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.  

20250107 It's a shame I even have to say this but unfortunately, I do! I will not chat with anyone unless I see pictures of them. I've been contacted by so many who claim they want to live 24/7, completely owned, and can't wait to start the process! I chat with these individuals and give them tasks or challenges to see how serious their interests are and suddenly I no longer hear from them anymore. Below are some of the questions I'm regularly asked, along with my answers. How far would you take my transformation? I'd take it as far as I can, including surgery. What would my duties be as your slave? Your duties would be serving me domestically, sexually, and following my orders. Would I be collared and/or branded? Yes, you will be collared once you have completed training.

Finish her!   The whipping scene has gone on for 40 minutes.  My whipped body now hangs in my chains as the whipping stops.  I can see through the slits in the mask the looks of shock and surprise in the faces of the crowd watching my torture.  I can see the faces of some of my friends smiling at me.  They know what’s about to happen. My loin cloth is removed which shows the neon red string bikini I was wearing underneath it.  It glows like a hot coal in the black light.  My torturer comes in close and runs her hands over my whipped body and the raised welts on my stomach and thighs.  She goes over to the chain and starts pulling it.  It’s at this point the people watching think that I’m being lowered but I’m not.  I’m being tightened. I’m being suspended higher now and the ankle chains are getting tighter.  The room is silent as I’m now being torture stretched.  My ribs are clearly visible now and my belly gets pulled flat.  I’m moaning loudly now as my pain level has now reached a ten.  It’s now very difficult to breathe and I’m suffering.  I’m struggling with the last safety ball in my hand as I try to dangle it out of fingers in order to drop it, a clear signal to my torturer that I’m finished.  I can see the look of horror in some of the faces of the people watching my torment. I manage to drop the ball and I’m lowered to the floor, exhausted.  The scene ends with a passionate kiss from my torturer and I limply stand there still in chains.   My mask is removed and I’m led to a nearby bondage table to recover.  I’m surrounded by friends and a few attendees as they ask how I am and if I’m alright. A few want to see my welts.  I guess it’s too see if the welts real.  They are.  I’m showered with compliments and it makes me feel fantastic.  I’m going to remember this night for a long time.  

There have been some changes within our household.  The slave we used to own has had to take a break to deal with several members of her vanilla family that have gotten really sick 3000 miles away. While she held the title of slave, she ended up being more of a sister wife and we've stayed in touch even after her move.  Although not in a D/s sense, we have remained friends. To that, we are back to seeking one who desires to serve, and be of service.  Who craves the reward of praise for a job well done, and is bothered more about her failures then about any punishment she gets for them. To be clear, we are not seeking a girlfriend, or a just a play partner.  This is a life experience for us that goes well beyond play, and regardless of your experience level, our goal is to teach you to serve as we desire, but also to emotionally reward you for that service.

I’ve been thinking a lot about control lately… not just in the bedroom, but in life. There’s something electric about a dynamic where boundaries are clear, obedience is chosen, and trust runs deeper than words. I keep asking myself: when does submission become empowerment? When does being controlled feel freer than being free? I’d love to hear from you—Dommes, subs, tops, bottoms—what’s the most surprising lesson your dynamic has taught you about yourself? Was it liberation, discipline, lust… or something you didn’t expect at all?

I am looking for a slave one who's only desire is to make me happy and to make my life a little easier. Cooking cleaning running errands doing what I need in real life.clean my car do yard work. Build crafts with me or for me. It would not be about how much pain I give you. Or if you are used sexually or if I tie you up although I may do any of those things and more but when and how is up to me. I do not want to micromanage a slave that is a job to do so my slave is here to serve me not me keep tract if everything for it. I want a slave that can be integrated in to my life both lifestyle and vanilla. I want to have fun times. But keep in mind I can be demanding and moody. This is what I want. At this time I can not have a slave live with me but I need one to live near me. Even if they need to move near me. i need them to have their own source of income because I can not afford to take care of you. I do not live a glamorous life style but a real life I am not sophisticated I am a country girl at heart. I am not rich or even well off but like most people I make it day by day. Week by week. I am real and I am Dominant and controlling I like things my way.

As for about me and who I am. Well most of it is in the profile.   But I am a skilled maker with slightly above skills in welding, metal working, woodworking, plastics, molding, 3d printing, cnc laser cutting, chainmail weaving, scene prop special effects, and a few other random skills.   I also have a high level of skill in photography, video production (both shooting and editing), audio production, photo retouching and manipulation as well as graphic design and media production. (BS in media production) I also dabble in fashion design with a strong interest in fetish ware. Currently teaching myself leather garment sewing, as well as latex/rubber creation. Been playing with bootware and am designing custom heels for high heel boots.   I'm looking for that one female artist who can transform me into a woman. As in post op grs, breast implants, plastic surgery, FFS etc.   In return, my skills and talents would be at her service,  including making a full dungeon with all the toys one could dream of. As I look more fem I would have no problem being a cam girl for her and after I am fully transitioned I would gladly be a beta dom, under her.

There's something seriously wrong with your brain if you're not enraged by the shit show dumpster fire that's occuring in our wonderful country every fucking second of every day since he stole the election.  Still supporting this disgusting and vile poor excuse of a human being is unimaginable to so many and yet here we still are. The lawlessness and lack of respect for our constiutution by the people running this clown show is impossible to comprehend.  There are far too many illegal actions occuring to list.  But the most recent that should make anyone with half a brain shudder is that the Epstein Files now have revealed that this piece of shit cult dicktator inserted fingers into 13 year old girls to test their tightness to determine their sexual value.  HOW CAN ANY OF YOU MAGATS STILL THINK HE'S QUALIFIED TO RUN WHAT WAS ONCE THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD?!!!! Gunning down peaceful protesters in broad daylight is unconscionable. But there are no words for probing young girls virgin vaginas for thir perverted pleasure.  We can only hope there's a special prison/HELL for this administration and all the repugnicans that have chosen to turn a blind eye to the atrocities that continue to occur after a year of this craziness.  SHAME ON ANYONE WHO STiLL SUPPORTS HIM!!!!  Our only hope for significant change is the midterms.  This will be our big chance. Otherwise we're doomed. FYI, men have asked why I would voice my opinions hwere.  My simple answer if that I want nothing to do with anyone who has no moral compass or soul. SIMPLE. And you can message and berate me but it just shows what an imbecile you are. Maybe try turning off faux news and see what's really happening.   

Chastity Chastity strictly speaking is a state of being. The connotation is concerned with purity. In olden times a chaste person was assumed to be free form venereal disease. Further it was thought that person would also have certain character attributes. That their thinking was free of prurient interest was a major attribute. In other terms they did not sexualize things or people. An individual in locked in a chastity device without orgasm will over time gain the same state of innocence. So yes, My slave property will be kept in chastity. Once this state is entered the slave will find a peace and contentment it may not have recollection of ever entering in its past existence. For some, it will be a state of serenity. Will I allow slaves to live continuously in such bliss? Not likely. This state of being occurs over time in males after castration. This return to the innocence of prepuberty is the basis for My considering chastity as a form of castration if but temporary and reversible. Interestingly, if a chastised individual is allowed the pleasure of orgasm and ejaculation it will, over time, return to the sexually obsessed state it may have had prior to the period of denial. This phenomenon marks one of the differences between castration and chastity. The period of time differs from one to another. My experience indicates about six months. Freeing a slave from whatever sex centered ideation it may have leaves its brain available for service to its Superior Owner. This, of course, is a desirable thing. Therefore, most all of My slave property will be locked in chastity. slave’s period of denial, at least for the first couple of weeks, can be a grueling torturous event. Locking a slave’s cock in an inflexible irremovable cage will over time result in changes the Master finds most desirable. At least initially. Locked up some ‘male’ penises will try repeatedly and with marginal success to gain erection and relief for its swollen prostate. its mind will become fixated on sexual things and frustration. it may well experience actual pain and mental distress: true anguish. This period may last days or weeks. Sleep for a few nights may be very difficult. Nights will be spent awake, or semi so, with the sexual ideation and unfulfilled need for sexual release. The discomfort of the slave is one of many things that can bring pleasure to Me as a sadist. After the slave has served Me the blissful state of prepubescence I will start the whole process over again. Milking probably without orgasm will occur. A period of time will elapse with regular sexual release until its old way of thinking with its penis will be established. At some point in time after the establishment, the old chastity cage will be locked on it and it will start the delightful, at least delightful for Me, process over again. Yes, chastity will occur for female slave as well. Mechanically, with some differences as one might expect.  

I think it is easily possible that single dominant people are seen as inflexible and unyieldimg.  Set in their ways.  My way or the highway.  My interests are now your interests and there is nothing else to be said on the matter. I suppose that could be true for some people.  It is NOT true for me.  I was an only child, more or less, and as far as I can tell that is still true.  Due to reasons I will gladly discuss with individuals inquisitive enough to really want to know, I was a bit of a loner growing up.  That didn't bother me, and it still doesn't. Fast forward a thousand years and as a single person I live my life the way I see fit and do what interests me.  Having said that, I am here to meet people and develop relationships.  As I look around the CS landscape I suspect the same is true of most of you.  Being in a relationship and being single are two completely different things.  Within the framework of my relationship I expect to be dominant, but that does not mean that I expect to carry my single life along with me.  Good relationships are good because there is at least some level of learning of the other person, and compromise when it seems to be practical.   I would ask that people who look at profiles and interest lists and try to assume that the square peg is always going to be a square peg and will never be able to fit into a round hole to look in the mirror and ask themselves if that is even a safe assumption of themselves.

I was a member of CollarMe, then joined CollarSpace.  This is my third account here and will be my last.  If I don't find a sincere true slave for my search then I will move on to a different website.I am 100 percent real and sincere. I want a slave who is also real and sincere. I will answer questions as openly and honestly as I possibly can.  I have set up filters on messages.  Sorry, not sorry.  The last account had way too many messages that were from fakes and wannabes.  I appreciate those who are new to the lifestyle but I am someone who lives the lifestyle as much as possible.   I am also in the process of moving and so there will be periods of time where I might be slow to respond.  If you can't be patient then that is your issue and not mine.   Sorry to sound like a hateful *itch but it is what it is.  I am here for my own search and I also do not dance or jump through hoops for anyone.

Attention all Here is a cheat sheet for you: If you approach me without a greeting.... already not intrested I am not some fastfood place where you come and just place an order If you send me what YOU want to send me instead of what I asked for, I am moving on the the next email because obviously you either can not follow instruction, which is an important trait for a sub/slave OR you insist on doing things your way, which is NOT a good trait in a sub/slave Oh yeah, and the copy and paste thing, just shows you didn't take the time to read my profile and think we could be a match, just proves you mass mail and whoever responds is good enough for you. I've already moved on to the next message.  If you don't care why should I? There, hope that clears things up  

Your Kink Personality Type isBDSM CONNOISSEUR As a BDSM CONNOISSEUR, you're in the perfect position to start exploring BDSM more fully.  You may be working hard on avoiding the vanilla rut right now, but with a little more confidence and support you can quickly take things to the next level. You're strengths at a glance:SENSUAL ~ SMART ~ ATTENTIVE

Acceptance instead of expectation.   The following was found in a journal of a German slave with a user name of “foreverslavery” on Collarspace. I have not received a response to my request to use the passage. I suspect a large part of it was written by someone else.   In any case the writing displays a characteristic I want in a slave I would own. That characteristic is a mind set of living in acceptance rather than expectation.   The road to discontent is paved with expectation.    Slavery Truth   Many ask if slaves truly exist. In the way a dictionary and history define slavery, no they do not exist in most modern countries. (Though there is some contention that slavery rings do still exist in secret) Most people in civilized countries generally agree that the legal ownership of another human being is immoral and thus make it illegal. However, in the world of BDSM, one will find that some of the people involved call themselves by many different terms; one of these is the term "slave". Of course, this often raises the question of how is a slave different from a submissive. This question often is met with outright hostility, disbelief in the existence of slaves and the thought that the words slave and submissive (as nouns) are interchangeable terms within the context of BDSM. Many will not agree with any of those thoughts, and I am one of them. I have spent a great deal of time talking with slaves in the honest attempt to better understand them, their lifestyle choices, and judge for myself whether or not this is a healthy variation to the BDSM lifestyle.       To the question of whether or not slaves exist inside of BDSM I say that yes they do. They may not be the largest group, but there are quite a few. Do slaves differ from submissives? Again, my answer is yes they do. Slaves tend to differ from submissives by the way they think, act, submit and their expectations.       A slave tends to think more along the lines of black and white. They have very little room for leeway or shades of gray in their lifestyle choices. They do not seem to expect much leeway in the reaction of their dominant either. By this I mean, if a slave is feeling ill and thus doesn't complete all their usual daily tasks, they will expect the dominant to react with the usual punishment. A submissive may be more inclined to expect leniency from the dominant because they were ill. A slave thinks in terms of being owned, not in terms of submitting. To them, being in a collared relationship means they are owned, and often this translates into the statement that they do not have the "right" "choice" or "option" to walk out if the relationship goes bad. This does not mean a slave will accept an abusive relationship, though their tolerance limits for what is abusive and what is not seem to be higher than those of a submissive. This belief in ownership stems from a strong commitment on both an emotional and mental level to the dominant. There is a level of acceptance of the dominant's behavior that can be more intense and widespread than many submissives would allow. For example, a dominant wants to bring in a third to the relationship. A submissive may demand certain criteria be met before they allow ( yes, allow) such to occur, whereas a slave may say "It is not up to me, if this is what Master wants, so be it" and quietly accept this new change. To some this kind of thought process is considered wrong or somehow brought out by abuse, but this is not necessarily true. A slave thrives on the absolute fact, that they literally have no control over the relationship or what will occur within it, whereas a submissive often retains some level of control in the relationship. The thought process focuses solely on what would make the master/mistress happiest and how the slave can be most pleasing to them. Subs tend to think of themselves and their own pleasure in addition to that of their dominant. Slaves work very hard to put themselves second in all the things and their owners first. To them, this is what comes with being a slave and submitting completely. Slaves put forth a lot of effort in achieving an inner peace with their chosen position. With this peace comes acceptance of themselves, and a quiet sense of contentment. They view pride, arrogance and other such emotions as negative and unbecoming in a slave.       A slave's behavior is different from a submissive as well. If you listen to slaves talk about their behavior (or watch them), they often speak of being quietly accepting, in control of themselves at all times, formal, and other such things. There seems to be more focus on how the slave behaves at any given moment, with less leeway. In many slave relationships, the slave is required to use an honorific at all times, and couldn't conceive of calling their master/mistress by any other name. Most slaves find yelling, tantrums, fits, or any other out of control behavior on the part of a slave to be reprehensible and deserving of severe punishment. Slaves put a lot of emphasis on their behavior and how they react to their dominant. They hold themselves to a high level of self-control. They require of themselves to have a pleasing demeanor as much as possible. They see no room for bratting behavior, any form of topping from the bottom, or any other form of manipulating the dominant. They see bratting as topping from the bottom, whining, cajoling or making requests after the initial denial as manipulative behavior that focuses on the slave's needs/desires instead of the dominant's and thus not proper. They look down on any behavior that is perceived as designed to force the dominant to meet a need of the slave, rather than the slave focusing on the dom's needs. A slave will strive for perfection within themselves in completin

I don't like them innocent I don't want no face fresh Want them wearing leather Begging, let me be your taste test I like the sad eyes, bad guys Mouth full of white lies Kiss me in the corridor But quick to tell me goodbye You say that you're no good for me 'Cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve And I swear I hate you when you leave I like it anyway My ghost Where'd you go? I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me My ghost Where'd you go? What happened to the soul you used to be? You're a Rolling Stone boy Never sleep alone boy Got a million numbers And they're filling up your phone, boy I'm off the deep end, sleeping All night through the weekend Saying that I love him but I know I'm gonna leave him You say that you're no good for me 'Cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve And I swear I hate you when you leave I like it anyway My ghost Where'd you go? I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me My ghost Where'd you go? What happened to the soul that you used to be I'm searching for something that I can't reach My ghost Where'd you go? I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me My ghost Where'd you go? What happened to the soul that you used to be Ghost by Halsey (it's a song)

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION  My Thoughts Sir Hugo Atlanta In Real Estate, there is a saying  Location, Location,   Limiting your Dom Sub SEARCH to folks in your city or state  makes verification and meetup so much easier. THE REALITY IS  A Potential dom / sub/ Partner who lives more than 30 miles away is WASTING YOUR EFFORTS. In my experience, THE BEST PLACE to meet potential partners is at a local munch.Google Search          BDSM Munchs in ATLANTA, GA  ( Enter your CITY, STATE ) or use               FindaMunch.com THE REALITY IS those who go to munchs want to meet you and play with you, NOT WASTE YOUR TIME SEXTING.   Your mileage may vary.    (   THAT WAS A JOKE- Doms can be light hearted - ) My Thoughts    Sir Hugo Atlanta PS  Kudos CollarSpace Management for having a Chatroom as part of the website.

Shutting people out is confusing to me. It was one of the very first coping mechanisms I learned early in life, and it worked well. I used it often. Or, you know, all the time. By the time I learned it wasn't healthy it was too late. In the spirit of self-improvement I put effort into salvaging relationships when I could push past my initial reaction of shutting out, which wasn't often. Much more difficult for me and against every instinct I had. Those weren't always done in a healthy or whole way, either. Ignoring things instead of addressing them, having the other person react in the opposite way of what was expected. I struggled a lot with the what and the how. I still do. Only now, circling back to shutting people out, it's acceptable and encouraged in some instances. When the hell did that happen? How do you determine when it's the right move? After years of trying to undo the shutout it feels wrong. Right, but wrong. Like I've given up. Like I'm falling back on an isolating coping mechanism. Facts are facts and they may stack the deck for motive, but I can't help but feel like I'm the emotionally stunted person using her go-to move. I think about this a lot. Is it right? Or is it just easy? 

This morning I saw the following on a profile from a heterosexual dom who has a wickledly fun screen name that gets my attention every time I see it. He asks,  "What can a straight male Dom do for a male slave? I am at a loss as to what I can do for male subs and slaves and why they look at my profile when I say no men?" So, I thought I would answer this. For the most simple response, speaking on behalf of all the kinky gays, someone with a great screen name like "IAMTHEBESTMASTER", or similar, makes one look no matter what they have between their legs. Second, sometimes a profile just slips through with the "couple" selection and/or even states sub males on the interest choices. Finally, speaking for me and I assume a select group of kinky gays, this is not about sex for me. I am driven by masculinity and, on my sub side, authority. Having a straight dom take control and train me like a naked employee where the need to please and be pleased is not based on sexual attraction is quite hot and will make me a better man all the way around. Also, it's just fun to look at what you can't have sometimes. So, there is my response.

Embracing My Feminine Submission 🌸✨ Today, I find myself reflecting deeply on my journey of submission, a path sprinkled with the soft petals of my femininity and the resonating echo of my girlish heart. There's an undeniable intertwining of these identities, each one validating and magnifying the other, creating a tapestry of self that I continue to weave with delicate, yet eager hands. 🎀. OMG, Total introspection! Like, deep-diving into my submissive heart and its BFF relationship with all things girly and femme. It’s crazy how these parts of me just click together. It’s as if the universe went, “Hey girl, here’s some sparkle for your soul,” and BAM, I’m living my authentic self. 💁✨ Being submissive isn't just a role I've adopted; it's a celebration of my most authentic self, where my natural inclinations to yield and please are not just accepted but revered. It's in this sacred space that my girlishness - the sweet, effervescent joy I find in the simplest things, and my feminine essence - the flowing well of nurturing, intuitive emotion, come together in a beautiful, symbiotic dance. 💃❤️. It is like...my heart’s home. It’s where my love for pleasing isn’t just okay; it’s adored. And this space? It’s where my inner girl - all giggles, twirls, and happy tears - gets to hang out with my woman-self. They chat, they laugh, they cry, they share skincare tips (lol), and together, they’re just me. 💕👛 Now, let’s talk fashion, because honey, my subby side loves to dress up. It’s like every outfit is a secret message, all “this is me, this is real.” The fabrics kiss my skin, the swish of a skirt, the jingle of my bangles - girl, it’s all part of the symphony, you know? 🎵👠 I dress myself in the aesthetics of my submission, each garment a symbol of soft surrender. The silk feels like whispers against my skin, the colors, pastel or vibrant, mirror my mood, and the act of choosing what to wear is less about fabric and more about wrapping myself in a visible representation of my identity. The bangles on my wrists sing with every movement, a gentle, constant reminder of the delicate strength I carry within. 💅👗 But real talk, submission isn’t just a look. It’s like...a heart agreement. It’s built on mega trust and this super special respect-package. It’s not a solo gig, either. It takes two to tango, and when His strong, guiding hand finds mine? Magic. It’s like I’m free in a way only us in the know get. 🙈💫. it goes beyond the tangible. My submission is painted in the strokes of trust, painted with the brush dipped in the hues of reverence and devotion. It's an artwork that requires two, though - one to surrender and one to accept the offering. It's a mutual dance, and when guided by a firm, loving lead, I find the purest freedom, a paradox that only those in this intricate dynamic can truly understand. 🌹🔐 In my day-to-day, whether I'm tending to my tasks, engaging with others, or lost in quiet moments of reflection, my submission hums softly in the background, a soundtrack only I can hear. It's in the way I craft my space, a blend of comfort, beauty, and order. It's in the way I express my care for those around me, a pour from the pitcher of my heart. And it's most loud and clear in the stillness of the night, when I journal my thoughts and experiences, each word a thread in the tapestry of my submissive journey. 🌙✍️ The resilience of my journey isn't lost on me. There's a profound strength in vulnerability, a courage in femininity that the world often overlooks. As I continue this journey, I do so with an open heart, celebrating the girly joy, the sensual submission, and the intricate femininity that makes me whole. Here's to the paths we walk, the roles we cherish, and the selves we continue to discover. 🥂💕

A woman's orgasm is her glorious gift to him. When she focuses upon delivering it to and for him, she acknowledges her passion to unhesitatingly submit her humble bliss unto him, without regard to her trembling spasms of joy. She conveys that part of herself to him intimately and fully, ignoring her own shuddering waves of stimulation. <<"'Take and enjoy what you have aroused in me. It is yours.'" >> She surrenders her pleasure unconditionally for him to bathe in her euphoria. He is the true beneficiary. She is the incidental receptacle, simultaniously the vessel of and conduit to his satisfaction. This is love. Your pleasure is my pleasure. N'est ce pas?

I must be a masochist, because I can't seem to leave this site completely, even though I know how much it fucking sucks. It's like we're all just trolling the bottom of the barrel of humanity here trying to find a dream partner that doesn't actually exist. And yet, here we all still are, day after fucking day...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Being friends with an ex is only a good idea if you have zero feelings left for them. Logically, I know this. I was reminded for the twenty eleventh time that men are simple creatures. When they want something, they do something about it. No action, no option. Logically, we don't fit together, we just really wanted to. I have a hard time separating the fact that he is a good and decent person from that. Maybe its the idea of letting a good one get away. Maybe that's why he holds on, too.  You know what I miss? Banter. Long talks about nothing just enjoying each other's company. Laughing. Texts about simple things. We never had that. I will call a truce on my hated of French for a brief moment to emphasize a feeling. In French you do not say I miss you. You say, you are missing from me. That slow and easy connection is missing from me. I feel all the little pockets of empty where it should reside and spill into, like gravy. It's relationship gravy, and I need it like I need air.  End of truce. 

Through the Lens of Rika: The Sophia-Michael Connection Unveiled this piece is on the vibes of the soul lineage/shard/fractures of the sophia energy woman and the archangel michael guy. of course as it always is on my side of the internet. but this time it's about either the beginning of the relationship or what happens when one of us meet each other either online or in person but do not go through with initiating past a surface level connection. this is through the analysis of the song the others by rika. even the music video showcases this lovely too.   when a femme/women of any gender expression meets an archangel michael soul encoded guy fireworks spark. chemistry is there. and an underlying pull comes. it can be pretty clear to those who work with energy and all the signs that will come if it's just this dynamic going on or something more. there will be more signs/synchronicities/depth/alignment going on if they are supposed to be your woman and you are supposed to be their man....but each of these sophia's and michaels have an underlying current of spark, magnetism, and probably some type of attraction going on than other energetic signatures out there. just do. why? not sure i was given the esoteric awareness without the whys yet.   let's pull out the lyrics to start the incantation as usual shall we?   verse   We're not together but I feel like we're together   And you know what   That when you leave you're like a mission puzzle piece   'Cause you know   Yeah boy you know   pre-chorus   I try and try a million times   I wish that I could read your mind   Day to day I can't come back   I love the way   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like like the others   verse   I can be the lion, no one got you on my mind   It feels good, so good   Mhh, you're away I'm dreaming of those days   This is so good, so good   pre-chorus   I try and try a million times   I wish that I could read your mind   Day to day I can't come back   I love the way   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like the others   bridge   I can know myself, I can now myself, no one, no one knows   You know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   No, I can know myself, I can help myself, no one, no one knows   'Cause you, you know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like the others   outro   I can know myself, I can now myself   No, you know you're nothing like the others   You know me so well, you know me so well, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others (Yeah boy, yeah boy)   You're nothing like the others   instead of starting at the beginning i want to start with the bridge.   "I can know myself, I can now myself, no one, no one knows   You know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   No, I can know myself, I can help myself, no one, no one knows   'Cause you, you know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves"   sophia again is the archetype of the original source of women that comes from knowledge knowing the foresight the ability to understand what is going on..a deep awareness of the future the deep ability to see ahead of the present and to tap into past present and all directions of awareness right?   this song says, i can know myself.   she knows HERSELF first....only by knowing herself can she understand what she sees around her. and in knowing herself she sees her outside world clearly.   through seeing her outside world clearly, i typo-ed outself.....i think that's a spiritual interesting typical..outside of the self....anyway through that she can clearly understand how other mens energies around her work. and she can seek the michael aura and how it looks in the sphere of men vs. the other energy and archangel qualities men carry. and if a man doesn't have angelic energy what that looks like as well.   unless you have the ability through whatever your psychic strength is to see it, no one else might be able to pick up on what you see. and then, no one might know or the average person might not know what you are picking up on.   not only that...no one will know yourself more than you. and through knowing yourself, you can see how deep this michael uses his golden boy the lead of the angel's keen tactical warrior senses to hone in on you. to see beyond what most men would not go into understanding. and because of your awareness of yourself and others, you see how heavy this man is going in on you. and for these michael men they sniff out women like me, like my sisters in a way they can just pick up on nuances that many would take longer to get.   michael and sophia after all are the same soul cyrstal if you will broken between two gender energy expressions. and now that we have the masculine and the feminine in different bodies it can often look in a multitude of ways...and this dark starseed archetype of the two spreads the way this looks into more finite details. a core of shared basics but things people might deem as 'too separate' simply different variables to figure out which way is the most optimal at once.   once she uses her knowledge and sees you....she's ready regardless of what the outside world or other appearances say to lose herself in you! why?   because she found your energy signature and essence.   YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE THE OTHERS!!!! the song opens up in a fanfare brass moment. and it has cheers and celebratory vibes. this also goes into a vibe of fanfare of winning a war/battle spoils that would come naturally for an archangel michael masculine energy and her coming

I had enough experience tying up my girl-friend to know really quickly there was no way I was going to slip or work my way out of the tie. That meant I was going to have to find a way to loosen the knot. But the girls had me by the elbows, so I had to let them turn me around and shove me back on the couch. They sat there on either side of me and went back to watching their stupid talent show, and I tried to work my fingers around to find the knot. I tried to to let them see, but Nancy noticed and didn't bother to do anything about it. She knew what she was doing, as it turned out a lot more than I did. A commercial came on and my girl-friend got up to go to the bathroom. I tried to reason with Nancy, and responded by getting up and going to her bedroom for a second, and coming right back out with a handful of scarves. She reaached under her skirt, took off her panties, and before I could resist, stuffed them in my mouth. She took one of the scarves, knotted it and gagged me with it. She told me I'd better keep my mouth closed enough to hide the panties, or my girl-friend would freak out if she knew. And she was right, my girlfriend would have freaked out and even more if she knew how turned on I was getting.

Thought it would be helpful to cover a few points here... Interview style conversation is not my thing, if you want to get to know me then use your ability to hold a flowing conversation,  not an interview I am single, I do not see why anyone in a happy relationship would be on sites chatting so I assume you are also single ... if not then please don't waste our time with trying to strike up a chit chat  As of this year, 2022 I will be 50 on my next birthday and I found the lifestyle when I was about 21 so you do the maths  Sorry but I don't want to meet someone who is close to my children's age, to be safe if you are more than 10 years older or younger than me we won't be matched  I am not a slave, honestly I am very sure of that. I do have strong sub tendencies with the right alpha male but seriously if you don't consume my head you won't stand a chance of controlling anything else I am not into poly or sharing or being shared. I am totally monogamous and if you are not then flick over to the next profile I live with my family, happy to discuss with the right person but I have a young child at home so seek someone who understands how to make a vanilla and lifestyle combined relationship work whilst keeping tiny ones protected from it all I am a non smoker, I don't vape, I rarely drink and am seeking someone similar. Nights in the pub are not of interest I work full time and have limited time free so I am not in a position to travel to meet someone, so local is needed. For anyone who thinks a plane ride is local then jog on as you really are not on the realistic spectrum I am seeking  Yes I have been collared twice and for some reason it seems relevant but to be honest the first waited almost a year before it happened as he knew to me I see it as a serious commitment I do have limits which are a mix of health and personal things so happy to discuss but they are not negotiable  Likes, vanilla and lifestyle wise are varied but those can be savoured as part of a conversation  I hope that has given a flavour and please do find happiness in your journey but don't come across my pathway of you are a new dom I am not looking to teach you the ropes, a dom who really is a sub (there are many on here), if you are a female dom (so not my thing), if you are a male sub and finally no female subs.  Cheers x 

How Manipulation Begins I had begun conversing with a gent a few days ago. He asked me how my night was or some conversation starter.  I dont typically respond to  emails with no photos, but thought I'd take a chance (in other words, I thought it was safe to let my guard down.)  It was midnight and I was getting  ready for bed.  He stated he wanted to continue chatting , at a later date.  I sent him my Google number if he wanted to text freely.  🚩I didn't receive a goodnight text, which automatically let me know he's a ghost. He's clearly scamming or cheating.   In his response, he states wants to get to know me.  However, he wants to "spoon til morning--that's creating s false sense of intimacy. This is why you need to pay attention, regardless of gender.    His follow-up was just as manipulative.   He didnt apologize for sending mixed signals,  nor did he take responsibility for the confusion.    Be Safe Out There!   I was not ignoring you my dear beautiful Miss, I was search for my archives of pictures so I could share another one with you. Thank you for your number I hope you don’t mind but given the vulnerability I feel in sharing pictures can we keep the correspondence here until and longer friendship is formed. I hope you don’t mind this. And of course I was always going to say goodnight sweet Miss. How much I would love to change now into something satiny and spoon you till morning  

When punishing a girl, a discerning owner will not restrain her. The purpose of punishment is to teach a lesson and that lesson is usually one of helping her learn control. Sometimes of what she says, other times of what she does or doesnt do. She has to learn a better way, to understand the needs of the one she serves, and to behave accordingly. When I punish it is with a cane. The girl is bent over something like a bed or desk or chair, and allowed to get set into a position. My preferred place for punishment is over a desk, arms either outstretched in front or to the sides, legs spread but not excessively, and the girl's rear exposed. Then I use chalk to mark where her hands and feet are and we begin. The rules are simple. No outbursts or the count starts over. No lifting hands or feet or the count starts over. If the chalk lines are excessively smudged, the count starts over. She counts. She may ask permission for an interlude, but if she does so without good reason then the count starts again. If she cannot control herself when it is wholly to her benefit to do so, then perhaps this is not the world for her. If she can, then the punishment serves its purpose, she atones and life moves on to more pleasurable things. Either way, his will be done should be the mantra on every girls lips.

What's Forrest Gumps password?      1forrest1   I am not perfect, I don’t expect those around me to be either. I don’t dwell on mistakes or the past. I choose to move on. We have all stumbled on this venture of finding the right person. Those stumbles do NOT define us. How we work our way through the problem does.  Why do we look for someone else to be perfect?  Are we?  Do we bring baggage to the relationship?We each need to find someone who makes us happy and whole, then lean on each other through the hard times.  Find someone who is willing to meet you halfway and adjust as we grow.  Learn from each other and teach each other.   How long are we willing to look for perfect ?  NEVER accept TOXICITY as acceptable. 

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

I just saw a profile that consisted of only a BDSM test. When I read it I realized something that is missing and likely is the most important thing. Where is the reference to interest in a real life encounter? Where is any reference relating to an actual time frame of when it might occur? So many of the kink or BDSM tests address interests but do not differentiate between those who want to masturbate to being a rope bunny and those who honestly want to be a rope bunny tomorrow, a week or a month from now. Being interested in being a slave is totally different than being a slave.  Someone who has slave tendencies or wants to be a slave someday is a waste of my time.  While I try to be understanding, I do not want to spend weeks, months, or years getting to know someone who might someday meet me in real life. I do not have any interest in exchanging erotica or demanding pornography.  If someone is not willing and able to leave their current life for a year or two, it does not mean that they are fake.  That is worth repeating, If someone is not willing and able to leave their current life, it does not mean that they are fake.  It does mean that even though our interest may align our timeline does not. I am mentally, emotionally and financially stable and could move a slave into my home anytime.  I can take care of myself and do not need a slave.  Having a slave in my home makes my life more comfortable.  My slave does all of my domestic duties, I provide rituals, structure and you will not be required to work outside my home or office. I do not want to rescue a woman who is in desperate need to leave her fucked up life.  I do not need to complicate my life with a whole lot of drama.  I accept that everyone will come with a certain amount of baggage but I live a happy, peaceful life in paradise. I am looking for a woman who has a desire to fully commit to a life as my slave.  Expereince, age, location is not as important as the desire and ability to meet in real life.  If you are at a point in your life where you are prepared to relocate within a resonable time then we should talk.

Too many of you are confused — begging to be subs one minute, acting like wannabe Doms the next. All these hidden intentions are getting annoying. I don’t do pissing contests with little boys. Either serve or stay out of my inbox Having a handful of internet subs doesn’t make you a Dom — it just makes you loud online. Real dominance shows in how you carry yourself, not in how many chatroom pets you collect

"So into you" or why ification is not as flattering as some guys think it is A post from my group- from Jan 2022 ___________ The subject today will be centered around ification, and how lack of the right actions is getting in the way of what you want. Recently my day was spent prepping for Mom spending the night, which mostly meant me continuing to organize, clean and just generally improving the space in my sewing room, (the only real spare room) which has a futon, and most importantly, DOORS, so she can have privacy and quiet from my cats. Now, being ADD, I work better with music and company, so I put music on that she and I can both enjoy- a Pandora station based on the Doobie Brothers I started just for her. And being who I am, I tend to listen to lyrics, and then often find myself analyzing them. Usually, I'm specifically analyzing the relationship failings described in them. It doesn't always stop me enjoying the music, but sometimes I recognize the stalkery mindsets that filled our airwaves when I was young and impressionable. As were the guys who were listening. It's not surprising that we all grew up thinking these kinds of unhealthy behaviors and expectations were normal, and even romantic. Songs like Boston's "Let me take you home tonight," where a guy is explaining to a woman he's never actually met before that he's basically been stalking her and built a strong fantasy and expectations about who she is, and now he feels that she should absolutely feel both flattered, and obligated to have sex with him. "You must understand this, I've watched you for so long, that I feel I've known you, I know it can't be wrong," and goes on to say "I'm dreamin of your sweet love tonight, let me take you home tonight." So… he's been watching her for a long time without talking to her, decided who she was without ever having a single conversation, and, of course, imagining sex with her. A lot. And he tells her so, over and over and over. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing because I want it. Because that's always what is really going on there. Always the focus and end focus. Nah... that's not creepy AT ALL. Geesh. Today, it was "So Into You" by Atlanta Rhythm Section. Different band, different song, same thought process - I saw you, I was attracted, I've decided who you must be, and I can't think about anything except sex with you - only this time, they seem to want to make it her fault. Now, at first, what struck me was "could not catch your eyes" and "stand here helplessly hoping you get into me." Which just makes me ask 'What did he actually try?' I end up envisioning Toothless in How to Train Your Dragon 2, dancing around like a lunatic and freaking out the of his affections. Let's hope it wasn't like that. But honestly, it sounds like he really didn't try much. He admits that he's 'standing helplessly' rather than walking across the room and saying hello. Which sounds a lot like complaints I've heard from guys before. "I don't know how to talk to women" and that's where it ends, rather than trying to solve that. I mean, there are classes, there are workshops, there is therapy, etc. There are options. Why would someone not even try to fix the thing that keeps them from finding companionship if they are stating that they want it? Passive is not a good look. Or as has been said "faint heart ne'er won fair lady." Unfortunately, the closer we look at the lyrics, the creepier it gets. All this woman did was walk into a room. Suddenly, he's obsessed. He "can't think of nothing else." He says "Love the things you do" when so far, all she's done so far was exist in the same room. She's "driving him crazy," "thinking about how it's going to be" and he's "Gonna love her all over, over and over." So he's not really thinking about getting to KNOW her. He's focused on this fantasy he has of who she is, and what he wants to do to her. She's a beautiful woman. But somehow, she's not really a person. I mean, he's impressed by her, and he wants something from her. But not enough to make the effort to interact with her as human being. So he's "helpless" and "driven crazy" and "captured" but is just standing around "hoping." Worst part is that I really do like the song. Musically, and I like his voice, and the moody, kinda slow jazz feel to it. Shame about the message. I do get it - sometimes you see someone who just looks so cool it's hard to figure out how to approach so that they will be as impressed by you as you are by them. I was told that I'm intimidating... decades before I knew that Dominant was a thing. And the problem isn't that he thinks she's beautiful with "voodoo in the vibe." It's that he's turning that into something SHE's doing - "driving him crazy," and turning his insecurity into "helpless." And the entire thing is portrayed as flattering, and romantic, and a compliment to her. Because isn't that what women are supposed to want? For men to desire them? For her beauty to give her power somehow? For her appearance to add to her value to men? Because "The Male Gaze" is always supposed to be a woman's focus. And what a man feels when gazing is her responsibility. And anything a man might do because of that feeling when gazing at her is her fault. (cont)

I just made chocolate chip cookies topless. Here's what happened.  I'm on a health kick (the cookies aren't for me). The other night I made lentil bolognese and it called for red wine. Just a little. I'm not a wine drinker but I do cook with it. So, smidge of wine into the pot, cork the bottle. Google tells me I only have a few days to finish the bottle, but I can freeze the wine. Pull out a small ice cube tray, pour half the bottle in, stick it in the freezer. And I learned that wine takes a lot longer to freeze than water. I should have known this but I wasn't thinking. I pulled the tray out with the amount of force you would if it were ice. It wasn't ice. Wine all down the front of my shirt. Now, I'm already in the process of making cookies so what do I do? Whip off my shirt and rinse it under cold water to try to get the stain out. Do I go upstairs to get another shirt? Stay with me here, I know I'm topless. But no, I do not. I grab an apron and tie it on. These damn cookies better be delicious. 

Last profile wasn't showing. So here we go, i am looking for 2 females for poly, those who can take or not but will take pain, also 1 for domestic chores. I have a illness, so i live with my brother, so that puts most off, but you don't try, you don't get. If you can see past that, then great.

So here I am, into my 60s. I've been coming to this website for about 10 years and I don't know why but I keep coming back. I stayed away for a while and then recently decided to update some fotos. And lately I've been getting attention from straight men who are interested in having a fag/sub/slave to use for their pleasure.    It's great. I'm 100% gay and have been since I can remember. And I love almost all aspaspects of dominance and submission, but I have always been attracted to dominant heterosexual men who enjoy using a good, reliable cocksucker. I've had ongoing cocksucker relationships with several along the way and it's always been gratifying for me, and I hope for them.   One man required me to keep my mouth on his cock for our entire meeting. He'd watch straight porn in a big easy chair while I sucked him. If he spoke I had to answer him with a mouth full of his cock. He'd let me relax my jaws every once in a while, and then back on I'd go.   There was another who liked to secure my hands behind my back while I sucked. Another who would stop by after drinking a Big Gulp so he could empty his bladder in me. Those were just the most memorable.   I was just there to be a sexual servant, to be used for someone's pleasure. And that's where I get my pleasure. From making men feel taken care of and satisfied. And if a straight man wants me to suck his dick, it's an honor I don't take lightly.

  While I’m on a break from Fetlife, one thing I’m conscious of is that I tend to post things about looking for someone to go for cups of tea with, visit graveyards, go to bookshops and then snuggle up for reading. It’s pretty silly, but it’s meant sincerely. While I have to stop myself from adding “apply within”, in the end, it reflects how I would like a relationship to start. A thing of meeting for tea, visiting graveyards/taking quiet walks, and sharing a love of books and reading. Of course, it isn’t everything I want, and I hope that’s obvious as this is a kink site. It’s just that, as I’ve probably said so much that people are sick of it, I want to make a connection on a vanilla level and then grow the kink side of things. I’m looking for a band that takes more than just a love of kink, and I want to go slowly and surely. Eventually, I’d want things to develop into something more committed, and deeper, and to bring in other elements. I just don’t want to rush it. I don’t want to be someone’s mistake. I also want to be sure that most of our mutual needs can be met, and that both of us are working on whatever we need to work on - trauma is being addressed, patterns of behaviour are being broken if they’re negative, and so on. I want to be sure that the connection with this hypothetical person is strong, and that it can withstand a lot of shit - because I think life is going to get more, not less, difficult in the next few years. Any relationship is going to have to be strong enough to ride out the coming storms.Adding to this, I suppose I should expound on what I actually want. Before I go on, I should ask that the reader remember that this is me putting things out into the universe, so of course it’s selfish as fuck - I imagine yours would be too… Isn’t that sort of the point? (It strikes me as odd that we both castigate the “I have no limits” people, but also defining what you want can lead to you being accused that “you’re trying to control things and reduce me to a fetish dispenser” - the point is to talk things through and get to a happy medium, surely?). This is my “moon on a stick” list of things I want to have in a relationship. Vanilla: I want a relationship based on love, trust, communication, and sharing, and that reflects shared values. I want something where we can have separate bedrooms, though, in part because I snore horrifically and I feel guilty if I disturb people’s sleep. I also have restless legs - no idea why, but I suspect it’s anxiety related - and so I want to sleep alone to avoid kicking my partner. I also want to have a space that is mine (mine, all mine, bwahahahaha), because I want somewhere I feel I can go to write, create, and study. Or even just curl up if I need to be by myself because sometimes I do. This isn’t a slight against a hypothetical partner, it’s just how I am. I’m very introverted, think I may be an HSP, and there are times when alone feels like bliss - not because of who the other person is, or anything they’ve done… just because I need that time by myself for my sanity. Touch is, however, very important to me and is probably my primary love language, so I would like a lot of that. I enjoy acts of service too and supporting the person I’m with. I like giving massages and other forms of body worship too. I am happy to take responsibility for housework, cooking, and other domestic chores. This being said, I am a writer and I do need time to work and I expect that to be respected in a relationship. I hope my partner will have their own passions outside of kink and that they can be things we can share (books, board games, cats - you know, stuff like that). I value creativity, so I’d love it if they were also a writer or an artist, or something like that.  I know we don’t have to be completely in tandem, but at the same time, I have learned that shared passions are very often the key to a relationship and that losing that common ground can spell disaster. I’m not sure how I feel about having children - I used to be very opposed but now, I just don’t know.   

Today I had a meet and greet with a man who was:   local within my preferred age range available for a publicly acknowledged relationship interested in some of the same significant kinks that I am cuter than his photos   The conversation flowed well. This seems promising.

He drops his head to his chest, but then slowly nods.  "Thank you for your honesty, baby." I continue to explain how, just because of the pandemic I had not deviated from my desire of finding someone else and that now that people are comfortable meeting again, I would resume my search. He kept looking at the floor between his legs and I had to keep telling him to look me in the eye. This was the moment I had been holding back on for too long. I could feel my anticipation building in my chest, bursting to be heard. It took all of my strength to stop me from just ting out what I wanted to say, but I understood the gravity of what we were discussing and knew that was not the way to go about it. A good Dominant wants her submissive to be on the same page as her, not only willing to have his limits pushed, but wanting it. I find the psychology involved in convincing M that this is what he wants, intoxicating. It is what I consider the true essence of behavior modification.  I compose myself and everything starts to flow out naturally, I feel my power. This is the moment of truth. M and I have discussed cuckolding quite a bit and he is granted sex very infrequently and has learned not to even ask, but this is the first time I am going to extiguish any hope he may have of it happening again. I know this is a big deal. I explain in a very sweet and delicate tone how I love him dearly with all my heart, but that he would never have sex with me in the traditional sense again, ever. He stares up at me unblinking. I repeat it so that it would sink in, "M, we have arrived at this point, please understand that you will never, ever have sex with me again." He looks heartbroken, I want to scoop him up and hold him, but I must continue. I tell him how I know he could never satisfy me and in a way, I didn't want him to. I tell him what he already knows, which is that I have been driving this lifestyle because this is what I want. I tell him that there may have been a time when I saw him as a toy to be used sexually, but I just can't even picture that anymore. I tell him how I have always loved the dynamic we have and especially now more than at any other time in the past.  "M, this has always been my goal, you must have always known that." he nods with sad eyes.  I love the control, I love completely owning him in a mothering sense, I love his submission and most of all his helpless obedience and emasculation. I tell him he could never go back, that this was how I want him and how I love him. I can see my words sinking in as he stares at me. The shield of his pacifier gag is rather big and I can't tell if I see anger, fear, or acceptance in his face as he sits there quietly. I continue. "I love you M...but we committed to this lifestyle a long time ago TOGETHER and I just cannot keep indulging you sex when I get nothing out of it. Indulging you in such a way is not good for your headspace and I know you know that. I’m in need of the feelings that I used to get from men who were not my little boy. Yes, our dynamic has me almost constantly aroused...the power ugh..., but masturbation no longer satisfies me and the idea of having sex with what we've helped you become just ruins my powerful headspace."  He looks very sad and is pleading with his eyes, but at the same time I can see he is rocking on his butt slightly fidgeting (he thinks he's being discreet but the crinkle of his diaper is unmistakable). He rocks in his diaper like that when he is aroused and trying to get some feeling to his chaste bits; it's his “poker tell.” This rocking is the final indication I need that I am making the right decision. I stand up, get very close to his side and have him hug my leg while I rub the top of his head.  I tell him that I can tell by his rocking that he must accept everything I'm saying and that a verbal response wasn't needed. He looked up at me suddenly, still rocking and holding my legs, with big eyes, pleading eyes. I smile, "accept it baby, it will be easier, you don't even need to speak. Just nod your head and show me you accept what I've said." Still looking at me, he closed his eyes and drops his chin to his chest. With a little more force I say, "M, open your eyes, look at me and nod your head." 

Oh no Im Blocked So you contact someone after reading their profile. You can see that you don't fit what they seek but hell you contact them anyway.  They chat with you whilst trying to make it clear that you are looking in the wrong place for the help you seek. You then decided to call them names and block them. Maybe you need to look in the mirror as they are not the issue you are. Respect is what you need and just because they seem to be what you want does not mean you are what they want. SoS

The Officer's Seduction The night had a certain allure, a seductive darkness that seemed to beckon Seraphine Vale as she drove home from work. It was well past midnight, the hour when the world slept, and the roads were nearly deserted. Her shift at the art restoration studio had been particularly grueling, and she longed for the solace of her own bed. Little did she know, this night would offer a different kind of solace, one that would leave her breathless and trembling.   As she navigated the familiar route, her thoughts drifted, contemplating the intricate details of an ancient painting she had been working on. Seraphine's mind was a sanctuary of quiet concentration, her focus unwavering until a sudden flash of blue and red lights snapped her back to reality. She slowed her car to a halt, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized she had inadvertently strayed into a speed trap.   The officer who approached her vehicle was a striking figure, his tall, lean frame cloaked in the authoritative uniform of a police officer. It was Lucian Asterian, a man whose reputation preceded him, though not in the typical way of law enforcement. His dark, piercing eyes seemed to see right through her, and his presence was both commanding and unsettling.   "License and registration, please," his voice was deep and clipped, carrying an undertone of authority that sent a shiver down Seraphine's spine. She complied, her hands treming slightly as she handed over the requested documents. Lucian's gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he was studying her, not just her papers.   "Step out of the car, Miss," he ordered, his voice laced with a hint of something that made Seraphine's stomach flutter. She hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but the command in his eyes left no room for argument. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped onto the deserted road, the cool night air caressing her skin.   Lucian's eyes roamed over her, taking in her slender form, clad in a simple black dress that accentuated her delicate curves. His gaze lingered on her face, noting the stormy gray eyes that seemed to mirror his own intensity. "Hands behind your back," he instructed, his voice now a low, seductive growl.   Seraphine's breath caught in her throat as she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs against her wrists. Lucian's touch was firm, his fingers grazing her skin as he secured the cuffs, sending a jolt of awareness through her body. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as he circled her, his eyes raking over her like a physical caress.   "What's a beautiful woman like you doing out here at this hour?" he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Seraphine shivered, her body betraying her as she leaned into his touch. Lucian's hand slid down her arm, his fingers entwining with hers, and for a moment, she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin.   Then, without warning, he spun her around, pressing her body against the hood of her car. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat emanating from Lucian's body. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot and intoxicating. "You're a naughty girl, breaking the rules," he whispered, his voice a husky purr.   Seraphine's heart was racing, her body responding to his words, to the dominance in his tone. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs as he ran his hands up her sides, his fingers kneading her soft flesh. He squeezed her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.   "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "You like being touched, being taken right here on the side of the road." His words were a taunt, a challenge, and Seraphine couldn't deny the truth in them. She nodded, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her.   Lucian's hands moved lower, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her dress, tracing the lace of her panties. He teased her, his touch light and teasing, making her ache for more. With a swift motion, he tore her panties away, leaving her exposed and wanting.   "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. "I want..."   Lucian didn't let her finish. Instead, he gripped her hips, pulling her back against his hard length. She could feel his erection, straining against his uniform, as he positioned himself at her entrance. Without warning, he thrust forward, claiming her in one swift, brutal stroke.   Seraphine cried out, her body arching as he filled her, not with the gentleness she had anticipated, but with a rough, primal urgency. He pounded into her, his hips slamming against her buttocks, his hands gripping her hips tightly, leaving marks on her skin. The pain was exquisite, blending with the pleasure until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.   "You're so tight," he grunted, his breath hot against her neck. "So fucking wet." His words were crude, but they only served to heighten her arousal. She wanted to be used, to be taken by this man, in this moment, in the most primal way possible.   Lucian's rhythm was relentless, his body a powerful force driving into hers. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, and began to rub in time with his thrusts. Seraphine's world narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting, the feel of his cock buried deep within her, the roughness of his fingers against her sensitive flesh.   "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a harsh command. "Let me feel it, you beautiful bitch."   His words were like a trigger, and Seraphine's orgasm exploded through her, rippling waves of pleasure that left her gasping and trembling. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, her juices flowing freely as she climaxed. Lucian's own release followed swiftly, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside her, his hot seed filling her ass.   They stood there, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion. Lucian's hands released her hips, and he stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. Seraphine felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, there was a sense of power in her surrender.   He reached down, uncuffing her hands, and then, without a word, he adjusted his uniform, the bulge in his pants a testament to their encounter. Seraphine watched, her body still humming with pleasure, as he walked back to his patrol car.   As she slid back into the driver's seat, her dress in disarray and her body throbbing, she realized the detour had been more than just a chance encounter. It was a night that would forever be etched in her memory, a night where she had been taken, possessed, and left wanting more. As she drove away, the road ahead seemed brighter, as if the darkness had illuminated a new path, one that led straight to Lucian's door.

There’s a certain elegance in control. Not the loud, brash kind — but the quiet certainty of knowing someone’s will is bending under your hand, moment by moment. I don’t rush the process. Breaking someone isn’t about snapping them in half; it’s about unravelling them thread by thread. Watching pride give way to obedience, seeing the way humiliation transforms from resistance into desire — that’s the real artistry. I’m not in this for a scene or a fleeting rush. I want the slow burn, the kind that seeps into everyday life until submission isn’t something you do, it’s something you are. If you’ve ever felt that pull — the need to be seen, stripped bare, and claimed — you already know the beginning of the story. The question is: do you know how far you want it to go?  

As the profile edit didn't pass inspection, here it is     This is not the profile of SensualOrgasmDom69. Please look elsewhere for that kind of thing       Fuck, I hate that this thing needs me to update my age       Lets get straight to the point. (and I added stuff!) (twice now) (scratch that, 3rd edit)        I am not a nice person. I am not here to find the love of my life.Least I don't think so, never say never.        I am not a ropes and floggers, leather and latex kind of person. This is not some bit of bedroom fun, but just who I am. Controlling, demanding, sadistic and generally uncaring when it suits me. I like to explore where others dare not, both with the body and mind.        What I am here to find is whatever takes my fancy. It could be easier to say what will not take my fancy. Demanding, princess types are certainly out, as are those who require a massive romance aspect. Sure I can offer affection when it suits me, but overall its not something that should be expected in bulk. Just something I can understand can be required much as a car requires an oil change every now and then. Heck, sometimes even I need that kind of downtime.       I am the kind that gives kink a bad name. I would happily take on one with poor self-esteem, not to "fix" them, but as a way of controlling them. Someone who will lower themselves to the level I desire, someone who can live without rights. I find interest in things normally unacceptable. I'm not that bothered about looks and such, I just want someone who will put up with whatever I throw at them.       I think D could be my favourite letter for what I want, downtrodden, dejected, dependant, desperate, doormat, perhaps even damaged. Even if you are not these, but want to be, or will be these at times, there could be opportunity.       I know what I seek is difficult to find, especially on a long-term basis, so I would perhaps consider other arrangements, chat only, occasionals, part-time and so on, although my preference is for something regular, on-going, something where there is time to build deeper trust, explore hidden alleyways of the minds, to actually learn each other.            I'm not likely to be on here much, it is very much a case of nothing ventured, nothing gained. However I do get mail notifications, so anyone who does decide to message me will be read soon after.       Totally single, can travel, can accommodate

A MERRY AND SAFE HOLIDAY SEASON TO ALL! It really sucks to say that I'm struggling right now. I know a lot of people have this perception that Dominants are always confident, without flaws, or that we've got our shit together. Hahaha! Not to burst anyone's bubble, but we're human, too. I'm not sure if I'm self-sabotaging or if this is how my depression is manifesting these days. <Blah> but a <laugh> as well. It's Christmas Eve, and though I didn't send my wish list off to Santa, maybe a bit of magic will sparkle down as he flies over. And maybe, just maybe, I'll wake tomorrow to a message in my mailbox from an intriguing s-type who's interested in being an elf-ful helping hand to a delightfully "extra" and jolly D-type. Hohoho! 🎁

Dear Diary, Today, I find MYSELF indulging in thoughts that have lingered at the back of MY mind for far too long. I’VE always envisioned MYSELF having two bases—one here in London, and another somewhere warm and inviting in Europe. For years, the idea has danced around in MY head, but I’VE never quite had the energy or the right moment to set things in motion. However, something feels different now, and I sense that if I don’t act soon, this dream might just slip away. So, I’M taking the plunge and starting MY research on plans for MY second base. The idea of renting a small studio flat somewhere in Europe has always appealed to ME. I’VE been thinking about Portugal or Spain, with Portugal currently taking the lead. The thought of a cosy, sun-drenched space where I can retreat, recharge, and, of course, still keep a watchful eye on all of you from afar, is intoxicating. Portugal has a certain charm that keeps calling out to ME —it's beautiful landscapes, rich culture, and warm climate are just what I need. But I’M still open to suggestions. Perhaps there’s a hidden gem I haven’t considered? Or maybe some of you have thoughts on why Spain might be a better fit for ME? I’d love to hear your thoughts, MY devoted ones. After all, this isn’t just about finding a place; it’s about creating a second home—a sanctuary where I can rule from, wherever I may be. Your input could very well shape where this next chapter of MY life takes ME. BLACK GODDESS 

Clocks. Have we talked of this before? It feels familiar. Let's set the stage. There are four clocks in my bedroom - one on a surface against each wall, and one of those clocks also casts onto the ceiling. Basically, open your eyes wherever you are and you can easily know the time. Or a time. For six months of the year I live in the wrong time. I do not adjust my clocks for daylight savings. Which means I have to remember, at 3 in the morning when I look at the clock to see how much longer I can sleep, if the clocks are accurate or if I need to do basic math in my head.  One clock kept randomly alarming. I gave up, it's unplugged. Down to three and a ceiling. Whenever it was that the power went out months ago, it knocked out all of the clocks but one. Meh, good enough. One clock it is. Yesterday I was tidying up and reset two of the three clocks and the ceiling. It's a small thing (that's what she said), but it made me happy to look at that one other clock from where I was sitting and also see the ceiling time. And then four hours later the storm knocked out the power for thirty seconds. Sigh. But okay. This morning I reset them. I came home to blinking clocks again. Why, Universe? I am back to my one original clock, currently no math needed. Unlike the kitchen appliance clocks that basically hold your cooking rights hostage until you set the time, I don't have to deal with bedroom clock terrorists. I'll try again in a few months. Maybe. 

This is not a fantasy experiment, a curiosity phase, or a place to “learn as you go.” I am looking for an obedient, emotionally regulated, experienced cuck who understands that this dynamic is built on discipline, restraint, and service..not constant sexual noise. If your idea of being a cuck starts and ends with porn scripts, frantic messages, or needing reassurance every five minutes, this is not for you. I value control, not chaos.   You should already understand that the role is not about your gratification, that obedience is shown through consistency rather than words, and that boundaries are structure..not something to push against. You must be comfortable existing in the background, supporting without needing to be centered, and maintaining composure even when attention is not on you.   Experience matters. I am not here to train basic etiquette or explain why patience is required. You should already know how to listen, wait, and follow instructions without negotiation or emotional spirals. Emotional maturity, self-control, respect for authority, discretion, and reliability are non-negotiable. I value men who can be useful without entitlement and who understand that access is a privilege.   I am not interested in men who lead with explicit language, confuse desperation with devotion, think access is owed, or collapse without constant validation. This dynamic works because I choose..not because someone begs. Fulfillment should come from knowing your place, serving with intention, and supporting my standards and lifestyle without interruption.   Communication will be clear, direct, and intentional. Silence will sometimes be part of your role. If that makes you anxious instead of focused, you are not ready. This is a privilege-based dynamic: access is earned, maintained, and can be revoked.  

 Enthralled4USIR