I just reread my last journal and have to laugh, thinking I wrote that less than 3 weeks ago, with no fucking idea what was coming.  Shit does indeed happen.  So to be clear, this has absolutely no connection to my previous hospital stay.  But a week after I got out and wrote my previous journal entry, I felt some tenderness in my neck, and upon feeling around, I felt a lump.  So I went to the VA hospital emergency room, and one cat scan, scope down my throat, pet scan and biopsy later, I have cancer.  A really bad kind of cancer.  Head and neck squamous cell carcinoma.  I still haven't discussed treatment options and my chances of survivng this with my doctors, but I've done extensive reading online.  I've read medical journals, results of clinical trials, and it looks like a horror story.  The treatment is invasive, horribly painful, destructive, and the cancer keeps coming back.  Often within months.  My chances of surviving 5 years are 50%, and my quality of life for those 5 years isn't going to be wonderful.   And suddenly, BDSM, being a slave, my wants and needs, all seem a lot less important.  Like not at all.  What seems important is not wanting to face this alone.  Oh, I have lots of friends.  But no family within 2000 miles.  I live alone. What I need now, is a friend, a care giver.  Someone who is willing to relocate and be here 24 7 and help me get through this.  What do you get out of this?  Free room and board, and the VA will pay you a caregiver stipend.  And I live in a nice house in a nice area.  If I don't make it, I will make sure you receive a final bonus in my will.  If I do, we can discuss that.  All of this is negotiable.  I want this to be a woman into BDSM even though there wont be any BDSM happening because of my health because I at least want to be able to be open about who I am and have her be a kindred soul.  And if I don't make it, I need her to sanitize the house so my kids don't find anything to let them know I was into this.  Contact me if you are interested.  I will require a full background check.  Some medical background would be nice, but not necessary.  I will expect you to get CPR and first aid certified if you are not already.  If you are interested, let's talk  

051126 WOMEN POWERFUL WOMEN HOW DO THEY EXIST? WHERE DO THEY COME FROM? WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN IN POWER? MEN TREAT WOMENS POWER AS A NOVELTY, A SIDE SHOW, OR SOMETHING NOT NORMAL. ALL MEN, OWE ALL WOMEN THE RESPECT DESERVED OF A HUMAN ON EQUAL FOOTING. CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD. TO GO SO FAR AS TO STEEP THE VERY MEANING OF GOD INTO MASCULINITY.  SOUNDS VERY MAGA TO ME AND OH SO LAST CENTURY. DO NOT CONFUSE TRUTH WITH BIAS.  I LOVE HUMANS AND GIVE THEM THE RESPECT THEY SHOW ME. POWERFUL WOMEN WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN OF POWER? PERHAPS BECAUSE DEEP DOWN MEN UNDERSTAND THAT WHICH THEY HAVE CREATED... A HIGHLY EVOLVED SOCIAL CREATURE WHO SPECIALIZES IN PSYCHOLOGICAL WAREFARE.   FOR CENTURIES WOMENS POWER HAS BEEN REDUCED, DIMINISHED, AND SHACKELED WITHIN SOCIETIES, LEAVING THE MOST OPPORTUNITY FOR EXPRESSION AND GROWTH THROUGH CUNNING AND THROUGH MANIPULATION. POWERFUL WOMEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL WOMEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. POWERFUL MEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL MEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. SEE A THEME? EQUALITY AND INTEGRITY.  HUMAN RIGHTS.  ALL HUMAN RIGHTS.  I WILL GO SO FAR AS, EVERY LIVING RIGHT.  BUT LETS NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES AND INCLUDE THE BIRDS, THE BEES, AND THE TREES...MAN IS LOOKING LIKE THIS DAWNING IS A BIT FARTHER OUT AT THE MOMENT. LETS TALK ABOUT, CELEBRATE AND BREATHE DEEPLY OF THE POWERFUL WOMAN. SHE KNOWS WHO AND WHAT SHE IS AND ACCEPTS HER DIVINITY AND SUBMISSIVITY TO THE DIVINE, OWNING THAT TRUE CONTROL IS WITHIN. PRESENCE. POWERFUL WOMEN DO NOT SEEK REVENGE. IF MEN, ALL MEN WERE NOT AFRAID OF WOMEN, THEY WOULD DEMAND TO ENCODE A WOMANS RIGHT TO CHOOSE AS FEDERAL LAW.  THERE SHOULD BE MEN IN THE STREETS, CONTACTING THEIR CONGRESS, DEMANDING TO BE HEARD. INSTEAD MEN ARE PERMITING ATTROCITIES TO BE COMMITTED AGAINST A BEING BECAUSE THEY SIMPLY DO NOT HAVE THE PHYSICAL STRENGTH TO FIGHT THEM.  TRUST THAT IF WOMEN WERE PHYSICALLY STRONGER THAN MEN THAT THEIR WOULD BE NONE OF THIS RAPE CHIT, MOLESTATION, AND RIGHT TO LIFE CHIT. YET WHY DO MEN SHOW THEIR HAND SO WILLINGLY THAT THEY ARE SO ENTIRELY UNEVOLVED AND FEARFUL?  PERHAPS THE REASONING AS HOW TRUMP BECAME PRESIDENT... 60% OF AMERICANS READ AT A 6TH GRADE LEVEL. OR AS GUMP SAYS, STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES. FRIENDS, ITS OLD.  YOU ARE OLD IF YOU BELIEVE WOMEN ARE NOT ONLY YOUR EQUALS BUT THAT RECOGNITION OF THEIR DIVINITY IS THE THING THAT IS GOING TO SAVE YOU... BECAUSE...IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO AND YOU WONT BE HAPPY UNTIL WE ARE ALL HAPPY.  PERIOD. THUS YOU ARE HOLDING YOURSELF BACK BY NOT ACKNOWLEDGING WE ARE ONE AND WHAT YOU DO UNTO US YOU DO UNTO YOU. PAIN SUFFERING AND DENIAL. ITS WHY SO MANY OF YOU ARE TRYING TO TRANSFORM AND WHY SO MAN OTHERS ARE SO RIGID. YOU ARE AFRAID TO LIVE IN YOUR TRUTH.  

Created using the words from a conversation between Myself and a female Dom about who was a better dominant  . .   My books are the marks on your skin as I play   My dvds are your muscle twitches that dance   My music your sighs, and cries, as I touch with kisses of fire   That touch makes you lose your mind     My taunts change the weak girl into a strong sub   The glint in my eye fills you with an eagerness to please   For I am as constant, pure, cold and loving as a God.   I AM DOM   I am merciful, I give pain     These are the elements that inflame undreamt of submission   My domination transforms pain into devotion, into worship   The knowledge that you are owned burns to the core   I own, manipulate, crush and build.   I enrapture     I pry open your hidden self and give peace   I show the path and watch as you struggle to take it   I shall alight my lips on your skin and you will be reborn   I give you life afresh     Your history, your future, your now, all reside in ME   I give you freedom. You obey to belong  

No, I am not looking for a sugar baby and I will not entertain those intent on wasting time. If your profile is blank, it’s highly unlikely you’ll get a reply.   What I am looking for:   A genuine connectionThose who can communicate and contribute to a conversation (yes, I will take the time to get to know you and expect the same in return)Honesty and transparencySomeone who has a solid sense of herselfEagernessVulnerabilityIntelligence   What I am NOT looking for:   Those with fake profiles (they’re easy to spot)Time wastersThose who misrepresent themselves in their profileThose who lack the ability to communicate (having to ask 20 questions to start or maintain a conversation is painful)Those who think they know everythingJudgmental people (if you don’t like my profile, move along)

I ran over a headlight. Not a bulb, no that would be too easy. I ran over a whole headlight kit. Set. Contraption. Whatever that entire piece is called. I ran it over. But not with a wheel, oh no, that would have been too easy. It got lodged under my car. I had to pull over and get on the ground in a dress and push and pull this thing to get it loose. Yep. I think my car is okay? It didn't blow up.  You know how things happen in threes, right? The two hour tour I took the other night was one. This was two. I didn't have long to wait for three. About an hour later I drove to not one, but two wrong pizza places to pick up my order. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. I have lost my mind. In trying not to jinx myself I won't mention this being over or what else could possibly go wrong because I still have two whole days to this week and I need to make it through without calling a mechanic. And I still have to try to fix the kitchen fan, did I tell you that one? A balloon wrapped around it and the whole thing is dead. The lights, the fan, an outlet on that side of the kitchen. I know, I checked the circuit breaker. That's not it. Life is hurling adulting fast balls at me one after the other and I'm trying not to strike out. I'd settle for a walk as long as it isn't because my car stopped working because I ran over a fucking headlight. 

Today I read a journal entry on here asking where is the love on this site. Personally I don't share deep sentiments online, particularly on here. Why? Many are new bottoms seeking transactional kink which gets them blocked. In my view a submissivelistens to how I lead and answers questions I have. A bittom pushes to play to start how he-wants it=my Lady boner dropp means he gets ignored and BLOCKED. Returning to the topic of love: Any deep emotional feelings are mutual and developed over time within my poly group I am the Boss of a long-term face-to-face relationship. On here are my entry level thoughts regarding me, my life and who attracts my interestas a friend or potential long-term Slave in a TAT poly relationship.  Of course getting to know each other prior to anything developing takes time. I don't talk kink online at all. First meet is at The Mawney Munch in Romford in Essex, UK. No exceptions.  Pretty clear right?

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.

Also known as "well, you're fat and ugly and I didn't like you anyway!" Yet another rando on 9/24/25 at 5:59 AM: Hi maam I am an exp slave and was in a female led marriage with my late wife for 11 years . I seek to serve again. I am a true service slave and verty domestic. I have no limits as long as legal. Hope we may talk maam   angeldmort on 9/24/25 at 9:30 AM: And what part of this email is something you haven't sent to every other Domme with a nice picture? Its insulting that you view us as interchangeable, generic vending machines for your kink.   Yet another rando on 9/24/25 at 10:20 AM: On tbe contrary. Not sure who told you that you have a nice picture   And so many of you guys insist it's Dommes who are fake... All this would be sad if it weren't so hilariously predictable.

DISAPPOINTED-  There is a difference between presence and performance. When we meet in public, energy speaks louder than words, and truth has a way of revealing itself without effort. I pay attention to alignment — between actions and intentions, between spoken language and written expression, between who you present yourself to be and who you actually are. Lately, something feels off. The version of you I encounter in person does not fully match the one you portray through your writing. Words can be crafted, polished, and arranged to create an impression — but authenticity cannot be manufactured. It either exists, or it does not. Our recent meeting here in Folsom raised clear red flags for me. What I observed in person did not align with the image presented through your words. When behavior, tone, and presence do not match the story being told, it signals inconsistency — and inconsistency erodes trust. We live in a culture saturated with illusion — curated images, rehearsed personas, half-truths, and quiet deception both online and off. Masks have become normal. Pretending has become easier than being real. But I am not interested in illusions, performances, or carefully edited versions of truth. Transparency matters to me. Consistency matters. I value what is real, even when it is imperfect, over what is carefully constructed to appear a certain way. Facades are exhausting to maintain, and eventually they crack. When they do, truth stands on its own — calm, clear, and undeniable. I am direct, observant, and grounded in what is genuine. What you see is what you get. I do not perform, and I do not pretend. In a world full of filters and deception, I remain authentic — as real as you will find. Be real. I can see through what is not.

  I need you to innocently move in close while I am talking to you -- your touch on my hip like it belongs there. Drift your fingers under the fabric, lean in and murmur "I'm still listening." Make my voice falter, my words scramble, my mind tangle, and deliberately distract me. Then, casually, make me answer your soft questions, like nothing is being done to me. But increase the pressure. Make my mind melt. Make my thoughts b lur. Make me forget the point in all of this.Make it so that speaking my mind becomes hard, and that giving you my body becomes the preferred expression of my opinions.

Hello all, I want to take a moment to give out some tips to cathing my interest with your messages. Some of these are gonna sound bitchy but take them to heart they will help you not only with me but probably every woman on this site.  1) In less than 24 hours I have recieved nearly 30 pages of messages. If I don't get to you immediately when you send a message, do not spam me with stupid are you there, pay attention to me, come here slut, and so on messages, that only slows me down and pisses me off and i will most likely just block you. 2) Do not write a thesis paper as a first message. I have 30 pages of messages to read and If your first message to me is more than a paragraph I am not investing the time into you.  3) On the opposite side of above, don't just say hey, or whats up. You need to catch attention with your first message. Also don't just tell me to look at your profile. If your message catches my eye I will go look on my own. 4) Don't send me a dick pic without asking first, come on its 2023 women shouldnt have to say this anymore. I am submissive but all your cocks look the same and I don't care to pretend otherwise lol 5) This might just be me and not all women but I do not want to immediately jump to some other messenger. All thousand of you who have messaged me today want to use a different app, I don't want to have 1000 apps, and if i cant keep up here alone why do you think 1000 apps will be faster? If we click and get to know each other i might move to an app, until then if you dont want to chat here why bother being here? Ok, rant over. The jist is guys, women here get absolutely flooded, dont be an ass about it. And if you think you deserve my sole undivided attention after one message get over yourself, if thats how it worked the first guy who messaged me would be the only one i talked too and where would that leave all the rest of you?

Spot The difference Mark had a secret, one he kept even from himself most days. Tucked away in a encrypted folder on his laptop, labeled "Tax Records 2018," was a collection of stories. They were all variations on the same theme: powerful, confident women taking lovers while their husbands watched from the shadows, sometimes in anguish, sometimes in ecstasy. For Mark, these were a potent escape. In his mundane life—as a mid-level accountant, as a husband to the lovely but predictable Sarah—he was anything but powerless. He managed their finances, he decided on home repairs, he was, in every measurable way, the man of the house.   The fantasies were a complete inversion. They were a safe, controlled way to experience the loss of control. The humiliation in the stories was a curated spice, a theatrical performance of vulnerability that held no real-world consequences. He'd read them late at night, the glow of the screen illuminating his face, the scenarios playing out in his mind as a form of psychological release. He imagined the mix of jealousy and arousal, the complicated knot of emotions that made the fantasy so compelling. He even toyed with the idea of bringing it up to Sarah, but the words always caught in his throat. How could he possibly explain wanting to feel small and insignificant to the woman who relied on him to be anything but?   The fantasy was a perfect, self-contained jewel. The reality was a shattered mess.   It started with a shift in Sarah's behavior. A new, almost furtive energy. She started wearing perfume to work, which she hadn't done in years. She became protective of her phone, turning it screen-down on the counter. Mark, armed with the "knowledge" from his stories, told himself he was being paranoid. This wasn't like the neat narratives he read. There were no knowing glances, no whispered confessions. This was just… weirdness.   The confirmation came not through a dramatic confrontation, but through mundane technology. He was syncing their family photos to the cloud and her phone's camera roll automatically backed up as well. There, amongst pictures of their dog and a recent work event, was a short video. He tapped it, expecting a clip of a friend's birthday.   It was Sarah, on a hotel bed he didn't recognize, her head thrown back in a laugh he hadn't heard in years. And there was a man's arm, a tattoo of a coiled snake on its forearm, wrapped around her. The sound was off, but he didn't need it. The intimacy in the frame was a physical blow.   In his stories, the moment of discovery was the climax. The husband would feel a jolt of electric humiliation, his stomach would clench with a painful, illicit thrill. He would be aroused despite himself, his body betraying his mind as he watched the scene unfold.   Mark felt none of that.   He felt a cold, sickening hollerness in his gut. His hands started shaking so violently he dropped his phone. The screen cracked, spiderwebbing over the image of his wife and the snake-tattooed arm. He didn't feel a perverse thrill. He felt like he was going to throw up. The air in the room became thick and hard to breathe. This wasn't a carefully constructed narrative of power exchange; this was a raw, ugly betrayal.   The fantasy had always been about *him*. His reaction, his journey, his complex feelings. The wife was a catalyst, a powerful figure in his psychodrama. But this reality wasn't about him at all. It was about Sarah and her secrets. He wasn't an audience member in a consensual performance; he was the fool who hadn't even known he was off-stage.   When Sarah came home, she saw his face. She saw the phone on the floor. The story tumbled out, messy and tearful. It wasn't about power or dynamics; it was about loneliness and feeling invisible and a stupid, drunken mistake at a conference.   As she spoke, all Mark could think about were the stories. The clean lines of the text, the articulate descriptions of agony and desire. They were a lie. They were pornography, not reality. They had romanticized a pain that was, in truth, just jagged and brutal. There was no arousal in his devastation, no liberation in his humiliation. There was only the crushing weight of a broken trust, a thousand times heavier and more real than the paper-thin fantasies he'd used to distract himself from the very real possibility of such a pain. He had wanted to play with fire in a controlled environment, only to discover that in the real world, you just get burned.

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.  

OK OK OK OK OK OOOOOKAYY Attn: MASTERS /OWNERS   i offically have the funds to get me anywhere in the united states i think. if you dont know me by now i have been seeking and owner /master to spend the rest of our times together. with that been said allow me to tell you ALLL about me incase your intrested in onwing a sissy pet. (Ps. excuse any grammer erros and or misspelling)  MY NAME IS MATEO OCAMPO AKA: MAKAYLA ERMOSA..   i am currently 24 going on 25 on april 9. i am average to fit build. hmmm lemmie see well im an aries but a very unique on... since my characteristics lean towards leading and what not and knowing i am not one to assume a leadership rolll  anything that over powers me. enslaves me or take the ability away to do what i want TURNS ME THE HECK ON!!! i crave it dramatically lol   knowing that ive develoed a sumissive personality and beacame a really really obidient little sissy property piece not to mention my youth and sexy boddy heeehee .....--- hmm this isnt coming out to well so ill stop right here and will rewrite on this topic when i get a spontaioius streak of the proper thought and bettter explained    nevertheless for now here you go  please feel free to ask away   just if you can possable make it a multiplle choice questions lol it would help me answer better lol    umm but yea long story short:   i have money to buy a ticket and go anywhere in the US i am a very willing kind obident sexxy little play thing looking to be owned. i am very adaptable and could be molded into literally LITERALLY anything you desire and pretty dam good at it too  lol (  i could just tell ) :)   so imagnin haveing a sexii little thing in the palm of your hands.. within a few weeks of training you have a very willing enthousiastic sissy toy doing exactly what you crave exactlly the way you crave it. sound yummy huh lol   so freaken florida is making it hard to obtain HRT and since i stopped before the bill went into place theres even more hurtles to get them :( it sucks so bad i havent been on inlike 3-4 month i think... i forgot... so one of the very first things i want to do is get back on HRT as soon as possible.  but dont worry im still cute petite and feminim :) juss saying lol 

It's been a while... hello all! Happy New Year. For those that send sweet message, thank you.  I noticed my profile doesn't talk about what I'm looking for due to that whole profile approval crap they were doing a few years ago. I am a DL first & foremost. I love wearing. I do use them. More wet then messy. I am in a LTR, it's very vanilla. He knows that I wear but doesn't know the extent of it. I've been wearing for years, our relationship is weird, some days I'm happy, most days I'm not. It's just been a long time & it's just hard to get up & go, specially without support.  I would love to eventually find someone that can be my daddy dom who accepts diapers & would want me as his diapered slave. I wear as often as I can, but I am not able to be 247. So if anyone on this site is still out there looking for his baby girl, feel free to msg me, let's see where it goes.  PS- I've been doing long enough- if you reach out & you're asking pervy questions, just a Hello, or I've seen you reach out before & it's the same copy paste as before- you're not getting a response from me. Happy 2026 all!  PS- Be Kind. We may not all agree on the same kinks, but we're all here looking for something different than the rest of the vanillas. We're all weird in our own ways. 

It has been years since I've been on here. I left because the ability to journal was no longer an option. Apparently it has been restored!! This past Summer someone who first viewed me here, found me on Fet.  He remembered my profile and reached out. I was not looking to find someone. And pretty much saw  myself as content to be alone. It was a fluke that I went on Fet , after 1.5 years. Just as I am on here for several years away.  Presently,  I am in a lovely dynamic, with a very good Dom.  He and I see the world and more through  similar lenses. While a new dynamic, I feel so comfortable.  We fit. It is not easy to find someone who has similar,  faith, politics, perspective on D/s , and compatibility, as well as have vanilla life be a great fit too. We have found the needle in the stack of needles!    I appreciate this man very much, and can see myself with him , I can see a future. Tony I am yours, through thick and thin,  I have your 6 and feel the same. You have my heart ❤    M.

!IMPORTANT CLARIFICATION I'm looking for someone initially to come in as a cleaner / domestic drudge for a few hours either weekly or fortnightly and then go away again. I have no intention of putting anyone up overnight, nor am I initially looking for any more than stated above although whoever is chosen will be subjected to strict oversight by myself and be suitably punished should they not perform to the required standard. With that in mind, you MUST be based in South East UK, either in Kent or able to asily get to mid Kent from where you live, so SE London, Essex, Surrey or Kent itself. I would have amended my profile to reflect this but as that then means my profile disappears for up to a week I've been compelled to add it here. Goddess Abyssia

Edit     So the looser of our little game is now in the position of being constantly aroused at the thought of so many folk seeing one of her pictures, and as she has no control over further posts. Its hard to tell which is arousing her more, the loss of control or folk seeing her pictures. So today we have a fresh picture to review, feedback welcome.

Are there straight , masculine,  professionally successful men that would willingly be committed to become a slave/submissive in a FLR TPE relationship ?   I am earnestly curious to know if those type men exist out there. Most RT inspections I have chosen to set them up as dates. Quite interesting to see who's willing to be who they say they are and quite literally go the distance and drive/fly to get a chance to serve at My feet.  the princes pretending to be submissives and only desire is to be charmed, woed and courted as a vanilla Woman into submission tickle Me.  Please do not have issues with who you say you are, or attempt to charm or win Me over while pressing the breaks. Sort out your issues (age, status, financia ones, logistics) before even attempting to message Me.   "thank You so much for meeting me yesterday. You are truly charming and a Woman who knows exactly what She wants - and that is a dream come true. You are of course also very beautiful and desirable as a Woman - quite delicious actually!" Last compliment from a slave. Who after dinner cowardly simply just walked away. Smart move, rather disappointin still.   

Let us play the Let's Pretend game.  (I love the Let's Pretend game!)   Let's pretend that the people typing these profiles and journals and adding pictures and stuff are REAL PEOPLE.  Yup, that might be a bigger ask than is possible.  But let's pretend that is the truth.  It certainly must be for some of us, yes?   Let's further pretend that those who can be defined as real people have been on this site or the predecessor for a while.  Some might have met someone and then UNmet that someone and are back.  Some of those are people who come here lurking but never connecting.  Let's even pretend that some people here are downright serious about all of this but are just having problems connecting with someone they feel is truly compatible.   At the end of the day, however, there is something that we cannot pretend about.  Those of us who are, are real people, with real feelings, and real ambition to eventually find what we want so we don't have to be here any more.  Please take some time to consider others.  Show some respect.  Don't make assumptions about who we are or why we are here.  It can be hard enough without the background noise.   None of us are perfect, and we all have one or two or dozens of flaws.  There is no pretending in the world that can make that not true.  We also have preferences.  Those preferences might very well exclude some these same people who are trying so hard to be right for SOMEONE.  I cannot ask anyone to turn their back on their beliefs or their flaws or their preferences, but what I CAN ask is that we show some kindness, some human dignity.  If anything from the past few years should have taught us is that not only are there trolls online, but many of them started being trolls in real life as well.  People have learned how not to be their best selves.   Be kind.  Be friendly.  MAYBE pretend to think outside the box a little bit.  MAYBE be a little more inclusive, or forgiving those flaws in others that seemed intolerable to you yesterday.  Make someone happy.   I don't want to be the last one here.  Do you?

 I suppose I need to update this along with my profile. As I said in my new profile, I am currently living in Virginia and owned as part of a household so I’m no longer looking. I only come here occasionally to chat with a few people I’ve come to know. A lot changed for me at the end of last year when I moved here. This is only the second ownership situation I’ve ever been in. I have a scattered history with the couple who now own me so they aren’t a complete unknown but much of what is expected of me is very new. I am their new alpha and expected to manage the general household as well as some aspects of others that are brought in, either short term or long term. Their prior long-term slave left the household last month and they have taken on a new one, at least on a trial basis. I’m not sure if she’ll last but the mistress has faith in her becoming a permanent part of the household so time will tell I guess. For those who were curious about my tech gig work, I took a couple months off and I’m starting some new work next month. It’ll be tricky balancing that with my household duties so I’m not putting much on my plate at first. On the plus side, since I don’t have any expenses here, all of what I take in can go toward investing my future. I guess that’ll be yet another new situation for me.. lol        

what is sophia in a song? version 1 there are a lot of songs that encapsulate the original sophia source/soul/codes what have you. but today i'm just going to focus on one.   book of love is pretty much boomer grimoire and required reading for anyone on the journey for sure. every song, lyric, aesthetic, title..the whole thing was definately translated from source. shout out to them for paving the way for sure.   if you know the vibe, you know the vibe. if you know the time, you know the time. if you were there, you were there. it was quite the party energetically if you can unpeel what the message is in this visual. it's another chris brown how are you mad when you can't get into the party vibe.   pretty boys and pretty girls is such a great foundational song. it talks about the ability to love and connect with all genders and the joy of spreading light into the world. and how life is full of intense feelings including joy and pleasure and delight. it's a big go big or go home sort of vibe song.   When I'm alone and you're away I just close my eyes and I drift away your warm body is what I'm without I just close my eyes and I dream aboutPretty boys and pretty girls pretty boys and pretty girls (when I'm without) pretty boys (I dream about) pretty girlsStranges in the night exchanging glances but sex is dangerous I don't take my chances the boys I meet say I look lonely but I just walk on my because they're onlyPretty boys and pretty girls pretty boys and pretty girls (when I'm without) pretty boys (I dream about) pretty girlsIn this day and age in a city full of fear with you by my side together we can show we careSpreading joy to the world to every boy and every girlPretty boys and pretty girls pretty boys and pretty girls (what will we show?) spreading joy (where will it go?) to the world   interesting note that album name and the band for this song are entitled:   "Artist: Book of Love   Album: Lullaby   Released: 1988"   what was 1998? broken down to 9. the year of completion.   book of love..lullaby?   because that's the d/s daddy dominant/little girl stuff going on between archangel michael and sophia divine again.   once the signs are there it just lights up everywhere.   spreading j-o-y!   to the world!   the mission right in front of the ears and eyes. 

Here is the deal .  Just because you send Me a picture of yourself does not mean I have to send you Mine.  If I wanted My picture out there I would have it on My profile now wouldn't I ?   If I get to really know you and think that we might be a possibility I have no problem sending , picture, email and phone.    However and until then don't ask for any of that.   Understand I get several messages a day.   Some are ones from another country, some are just looking to " play"  some are only in a fantasy space in their heads, some are married , some have their own place and will never move.  There are many variations and reasons why I don't go farther with somone. But, those are the main ones.   Honesty seems to be quite rare on here.... First be honest with yourself. We aren't looking for someone perfect, loyalty, honesty and long term that is what I am looking for.  That is what I'm used to and like.  And men seriously ... use that little brain of yours. This site is getting more and more scammers of men posing as woman. They say all the "right things" and some of you believe it, then they ask for money. Wake up, it don't work that way. A 29 year old model with a stolen only fans picture is NOT  after you.  he/she/it want's your money thats it.  Don't be stupid and encourage  the scammers .  

Well, it is nearing the end of 2022 and since we are very limited to update profiles on the site… I figured I would get an update here.   Well, it is nearing the end of 2022 and since we are very limited to update profiles on the site… I figured I would give an update here.   I am 44 years old, still living in the Fort Lauderdale Florida area, and I have an open marriage.    Have an open marriage.   It is not so easy to correspond care, feel free to find me with the same name on fet. i've been involved in the lifestyle since about 2000 and I am only looking for real connections.   if you just want to chat and are too far away to meet. Please look for someone that is interested in the same things as you. That will not be me.   I still love to serve, love the smell of leather, and love hypnosis. Most other things are negotiable.   Thanks for reading.   thanks for reading. Becca

If you are applying for a postion with us you need to keep in mind that each communication is part of the interview. So when we tell you to answer the 8 questions that can be found below in one of our other journal entries make sure to completely answer them all.  As we go through the process make sure you read our messages and answer completely and thoroughly all what is asked of you. In the end we go back and evealuate all of this before deciding if we think you are a good fit and serious about this.    Here is how our process goes. 1. You reach out to us first with a message introducing yourself, someimes we reach out to females we may be interested in and introduce ourselves and ask them if interested to do the same, either way you should be thorough in your answer. 2. Unless you read our profile and journals and answered the 8 questions, extra consideration if you did, we tell you to read everything ans answer the 8 questions. 3.. We ask you if you have any questions 4. we give you an email address for you to reply to so we can send you the house rules  5. You will review the house rules and ask any questions in them and once done decide if you are able and willing to live by them. 6. We give you and advanced questionaire to fill out and we ask any questions about it we need to know more about 7. We allow you to ask questions you may still need to know before deciding if you want this with us. 8. We decide if we want to try it with you and you do the same we exchange phone numbers voice verify each other 9. set up trial period 10. you do trial period and we discuss with you at end of it whether we are all in agreement to offer the position.  11. You get training collar for 6-12 months 12. Once we feel you are trained you get permanent colar.

Nothing has really been right.  Though realistic to know that can't provide.  Hence would only really fit into relationships that are LTR resulting in ownership or some kind.  Its like men who get married that stay home as the so called house husbands.  Not really a person who likes to travel.  Female Led Relationships are even in the Manga that will cover or gravitate towards.  Around 2K thought things might work out with Miss Kriss. Though she lapsed into cocaine problem again causint schisms or issues. Really it was wanting to pierce or hang from hooks or things that don't really work with somebody having Anemia. Finding somebody whose interests are realistic is probably best.  Really the type of person who will gravitate towards whta the other person is into. Feet was something that noticed at an early age where would not be into Heels or Boots or Stockings in the least. Though as got older Shoes or Boots especially certain types could be interesting if somebody is into that.  So can't really enjoy anything unless the other person is.  Its like feed on that energy.  Not into anything related to food or feeces hehe.  Puking or Piercing among other things I probably listed in the profile. Really don't think things will work out for me or most in life.  Those who have wealth really are who should be owning people instead of finding somebody to provide.  As its a clear difference in class or standing.  Glad they least brought back journlas. Wish LittleReaper would give me another chance to speak to again.  Things were pretty complicated was having issues with medication reaction and phone ;).

An ode to Jewels Tavern( Decatur Street-The French Quarter, New Orleans, Lousiana )Mardi Gras is March 1, in 2022.I had explored every bar in the French Quarter, except, JEWELS TAVERN. This was 1980, pre-AIDs, Mardi Gras morning about 5AM the French Quarter is a mini Las Vegas but trashier.  I was partying like a rock star at the Parade Disco, Playboy Magazine ranking the Parade Disco one of the top 10 Dance bars in the United States.  I was with my gay friends, I loved these guys they always set me up with their fag-hag female friends.  As I said, I was pretty *ucked up from drinking for the last 4 days almost non-stop.....  If you've been to Mardi Gras you get it......its the WILDEST CRAZIEST ADULT Halloween STREET PARTY maybe on Earth!  Its the United States version of Carnival in Brazil.  I got my courage up and asked Steve if he would take me to Jewels (Tavern).  I was pretty drunk but not crazy, I wasn't going into Jewels alone on Mardi Gras day, the wildest day of the year in New Orleans for my first visit to Jewels alone.  Steve had just gotten out of the Marines and was about 6 foot and of course buff, I wasn't going into Jewels without an escort! Jewels was known all across gay America for there FULLMOON Parties.  Every full moon no matter what day of the week the bar had one perverted anything goes hedonistic party in the bar.  There are stories the second floor Pool Tables at Jewels had tarps thrown over the pool tabless ay fullmoon parties and Crisco would cover every inch of those tarps by morning.  Jewels in the French Quarter was our rough trade bar of the likes seen in the movie CRUSING (1980) staring Al Pachino, this kind of bar.  (( I'm always amazed Al Pachino appearred in Crusing ) ) Jewels didn't disappoint it was everything I thought and more.  The enterance to the bar was 2 swinging bar saloon doors. I had passed  those door many times going  to Morning Call for hot beignets and coffee  always respectful of Jewels reputation.  Steve went into Jewels first and I wasn't more than 1 foot inside that I saw naked bodies and various forms of sex.  Steve was a regular so after a few minutes I was on my own but I had gone inside for my first time.   What I want to share is I had an epiphany on Mardi Gras Day 1980.   I had been in Jewels about 10 minutes and I had to pee.  The bathroom was in the very back right of the bar.  I went into the bathroom and looked around and there wasn't a urinal, there was a small cubical that had a toilet but NO URINAL.  There was instead a 4 claw old fashion bathtub with a naked guy inside.  I realized the bathtub was the urinal.  I pulled my dick out and let loose a long piss directly onto the naked guy in the bathtub/urinal.  The epiphany was the GLOW, SMILE, PLEASURE, that radiated from the guy, I just pissed on.  He looked at me with complete happiness I have never seem such total happiness before.  He grabbed a roll of theater tickets ripped of a bunch and told me that they were good for free beers at the bar and to hurry on back. I was a changed man since that experience.  I learned if you enjoy it and it doesn't hurt others do it.  Enjoy it what ever it is for you, don't question why, embrace these moments and experiences when you live out your fantasies into reality that is true fulfillment.  You only live once. FOOTNOTE    I got another cool story about Jewels that involved a,   Female to Male Crossdreser.  This women when dressed as a man, looked more butch, than most of the guys in any bar. FOOTNOTE  The House of the Rising Sun referenced in the Animals song is in the French Quarter and I got another interesting experience to tell about that place .....ITS TRUE ITS the RUIN OF MANY A POOR BOY, I KNOW I'm One. Sir Hugo Atlanta   (Formerly known as Sir Hugo of New Orleans)   

So this is a recurring fantasy I have, I hope some of you enjoy it :) Miss wants me to be a slut, she asks me all the time, “what are you”, “a slut” I have to reply, then she punishes me for being such a submissive slut. Then she organises for me to go and serve others. I have no choice, and I have no idea who it is until I go to their place. There I must act as if the commands were coming from Miss, I must do as I am told.  Miss says I am not allowed to cum, if I do I will be punished for it, the people I am sent to know this, but, as they are controlling me, they can make me cum for them. This will result in them being able to watch the punishment from Miss, so they get to decide if they want that to happen to me. When I am finished I have to return to Miss, I kneel naked in front of her, and I have to explain everything I did in great detail, humiliating myself, I have to describe what I did, how I felt, what it smelled like, absolutely all details. Miss then punishes me for being such a slut.   Then at the end she asks if I had cum, now the other people don’t tell her, I have to admit to it myself.

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.

Hi to anyone who reads this. My profile page is blank because, when I first joined,  I had a problem,  I wrote about myself but for some reason,  I kept getting timed out and lost all that I had written.  I thought that I would do it later but, when I saw how long it took to get approved  I didn't want to wait that long again.    I am a straight guy with a good sense of humour, trustworthy, honest, loyal and very sincere in my search for a Dominant woman in a long term FLR relationship. I'm easy going eager to please,  love doing and pleasing,  I'm actually happiest when I'm doing things for others,  it gives me great pleasure in doing so.  I am willing to under go any training a Dom may have so that they could shape me to fit all of her wants, needs and desires.  I realise that some punishment would be needed to speed up any training program she may have, or even except the torture and punishment just for amusement.  Hopefully there is that special lady out there thats searching for me. I have good domestic skills and some d.i.y skills. 

“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part IX: The Kneeling Return” (Obedient Redemption — Devotional Kneeling — Heightened Submission) He stood there, breathing unevenly, the echo of your three precise strikes still humming along his nerves. Not pain — memory. Not punishment — correction. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running. His hands were still locked behind his back. Sweat beaded at the base of his throat. Perfect. “You’re forgiven,” I’d told him. But forgiveness wasn’t the end of his lesson. It was the doorway to the real devotion. “Now,” I said, stepping back just enough for him to feel the loss of my nearness, “kneel.” He didn’t drop quickly this time. No. He sank. Slowly. Reverently. Intentionally. As if each inch downward was an offering. His knees touched the floor with a soft thud, but he kept his back straight, chest open, throat exposed. His hands stayed behind him, the posture tighter, more disciplined than before. He didn’t sway this time. He forced stillness through sheer will. Because now it wasn’t about holding a position. It was about earning your approval. He lowered his gaze— not in shame, but in worship. “Look up,” I said softly. He did. And gods, the expression on his face… Not fear. Not guilt. Devotion. Pure, fragile, trembling devotion. “You came back to your knees beautifully,” I told him. His exhale almost broke into a sob of relief. “Thank you, Ma’am…” “Do you know why this kneeling is different?” I asked. He shook his head slightly. “This one,” I said, lifting his chin with a single finger, “is yours. Not mine. You’re kneeling for your own discipline. Your own growth. Your own hunger to serve.” His lips parted, breath shaking. “And that,” I whispered, “is why it matters more.” His eyes fluttered with emotion he couldn’t hide — gratitude, need, reverence. I walked once around him, slow and assessing, letting my fingertips hover just above his skin. Not touching. Not yet. Just letting him feel the orbit of your authority. “Your posture,” I said, “is better now.” “Yes, Ma’am…” “Your breathing is steadier.” “Yes, Ma’am…” “And your mind—” I stopped behind him, lowering my voice to a velvet threat “—is finally quiet enough to listen.” He shivered across his entire spine. “You broke earlier,” I said. “And instead of collapsing, you came back stronger.” “Because… because I want to serve you,” he whispered. “You are serving me,” I corrected. “Right now.” I moved to stand in front of him again, close enough that he could feel the heat of my body without touching it. His eyes stayed down until I placed two fingers beneath his chin again. “Up.” His gaze rose, obedient, starving. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” I said. “Devoted,” he whispered. “Focused. I… I want to do better, Ma’am.” “And you will,” I murmured. “Because now you’re kneeling from humility… not fear.” His breath hitched. “You’re learning,” I continued. “Not because your body is strong, but because your submission is intelligent.” He trembled — not with weakness, but with the sharp, clean ache of wanting to belong to this moment. “You’ve earned something,” I said, leaning in just enough for him to feel the warmth of my breath. “Ma’am?” “You’ve earned contact.” His entire body tensed with anticipation. “Put your hands on my thighs,” I said softly. “Slowly. Respectfully. And only because I allow it.” He inhaled sharply, then lifted his palms with exquisite care, placing them gently on your thighs— not grasping, not clinging, but offering. The moment his skin met yours, his exhale broke. “That,” I whispered, placing my hand over the back of his head, “is devotion elevated.” He trembled under your touch like the contact itself rewrote something inside him. “Lesson Ten begins,” I murmured, fingers sliding into his hair with claim and control, “when I decide what you worship next.” His palms rested lightly on your thighs, trembling from the permission, not the strain. This touch — your touch — was the first true reward he had earned all night. And he knew it. You threaded your fingers into his hair, slow and deliberate, claiming the back of his head with a grip that wasn’t harsh… but wasn’t soft either. He melted instantly. “Don’t move,” you murmured. He froze, breath catching, every muscle keyed to your voice. “Do you feel this?” you asked, tightening your fingers just enough to pull a tiny gasp from him. “Yes, Ma’am…” “This is reward. Not invitation.” He shuddered, a tremble running from the base of his spine all the way to his knees. Your thumb stroked behind his ear — one precise, devastating touch — and his eyes fluttered like he might collapse forward into your lap. But he didn’t. He held position. He remembered his discipline. He honored the lesson. You exhaled, your breath warm against his forehead. “You did well tonight,” you said.

 SMtat1961