I must be doing something wrong because ever since covid come along nobody wants to talk to anybody real time I mean I just bought a house in Mississippi moved from New Orleans a beautiful house by the way I'm very proud of and I was going to use it for a dream home of because I'm trans and I have other attributes I mean I'm a disabled veteran I wear diapers and fortunately for me my my Uncle Sam decides to keep me stocked and anyway I don't know what's wrong with people nobody has conversations anymore it's just these one line sentences no pictures it's just really is everybody running that scared I don't know maybe I'll see if this makes any hits I mean it's not very interesting but I'm just like since journals are back I'm just trying to see how it works out with me see if it actually shows up so anyway hope everybody is having a great holiday you know Halloween anyway look forward to hearing from anybody that wants to have a real time conversation I mean I don't even know what I mean anymore I haven't talked to another human being since covid except that the VA clinic and stuff but anyway with all that said ciao for now

On Being Tended To There is a particular kind of vulnerability in being sick that I have never made peace with easily. I am not a woman who softens gracefully under inconvenience. I do not do helpless well. A migraine, specifically, is an affront, the kind of physical mutiny that my body stages without my permission and that I resent with the focused irritation of someone who had other plans for the day and does not appreciate the interruption. What I have made peace with is this: being cared for well, by someone trained to my specific requirements, is its own kind of power. It is not weakness to lie in a darkened room and receive exactly what you need. It is, in fact, the point. I wake with it already behind my left eye, that specific pressure that announces itself before I am fully conscious, before I have had a chance to negotiate or refuse. The light from the curtain gap is already too much. I do not have to say anything. You are already moving. This is what attention produces, real attention, the kind that is trained and deliberate and treats learning me as the serious undertaking it is: you read the quality of my stillness the way a sailor reads weather. You know before I speak. The curtains are drawn the rest of the way before I ask. The room drops into the particular darkness that a migraine demands, not full black but the soft gray of a room that has been told to be quiet. You move through it without turning on lights. I notice this. It matters. The water arrives cold, with the specific glass I prefer, on the nightstand without a sound. My medication beside it, already sorted, already the right ones in the right order without my having to inventory my own suffering aloud. You have learned my protocols the way you learn everything about me: carefully, completely, understanding that the details are not optional and that getting them right is the baseline expectation rather than a performance deserving praise. You adjust the pillow without being asked. I note this too. The house goes silent. Not the silence of absence but the managed silence of someone who has taken on the task of keeping the world at a specific volume so that I do not have to. Inside there is nothing: no television, no movement that is not careful, no presence that asks anything of me. You understand, or you will understand, that tending to me when I am unwell is not about hovering. It is about calibrated invisibility. Being precisely available and precisely absent in exactly the right proportions, which requires more intelligence than most people give it credit for. I am not interested in someone who needs to be seen caring for me. I am interested in someone who simply does it, correctly, without making their effort my problem. You bring a cool cloth without being asked and place it over my eyes with hands that are exactly the right temperature and exactly the right pressure. Not tentative. Tentative is more irritating than bold when I am in pain. You do the thing or you do not. You do not do it halfway and then hover at the edge of the bed waiting to be told you got it right. You already know whether you got it right. If you do not know, you are not ready for this. I sleep for a while. When I surface you are in the chair, not at the bedside, not making your presence into a demand I have to respond to. Simply there, available the way a room is available: quietly, without agenda. The water has been refreshed at some point without my noticing. This pleases me more than you will ever hear me say. By afternoon the worst has passed into the dull aftermath, that wrung-out flatness that follows a bad migraine like a gray tide going out. You bring food without asking whether I want it, because you know that I will refuse food when I should eat and that part of your function is to override my worse instincts with gentle, firm consistency. It is exactly what you know I can manage: nothing that requires effort, nothing with a smell that will undo the fragile progress of the afternoon, presented without ceremony or the implicit pressure of someone waiting to be thanked. I eat. I do not thank you. You do not require it. Later, in the thin early evening light, you sit at the foot of the bed and work your hands over my feet with the focused attention you bring to anything you do for my body, slow and deliberate, the kind of pressure that does not ask anything back. I lie with one arm over my eyes and the understanding that I want from you in these moments is not sympathy and it is not performance. It is competence. It is presence without weight. It is the specific quality of someone who considers this a privilege rather than an inconvenience, who moves through my discomfort with the steadiness of someone who has made my comfort their entire purpose for the day and requires nothing in return. You do not ask how I am feeling every twenty minutes. You do not make small sounds of concern that require me to reassure you. You do not treat my pain as an opportunity to demonstrate how caring you are. You simply handle it, quietly and correctly, and you let me be unwell without making my illness into a performance we are both starring in. This is what I require. Not grand gestures. Not visible sacrifice. The quiet, intelligent, sustained attention of someone who has studied me carefully enough to know what I need before I need to say it, and who finds their satisfaction not in being acknowledged but in the simple fact of having gotten it right. If you can do this, on the days when I am at my least, when there is nothing glamorous or cinematic about what is being asked of you, when the task is simply to be useful and invisible and exactly correct, then you understand something essential about what this life actually is beneath the surface of it. It is not always the collar and the candlelight. Sometimes it is the cool cloth, the right glass, the chair in the corner, the silence held like something precious.   Get that right, and you will have understood something that most never do.

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.  

To the One who commands the storm,   I am but a quiet breath in the dark — a lamb once lost, now kneeling, waiting, trained in stillness, shaped in fire, taught to serve not just with hands… but with heart.   Four years ago, the path found me. Led first by leash, then by longing. I have tasted both the light of loving discipline and the dark ecstasy of surrender without question. Pain, I learned, is not punishment — but the key that unlocks the soul. Submission, not weakness — but devotion in its purest form.   Now unclaimed, I wander in soft silence, a collar-shaped echo around my neck, longing for guidance, for purpose, for the gaze that sees, commands, and owns.   Should You find use for me — to kneel, to serve, to obey — I offer not just my body, but all I am, wrapped in reverence, and bound in faith.

A good mantra for a submissive to live by... A submissive’s life is to be in service as required and of service however desired and solely for their Dominant and Owners pleasure amusement and comfort. A submissive’s function should be to strive to be a completely willing and capable of serving for the constant enhancement of the Dominant and Owner's daily life and pleasure in every way possible and on a continuous basis with absolute obedience, commitment and dedication. A submissive understands that the decisions and rules of the Dominant are to be accepted and followed without hesitation or conflict at all times regardless of personal feelings or conflict.  A submissive understands and willingly accepts that it needs its Dominant’s control, use, discipline and punishment as deemed fit at anytime. A submissive needs to accept that it's Dominants and Owner's pleasure, amusement and comfort must be its priority and be all that really matters to the submissive foremost.A submissive understands and accepts that its own pleasure must come from how well it pleases, serves and accepts being used and controlled by it's Dominant and that it may be rewarded if deemed appropriate or pleasurable to its Owner.

You know the saying, you are what you eat? I heard a variation today I like ever so much better. You are what you digest. Think about it. We, sometimes unwillingly, ingest things that are good for us and reap the nutritious benefits. We also take in those that have spiraling negative effects. And then there's corn. Yes, corn is an antioxidant and contains vitamin C, but for the most part it remains unprocessed and pointless. That's the definition of corn in this moment. Argue with me later about fiber. So, you've got your positive veggies and fruits and grains. You've got your negative chocolate ice cream. You've got corn.  What about when it comes to your words and actions? Are you filling your plate with nutritious positivity? Or are you spiraling negativity about others. About yourself. Your actions. Or is it all just corn? I find, and maybe some of you will feel the same, that I get lost if I don't have a daily agenda. Consider it the plate to put food on. No plate and you just walk around nibbling, not planning out nutrition, not balancing indulgences. I have no plate and no plan and I feel awful. It's all corn and I don't care enough about any of it to make a change. I don't want to have a corn summer. This is my reminder to build a nutritious plate every day so I ingest positivity.  Is this a little too in my head? It went in a different direction that what I was thinking. Originally the connection I made was about taking in the positivity in your surroundings and letting go of anything that doesn't serve you. Drop the corn. Only I seem to have had an epiphany somewhere in there. It could use a little more connection, but hopefully you'll figure it out. By the way, I love corn on the cob. Just not as a neutral state of being.  Someday I'm going to circle back to this philosophy and hashtag drop the corn. You heard it here first. 

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

__Do I Want A Sub or Slave?__There are many definitions of what is a sub and what is a slave, not are wrong, it's just a matter of personal opinion. I state that I'm looking for a slave, but what to me is a slave?Slavery to me isn't about having a servant without question, a punching bag, or a doormat. Slavery is a state of mind. In my mind, a sub is someone who likes to submit, but ultimately, through limiting what they submit to retain ultimate control. A slave gives over that control. It does not mean they don't have opinion, in fact they should have opinion, and those opinions should be listened to, but the ultimate control should sit with the Master. A Slave can live without constant control, but knows that with a look, or a call, they will submit to the one they call Master. A slave and a Master should move forward together, there relationship should be a balance between BDSM and 'vanilla' life. Following a heavy session, a slave should be held close, talked to, cared for, as at all times. Heavy play doesn't just have to mean a heavy spanking, but more importantly after forcing a strong psychological response from the slave. In public, and at work, a slave should always be seen as a 'vanilla' member of society, but underneath always know what they are owned. Sometimes they may receive a call, or a txt, or an email, telling them to carry out a task. It could be as simple as going to the toilet and removing their underwear, or only drinking one sort of drink in particular, but it would remind them of there ownership. Having behind there eyes that pearl of knowledge that they were owned, cared for, and controlled. A slave should be held close, cared for, and always listened to. Slavery is not being told what to do, it is giving the final decision as to what to do to the Master your trust. Many think limits need to be set in tone, but to me, slavery is without limits, or at least truly defined ones, HOWEVER, the trust control given over to the Master by the slave, means that to go beyond the limits of the slave and then to keep going without taking there opinion into consideration, is a breakdown in that trust. While a slave allows a Master control, it does not mean the master has to use it all. It is the ability to truly understand the limitations of the slave, and not over extend them, that makes one a Master, not just a bully.

How many of us find the treasure we've sought for so long?  How many of us give up and just accept what is in front of us?  How many of us are truly sincere and willing to kiss a few frogs  while trying to find our kinky slave or the pearl.   Someone suggested I should put up a picture and that My feed would blow up.  That's not what I want.  Let's be real, the one or two or three I want may not be here, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Lol I'm sure there is a more up to date analogy.   Yet we persevere hopeful for a meaningful connection.  They are few and far between, but on ocassion we meet someone, strike up a conversation and even a friendship.   Where is the boy you want to beat when frustration is high?  Where is the slave You want to kneel and do whatever You  command? Where is the man you want to rub Your back and have a meaningful conversation with? it's a dichotomy, can you find both in the same individual or do You have a stable of eager boys ready to serve? Time to find what's right for Me!  The search continues.  Goddess

A note from me, K.  A bit of a look into our recent goings on. This was a big moment for me and I want to savor it. I had to break it up because it is quite a long entry.    M has been behaving really well lately! Behavior modification and control is my primary interest and all the implements of our lifestyle are just ways of helping me achieve that control. We have had the conversation regarding my desire for cuckolding before, many times. I bring it up quite a bit, I just can't get it out of my head. I need this for me. Back in 2019 M accompanied me on a few dates with potential bulls, but I don't think he ever thought it would seriously happen. This is very different from when I saw submissive clients professionally. I never ever had sex, I never ever gave head, I never even gave hand jobs. If my clients were allowed an orgasm, they would bring themselves off. M knew that when I finally allowed him sexual contact that we had taken a serious step. A premature ejaculator, he was and is a horrible lay and has never got better. I honestly didn’t expect him to. I got off on my control of him and absolute obedience, not his penis. And now while we have probably only had PIV sex 8 or 10 times in the last 3 years, I desire it more than ever, just not from my husband.  The pandemic drove us all inside and away from people we didn't know. The dates with potential bulls ended and I think M figured that was it. But, my desire for a bull has continued steadily building this entire time and has come to a tipping point. I decided to re-engage the subject in one very direct conversation with M last weekend. I have also decided to keep him on a more frequent chastity release schedule as positive reinforcement while we move forward in adjusting to our dynamic and while finding a bull for me again, in earnest. This conversation was for me to lay out my intentions in full.  We had scheduled this conversation for last Saturday a week before so that we would both be ready. We spent the morning at a farmers market searching for fresh produce that M would turn into a delicious dinner while I spent the rest of the day getting a massage and reading in our backyard garden. After dinner I suggested we move to the living room where I sat in the chair that I have for years been using for spankings and directed my husband to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me. His lack of pants showed me his diaper was soaked and I put his pacifier in so he wouldn't be tempted to speak.  While he was sitting in front of me I explained to him first, that I loved him, that he had done nothing wrong, but that we would be renewing our search for a bull. His immediate reaction was to put his hand to his mouth in an effort to remove the pacifier so he could speak. I leaned forward, caught his hand and told him, “let me finish.” I explained to him that I would also be allowing him a more frequent release schedule from chastity, which drew out a smile behind his pacifier gag. I explained that his new permissions came with new expectations and that it was directly related to, as I put it, "returning to vigorously searching for a bull." His smile faded instantly which breaks my heart, but I have made my decision and know it will be best for us both; our lifestyle dynamic has many places left to go, but this is step one in getting there. I explained gently but firmly that he needed to get used to the idea of there being other men in our lives. I told him that I was completely finished treating him with kid gloves around cuckolding, that this was something I needed that he couldn't provide and that he knew that.  "M...we have come so far. I have emasculated you to a point you know that I could never take you seriously as a sexual partner. You know this and you know I need someone else, don't you?" He again lifts his arm to remove his pacifier gag so that he can speak. "Nope. Just nod your head, baby. Nod your head that you know I need this." 

When you decide to approach me for consideration and I trial you, your role & goal is to acquiese to MY lifestyle/desires.    That "previous training" is moot to me. I give subzero fucks about what's easier for you & how you used to do things. If you're just chasing the feeling you had with someone/something else then you're an addict, shifting the ideal from tacitly serving to satisfying your own urges and desires-- hence why you perpetually fuck up this elusive dynamic you long for. That will never be worth my time and/or effort.   It is MY WAY, no fucking 'or' involved... ever.

Sacred Intimacy: The Art of Birthing Orgasm in the Union of Dominance and Submission   i had previous mentioned in another post that i had an upcoming writing about when a dominant man and a submissive woman come together in a sexual nature in a sacred sexuality focus. and specifically when the man uses that dominant qualities in him to lead her into the experience with the goal of birthing her orgasms from start to finish. be it one or multiple. and how this isn't the same popular orgasm control discussions in the non sacred sexuality bdsm community or whatever porn is going on that i don't know about. well this is that post.   i usually add a bunch of visuals to both break up the text, put in an added layer of energy, and to add emphasis to my words..but i'm being called by spirit this moon day of emotions to let the words speak for themselves this time.   i said that this one is a juicy topic both figuratively and literally. except for a lot of people who might think this is something they are interested in, it will probably turn a lot of the men off. and will turn some submissive women away.   there's vanilla sex, kinky sex, bdsm power dynamic sex, creative/artistic sex, and then there's sacred sexuality. and everyone loves the part of sacred sexuality that promises full body head to toe orgasams. everyone loves the promise of multiple orgasms, especially for the fact that for a lot of times it's the first time a man is hearing he too is capable of doing it. a lot are into or can wrap their head around the semen retention for more vitality, and powerful orgasms when he chooses to do so. and everyone loves the idea of having levels of pleasure and egoic ideas of being able to say that they are a tantrika or a tantrini or their ability to confidently tell all the crazy pretzel postures and positions they get into with ease. but this subject of birthing an orgasm both on the individual level and as a couple is something people think they want, but a lot don't truly want. of course there is puja as well and can also happen beyond two people and a group of however big you want to try to do so. usually from what i've experienced and noticed it doesn't really work that well after a certain amount which is why it's sacred sexuality vs. a kinky orgy situation. but my focus has always been the woman alone, or the woman and man in a submissive woman and dominant man perspective. that is my soul lineage/shard/fracture that i'm focusing on.   being a woman and not having a penis, i've never felt called or aligned or challenged to talk about this from the individual man's perspective, or the man's perspective. there are many woman in this field of mine that do. the first 10 years of my writings was focused on the power of sacred sexuality when taken into the woman's own hands. i've recently been focused on my writing specifically in regards to the in tandem dynamic of the synergy and energy going on in relationship.   while any archetype of energy signature/personality/essence/role/identity of men can choose and step up to take on the role of birthing a woman's orgasm consciously my focus is again is for the dominant man who is doing this.   to ease into it, just like you need to ease into the actual act i wanted to clarify on what i meant earlier about how this is seperate from what the lifestyle community and terminology commonly uses as the understanding of the kink or definition of orgasm control..and how this different understanding can open a whole new way of operating using this term.   nowadays when a man says they are into orgasm control and a woman is either literally into it, which is honestly men very very rare in the long term and outside of the idea of it, or willingly goes about it due to her submissive and slave tendences they are meaning the following. the woman gets her sexual energy to rise, and is not able to release to peak orgasm without the approval of the man. usually the man then does nothing to guide, direct, control, hold, use the energetic masculine force of action physically or in other forms, or take charge of how it happens. it usually turns into a game of red light green light. he simply tells her usually no. no no, until yes. some of them will simply want you to ask and then they'll say yes after hearing it. a lot of the men see this as a form of domination and control. they think the power is having a woman at the peak of completion and creation in their hands. and tell her yes or no is the ultimate way of showing her obedience and his mastery. over my adult life as a naturally submissive and slave woman trying to find my owner, an intellectualizing mystic who as in all areas of my life want to fully absorb whatever it is i do learning/hearing/experiencing/discussing with others who are like me be it lifestyle or just the natural born ones who do not engage in the community themselves, and observing the changes over time with the ebb and flow of the community at large i've heard and seen many men explain how and why this concept of orgasm control works for them and what it does for them.   i see this understanding as a misnomer. it feels like a very passive act. a way for the man to step outside of the emotions, feelings, and inner world of what he is truly awakening in the woman. he excites something deep inside of her, and especially for women like me of the same soul shard/lineage/fracture that are submissive sexual little girls....the depths of what they unlock in this sexual dance is something magnificent. and then to step out and simply tell her yes, no, wait, teetering into orgasm denial as well which debatable if they are the same thing nowadays in the community of like minded/energetic people moves him from something active to something passive. he's no longer in the sauce with her and it becomes a seperate, disassociated, and blocked version of intimacy. with him more of a director in a chamber or behind a launch room...and her on display.   it goes back to the understanding that in life there is always levels. and this seems to be a very beginner level of domination and unfortunately where most tend to get off. even those who claim and can back up some type of experience of doing this for decades. hence the difference between non vanilla sex and sacred sexuality. and even then, there are plenty of men who step off before getting here.   let's look into some definitions of the word dominant:   a: commanding, controlling, or prevailing over all others   b: very important, powerful, or successful   2**:** overlooking and commanding from a superior position   this can harken back to leadership styles because as with everything, when we go deeper into sexuality we see if we go beyond the surface of touch, energy rise, frustration non orgasm end or poof some type of orgasm satisfaction to be determined and retraction the landscape of sex both individually or with another person operates similar to the nonsexual discussion of engaging with life as well.   there are leaders that simply bark out orders, and there are leaders that lead by action by doing and are in the thick of whatever the project is. and often the most successful leaders with the most engaged team and 'minions' are the ones that experience directly the superiority through doing and excelling and the willingness to try that the leader shows by doing next to them.   if i was to reoriente that term of orgasm control, it would be the man who is actually engaging with her body, mind, soul, and energy from start TO finish. not necessarily telling her simply yes or no, but similar to a conductor using his bod

Open thought: I am into meeting up with one or two saine kinky men, have a good time and then move on. Again I have met 2 European men from this site so far.  Sex to them was great but for me was only ok. I prefer to keep things casual, be open to dating or be open to having a level of intimacy where we create a safe space and say this is our sexual refuge and take it from there. I get messages from men who initiate they want to stay with me longterm and use the word "marriage" and talk about they have had 3 longterm relationships in the life - snore. So this means I have to commit to someone I don't get to know first? That to me is rude.  It means you don't respect starting a true relationship.  It means you hope to get a full invite into my flat. You want to travel from France and Romania and stay with me and then monitor who I am with and how I keep to myself and then, what use my place and then come and go as you like?   What you need is Air BnB, I will look for someone who I can get to know, who I can trust but I don't have to be bound to them when I find out they are not for me. I found out the last 2 were not for me the fish can go back into the sea and I can put my net back in the pond and move on.

I am not ashamed to admit that this morning I was in a Neil Diamond mood. I have weeks where I am singing Cracklin' Rosie all day. Not so much lately, hence the need. I have my favorites and the songs I skip over. I play Forever in Blue Jeans twice. So I am driving to work, merging with people who don't know how to merge, and a song queues up that I would normally skip over. But I was clueless merging so I wasn't paying attention. And then I hear the words. Far. We've been traveling far. Without a home. But not without a star.  All of the sudden I start tearing up thinking about how people left everything and everyone for an unknown, optimistic opportunity. And the song goes on.  Free. Only want to be free. We huddle close. Hang onto a dream.  At this point I am full on ugly crying with red rimmed eyes, sniffling, trying to see because I'm driving around a bend, and I'm coming up to the parking lot a red rimmed, sniffling mess. Deep breaths. Composure. Skip Heartlight today and for all eternity. Head into work. Tell me it's not just me? If you say I'm hormonal I will deck you. 

I long to have both the ownership the passion of giving the freedom of use and the security of safety with the man that I belong to and trust implicitly. Someone I can be devoted to, grow with, walk alongside, sleep next to, but always put him first, serve and give my love to. Forever.  But ha! I also know that's a tall order, a huge idea.  But a girl can dream, eh?  Long for is probably too mild of a word...but crave isn't the right word either, as my need isn't craven or out of control, it's measured, desired, planned, developed.  I'm at heart a kitten, a babygirl, searching for her Daddy. Not an age play Daddy tho, and I have hard limits about age play, diapers, too much little play, etc. But if you are a strong, thoughtful, intelligent, kind and caring Dominant who is looking for a devoted intelligent sexy funny healthy kitten to serve take care of and love you, then you've found me!  Do I have faults? Do you? Of course we do. But we work on them and grow, we always talk, we don't mind fuck each other, we have emotional and psychological intelligence to go along with our strength of character. But you lead, and I follow.  I've never had this, not even close. I've had many Doms of course. But I've always been the one who ends up leading, who knows, who does the right thing, who laughs, who isn't afraid to fail, the one to cry and forgive. The one to stand and walk away.  Will you let me be me, your girl, your slut, your kitten? Will you be my number 1? My Dominant? My man? My love?  Here's looking at you, Sir. 

Another special day for me, My ex and mother of my children finally succeeded in what she promised me.  She "destroyed everything I held dear in life".  She can't take all credit for it though.  A huge contribution was done by the total madness that is our Belgian justice system.  Where the whole world lives by the statement: "innocent till proven guilty", our justice wanted something different and chose: "guilty till proven innocent ".  Which means that if you just file false complaints?  The person who receives them will be scarred for live, and will end up with his children taken from him, homeless, and with a mountain of debt for the rest of his life. That second one was me... Since I'm gonna be living on the street anytime soon, a phantasy of mine has become a necassity in order to survive.  I'm sure y'all know what I mean by that. As a consequence, the mistress/master who takes me in as a 24/7 sissy maid will receive a great amount of gratitude and obidience.  So if you're interested in a broken but sweet and passionate sissy that's willing to relocate inside western Europe?  Make sure to give me sign. Love, Nikita❤️ 

These things fill my submissive dreams:My partner wants to lead a relationship based on a happy friendship and sharing positive feelings.My partner enjoys using chastity to satisfy her need to possess her lover. She enjoys being center of attention when she wears clothes that men cannot ignore, especially me. She wants a partner who submits to her excitement for taking control physically using locks and keys.She would like to use her man's sexual energy to teach him to obey her. She want license to be persuasive on her terms.She is willing to take time to acknowledge my service with little erotic rewards even when she is tired. Words are enough.She is interested in putting mutual health activities into our shared routines of life for which we are both responsible.I'd be happy to do yoga, massage and connective breathing as our most frequent intimate activities.I enjoy being appreciated for my sexual arousal as a compliment to you at the same time I enjoy being denied sex as sincere submission to you.I'd like to demonstrate my experience with turning arousal in chastity into the intense desire to make you happy in non-sexual ways.I feel loved when locked in chastity but still want to make love when you decide to take it off. Please lock it up when you are done.I want to believe that you require chastity to prevent masturbation so that I stay fully erect when you want me to be.I am enchanted to believe you like chastity because it prevents anyone else from tempting me, that you now own me without question.The chastity does not need to eliminate having sex, but to control when. A woman who blocks male masturbation is never lonely. It is an easy way to encourage a man to give more hugs and better kisses if he is thinking about sex but cannot touch himself anymore.

== Results from bdsmtest.org: ==100% Degradee100% Masochist100% Rope bunny100% Slave100% Submissive95% Experimentalist94% Voyeur91% Exhibitionist82% Primal (Prey)80% Pet49% Non-monogamist15% Vanilla10% Owner8% Primal (Hunter)0% Daddy/Mommy0% Rigger0% Ageplayer0% Brat0% Brat tamer0% Degrader0% Dominant0% Little0% Master/Mistress0% Sadist Limits only illegal things

What respect means to me Respect is a versatile word in that it has multiple meanings depending on use. I mostly see the word respect by the definition to place high or having great esteem or admiration. This form of respect is something that can not be given, nor can it be taken away as noble words and deeds must earn it. A second aspect of the word respect is giving consideration or special attention. I do not like to use respect in this way. I prefer to use the word courtesy instead as it is more often viewed more favorably by audience, especially in the bdsm community

 TotalOwnerforslave