Walkingblind34 

The meanest man that I never knew From the day I walked on the floor, all of the staff warned me about you. They said you were a mean old man, it's best to always enter the room with two. He is grouchy, and hateful, and always a mess,  he refuses to let you change him, and gets quite ugly when you have to force him to. he always has chew in his mouth, be careful they said, he will even spit at you. I walked in and introduced myself, my name is Sarah and I'm new here,  it's nice to meet you. he ignored my hand and grunted as a response, I smiled and said, I'll be back to check on you. My first night, he grumbled at first,  we got the lift and changed the meanest man I never knew. we stuck to the routine for a short while, when at three a.m. and making some rounds, I hear a man yell, hey, so I stopped and turned around. I walked into his room, all alone, he looked at me warily, and said I'm ready to be changed. I couldn't help but smile at him, the meanest man I never knew, progress is progress, and he was beginning to trust me too. I asked the others, what his story was, they proceded to tell me of his past some spoke with disdain as they tarnished his reputation, no stone is ever left unturned in a small town population. Our routine continued at three a.m. and then at six, before I realized it, he allowed me to tend to him every two hours.at the least, and most days he even greets me with a smile and seems happy to see me. As time went on I noticed a pattern, the girls would give me report, and say with a smile, that the meanest man I never knew, refused to let them give him care  and said he is waiting for you. Covid came in the building and as it swept through, it got ahold of him and then me too. we were short staffed and there was no one left to call, so they allowed me to come in and stay only with the positive patients to work. That night we made a pitiful pair, but I held his hand, and gave him a pep talk, I told him we were in this together and we had to fight our way through, he squeezed my hand, and said, I don't feel good, but I'll fight with you. it was touch and go for awhile, I really didn't think he would make it, but, true to his word, he fought his way through, this meanest man that I never knew. time had passed and he never was quite the same and over the next several months, he slowly began to deteriorate. he became very clingy and held my hand when he talked, he often pulled me in for hugs he even told me he loved me once. his time was drawing near, the signs were plain to see, the meanest man I never knew was Tired and in pain he was ready to go but afraid at the same time he had no family left, he was all alone. I came back to work after my days off, the Girls said he was still hanging on and that they thought he was waiting for me. I made my rounds and sat with him in between  I held his hand for the last time  as the meanest man I never knew  took his last breath with his hand in mine.

Essay on the three types of Dominants as percieve us to behave and act. Dominants fall into three general categories, Authoritarian, Democratic, and Equalitarian. Each category has its sub counterpart. Because these are generalities each category has many variations. What these variations may be are left up for you to conclude. The Authoritarian Dom:  Rules with absolute power and total control. He makes all of the decisions and there is no questioning by the sub of what is asked or what is done. The only recourse a sub may have, if allowed, is a “safe” word. Generally there are little or no limitations binding the Dom. The subs attracted to these relationships are the “slave” submissive. The sub that wishes to be totally controlled. This form involves the voluntary surrender both emotionally and physically on the part of the sub. Generally the limits are pushed through heavy S&M activities. Some of the strongest relationships exist within this category. The couples that live a 24/7 D/s relationship are usually found in this realm. Unlike with the Democratic Dominant, there are no long training sessions to affect certain behavior. Things are done with no negotiations, limits are pushed and both parties accept this. The feeling of closeness and coupling is generated by the relinquishing control and the wielding of (almost) absolute power. This Dom’s implements (toys if you prefer) are usually highly crafted, sometimes intricate, wielded both with proficiency and effectiveness. The Dominants are skilled in their use and their sub is generally highly skilled at receiving the results. The implements developed by the Authoritarian’s are often borrowed in kind by Dom’s in other types of D/s relationships. It can be a profound and sobering experience for someone not yet familiar with this type of domination to watch an Authoritarian scene. Authoritarian Domination is what is usually referred to as “real”, when D/s aficionados use the term real, this is of what they are speaking. This type of D/s is not only S&M but encompasses a wide variety of  D/s conventions and behaviors. This is the generally accepted and also the stereotypical definition of BDSM. Remember that this is only the stereotypical definition of “real”. Authoritarianism is only one ect or area of D/s. So “real” is what you are involved in and feel comfortable with and not what others do.  

I had perhaps the best experience in my life last week. I went to see a very close friend a few states away. I've known her for 20 years and there's always been an unrequited attraction between us but I've told her very little about my submissive need. Well, she sensed it because the first night we were together, she immediately bound me tightly to all four posts of her bed and she had her way with me...but...   Everything was about her...her needs, her wants...her desires. There was not a single thing done or mentioned about mine. She used me as she wanted, rode me and stopped when she was done, not when I was done. I got on my knees and licked everything she told me to lick, put my tongue where she directed. She did everything to me that was my absolute desire, orally please her, CBT, whipping, spanking...insertion. The only thing she denied me was my own eruption. Finally, on our last night, she gripped me painfully and whispered her permission. It was....amazing. Nothing about me except until the end...everything for her. I was in heaven the entire week. The only thing is that it's not a permanent thing...because of the distance. I want it, she does not. And it was something she did with no preparation or warning....spur of the moment...because it was something she sensed in me.

End of 2021 !!! A lil note to say ... Thank you for all the funny, sweet, lewd, crude, caring , seductive and fucking outrageous .. emails, naughty pics and vid clips throughout this past year ..I've been truly entertained by some, moved by more than a few and heart strings tugged at a time or two ..     May we all find what we seek .. I discovered Collarme now Collarspace in my late 30's.. going into my mid 50's now and it's still an awesome site.. I've met some pretty amazing men and women ..online and lots offline too ! I've fallen in love, made mistakes and shed a tear or two for not taking a chance or not making an effort when I didn't feel the "timimg" .. Ya know we never have enough time, there's that one day tho !! It's called regret !    So... whatever you identify as and whom ever it is you choose to please and for whatever your reasons .. do it all the way and the only way you know how .. by being you!! Authentcally u! Don't cheat yourself out of being that needle one the haystack..   Happy Kinky New Year .. Hugs, bumps and grinds !   Ms. Eve    Ha

“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part IV: Devotion at the Edge” T.L. Duncan His forehead rested lightly against my thigh— not touching enough to claim contact, but close enough to breathe in the heat of my skin. That was important. He hadn’t earned full touch yet. “Don’t lean on me,” I warned softly. “You’re in my space, not holding onto me.” He exhaled a broken sound, forcing his trembling legs to support him while keeping his forehead just shy of resting. Good. That tension would serve me well. I let my fingers hover over the back of his neck— close enough for him to feel the warmth, but never letting my skin meet his. “You’re still shaking,” I murmured with quiet amusement. “Yes, Ma’am…” “From the edge?” “Y-yes…” “Good. Stay there.” His breath caught. “You think edging is just denial,” I said, tone low and precise. “But real edging—my edging—turns your obedience into instinct. Not wanting. Not hoping. Serving.” His fingers twitched behind his back, desperate to steady himself. “Keep them still,” I said without raising my voice. He froze instantly. “That’s devotion,” I continued, leaning close enough that my breath brushed his ear. “Not touching me. Not begging. Not climbing into my lap the way your body wants to. Devotion is obeying while everything in you shakes.” He swallowed hard. “Now lift your chin. Keep your hands behind you.” He raised his face slowly, eyes wide and glassy from the ache in his thighs, the tension in his spine, the constant, torturous nearness of pleasure with no release. I placed two fingers under his jaw—light as a whisper—tilting his face up further. “There,” I murmured. “That’s what devotion looks like on you.” A shudder rolled through him, nearly taking him off his knees. “Careful,” I warned. “If you fall, we start over from the beginning.” His breath hitched; he forced every muscle to obey. “Good boy.” The phrase hit him like heat, full-body and overwhelming. His lips parted in a helpless moan he tried to swallow. “That reaction,” I said softly, tracing my fingertip down the air just above his throat without touching his skin, “is why I keep you hovering. Your devotion sharpens when your pleasure threatens to break you.” He breathed harder. “You’re going to show service while you stay edged,” I said. “Slowly. Precisely. Without touching me unless I allow it.” He nodded once, reverently. “Start by spreading your knees wider.” He did—shaking, breath catching. “Back straighter.” He corrected himself. “Open your mouth.” He did—soft, vulnerable, obedient. I leaned down, my lips hovering a fraction above his. One-inch distance. Half an inch. A breath away. His entire body seized in anticipation. Then I pulled back just enough to make him exhale in a stunned, broken whisper of need. “Not yet,” I murmured. “But your devotion just earned you something else.” He swallowed hard. “Place your hands on your thighs,” I said. He obeyed instantly. “Now run your palms slowly down them… not to touch yourself… but to show me how you present for your Domme.” He slid his palms down in a reverent motion, every movement slow, controlled, worshipful— his hands trembling as he fought not to drop into instinct. “Good,” I whispered. “Again.” He did it, hips shifting involuntarily as the edging tightened in his body. “Hold still,” I snapped. He froze, teeth clenched, lower lip trembling. “Look at me,” I said. His eyes snapped to mine, raw and pleading. “You’re offering yourself,” I said softly. “Not for release. For service. And you’ll keep doing it while your body begs you to fall apart.” He moaned, breathless. “Because I said so,” I added. His head fell back slightly, overwhelmed. “And that is what devotion feels like at the edge.” His palms slid down his thighs in that reverent, trembling motion I commanded. He was barely holding the edge of himself together — breath shuddering, muscles taut, the ache between denial and devotion turning his whole body into a live wire. “Again,” I ordered. He obeyed, slower this time, because he was losing the ability to do anything quickly. His mind had melted into obedience. His body was shaking from the precision of holding position. “Good boy,” I murmured. That word — good — broke him more than anything else. I saw it happen. The micro-collapse. The body betraying him before the mind could stop it. His knee shifted. Just half an inch. But enough. He knew it immediately. He gasped softly, panic flashing across his face, and tried to return to the exact posture — but he was already too late. I stood. The room froze around him. His breathing quickened, edging into fear-laced anticipation. I walked a slow circle around him, letting the sound of my heels carve dread into every nerve he had left. When I stopped behind him, I spoke in a low, controlled voice. “What did you just do?” His voice cracked as he whispered, “I—I slipped, Ma’am…” “You didn’t slip,” I corrected, leaning down so my breath grazed his nape. “You broke position.” “Yes, Ma’am… I’m sorry…” <

6/5/2024 6:33:05 PM All set with game players and time wasters and dream killers.     I don't lie, cheat or steal.   I am looking for the right slave.  Correction, I am looking for a right connection and a decent human being who knows how to treat a woman, and wants to explore together.  A right male is MORE THAN ENOUGH to be by My side and in reasonable good time.  I am looking for a live in relationship, not email, phone or text. I'm dominant and that isn't going to change.  I feel no threat from a man who knows his mind and has the ability to speak up for himself and be a team player.  Welcome.  We can co-rule our own little world together.   My mother lives with Me and has Alzheimer's.  You serve Me, you serve She.  You are with Me, you are with her.   Be real and ready to communicate effectively and get to know one another in the flesh.     Be terrific in your own right.  I require a man who is strong enough to champion Me and I offer nothing less in return.    DON'T WASTE  MY  TIME.

i cant I cant take it any longer i want to behave and make him proud but the walls i have built to hide my emotions to protect myself from being hurt i cant take it i have known him 11 years and i cant take it any longer i am getting mentally exhausted i cant do it any longer im about to crash and burn i know you will be there for me but truth be told the walls are up so i dont get hurt i love you so fucking much and i dont want it to end i know you always say i wont be replaced and that calms me a little but its still in the back of my head i cant take it any longer what can i do i dont want these walls up but i know ill become emotionally wreck i have all these feelings and i know once the walls fall again i will need you more than ever before these emotions i have been hiding will come out are you ready for that?

Those who asking about emotional and mental side, here is the perfect quote from one man. It is not my text, i am too dumb to put it so perfectly Sure, the physical side is niceThat takes up an hour or two a couple of times a week What happens the rest of the time? NothingIt HAS to be mentally and emotionally for me That is based on a connection and need to actually live it every single day of the week Your humiliation and mental and emotional pain and suffering is lived all day, every dayIt becomes the focus of life and is there in everything we doIt is there when we go out, or travelHumiliated in everyway, for anything That can be done all day, every day

New Kink Unlocked! She told me on the phone... You invite me in and walk me back to your bedroom. You order me to strip and to get on the bed in a doggy position. You are still clothed and slide a blindfold over my eyes. I can hear the shuffle of clothes as you disrobe and feel your weight shift on the bed behind me. Your fingers slide between my legs and can feel how wet the anticipation has made me. And then I gasp as you slide the length of your cock into my pussy, feeling your size for the first time. It has been quite a while since I was last with anyone and you are surprised by how tight I am. You grab my hips and begin fucking me from behind. You tell me that I am just a dirty cum dump and that my only job to take the fucking you feel like giving me. Your rhythm quickens and I can feel you filling me with your cum. But you don't pull out, and I feel your hands spreading my ass cheeks apart. You feel my pussy twitch as you rub my asshole with your thumb. You tell me another part of being your dirty cum dump is to take your cock in every hole. You tell me that you are going to fuck me in the ass and that I'm going to take your load there as well. You squeeze some lube on me and begin working in your finger to prep the hole. You ask me where your cock is going and I tell you "my ass sir." You "And why is it going into your ass?" Me "Because I'm your cum dump and my job is to take you cock in any hole you choose." Your cock has gotten hard again inside me and your fingers have lubed up my hole. You pull your cock out and I then feel your head pressing against my asshole. You lean your weight forward and over me, whispering in my ear to relax and take it as you slowly slide your full length into me. I feel so full and the size of you initially feels impossibly large. You give me a couple second to adjust to your size before you start a slow, gentle rhythm. You feel feel my body accept your and tell me "I'm going to fuck you faster now," and I feel a spike of nervousness as I already feel pushed to my limit of intensity. You are fucking me a bit harder and tell me that I'm doing a good job taking your cock so you are going to give me an orgasm. One hand reaches below me and starts playing with my clit... palm pressing perfecrly. The other hand reaches around and finds a nipple to pinch and squeeze. Your touch sends me over the edge, forcing me to cum hard on your cock. You cum as well, my orgasm essentially milking your load from your cock. You tell me I was a good cum dump and did my job well. I love it when you praise me for being a good toy. You roll me to my side and your mouth finds my tit as you finger me again with your fingers. You have me keep the blindfold on as we cuddle for a bit. Then I clean you and get ready for bed... wanting to sleep in your arms... but also thinking, worrying? wishing? you will take me in the middle of the night.

Looking to be inspired  A mediocre Dominant tells. A good Dominant teaches.  An excellent Dominant explains, but a true Dominant will inspire.

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.  

Update---- I've tried adding new pictures several times again and it just don't work. I've tried deleting all of my old pictures from 3 years ago but they stay and you're lucky if even one new picture comes once they finally approve  your pictures. I remember the old site, collarme and it was awesome. It was a couple that started that site and when they broke up, the male partner insisted he be the one to keep this site going. She warned us all that this site would become a train wreck and omg how right she was!    I'm hardly ever on here anymore. It's too hard to even send out messages with the f'ed upward puzzle that often fails to recognize that you got the puzzle right. Etc etc etc.  What a shame is all I can say.   Omg I hate this site so bad, it is so fucked up!! I tried to remove one photo and add a recent one..  So I'm down for two days, comes back on and no changes were made.  I have much better pictures now, these are all from 3 years ago.  I've since learned to use makeup much better and have been on hormones for 15 months and I'm much more feminine now.  I guess I'm stuck with what's on here..  Unbelievable!!!! 

Before you can be taught, you have to know what classes interest you to attend.  But that's not submission, I hear you ignorantly complain. No, but most of you don't understand the difference between being submissive and being A submissive. Most of you try and convince the world you are the latter whereas you are barely the former.  Nosce te ipsum, is the first order of any day. Youre not qualified to know anyone else before you get to know yourself. Life becomes a series of dead-ends and u-turns unless you know where youre heading. Understand this - there is nothing wrong with not knowing, there is nothing wrong with asking and there is glory and purpose is learning. Act accordingly, before that laundry list of expectations and demands that you carry becomes nothing more than a shield against actually experiencing anything. And to those desparing of finding their place and purpose, remember that when you're falling out of the tree, any branch you can grab before hitting the ground is a blessing and should be appreciated. Even if it's not where you want to be, its better than the thud at the end of a drop. There is precious little enough joy in this world these days that any of us should spurn the chance to feel some when the possibility presents itself. Here endeth the lesson.

Sexual ownership and use is a crucial part of what I look for and what I need. I know some look down on that, but I have my reasons. I am searching and seeking and hoping to find something I had a long time ago, a complete sense of ownership and sexual use with no say in how or when or why I was used. It was very, very sexual and I was completely at the whim of a stronger person who could take or do anything to me at any time. They did not take certain liberties, but they could have and they made sure I was very well aware of their power over me. Because that experience was the very thing that unlocked the door of servitude for me, sexuality and sex is a very crucial part  of what I need. I am not talking about my own gratification. If someone so chose, they could provide that, but that would totally be up to them. I am talking about their use of me...however THEY choose...to make THEM happy. When they are done, they can put me back in the closet, in a cage or where ever they choose. Female or male, black, white, hispanic, oriental...matters not to me as much as the opportunity to be used as an outlet for their sexual frustrations, pleasure, whatever they choose. Ask me about the experience and I will tell all about it. When I am contacted by a straight male dom, I'm never quite sure if I'm what they're looking for and often I am not. More often than not they're looking for "worker slaves" and while I am open to that and no stranger to working hard, it would not fulfill me as a slave to simply have that ect explored. Sound odd? It probably does....but my early, early experience left its mark on me forever.

Good Morning Ladies and Gents- well it's a great morning anyway,  here in the hills of East TN.  Had a great time in Illinois this past week, looked up some old friends, and partied a bit.  I was sorry to hear that my old friend Paul C of Paul C Leathers had passed away early this year.  I have been out of touch with the Chicago LGBTQ community.   Enjoyed being invited to my friend Carlas'  Bed, Breakfast, and Bondage weekend.   Thanks to Carla, Bob, Travis, Julie, Jessica, Hanna, and  Amanda for the love!  Happy LOCKtober! Well, I'm growing closer to 71 now, had one Hell of a great run thus far, but am slowing down a bit. Where are all the lovely women around my age?   Getting too old to build your dungeons anymore so don't ask me to.  I do have contacts that can help if you can afford it. The damn hurricane did much damage to Places such as Greenville, Sevierville TN, but especially the Ashville area of North Carolina. :(    My God Interstate 26 is closed!   As a practicing Christian, Man, I pray for the lost and the survivors.  The older I got the less time we seem to have to get things done. I have been wanting to upgrade my journal for some time.   Thanks for reading!      

I am active in my local kink community. Or rather, I was before the pandemic and I will be again. Watching other people play is a magical experience. To witness their playfulness, their intensity, the fear, aggression, comfort, tenderness, and artistry of a scene is beautiful. I've been lucky enough to play with some wonderful, skilled tops. I've even introduced new people to different types of play. I am enriched by every experience. All of this has taught me a very important lesson about myself. Submission is a deeply intimate experience for me. When I bottom for someone that I am not connected to the drop is much harder. I can't give pieces of myself to people who don't want to keep them. So I don't do casual play anymore. No impromptu scenes, no kink only arrangements, not even bottoming for someone who is learning. This is also why I don't do LDRs. The one I submit to must desire all of me. Not just the fun kinky parts. They need to be physically here so I can touch and be touched. That is super important to me.  I know it's possible and I am a patient woman.  

Now that we have journals back, it's time for an update. This is now a poly household. We're set up with both a dungeon and a medical playroom.  The dungeon is amazingly well stocked with just about every sort of cane, flogger and whip you can imagine, and some things you probably haven't.  Anyone who's interested in play time or dungeon time should feel free to ask. If you're interested in more than just playtime, there are some things you should understand:  This is a KINKY HOUSEHOLD.  It is NOT kid friendly.  If you have kids, and have custody of them, we can talk and even arrange some playtime, but we're probably not going to be a good match.  This is a POLY HOUSEHOLD.  In order to make this dynamic work, everyone involved needs to be willing to compromise and work as a team.  This is a balance that takes work to maintain, and is incomptable with drama.  We're only interested in women who are willing to try to contribute to the dynamic and thereby add to the household.  Chaos is not welcome here.    If you are under 25, we don't expect you to have your life together, but we do expect you to be sane and healthy.  Freaky is encouraged, but have a grip of reality - you've got to start with reality before you plunge down the rabbit hole.  If you are over 35, still living at home and unable to take care of yourself, or still going out to bars and clubs every night you can to get blitzed and hook up, you need to grow up before contacting us.  I am willing to travel to meet, but if you're outside PA, you're going to need to do a video call.  We travel by private plane on the east coast of the US.  If this excites you great, I'd love to have another pilot in the household.  If this terrifies you, we're out of your league.  I'm sure there will be more coming, but this is a good start. 

HEAT Tossing and turning. I just can not seem to fall asleep! I am hot so I get up and take off my t shirt. I am lying back in bed with the light beaming off my clock.......I am not worried about the time cause I can stay in bed all day today.....I try to deflect my thoughts from this apparent hot flash.....I drag the sheet down and an instant sensation is felt as it flows over my nipples........my back arches in response and I become very moist from that simple act......I push the sheet down over my naval and let it drop between my thighs........OH MY it is hot! I am aroused and I am not sure why......no other thoughts are on my mind except for me thinking about my body.......I turn on my side and the moisture has flowed between my ass cheeks........I rub my bottom and as I slowly spread my cheeks.......my pussy starts to pulsate and the moisture is thick and very warm......I slide a finger between my cheeks and run it around my hole.......so warm, so moist....WOW  

First meeting of 2023   Laura, a 39 year old female came this afternoon for a punishment session. Laura contacted me on another site about administering a punishment spanking for being disrespectful to her husband, spending too much money and generally being lazy around the house. Her husband, whilst not in the scene, suggested she get spanked as he thought it would be the only way she would 'get herself together' and start taking responsibility of her life and to stop acting like a teenager. He felt that she wouldn't take it seriously if he spanked her and he probably wouldn't do it properly. Laura was a slight woman, about 5'3", and I'd say 120lbs, shoulder length black hair, pale complexion, quite a few tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a red and black tee-shirt, black leggings, and thick soled, heeled shoes. Anyway, Laura was told to report to me at 2pm, she was HALF HOUR late!! Laura was a little sassy when she arrived, and a little cheeky when asked why she was late, "sorry", she said, "didn't think I was in the army", was her response. I immediately told her that lateness isn't tolerated and that I expect her to be here at the time I say. "bend over, now!" I said, and proceeded to take down her leggings. I gave her 6 very hard smacks! "Ow, ow, ow! sorry Sir!" I think she was surprised by how much it stung, having never been spanked before. Her eyes slightly teary. I told her to stand up and pull her leggings back up, I explained that it was her and her husband that asked me to punish her, so that's exactly what she'd get. The three of us agreed that Laura should have a thorough hand spanking, followed by the strap and finally the cane. I led Laura to my living room and immediately pulled her across my knee, I gave her 20 or so hard smacks on her bottom, then took down her leggings to her knees and followed up with a further 20 or so smacks. She was wearing small blue bikini briefs, not much protection. She made a lot of noise and wriggled about quite a bit, but this didn't stop me from continuing. She was definitely shocked by how much it hurt. I have large hands and I spank quite hard. Her pale bottom reddened really quickly, as I expected. I told her to stand up and strip, which she did without hesitation, then it was corner time for 10 minutes, hands on head and standing still. Laura had a reasonably fit looking body, medium sized breasts, pierced nipples, and was smooth all over. Her bottom was nicely pert, not too muscular, but had some 'meat' to it, for want of a better word. Once the 10 minutes were over, it was back over my knee. This time I put her over my left knee, and clamped her legs down with my right leg, and held her arm behind her back. This time she got three rounds of 30 spanks, very hard! Laura tried to wriggle a lot, and was pleading with me to stop through her crying. We didn't set a limit on hand spanking, I rarely do, however we did set a limit of 3x10 with the prison strap, and 3x5 with the traditional rattan cane. After the hand spanking finished, I told her to bend over my quite large leather pouffe, it's the perfect size for someone to be on all-fours, over the pouffe and still able to put hands on the floor on the other side. She waited there for 10 minutes, the crying reduced to sniffles. "Do you deserve this punishment?", I asked, "Yes Sir", "Did you expect it to hurt so much?", "No Sir" "Well that was only my hand, now you're going to get 30 with the strap" I gave her 10 fairly slow swats, not too hard. She cried out a lot, but took them well. Laura counted the next set of 10, "One, thank you Sir", "two, thank you Sir" ... etc. A little harder this time. She could barely speak now because she was crying so much. I re-assured her that she was taking the punishment well and that actions have consequences, so she should think about her behaviour in future. The final 10 came. She didn't count these. I spanked her quite hard and fast this time, her bottom was going from very red, to slightly bruised. She was told to stand against the wall a final time for 10 minutes, she was not rub her bottom. She was very sniffly so I offered her a tissue, I am compassionate lol. The time came for the three sets of five with the cane. I reiterated that the cane would hurt a lot and asked her if she accepted the punishment. "Yes Sir, I totally deserve this punishment" I put her in position ready for her caning, leaning against the wall, legs together, slightly bent over. She was told that she can wriggle about and make noise, but MUSTN'T break position or I'll start again. The first five strokes hurt a lot, she screamed. I could see her hands tense up, and her body straightened, tightening her bottom. Perfect strokes on my part, right across the sit spot. "ok, back into position", I told her. The next five strokes were to be counted, "One, I'm sorry for my behaviour", "Two, I'm sorry for my behaviour", etc. The strokes were reasonably slow, about every 5 seconds, giving her time to get back into position, and to say the line. I then proceeded to rub her bottom, and told that she'd done well, but the last five will hurt a lot. "Ok Sir, I'm ready" These strokes were hard and fast, no break in between strokes. Laura buckled, her body almost touching the wall. Immediately after the last stroke, she fell to the floor, crying and rubbing her bottom, which was now very bruised and sore. I comforted her and rubbed lotion into her bottom. I think the crying was more from the guilt of her behaviour, as much as from the pain of the spanking. I told her she could get dressed and have a drink of water. She was then free to leave. Laura apologised, but I said that she didn't have to apologise to me, but rather her husband. I told her that I hope the spanking was a good lesson to learn and that her husband should contact me again if she needs another punishment. So, a rather enjoyable first session of 2023, her husband has since messaged me to say that the punishment was exactly what was needed, her bottom was sore and bruised for a good number of days afterwards. He said he'll definitely be in touch if he needed me again in the future.

After talking with someone on here recently I've done a lot of thinking about my desire to submit and be bound. I had never really thought about how long I've felt that way or why. Looking back on my teen years I think I've always had a fascination with restraint. My first sexual dream revolved around me getting "caught" and bound up. Looking back I have a few memories where even when I was younger there was something about being restrained that appealed to me. Now, as an adult, I think my feelings now are rooted in my desire to be helpless. I'm fortunate enough to have had a safe life, and I've never been in a bad scenario where I was in significant danger, and I suspect that may have something to do with it. Regardless, I think my root desire is to be helpless, forced to trust another person and do what they say. Something about giving into that power and giving up total control is what I really want. i don't know fully, just been thinking about it recently and these are my first thoughts. Thanks everyone for teaching me more and helping me explore these feelings!

Guys be like, “men are visual creatures.” Ok sir, than why do you look like that? Maybe a lotta fellas don’t have mirrors at home. I had to be honest with a male- co worker yesterday and explain to him that a lotta times the women THEY WANT, that don’t want them, might not be due to their financial status. A lotta times us women might not find you physically attractive (men never wanna consider this). Although your grandma and momma been telling you how handsome you are your whole life (they’re supposed to BTW) That doesn’t mean that women who you cross paths with on a daily basis look at you and think,“yea, I’d like to feel his penis inside of me, or be romantically involved with him”. This explains why it’s some not financially stable men that stay with a fine ass Boss Chick. Some men can get outta prison Tamar and be living with lawyer in her water-front condo & driving her Benz truck within a week. Women probably look at him and immediately get the, “oooouuuu shit affect” aka “a lady boner”. Believe it or not us women see fine ass men and can get erect too. Women’s erectile response is similar to men’s. Except internally, our clitoris swells like a penis. Our vagina’s become lubricated and expand in length and width. Some of you just don’t have the panty dropper affect on the women “YOU WANT”  As much as they talk about women, Many men haven’t kept themselves up. They don’t work out so they’re shaped like a bag of laundry, AND MY GOSH WHEN THE LAST TIME SOME YOU HAD A DENTAL EXAM?? And overtime this has disqualified them from the free coochie list. I know it’s hard to hear, but for some of you…THE WOMEN YOU DESIRE, don’t look at you and wanna F***.

Well I'm back on here again to o guess make it more clear on what I am not. There are men on here that really think there Gods gift to women. There's men on her that think that they are here that think that they can try to  seduce you by saying words about their fantasies. There's also men on here. I think women are pieces of meat or for their pleasure only, that their toys, or they want to be abusive,. I am here to figure out what I want. I know what I don't want. I don't want a man that thinks that he can control me. because I know 90% sure that I did not want a man the things that they can control me because that's not. I'm looking for. Always been a strong independent woman I plan to be an independent woman. I will not have a man dictate on what I can can wear. If I'm paying my own bills and buy more clothes and whatever else I have, and even if somebody else is paying for it, I am not a slave nor will I ever be. maybe this is the wrong site for me to be on. I don't know. 

Everything He Has, Until There Is Only Me There is a particular music to it that I do not think you can understand until you have heard it in a room that belongs to you, with someone who has given you permission to play. The crack of a whip is not violence. It is punctuation. It is the sound of a sentence ending exactly where you intended it to end, clean and final and ringing in the air long after the moment has passed. It lands and the room holds its breath and in that held breath is everything: the authority that swung it, the surrender that received it, the particular electricity that lives in the space between the two. I feel it in my wrist first, then in my chest, then in the slow, satisfied warmth that moves through me when something has gone exactly as I intended. The skin that receives it blooms and I watch that blooming the way an artist watches a canvas accept color. With attention. With pleasure. With the specific pride of someone who knows their medium. The paddle is a different thing entirely. Where the whip sings, the paddle speaks in a lower register, a hard and resonant thud that you feel in your bones before your skin has finished deciding what happened. There is no elegance to it and that is precisely the point. It is blunt and declarative and it leaves no room for ambiguity. You know what it means when it lands. You knew what it meant before it landed. The sound of it fills a room completely, the way a bell fills a room, and the echo of it lives in the body for hours afterward, a reminder that resurfaces every time you shift your weight, every time you sit, every time your body moves against itself and finds me there, already waiting. The cane is my favorite. I will not pretend otherwise. There is a patience to the cane that suits me. The way you must take your time with it, must place it with intention, must understand that it is not a blunt instrument but a precise one. The marks it leaves are not accidents. They are calligraphy. Long and deliberate and raised against the skin like script, like something written, like the physical evidence of a conversation that only two people in the world were present for. I trace them afterward sometimes, these lines I have drawn on a body that belongs to me, and feel the same quiet satisfaction that I imagine a sculptor feels running a hand over finished stone. I made this. This is mine. You will carry this for days. And my own skin, where the energy moves through me like current, where the act of wielding produces its own particular heat, a tingling that lives in the palms and travels, that settles somewhere behind the sternum and glows. I glow. There is no more honest word for it. Something in me lights from the inside when I am in full possession of my own authority and someone is receiving it with everything they have. Neruda wrote that he wanted to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees, and I have always understood this not as tenderness alone but as inevitability, as the specific hunger of something that transforms whatever it touches simply by being what it is. That is what I want from you. Not your performance of devotion. Your actual transformation. I want to be the thing that happens to you, the season that changes the look of everything, so that you cannot see your own hands without thinking of what they are for, cannot move through a room without feeling the architecture of my expectations around you like a second skin. I want to wring you dry. Not cruelly. Completely. I want every thought that crosses your mind to carry my fingerprints on it, want you so thoroughly oriented toward me that pleasing me stops being a task and becomes simply the direction your nature moves, the way water moves downhill without deciding to. I want your first thought in the morning to be what She needs today and your last thought at night to be whether you gave it well enough. I want the obsession to be so total that it clarifies rather than confuses you, the way a religion clarifies the faithful, the way a vocation clarifies an artist who has finally stopped pretending they could have been anything else. Bring me what delights me. You know what it is because you have paid attention, because attention to me is the one thing I require above all others and you have either given it or you have not. By now we both know which. The particular tea, the correct temperature, in the cup that fits my hand the way I like. The flowers I mentioned once three months ago that I did not think anyone was listening to. The way a room should be before I enter it, the light and the temperature and the specific quiet that tells me someone has thought about me before I arrived. The knowledge, brought to me unprompted, of something I would want to know. The book left on my nightstand, the right one, chosen not from a list I gave you but from everything you have learned about the country inside my mind. Shower me in it until I glow. Charlotte Bronte understood this, I think, better than she is given credit for. Rochester did not love Jane Eyre the way men in novels usually love women, as a soft and worshipful thing, a pedestaling. He loved her with his whole difficult complicated weight, loved her as his equal and his better and his necessity, and she received it not with flutter but with the straight-backed dignity of a woman who has always known her own worth and was simply waiting for someone else to catch up. That is the love I recognize. Not the love that flatters but the love that sees, that is almost furious in its recognition, that cannot look away because looking away would require pretending the world is smaller than it is. Neruda again: I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Yes. And also: I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. The wanting in Neruda is never polite. It is consuming and precise and it names its object with the specificity of someone who has studied what they love until they know it better than it knows itself. That is the quality of devotion I am describing. Not the vague warmth of general affection. The focused, detailed, almost scholarly hunger of someone who has made another person their life's primary text. Learn me that well. Want me that specifically. Bring it to me not in grand declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct details that prove you have been paying attention every single day, that prove my preferences live in you the way music lives in a musician, available instantly, expressed naturally, impossible to separate from who you have become. And when I glow, and I will glow, when something in me settles into that incandescent satisfaction of being known and tended and

Studies Show...Intelligent girls are more depressedBecause they knowWhat the world is really likeDon't think for a beat it makes it betterWhen you sit her down and tell herEverything's gonna all rightShe knows in society she either isA devil or an angel with no in betweenShe speaks in third personSo she can forget that she's me

Unless you are local to London or travel to London (at your own expense) please do not contact me. I do not have time to play fantasy with you through my laptop. I am NOT going to over use adjectives to describe a setting that does not exist. We can NOT eat a meal virtually throuh this message service. We can NOT enjoy your grasp of my breasts through this message service. We can NOT hear me squeel due to satisfaction on this messaging service. We can NOT touch our skin on this message service. We can NOT enjoy a glass of wine on this messaging service. I can NOT use my silk on you on this messaing service. I can NOT call you late on Friday night demanding you make a trip to my place for sexual attention on this messaging service. So politely unless you can ring my door bell, turn up with some flowers and lubricant and a decent bottle of red wine, politely will you F-off and go submit your horny essay to some shit literature competition that equally does NOT exist. Thank you

October 21.2023 Update .... H/hello SIRs n everyone, it has been a long absence from Cs but after deciding to start the New Year off afresh encountered password problems again, and took it as maybe it should re-evaluate its life ? Unfortunately just a wasted 10 months, and having recovered its correct password yet again, finds itself even more brainwashed by M.s Bdsm vids, and craving even Harder use by even more men than ever before - whilst it is Spring rutting season here in the Southern hemisphere, its also Fall cuffing season in Northern hemisphere, so maybe it will get lucky .. ie. owned. NB. please excuse if it has just read or reread Your mssgs but a Lot of new and forgotton old ones to catch up on. it will def try to update its profile and new pix soon, however the basics remain the same, and it does not want its page to disappear for months so soon after being back here. Thank You for Your time perusing slavesluts profile SIRs. Fck it ... uploaded 2nd pic and bumped for review ... again Grrrrrrr  

And yet another lovely entry on another lovely day...    I never thought that a pretty blue dress could look so good… Watching the sweat bead up on your back, you become a slippery mess that requires extra sturdiness. With the hem of your pretty dress bunched up into my palms, I let the lubed glass piece that is strapped around my body slide into you. Gripping the fabric tighter, securing my stance due to the hold your walls have on my glass, I slip in so slowly I can feel the vibration of the whimpering. Letting one side of your dress fall, my fingers dig into the fold of your hip, guiding the glass in and out as slowly as ticks sound behind us. Every time the clock ticks, another inch finds it way deeper, until I’m buried in your hole. Then every time the clock ticks while the glass has vanished in you, an inch is taken away.  Listening to the pleads of being used, I watch you salivate with fire behind those dark hues. You’re fighting the need to slide back into me, knowing that it will result in a sexless rest of the week. The fight that you are having with yourself is enough distraction you’ve caused yourself. Releasing your skin, my fingers find that sweet spot of your lovely area - freshly hairless. Rubbing you into a slobberfest, the glass slides into you again, quicker this time. The time clicks away, my fingers that hold your oh so pretty dress grip your hair as well, turning your head sideways to watch me fuck you. I see the begging in your eyes, the unvoiced pleads of need for fireworks. Just as I feel you squeeze my piece, damn near in place, my fingers find the front of you again, gently sending you over the edge with kisses down your spine.  I hold you in place against me - stabilizing you until you’ve come down. The murmurs of how well you did for me, letting you squirm and twitch with your happy ending.    But should I keep going? Continuing to please you until you just don’t have it in you to continue?

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

Regarding safewords and such... saw a journal post that caught my attention. My two cents worth: Don't rely on colors or even simple code words like "uncle" or "mercy" playing the very first or even first few times with someone new. If they don't agree with "No" means "No," at the outset, don't play with them. Don't be the sub that consents to having any choice taken away with someone new, and don't be the Dom(me) who takes that choice away. Save the word games for later in the friendship, after more trust is built up, and you have more assurance of your partner's safety and care for your welfare, or they have from you of their own. I for one have gone so far as to have actually used "Mercy" in a scene that I felt was going too far, but She didn't hear me, and I didn't repeat it. And I endured it. It was Someone I knew for almost 20 years by then. It didn't destroy what we had, and I was okay with it afterwards. But here's the thing: We had known each other that long, and we had that deep a trust while in the Dungeon. It wouldn't have been acceptable the first time we played if I had said "No" and She didn't stop. But She was always much more attentive than that. I've been fortunate that all the Tops and Dommes I've been with (only several, I assure you) have not crossed acceptable consent boundaries at all. They have known not to without having to negotiate it. Every Top should know not to, and every bottom has a right to expect that. I would call it common sense, if sense were really common.

Hello to the Newbies, Lifers, Kinksters, and PowerPlay People, This was my favorite place to blog.  When it was bought and they made it hard to post in your profile and changes required a wait to be approved, which went on for part of a year, I left. My life has been moving and doing since I was last on here often posting my thoughts.  I still have saved the oiriginal posts I put in my profile.   Some of it was some interesting shit I don't want to rewrite for a podcast or a book. We are all here to be open, open on the inside and with many hiding their outside with masks and fetish wear..lmao  but open still.  Wide open aren't you, you cumsluts. To the Men who are just kinksters and here for sex primarily, most of you don't interest me in the least.   I am born a naturally Dominant/Alpha and even in my vanilla life I am the one in charge.  Period.  If you are not able to submit without worrying about sex and orgasms, if you need to act up to be punished, you are not of interest to me.   My interests include spending a LOT of my time painting, writing and getting an art business up and running so I am independant and no longer on SSI after breast cancer.   One of the things I dealt with in my time away from here. I am a computer geek, with two pitbulls, art supplies for several businesses, and I am home with a great garden and mobile home spot I will sell in a few years.  Someone who wants to create art or go tech and work on websites, social media for stores, etc. or a good dog person, house cleaner who has a great vocabulary fits my lifestyle.  Lots of free time to learn and improve your own life is a good fit as well. My life has included fantastic sex, better than yours in most cases.  I prefer to wait to have a superior time than fuck someone not worth a dime.   I am getting shit fixed in my life before I care about a sex partner.    My sex type is not the same as my companion type, unless you are a computer geek with a great smile, abs, ass and eyes....lmao    Let life roll and have fun, Lola the Iron Mistress