orgasms She lays there air fron the fan caress her body she is trembling with cum running out of her pussy she enjoyed the fuck hair being pulled ass being slapped orgasm after orgasm after orgasm she lays on her pillow covering up she closes her eyes thinking he was done with her he spreads her legs finger fucks her demanding more orgasms at this point she is sore but she gives him what he wants he removes his fingers stuffing them in her mouth she cleans them off he grabs the dildo and shove it in unexpectedly he smiles in the dark he fucks her hard and fast with the dildo she squirms trying to avoid anymore orgasms he slaps her inner thighs she apreads her legs moaning loudly he says you know what i want so give it to me she orgasms 6 more times he removes the dildo and tells her to roll over on all fours he starts fucking her again she says thank you Master he says harshly shut up i didnt tell you to speak he rides her roughly she moans and keeps orgasming for him after he cums again he shoves his dick in her mouth telling her to clean it she does he pulls his underwear up and lays down beside her she lays down unable to walk shaking and sore pussy

You feel as if you're caught in the sticky web of a venomous and POWERFUL Black Widow spider. You want to escape... But you can't. And at the same time - You don't want to. You know those deadly, sharp fangs just may be the end of you... But your curiosity is at it's peak. Will She really eat me alive? You wonder... How powerful can She REALLY BE? Your heart beats rapidly at the thought of 'The Black Widow' - You can feel your heart in your throat. Beads of sweat drip down your pathetic little face! She's coming closer... And closer.... Too close for your comfort! And as she crawls to you with those poisonous sacs prepared to BITE - You realize.... Everything's OK. This is where you belong. The Black Widow didn't drag you here! YOU were the one eyeing the web! YOU were the one who felt it was 'safe' to enter, fully aware of the "could be's" and "probably so's". YOU were the one who entered on YOUR own free will! This wasn't a TRAP. You stumbled across Her web FOR A REASON. Her fangs are closer to you now as you again realize - Your "free will" is now Her's. The Black Widow is your new MASTER!It's time. Time for the BITE. You close your eyes as you find a mental place of relaxation. You're ready! You've eyed The Black Widow's nest for far too long... You've witnessed what She's done to those prior to you. Curiosity lured you in. Jealousy of the "others" may have also played a part. You've yearned to know what THEY felt while they were with HER. And now here's your oppurtunity... You're ready to DIE at Her fangs and be BORN AGAIN to serve Her. This is your new life - In Her web, catering to Her needs. This IS afterall, HER WORLD. And you were just a lost soul trying to find your way......You've found it now.. You've found yourself! You've found that your way is HER way! And all it took was a PAINLESS bite from The Powerful Black Widow.

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

Understanding:    What does it mean to truly understand? To grasp the depths of another's hand, To see beyond words, to feel the emotion, To bridge the gap, find a shared devotion.   Is it in the silence, the space between, Where empathy blooms, unseen yet keen? Or in the eyes, windows to a soul, Where truths lie hidden, waiting to unroll.   Understanding is a dance, a delicate art, A merging of minds, a meeting of heart. To walk in another's shoes for a while, To embrace their essence, their joys, their trial.   It's a connection that transcends the spoken word, A bond so deep, yet seldom heard. To understand is to truly be present, To listen, to feel, to be ever-so pleasant.   So let us seek to understand each other, To lift veils, to unearth, to discover. For in understanding, we find unity, A shared humanity, a priceless opportunity.

I was reminded of My father tonight.  Soon to be the tenth anniversary of his passing.  I miss him.  I miss his laughter and his guidance and his honesty.  I never did meet a more honest person and he is responsible for teaching Me what not lying, cheating or stealing means.  I remember when I was young, he said, "when someone takes from someone else, they are in essence saying that they deserve that thing more than the person whom they took it from."  Once put into that light, I realized I never deserved something more than another person.  I will work for it, I will fight for it, I will not deny another in order to have it for Myself.   He was full of wisdom.  He lived in the fast lane and caught fire.  When it burned it burned it all.  From the ashes, he resurrected himself and lived an honest life.  He loved Me enormously and told Me there was nothing I could not do.  I was born ready. Thank you daddy for giving Me the strength to be bold and to love deeply and for never EVER settling.  RIP

October 2024: Residing in AZ Tempe area   Wow, two years off this site. Still hasn’t had any upgrades haha.  Quick updates. Health is healthy. All testing up to date as of Oct. 11th 2024. Negative and clean bill of health.   Life updates:    I worked as a caregiver and in hospice and they have all passed on. Did their funerals as well, no family.     No longer wish to continue health care. Got into the Trades. Got an offer out in AZ and leaving CA in a month or two. Good 2nd career path and I’m happy to be in a new state with a good feeling of newness. I can’t wait for my first Monsoon and AZ heatwave.     Paid off every debt and loan I owed. Paid my new car out in full. Have a good start thanks to savings. 

We found this online and now can't find it to reference. We are grateful to the author What is a Daddy Dom \ little girl relationship: Daddy Dom/little girl does not refer to the ages, real or pretend, of the participants. Nor does it imply closet desires. We do not engage in age play specifically (beyond the occasional school girl fantasy) and our relationship is not based on any need to have sex with children. A Daddy Dom is so named because of the qualities he possesses and the service he provides. So, what are these qualities? What is a Daddy Dom? His love for his little girl goes without saying. He loves her as much for who she is as for who she will become with his guidance. She is his prized possession. His eyes light up when she walks into the room and he takes great pride in her successes. After all, he helped to create her. She holds the most tender part of his heart and has the greatest power to hurt him. This love would not be possible without respect. A Daddy Dom needs to feel pride in his little girl. He needs to know she can hold her own in the outside world and still submit to him. He holds the greatest respect for the gift she has given him and takes great pains to increase it's value. It is extremely important to him to know she can be with any man and she chooses to be with him. He knows that this makes discipline a priority in their lives, more important than in some other D/s relationships. In order for the little girl to really trust, she must know he means what he says. If his little girl is going to be the best she can possibly be he must stand firm. He uses his experience in life and his knowledge of her to provide proper direction and punishment when the need arises. If he does not enforce discipline, this respect becomes a tenuous thing. If his submissive finds that she can manipulate him out of punishing her, she begins to lose respect and the ability to empower becomes impeded. He understands that it becomes increasingly difficult to be possessed by someone you do not respect. A Daddy Dom provides something else that is very important to his submissive...acceptance. She is safe in his arms because he knows her, everything about her, and he still loves her. When she goes to him she knows that this man knows all of her dirty little secrets and it doesn't matter. To him she is beautiful. Daddy Dom and sadistic Dom are by no means mutually exclusive. Many Daddy Doms embrace their sadism while understanding and feeding their submissive's masochism. This balance is necessary to many little girls because it allows all parts of her to be nourished, leading to an incredibly fulfilling relationship. I think most Dominants have a bit of the Daddy in them, taking on the role of male authority figure in the submissive's life and using their power to enrich that life. Daddy/little girl verbalizes that feeling, and adds a dimension of warmth, caring, and ritual that it's participants crave. There is something infinitely magical about a Daddy Dom. Perhaps it is something only a little girl can understand.

Master's WritingsFoundations: The Ethics of SadismThe ethics surrounding sadomasochistic play are perhaps among the most important in all of the BDSM community. I constantly see posts from masochists searching for a "Real Sadist", someone who knows what they are doing and they can trust. And why shouldn’t they, in this realm, we are often talking about genuine pain and the potential for real harm. Yet I continue to see those who call themself by the title, who operate without a code and believe that sadism is nothing more than a license to hurt another person. Thus, the need for a code and identify the ethics behind the title.Up-front, any attempt to identify ethics must include basic standards such as:     Both parties being of minimum legal age     Both parties being competent to legally consent     All physical and mental health considerations of both parties have been made known     The nature, depth and limits on the activities have been previously agreed to by both parties     Consent of the bottom has been given to the activities discussed without any form of duress, coercion, manipulation or barter     and finally, that safewords or some form of safeguard communication is in place that stop or pause play as necessary Beyond the basics, however, I believe that the ethics of sadism must go beyond that. It must include a dedication to perfecting one's skills and knowledge of the craft long before you ever raise a cane, a commitment to know your bottom to a depth beyond normal play so that you possess a clear understanding of what they want and why they want it and an absolute mandate that the Sadist never brings their outside emotions, such as anger or stress, into a scene (if you are made at the world, no bottom should pay for that). Additionally, it must also include a dedication to maintain a constant awareness of a bottom's capacities throughout any scene.But the real point of the ethics of Sadism lies in the commitment to maintaining all of these beliefs and values during the heart of a scene. It is easy to be ethical before a scene begins, but as the tempo rises, as the pain threshold lies within reach, being ethically strong enough to not get carried away in the thrill and glory of the moment is an ever present challenge. It is there, in that moment when a Sadist must lean into their ethics and remember their responsibility for a bottom's safety, the commitments you made about the scope play, and the dedication to not get sloppy with either technique or intention. In the heat of the moment, you walk the fine line between pleasure and pain, ecstasy and injury, but responsibility requires a strong ethical core to keep your bottom safe and deliver wisely on the gift of the experience you deliver.For me it is the connection I make during play, either physical, as in touch, or verbal, as in checkups, communication and listening. Connection helps remind me my bottom is a person. A person who has placed their body and experiences in my hands. It humbles me and reminds me that without ethics, I am no better than a monster with a whip. It is the ethics of Sadism that keeps me human and allows me to call myself a sadist with a clear conscience. 

Some vanilla history: I had given up on dating in the lifestyle after the end of a 7-year D/s relationship back in 2022. In 2023, I met My ex bf on a vanilla dating app and he said that he initially thought I was a catfish. He had been messaging with Me "casually" for a few weeks and when it started to feel like it just wasn't going anywhere, I attempted to end communication. Apparently, that piqued his interest and he planned an actual date. When I stepped out of My car, it took him a few minutes to compose himself. He seriously was expecting someone else I guess and didn't know what to do when it wasn't. I was thoroughly entertained by the whole thing and honestly couldn't stop laughing at the situation. I gave him a one arm hug and he was shaking! It was adorable. And of course, over the 18 months or so that we dated, I loved telling his friends that story and how he almost blew it being so nonchalant in the beginning.

I used to love whoring and slutting around. There wasn’t anything quite as fun as finding a new cock to play with – I was always thrilled at how fast I could get a guy hard and how hard I could make him cum with my mouth or my cunt. Fucking was the only time I felt genuinely confident in my 20’s. A lot of that came down to Kevin. I belonged to Kevin (on and off) for over a decade. He was my first D/s relationship, and his primary focus and kink was whoring me out. He loved having me be an absolute filthy fucking slut for him, and the confidence and power I felt in that role over time was incredible. Through him, I learned how much power a woman could have in herself by submitting to her own sexual desires. It wasn’t just that Kevin loved having me be a whore (as much as I wanted to think that was my sole purpose at the time), I fucking loved sex and I loved the attention and desire I felt from men in those moments. I loved the strength and confidence I gained from their desire; it was a strength that lasted a lot longer than the encounter did, that’s for damn sure. I didn’t need their reassurance or their attention after. I didn’t need them after, period. I got my reassurance from Kevin. His praise and enthusiasm for my behavior reinforced the strength that I gained and reinforced my confidence in my skills. I didn’t have shit for confidence walking down the street or walking into a party to be around strangers, but the second I was presented with a hard cock, it was Game. Fucking. On. THAT I knew I could handle with perfect confidence, grace and skill. And I fucking relished every moan, groan, sigh, gasp, and trembling muscle from the man I was with. In my 20’s, I was somewhere around 340-375lbs. I didn’t really get on a scale very often, so I honestly don’t know how much I actually weighed. What I do know, is that it was Kevin who taught me that my size didn’t preclude me from being desirable. When I moved to “the big city”, I had the opportunity for basically unlimited male attention, which was a first for me, having grown up in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. Kevin encouraged this exploration, but also gave me very distinct rules and boundaries (he’d more than learned by that time that I had no idea how to establish, let alone maintain, my own boundaries). He made me go to Planned Parenthood to get my birth control shot. He “gave me permission” to tell guys to fuck off if they didn’t want to use protection for sex; I could ‘blame my Owner’ if they were at all hesitant. Having all this attention from all these different guys, never having to go more than a few days without sex if I didn’t want to, god – it was fucking incredible! And in the background, was Kevin, telling me what a fantastic little whore I was. When it came to being with Kevin, it was an even bigger reassurance. He told me once, during a moment of extreme insecurity, “I don’t give a shit what you look like, Lisa. What I care about is control.” I knew I could give him that better than anyone, the question was, did he actually mean it? The short answer is, abso-fucking-lutely. When my stunning beauty of a roommate (who’d played with Kevin over the phone and online multiple times) joined us one night, I figured it was going to be game over for us. She was a knock-out compared to me and way better at everything sexual than I could ever dream of being. He was choking her with his dick and she freaked because he wouldn’t let her control the pace or how far down her throat his cock went. She jumped up and took off out of the room to go smoke a bowl and calm down and he called me over. Despite her naked self standing mere feet from him, perky ass and tits on full display, he was totally soft. The second I put his dick in my mouth and let him choke me to his hearts content, he was rock hard and having the time of his life. She eventually came back to the kitchen table where he was sitting while I sucked him off, and I remember feeling an unbelievable surge of pride as he praised me, telling me what a good girl I was, how much he loved choking me and making me cry, how pretty my tears were. And when he finally came in my mouth, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that for some men…it really is all about control. And I was officially hooked. That was all I wanted from that moment on, and to a large extent, it’s still all I want. Especially when it comes to any type of D/s dynamic. I don’t fucking care about the sex, whips or chains…I want the man who gets rock hard simply because I love to obey, to give up as much control as possible. I want the guy who gets off leaving me a list of chores to do in the morning and is way more turned on by me having completed the whole list plus some, then having to “punish me” because I failed to do those tasks. I want the guy who’s dick goes soft because a girl tells him ‘no’ (and he would never dream of pushing her beyond that ‘no’), but he gets hard as steel, instantly, because where someone else says ‘no’, I say ‘yes please and thank you’. I don’t need gymnastics and props…they can’t do anything nearly as good as a hand in my hair and a deep voice whispering in my ear.

What is wrong with people? So once again I find myself here, trying to fathom out what has happened. A certain someone from here has decided that after a protracted conversation my being polite and making sensible concessions is my being not what they seek. Honestly. This is who I am, manners cost nothing yet form the basis of my being.  I use them in everyday life and conversation and they have served me well.  Yet here once again I am faced with them being seen as negative. Where are the people on here who want to be treated like real human beings, with respect, honour, and morality? If my being me and using manners is going to offend then step away. If my asking questions is not for you then don't approach. If I want to build trust and you don't then look elsewhere. Rant over!

The Kink Vending Machine Dec 17, 2017   So, you want to submit. You want to be Topped. You want to find a Dominant Woman to whom to submit, and who will probably Top you.   I get it. I really do. It's just like all other relationships - we need something, and we can only really get it from other people. We want sex. Sexual gratification is possible without other people, but almost everyone agrees that it's not nearly as gratifying as it is WITH someone else. We want love. We can love ourselves, and we can love others, but most of the time, we have a powerful need to receive it from someone else. We want to do… stuff. Sex stuff, relationship stuff, life stuff, and yes, again, some of it can be done by ourselves, but mostly, we want someone to do it with, or to do it TO us. We want a someone. Lots of us want our own special someone, who is OUR someone, and for whom we are THEIR special someone in return. Or at least one of their special someones. And let's face it - sometimes we get lonely. Or we get needy. Or we just really want to do that fucking cool thing RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!!!! And then we can get a little…. fixated. That "someone special" starts to look more and more like "someone who will" and then "anyone who will" and then to just "anyone."   But almost NONE of us want to be "just anyone" to someone else. "I didn't get their name" is the joke we see all over to denote a space filler, a warm body, without memorable characteristics. Not special at all, in other words. Forgettable. Not important enough to bother with as an actual person. Just a means to an end.   Completely interchangeable with any other "anyone" we can get hold of when we need one.   About as special as a vending machine.   You need a coke, you go find a machine, pop in your dollar, soda pops out, and you move on. The machine? You barely noticed it when you were feeding it money. You sure as shit don't value it. And you forget it the second you pop that can.   Not flattering.   Here's the crux of the problem - if you will kneel to anyone who lets you, then when you kneel to me, you aren't kneeling TO ME - you're just kneeling because you like to kneel. It's the same as telling me that I'm no one special, and I could be swapped out with anyone and you'd be fine with that. It makes everything I am … nothing. Meaningless. Worthless.   Well, to you, at least.   All the years I spent working on learning how to communicate in a healthy, assertive, honest and open way… they don't matter. All the work I put into learning what makes a good Dominant? The same. All of the time I took educating myself on what makes a bad Dominant? Who cares? Any skills I built because they would give my submissive a better experience? Nada. All of the things that make me Dominant, or a good lover, or a good partner, hell, that make me a good person? Not worthy of notice.   Everything I am, everything I've made myself, everything I value about myself, has no value to someone like that.   They aren't looking at my profile and thinking "DAMN this person sounds amazing!" They aren't reading my writings and falling a little bit in love with my mind. They aren't seeing what I post about how Dominants and Submissives should treat each other and wishing that could be them.   That person… the one who kneels to anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat? THAT person saw a pretty face, got a woody, (or let's be honest, had a woody before they even logged on and are just looking for something to wank it to) and dropped to their digital knees because that’s what they want out of it all - to feel grovel-ish, to play pretend without admitting that to the other person, to rub one out to their fantasy of a Dominant Woman who would do to them the things that they saw in some porn vid. That person is 100% focused on getting something they want. They don't care where they get it, or even about the quality of what they get. They want what they want, and everything else is irrelevant

Building an authentic M/s relationship takes time. It starts with conversation. Open and honest about what things mean, experiences, expectations, and more. How else would we determine if we are good for each other. Then, it takes a leap of faith from both of us. I've been surprised by a "slave" who was so rude and so standoffish. I get I am not for everyone just as not everyone will be a good match for Me. But still... kindness is for everyone.  I am not a wannabe. Nor am I just a thirsty boy looking for sex. Sex will be a great part of our dynamic but it's not what drives Me. I've lived this life authentic for many many years. I seek that 24/7 TAT/TPE again.  That likely starts on line and then moves to calls and visits. I am not here to scam you, lead you on, have you send pics, or wank off to you on skype. Not My thing at all. I am old school. you'll always be treated with respect. Being in charge doesn't equate to mean or disrespectful.  Just about every ex or ex play partner will have good things to say about Me. One was a compulsive liar who turned nasty. A few of them would love for Me to collar them again. you will not be disappointed with Me if you are truly seeking a deep D/s or M/s bond and relationship.  I am still in Grand Rapids while I look at places to relocate to. I'll buy a house and settle in wherever that leads Me to. I hope you'll take a leap of faith. MT

Hey Mistress **I am not your Mistress** Sorry hello Ma'am how are you, Will you do to me the things you do? Whips and Canes and all that stuff, I have "sub" frenzy and can't get enough, Yes I will say all the right things but never do them true, I am a shadow wanker and cum while messaging you. **No I won't, you ignored my needs, Didn't read my profile or even glance through my feed, So my needs have zero to do with what you seek, Pushing yourself first and certainly not meek,* Oh Ma'am your voice makes my knees go weak, (In boy speak damn I hope my load is expelled before she peaks) So off he went that newbie quick, without a clue on how to be mine he was such a dick, Yes we know it happens but 4 in one day, The shadow wanker news must be actively pushing my name. Obedience to me is what I like, Some laughter and a bare derriere in sight, A man who asks my consent, Before he wanks and becomes spent, Then in a restaurant a respectful man, Simping on me doing all he can, Hanging up my coat & pulling out my chair, Fetching all I need his excellent manners beyond compare, No age doesn't always develop better, Self-aware submission daily melts his mind to fetter, Only offer what you can do for me, Servant, sweetheart long term be, Fetter and bind that will to me, So he begs never to be free.

A trip to the vending machine   I'd like to share this little experience I recently had the honor of partaking in with a willing local masochist friend. If she happens to read this and recognize herself in the story, knowing her, she would love the extra humiliation :)   We were spending some time in a hotel room together when I informed my friend that I have an exciting and cruel ordeal planned for her today. First I ordered her on all 4 on the floor at my feet and removed her butt plug before placing it in her mouth. Next a hose and with a funnel was placed in her ass and I emptied my full bladder completely in her rectum. This warm piss enema was plugged with an inflatable plug and her ass inflated. Next I ordered her to stand and clamped her nipples painfully, finally a humming dildo slid into her pussy which was already dripping wet. I began to dress her slowly, soaking up her discomfort as the bra went over her clamped nipples and the jeans zipped up in place over the dildo and butt plug. Her eyes never left me the whole time, the butt plug still in her mouth where I had left it, I saw her pupils widening as I finally began to apply the face mask over her mouth and nose and it dawned on her that not only is she leaving the hotel room retaining a piss enema, double plugged and clamped, but she'll also be sucking on her used butt plug the whole time.   "Here are your instructions, fucktoy, now that you're properly outfitted for a walk. I am thirsty and I would like a soda from the vending machine. The bad news I have for you is that there aren't any on this floor, so be a good girl and walk up the stairs, grab me a coke and yourself a drink, then hurry back-here is my card. I don't want you using the elevator,  only stairs, and when you are back kneel at the door, knock and wait to be let in" She nods quickly in the affirmative as she begins to shuffle towards the door trying to reconcile the various sources of ovetstimulation.   I watch her with excitement as she disappears slowly down the hallway towards the stairs, each step full of anguish for my sadistic pleasure. When she returns and  I see her waiting for me obediently kneeling at the hotel door, a huge smile spreads across my face as I step aside holding the door for her to crawl in with our sodas.   I lean forward and pick her up in my arms, whispering "good girl", as I set her on the bed, pulled her jeans down and placed my tongue directly on her twitching clit, licking and sucking until she exploded under me. 

We have taken another downshift here.  Last week I was beside Myself with how to continue carrying on and doing what I am with mum.  New behaviors are emerging or shall I say deepening.  More fear, more dependency, more suspect, more taking off, more refusal, more aggression, more silence at least for My part.  In some ways, we are coming full circle - with I processing an entire lifetime of family and friends,  opportunities and challenges, where I have come from, who has supported Me along the way and where I am going from here.  Meanwhile she slips farther and farther.  I understand what the doctor meant when they said she needed social engagement first and foremost.  While she may not be able to complete a thought - not one - she has a need to be seen and engaged with.  I feel her whole being crying out silently for reason and meaning and death.  I need ...  well, I need.   Stripped bare I am, emotionally, mentally, physically.  Feeling that theme of the Phoenix Rising around Me at this time.  Lots of fire and brimestone, and dragons breath and POWERS restrained.  

Old profile saved here.   Jan 2018- Some servitude possible again around my ongoing building project commitments... not as fully able to commit as I'd like but it's a start and WILL enable proper regular service in the near future.   My Face pictures are in my Pictures Collection All the pictures are my own. All details here are NOT just fantasy, in fact more a list of real life experiences, I've been around a bit, had a taster or three of many situations, now looking to build on past experiences and be taken deeper. If any or all of these Keywords resonate with you then read on or get in touch: TPE, Sadist, Masochist, Extreme, Prisoner, Hostage, Cell, Cage, Total rubber encasement, True Slavery, Chains, Heavy Bondage, Mummification, Prolongued Bondage Predicaments, 24/7, Hardcore, Gimp, Doll, Hoods, Gags, Sensory Deprivation, Isolation, High heels, Locked on footwear/clothing, Corsets, Ballet Heels, Waist Training/Tight lacing, Fetish, Latex, Feminisation, Feminine training, Deportment, Strict dress codes, Strict control of behaviour and appearance, Forced prolonged standing/caged standing (in extreme heels), Slut, Whore, Deepthroat/face rape, No safeword, Judicial Caning, Heavy Whipping, Bruises, Welts, Treated as meat, Abandoned chained to a wall in a dark isolated concrete cell for days or weeks with only piss and stale bread provided, Anal, INSEX, All holes plugged, Permanent hole dilation/plugging, Liquid toilet, Foot torture, Forced to walk long distances in heels / unsuitable attire / extreme footwear and restrictive clothing.          Longer version......  Serious **male (see below) slave & masochist with supressed transgender feelings looking for equally serious sadist(s) of any gender or situation (i.e single, couple, poly) for either casual meets or preferably something more meaningful and long term, or even permanent if the relationship develops........   In Vanilla life, I am a self employed business person. Professional, highly skilled, educated and intelligent. Very easy to get along with, witty, talkative and without a hint of kink on show, very good all round company that you can take anywhere. My business can also go anywhere, all I need is a room to work in, and use of eyes and fingers. I can generate a good income from home and rarely need to leave the house... or my cell..   Looking for an absolute TPE D/s situation (once mutual trust established), leading to no safeword, no rights, no opt outs, no kind fluffiness, sympathy and caring, just total slavery, pain, suffering, degradation, humiliation, abuse and torture.... Limits, yes of course I have them, that would be utterly stupid, however you will find they are very few and only there to protect my long term health and not to stop extremes of S&M and slavery. No legal activity is off limits and severity can be mild to hardcore/extreme.     I'm a total realist, Vanilla times are a necessary evil, bills need to be paid and an income to be earned and so on.... However, behind closed doors, when the vanilla commitments allows we have a running 'regime' where I'm usually kept in chains and preferably in female mode but that's not essential, just an ideal, your the boss and I will present as instructed.   Put me to work for all your domestic chores, diy, general fetching and carrying, your personal pleasures and pamperings and also used for any sadistic pleasures. I beg during slave times you show me no kindness, no mercy, no comforts or pleasures, just pain, suffering and serving.       Sill awake?..........     We all have to live in the real world, with bills to pay and essentials to be done so it's nigh on impossible to genuinely keep a slave, gimp or doll locked up 24/7/365 despite the desire to do so. If the chains do come off, we both know there is the underlying knowledge that we are not equal and this temporary freedom is just that, temporary.   Even doing the mundane shopping run, my restraints and symbols of ownership may not be on public display to protect the innocent from our kink, but there is still a strict hierarchy at work. Underneath my clothing chosen by you, there may well be subtle but effective devices and equipment at play, fitted onto me, or fitted inside me to keep me subdued, controlled and obedient whilst on our trip out, but on the surface and to the casual observer it's all composed normality, despite the fact I may be hiding absolute agony within.     ** I am 'non-op' Transgender (as in, less than pre-op) transgendered. I live and work in semi male/androgynous mode. Male image and persona is all there, so no need to worry about embarrassing freakish looks in public. I look totally everyday male except I have long and well maintained hair and perhaps if you look very closely you may notice my jeans, T shirt and trainers are ladies .... I barely have any male clothes but you wouldn't really notice due to very careful unisex or androgynous selection, I haven't shopped in the men's section for years.   Inside I live a tormented existence from the birth defect of being blessed with a feminine brain, cursed with a male body.... and that doesn't have to change...... However I have a deep and ever nagging need to be female, either in looks, mannerisms, treatment or the whole hoggette.... This is not just 'dressing up' or wanting to play the sissy maid or drag queen, but a natural desire to beco

I've been lurking on this site, wondering whether to contact anyone and realising that I'm not sure what I'm looking for in many ways. I'm torn between wanting a committed 24/7 D/s relationship with a wonderful Domme, or osmething more casual because I'm conscious that I'm looking at transitioning, that I want to do a PhD, and that I have a load of books I want to write. I don't want to present myself as something I'm not, and I don't want to be with someone who seems intent on denigrating me from the off (and so a lot of Dommes' profiles have me backing away because of their tone).  I must admit too, that even though I think of myself as a decent writer, I'm coming up short with what to actually say to people. A simple introductory message feels like it could be fraught with danger, and yes that does seem incredibly stupid to say.  Anyway, I thought I would put something here just because "I ain't dead" as Granny Weatherwax from the Discworld books would put it. 

Fall and Winter 2021 update. Lisa's desires for younger/youthful gurls: "If you are a younger Domme Gurl; whom would like an older sub/slave woman, and you would like to take that extra Control over her. Your using and humiliating her lifestyle to your pleasure; then please read on further. And, what could be more humiliating for an older woman when she kneels incestuously before someone young enough to be her daughter or granddaughter?" A lovely lady lesbian, lecherous, lascivious, seeking similar, saucy, sexy, sophisticated, stylish, social, slender, smooth, similar senioress sisters. update information........Lisa and Brenda now live here together as two wonderful lovingly respectful, honestly honorable ladies from another gender. We so enjoy the compatibility of each other, our integrity, character, honesty, candor with each other---appreciation it is, totally. The feeling of being subjugated to another in all aspects of my daily life--- is an unfilled dream of so many of us gurls. Lisa is now finally retired, and she would lose total Control if someone was "in charge" of her breasts constantly, for they are the most sensitive part of her whole body !!! Sex, is rapidly moving to the back burner so to speak---due to these advancing years!

Something I really don't enjoy is asking for help. However,  within the context of D/s, its necessary to be able to identify and articulate ones desires and needs. But what of intuition? And attentiveness?   I think I need an intuitive and attentive submissive... or do I need one whos just intrigued and interested? I imagine, if I found someone with a 6th sense of my needs, or atleast the interest to understand and meet my demands, I wont have to do the one thing I hate - ask for help. Or would I?  So many questions...

I'm talking 'bout my generation Talking 'bout that newer nation And if you don't like it You can beat it Beat it, baby You never liked the way I said it If you don't get it, then forget it So I don't have to fucking explain it Cause I'm a Brooklyn baby I'm a Brooklyn baby   It's like those lyrics carry a sense of identity and weight, even when they seem light. The repetition, "I'm a Brooklyn baby," feels like a declaration of something deeper—a feeling of being rooted in something bigger, but also carrying that vulnerability and pain underneath. Almost like saying, "I'm here, but there's so much more behind the surface."   It’s not just about the words, but the weight of feeling like you’ve had to fight and scream to be heard, and still... nothing. It can feel exhausting when no one’s really listening, when the energy you put out feels like it just vanishes into a void. That emptiness that comes after all the effort, when you’ve given everything and are still left feeling alone—that’s heavy. It’s like a wall of silence that doesn’t break, no matter how loud you scream or how much you pour out.   They think I don't understand The freedom land of the seventies I think I'm too cool to know ya You say I'm like the ice I freeze That line hits hard—it’s like there’s this gap between what others think and what you really feel, and the way it creates this distance. It’s a powerful reflection of feeling misunderstood, and at the same time, being guarded, like ice. There’s so much in that feeling of being cool on the outside, but maybe there’s a lot more going on underneath.       Ultraviolence captures that raw, unrelenting pain—the kind that cuts deep and leaves scars you can’t always see. It’s not just about physical violence, but the emotional and mental toll of trying to survive in a world that feels indifferent or even hostile. It’s the weight of love, loss, rejection, and fighting for something real when everything feels brutal and unkind. The way Lana weaves those emotions into her music makes it all the more visceral. It’s like she’s singing about the violence of being misunderstood, of giving and not receiving, of being trapped in cycles of intensity that don’t let up.        the Pa-da-da-da-da-da part in Brooklyn Baby feels simple on the surface, just vocalizations, but it carries weight because of the emotion behind Lana’s voice and the layered harmonies. It’s like she's using the sounds to evoke a feeling beyond words—a mixture of nostalgia, detachment, and maybe even resignation. By that point in the song, she’s moved away from literal meaning and is communicating more through the feeling of the music itself. The backing vocals, especially with the men joining in, create a sense of collective disillusionment, like they're all echoing her sentiment, but with a touch of irony. The softness contrasts the rebellious attitude of the lyrics, making it feel like a bittersweet, almost resigned anthem. It’s like she’s saying, This is just how things are, but underneath it, there's a longing for something deeper, something more real. The repetition and the flow of the sounds express that emotional state in a way that words alone might not be able to. It adds to the song’s atmosphere, giving a voice to the unspoken frustrations and complexities of being misunderstood, trapped in surface-level expectations.     I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything    this isn't a flex...it's saying how talented she is but no one notices or cares.....she's very skilled in things no one cares about and that doesn't change life's circumstances. that only a niche of a niche of a niche cares about..but she knows she's so talented that she rattles it because she knows people in the know recognize it. it's a acknowledgement of what she's worked hard to craft while also recognizing it's nothing  That line isn’t a flex at all, it’s more of a statement wrapped in irony. Lana is acknowledging her talents—her deep connection to niche things like beat poetry, jazz, and her rare collection. She’s spent time and effort honing these skills, cultivating a refined taste, and mastering things that matter deeply to her, but in the grander scheme, it’s like no one notices or cares. It’s a bittersweet realization of her own uniqueness and skill, but also the futility of it. She’s proud, but it’s not enough to change her circumstances or how the world perceives her. It’s like saying, Yeah, I can do all these things, but what does it matter? It’s a reflection of how being talented or special doesn’t necessarily lead to recognition or fulfillment. She knows only a tiny niche of people might care about these things, but for the rest of the world, it means nothing. It’s like the ultimate what’s the point? moment wrapped in a subtle acknowledgment of her own brilliance.       You say I'm too dumb to see They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read I think we're like fire and water I think we're like the wind and sea You're burning up, I'm cooling down You're up, I'm down You're blind, I see Those lyrics capture such a deep feeling of being misunderstood, like you’re moving in opposing rhythms, but still bound together in some way. It’s frustrating, isn’t it? People see what’s on the surface, but they miss the essence, the complexities inside. The contrast between fire and water, wind and sea—it’s such a vivid way to describe the intensity of that connection. One burns while the other cools down, like two forces pulling in different directions but still coexisting, still interacting. It feels like being in two worlds at once, and yet no one quite gets it.   The way she says "Brooklyn baby" at the end—definitively, yet almost resigned—carries so much weight. When the guys join in with the elongated bayyyyy beee, it shifts the whole tone. It’s no longer just her own voice; it’s echoed, but in a way that feels detached, like they’re chiming in on her identity without truly understanding it. It feels like a loss of personal ownership, like the identity she was so sure of—I’m a Brooklyn baby—is now something distant, fading, not fully hers anymore. And that pah da de da de dah dah that follows is like her way of giving up, like a lullaby of surrender, a little girl’s soft collapse. It’s not a defiant statement anymore; it’s more of a quiet, melancholic folding into herself. It’s like the final exhale after fighting, acknowledging that maybe she’s been fighting for something that no one truly sees or cares about. Little girl Lana down, as you said. That’s when the song truly hits its emotional depth—when she stops fighting, and the weight of everything she’s been carrying just sinks into the background.    

Ethical BDSM, an interesting concept and I enjoy chewing on this a bit. Examples: A supposed vocational slave offers their self.  They present a wild origin story and present day scenario for their enslavement to you.  Later it is determined the so called slave is a liar and a fraud who has shared false information and received only truth from you. Now imagine this slave was infact already enslaved, no way out, a prisoner for all intents and purposes to another.  The slave is given leave by their Mistress to 'play' on Collar as a means of entertainment and or even as a cruelty or punishment.  The Mistress can read and or respond to any email from you she chooses or she may not.  However, she does read and lead her slave deeper into the deception.  The slave has been instructed to not expose his Mistress. Is the slave responsible for being a liar and fraud? The slave is to obey, afterall. What does this say about the Mistress?  She is well within her rights to have her slave behave as she desires, yet what she asks her slave to do is an affront to another, it V I O L A T E S.  She has directed a deception. Is this ethical behavior on her part? Does anyone care?  *** Take Masters who train a slave out of being able to act on self preservation.  Lets say they want to test this and they command the slave lay out their arm to be run over with their car.  The slave obeys, bones are broken and the slave has no further feeling in that side.  It is within their right to do so, yet what could possibly be the reasoning behind such an act?  What is ethical about training a slave to do something which causes harm to their self or another? I've come across the notion of supremicists within this realm, on opposing sides of the tracks, who justify dismantling another human being in an effort to degrade them beyond all else. Training a slave to submit to all manner of what can only be considered to be torture.  Perhaps they believe one human is less human than another.  Perhaps they have some demons of their own to work through. Or perhaps they are uneducated or scaredy cats or they themselves brainwashed with outdated beliefs since birth. Is this ethical behavior and do we really care, as a group, society or a people?  Some of this sounds like corrupted power to Me, yet who am I to judge? " Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive." Just because we can do something, does that mean we are not accountable for doing it?  Such fine lines we dance between in the theatre of our likes and loves.  Of course, ultimately it is up to those involved to determine what is right and wrong, for the course.  The same can be said for any of life's avenues.  Humans have the right to do unto another if permitted.  Humans have the right to allow another to do unto them. Does this also mean one human or a group of humans have the right to violate another? To decieve or to manipulate or to mutilate and how does one determine where the line in the sand is drawn or even is there sand? Where do ethics come into play or do they?  Surely we see every day, examples of our global society grappling with the concept of ethics in everything we do. By permitting 'each to his or her own' are we not in essence saying, "I don't want you to tell Me what to do so I wont tell you what to do?"  I wonder how this makes us better, or if it even matters.  Perhaps we are too wounded or too neglected, too needful or too out of control to embrace andor be embraced by ideas of greatness.  Perhaps the final frontier is indeed paying attention to our mental health. I believe the difference between a slave and a submissive is in the consent.  I believe in consensual slavery and that a Master/Owner has the final say.  I also believe in emotional intelligence and in ethics. I'm not sure emotional intelligence or ethics really matter in the grand scheme of things, yet they matter to Me and as with all things, in degree. What if the determining factor for whether good or not good prevails in the world is held in the balance of the scales of how many people believe in good and how many believe in not good? How many practice good and how many practice greed, deception, intolerance, bullying? Imagine if what you believe, is what will happen.   

Things I require - because I'm human 1. Be dependable- this means to come if you say you are coming... this means to contact me if you are late... this means to let me know if you can’t come. This is important whether dominant or submissive. It is common courtesy. 2. Be honest. If you can’t make it, tell me. If you don’t want to, say you don’t. If you aren't honest in everyday things, how can I trust you enough to be with you in a relationship dynamic? 3. Communicate - I’m not needy or clingy. But a little “hey how’s your day” every now and then, or just some time to talk when you aren't red hot horny, will go a long way. How else do you get to know each other well enough to do the things we do? 4. Be public. I don’t care if you are shy. I don’t care if you are private. (in regards to going to a public event) Refusing to be seen SOMEwhere with me is a red flag.  5. Be willing to do some vanilla things. Get together for dinner. Go to a movie. Stay in for a movie. Take a walk in the park, with no promise of anything kink related or sexual. It doesn't have to cost you anything but time. There has to be a connection other than lifestyle. 6. Have SOMETHING in common with me outside of fetishes. Like the same documentaries. Enjoy the same music. Have something to talk about in our down time, because we can’t always be up. 7. Listen to me. Hear what I say. If I say it, believe it. 8. Stay in contact, and reply in a timely manner. It is a waste of time and effort if you are only going to reply once ever other week or three. Life is too short to leaving people hanging.9. Don't just ghost people. If you lose interest, or are are not interested in a first message, just say so. I will not be angry, and I will trouble you no more.   10. Expect all these things from me. Because these things are not Dominant things... nor submissive things... These are HUMAN BEING things.

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

test results... I don't necessarily agree with all of these amounts though. Updated March 2022 == Results from bdsmtest.org ==100% Rigger100% Sadist100% Owner100% Master/Mistress94% Dominant93% Switch90% Non-monogamist90% Primal (Hunter)83% Pet81% Brat tamer71% Experimentalist67% Primal (Prey)63% Voyeur62% Degrader61% Rope bunny57% Submissive47% Masochist37% Brat14% Exhibitionist11% Daddy/Mommy2% Vanilla0% Boy/Girl0% Degradee0% Slave0% Ageplayer

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.  

Hi all, I know hardly anybody reads these but here goes. I'm an old biker, still ride. I smoke and drink, and if that puts you off then there isn't much point in reading further, cos I'm not changing in any hurry. I'm recently retired and have lots of free time on my hands. After 50 years of working it means I am getting bored a lot. So I'm looking for ways to make life more interesting. Any suggestions considered. Although I'm 67 now I'm still young at heart. 6'2", 12st, shaved head and long beard, usually dyed a daft colour. Currently green and blue. If anything about me intersts you feel free to message. Suggestions and questions welcome. Manners essential. If you managed to read this far, well done. 

Presently screening and vetting 43 prospective owners from US, UK, Australia.Two are former military.They are the first two it has gone to voice communication. Most presently.Building up trust is a very important before even a physical meeting to see if they truly know how to have a real slave.Its cautious after being in this Lifestyle for 37 years.And being a former Collarspace mentor and Collarspace admin.Dealt with far too many craziness and right nutters.

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

 LadyLaurelin