s ass.  Slowly at first but soon faster and harder.  Bridget moaned and gasped. Master paused and asked Bridget if she was his, his property. Bridget thought “yes, yes, yes, have me, have all of me.  I am your Kajira and want to be nothing else”.  Master held up one finger which was the signal for silence Bridget was surprised that Master had shut her up, to be quiet.  She understood that he wanted to be in control.  He told her he felt so completed by their rituals.   Master loved the idea that they had built their own kinky world and Bridget loved the way he ruled it. He could silence her with a command or perhaps a gag.  She loved the delicious excitement when he placed a nice red silicone ball gag in her mouth.  Naturally Master could silence her by imposing speech restrictions and she always complied but the ball gag was so hot. Master reached behind her to the small table by his large leather chair.  Bridget felt his movement and turned her head.  “Oh my” she thought as Master’s hand held the red ball gag, a shiny bright metal butt plug, and a tube of lubrication.  Her heart beat faster as she realized she was in for another anal training session.  

Okay, this needs to be said, so please read.I don't care if you are male, female, trans or how you identify.  That is your choice and i will respect it.  I don't care if you are Hetero, Pan, Gay or Lesbian. It is ALL good!  I don't care what your age is, please be legal! Or how fat or thin you are. Whether you are ripped and shapely or fat, flabby or chubby.  You can be hairy, hairless, bald, gray, wrinkled or smooth. I don't care what color you are or your national or ethnic origin. I don't care whether you are cut or uncut. I don't care how long or thick your cock is! I don't care if you are a heavy cummer or if you cum at all! Hell, I don't even care if you can get it up with or without meds, or at all! I don't care how big your boobs or how phat your ass is.... WHAT I DO CARE ABOUT... is YOUR attitude! You must be Dominant! You must take charge. Be demanding. Be sadistic (but sane!) Be kinky. Be perverted. Be creative.Don't ask me what i want to do. Tell me what i am going to have to do!Don't make me wheedle out your desires and interests. TELL ME what they are!  And as a side note; the Loves, Likes etc lists on here don't really tell much of a story, so be prepared to explain.You are not going to shock me or scare me off with your dark and kinky desires. In fact, if you won't, or can't, tell me; then i am not likely to meet you under any circumstances!I won't go into a session without some idea as to what to expect!I am happy to chat or exchange emails. Discuss your desires. Explain, if i can, the options. If all you want is hot and nasty chat, i am good for that as well.

night air, a primal rhythm that echoed through the park. Lily's cries mingled with his grunts, their bodies moving as one, driven by the raw, animalistic need. He reached around, his fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing and pinching it in time with his thrusts. "Cum for me, you little slut," he demanded, his voice harsh and commanding. "Cum on my cock." Lily's body tightened, every nerve alight with sensation. She was on the edge, teetering between pain and pleasure, as his fingers worked her clit and his cock filled her to the brim. With a final, powerful thrust, she shattered, her orgasm ripping through her, causing her to scream into the night. As her body convulsed around him, he groaned, his own release building. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her still as he emptied himself deep within her, filling her with his hot seed. They stood there, panting, their bodies still joined, as the echoes of their passion faded into the night. Lily's mind reeled, struggling to process what had just happened. She had been taken, used, and yet, she couldn't deny the pleasure she had experienced. The man released her, stepping back, his breathing heavy. "You were a good fuck, Lily. But now, I must go." Lily's legs trembled as she leaned against the tree, her body still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She watched as he zipped up his pants, the moonlight glinting off his hooded figure. "Wait..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

 CarpeEros