i am at a start of a new trail, where will it lead? i do not know, but i do know that i walk a small step behind You. Looking towards You to guide me, that You will pull me into You with a simple look, a word, or a command. The journey from the self-indulgent creature i am to the slave beauty You desire.  A journey that will be fierce and difficult at times, one that will push me to the limit and past it, one that will find You throwing me off a cliff over and over again, to be waiting for me at the bottom, to catch me and say those two small words that make me want to please You more….”good slave”.  It’s amazing how two small words can cause my spirit to burst forth, two small words that make me want and need to fall on my knees in front of You, back straight, head held high, eyes cast downward,  legs spread apart and palms on thighs.You reinforce me to just how quickly i need this. How long it has been since i was truly in this mindset and just how wanton and needy i am.  A connection of energy, of trust and of honesty. It is framed by the mutual respect, adoration, and admiration felt by both and a great deep fulfilling love can be found in and through it. And in my life, i strive for that deepness, it beckons me, calls to me.

  FWB, FUN....or LTR The site is set on BDSM- but I can drop all that and just make hot love to a woman.     I am DDF and expect the same.   Hello lady's, and thank you for stopping by! Miscellaneous Facts About Me... * Name: Randall Loomis * Birth Date: April 24, 1967 * Height: 6' * Weight 220 lbs * Hair: Peppered * Eyes: Brown * Marital Status: Single * Astrology: Taurus * Hometown: Troy, OH. USA * Born: Milwaukee, WI. USA * Gender: cis male * Ancestry: Polish, German, Irish, Scotch * Myers Briggs Type Indicator: ENFP * Education: AS Automotive Technology, BA Comparative Literature Studies of English and Law, MA Intervention Specialist K12 Teacher * IQ: 165 (Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, 2004 ) * Favorite Colors: Camo, Black, Aqua Blue  * Favorite Snacks: Cold butter on non toasted cinnamon raisin bread, assorted pretzels, chips and iced diet Dew * Favorite Implement: Your favorite! I am a very decent highly educated perfect gentleman that has been a ladies man all my life Fine dinning, first gf, first car and she at 15yo was reading her older sisters smut books;  she made me do it all and eventually I grew to like licking her anus well for hours. Now Im older and still want a hot sexy gf to love for real to make passionate love.  But I cant be with a gurl that is not passable I had an fwb for 3 years with my downstairs neighbor She is 21yo and looks hot, But I have had to groom her to be more lady like or girly I got her started on a nice scent from Katy Perry, But she doesn't make herself appear like a woman.  Body oders, dirty finger nails, punky don't care personality, and now shes sexing strangers outside a bar after its closing time I don't want a disease or std Im clean I like kissing and when I see I see a beautiful woman and I can tell that I would dinner date you I would be your Daddy with FWB and you be my Baby sissy Anything is possible for the right woman...marriage or just a ltr I want to kiss my partner with lil gentle kisses and touches and yada yada FUCK whatever she needs from me to make her happy for hours of orgasms xx Daddy I'm happy to see you post a full length pic with your face. That is essential for me to be attracted to a gurl. I am looking for a cd that wants to be treated like a woman. I'm straight guy all my life...a wine and dine ladies man that now likes all girls/gurls that are passable with a dick or a pussy.  I'm a straight alpha male, take charge masculine man. Hairy chested, well built 6ft tall, 220pounds and very broad shouldered muscular 52 inch chest. Great personality, good sense of humor, Loves kissing, hugging and fondling, many hours of foreplay for you.  I'm  looking for a romantic friendship that has the intensity to start a spark with fun dates, wine and dine, dinner and dancing, pizza and a pitcher of beer, shoot pool or romantic beach blanket and a bottle of wine...or just to chat you about anything in your life. I want to love all of a partner and make her happy.       My profile is new I am light into BDSM, butt I do like submissive/sissy types. So Im a loving daddy Dom I was never gay But a pretty hottie 21yo tgirl and I started a FWB and played around like kissy bfgf Im looking to love someone with passionate love making and share quiet moments tv and your favorite treats delivered that is a 3 day weekend date with me.  I would rather drive or fly for a weekend getaways then have sex with the local escorts down the street. I want an exceptional woman for an LTR.   

Kids dog was trying to cough something up and was acting really odd. Called the vet for an emergency trip. Turns out it was a good thing. The dog has Gastric dilatation-volvulus (GDV) and is having emergency surgery UPDATE  Dog is ok, $1,500-$2,000 out to the vet who did surgery at midnight. Doggie is home sleeping it off. Poor poor baby though, looks so sad. The vet and her hubby had to carry her out to my car and she weighs just under 100 pounds. We however could not carry her in the house. After a lot of gently leading got a sleepy dog into the home and into her bed. Poor thing was still so out of it, she pooed over herself and had to have an outside cold bath at like 5 am. Poor Poor puppy

8-23-2022 Tuesday night.. i took my shower, my daughter was over and left about 10 or 10 30 PM, i had started to feel chilled and for another blanket.. making for 3 blankets i had on top of me! After suffering so long, an hour or two, and developing a fever of 103.6 degrees. i decided i was not waiting until morning, hoping the fever may break overnight. EMS came, one of them ended up being a second cousin!! That was cool to meet a family member. They got me to the hospital s emergency room and i was kept there until 8 AM, i know this because i had to ask if i could get some breakfast while i was in the emergency room. i was diagnosed with an infection in my wound. For those that do not know.. i have two wounds on my back of my right thigh as the result of having lymphedema. The hospital did not say about becoming septic! That has happened, maybe four or more times, in the past. i stayed at the hospital until September 1st when they transferred me to a skilled nursing care facility for further wound care and therapy. i have not been updated with a tentative release date, yet. But it better come soon! my daughter is getting married next month on October 30th!!  Therapy is going very well, they are so happy with my progress. 

Due to medical reasons and the fact I have loss the use of my left arm I am removing myself from the market, those that wish to keep in contact can message me by text. It been real and it been fun but can't say it's been real fun. This account will be deleted in two days

It's baffling why some guys start an email by saying they've read a profile, and immediately make it obvious that they haven't. Or that they have little or no reading comprehension. Do you think we're so stupid we won't notice? You know everybody can tell who has looked at their full profile, right? You can't read all of mine without looking at the full profile, so I KNOW IF YOU HAVEN'T. Not to mention there are things in there placed there specifically to see if it's been read.Do you think there's nothing in there you might need to know? Do you think a dominant just wrote it for fun and it doesn't mean anything? Do you think "getting to know a dominant" might include reading what she writes? Do you think lying about it will make a good impression?If you want to get to know me and maybe serve me some day, the first step is to PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I SAY. Starting with the profile. The second step is to NEVER LIE. I mean, seriously, this is not rocket science, guys. Anybody past ten years old should be able to figure this stuff out.

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.  

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

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

Small Mercies, Longer Days ? It has been one of those stretches where the days stack up against you before you have had a chance to argue with the first one. Nothing catastrophic, nothing worth dramatizing, just the particular grind of too much friction in too many directions at once, the kind of week that does not make good copy but costs you something anyway. A significant loss in the family that required me to help plan funerary rites, and restructuring at work that threatens my position.?I have been moving through it the way I move through everything: upright, standard intact, but aware of the weight. Nothing breaks my stride, only I break things that deserve to be remade, but nothing in these uncertain times holds significant comfort for me (currently).? ? What has saved me, genuinely, is the weather.? ? Spring arrived this week with the specific conviction of something that has been waiting a long time to make its point, and I have been stepping outside just to feel it, that clean particular warmth that does not yet carry the heaviness of summer, where the air still has a crispness underneath the heat and everything green looks almost aggressive in its newness. There is something about spring light in the late afternoon that I find quietly restorative in a way I cannot fully articulate. It simply helps. I will take it. The cherry blossoms at the Field Museum are in bloom, and it's an easy walk. Lake Michigan has also been a close held companion, and was still as glass on Thursday. You could scry on her water like a mirror, and the light filtered through the overcast sky as if fingers were reaching out to dip themselves. It felt greedy to take her in, but I am nothing if not hedonistic.? ? And then there was Artemis, splashing down with the kind of elegant finality that makes you remember the world is still capable of extraordinary things on the days it feels most ordinary. Something about watching that capsule meet the water, the culmination of that much human effort and precision and audacity, pulled me briefly out of my own difficult week and into something larger. I needed that more than I expected to. ? The bad days will pass. They always do. I remain steadfast. Someone recently appraised me when I talked about my resiliency : "As the stars stay lighting the sky".? ? For those of you following the story of the weight of three minutes, the continuation posts tomorrow evening. Come back rested.

Cookies. I promised several people that, if this adventure happened, I would write it up and share it in my journal. well, it indeed did happen last evening, Saturday, but not exactly as I thought I had it planned.  The set up for this story is that I did some work for a woman living in a over 55 community and only charged her for the material costs which I commonly do when I first work for someone I want them to like the work and not worry about the price. she was very grateful and gave me one of those looks like she was ready to pay me back in a way if you know what I mean and then she said: I'm sure you can think of something that I can do for you and shot me a wicked smile I knew that was my opportunity so I very calmly said: Willl you bake me pecan chocolate chip cookies? She let out what could only be described as a horse laugh, which I'm sure they heard in the adjoining units on either side. and then I followed up with, but that's not all, I want you to bake those cookies naked with 8 inch by heels, fishnet stockings and garter and a bright red ball gag. there was a long pause, kind of like dead air on a radio station and she finally opened her mouth and said you've got to be kidding! I'm not burning my boobs so that you can get off on some weird fetish! And I said OK what about wearing a tight swea and no bra? I expected another flat out no response but she said yes I think I could do that. But I'll also be wearing a skirt, nothing less than that, and no ball gag! And if That isn't good enough then you can go bake your own cookies! While it wasn't what I'd hoped for, I was still going to get my cookies, so on Saturday I came over with the ingredients she told me to get, and I sat in her kitchen, drinking coffee, while she walked back-and-forth across her kitchen in her very tight, white fuzzy sweater, and a very tight short leather skirt, plus stockings and heels, and she was an absolute delight to view. The blush in her cheeks said it all. But the best part was, she was actually baking my cookies! Once they were bagged, she Pulled them from the oven, tucked the tray up under her breasts and she said, would you like a cookie little boy? YES, Yes I would! then I asked so are all those cookies in the tray mine? Or should I ask if everything on the tray is mine? She just smiled and put the tray on the counter. She grabbed me by the hand, pulled me down the hall. We walked into her bedroom and she took off her sweater., God, those were better than any cookies!  We did all sorts of things that evening and late into the night. Considerind we're both in our mid to late 60s, so it wasn't like your first high school sex, in the back of your dad's car, but it was close.  in the morning, I woke up to the sun streaming in on my face lying next to a woman who still had her stockings and garter belt on, my head nestled between her large breasts, one of her arms underneath me,the other around my neck, and I thought to myself.... life is good! Lou  

Good evening you beautiful, wicked, sharp eyed deviants. I’m writing about this in case some of you have not yet heard about this disgusting behavior, because silence is where predators thrive. A major investigation has exposed what many are calling an “online rape academy” hidden forums, chat groups, and websites where men allegedly trade advice on how to drug, assault, film, and violate their own partners while they sleep or are unconscious. Let that sink in. Not strangers in alleys. Not monsters in masks. Husbands. Boyfriends. Men sharing beds, homes, and trust. These spaces reportedly included users swapping tactics, selling so called “sleeping liquids,” sharing videos of abuse, and even livestreaming assaults for paying viewers. It is predatory, calculated, and evil using internet anonymity. Let me be crystal clear for those in kink and BDSM spacesthis is not BDSM. This is not dominance. This is not edgy play. BDSM and kink are built on a foundation of consent, negotiation, trust, communication, boundaries, and mutual respect. Without consent, it is not kinkit is abuse. And with some of the disgusting, vile profiles I have personally come across on FetLife, I am sure some people with those same mindsets are here too. Please be careful. Vet people thoroughly. Trust actions over words. Listen to your instincts. No scene, no dynamic, no amount of charm is worth your safety. Women are taught to fear the dark street, the lone walk home, the stranger behind them. But too often the danger is already inside the house, smiling over dinner, saying “I love you,” then treating consent like it’s optional. This is why consent matters. This is why believing survivors matters. This is why calling out misogyny, coercion, and “jokes” about assault matters. Because that culture feeds these places. If this is happening to you, or has happened to you, please reach out immediately. Call local authorities. Contact a sexual assault or domestic violence hotline. Tell someone you trust. You do not have to carry this alone, and help is available. I’m sharing this so more eyes are open, more people stay aware, and fewer predators get to hide in shadows. Spread this. Talk about it. Protect your people. Check in on your friends. If someone tells you something felt wrong, listen. To every predator hiding behind a keyboard your secrecy is cracking.Stay dangerous to systems that protect monsters. Stay soft with survivors. Stay loud when silence helps abusers. Myst

Str8 males who come to me I always have great respect for them. They take a big chance looking for acceptance and more than anything the experience is submitting. Those must be treated like fine horses, tamed, and trained to take his rider. They may have an idea of what M2M sex is but societal labels forms an impenetrable wall that only a patient and knowledgeable Bull can bridge. They are scared and they rebel when you face them with the reality of the lie they've been living, claiming a masculinity they were no meant to have to begin with. they conformed to societies requirements and that is good for me because it means that they already know what conforming is and once you take control of their life they yours for the long run. Like I said, they may have an idea based on porn and their own views. They are cocky (very few come to me humble) but I always let them know that there are two males speaking one is the Man and it is not them. Devastating as it sounds it will force a reevaluation of their sexual persona and fall to their knees. The main issue is to get them use to a Man's touch and a Man's way. Their entitled attitude makes them think the are to lead but you are the model, you have what they want and never knew and most importantly you are going to give them what they need not what they want. Their wants are irrelevant because as a Bull one knows what they need even before they do. Patience is a virtue but once they get hold of you control they will keep coming back because they know you are the answer to their plight. I don't chase subs , they chase me and I choose. When a str8 male comes to me they will see the reality of their desires and my role as a facilitator is to let them discover the glory of worship in a Phallus and eventually been entered by it. At that moment any pretense of being str8 goes away and the true sub is born. If you play fair they will be yours because you have filled their world with lust and bliss.

Just a quick amused note here. I have a 'no Drump supporters, past or present' on my profile for a reason. I also have no smokers, no addicts, no cheaters, etc. The only group that feels it's important to send me hate filled messages are the Trumpers. Kinda confirms my views of you I've never met anyone from that side of things that wasn't hiding deep violent hate, or wasn't lacking the intellect to see the problems that are right there. It's not about him. It's about who you are that lets you be ok with him So yeah, send me threats and insults. Helps me sift out and block you faster.

lover of sparkles of the heart ✨ ✨✨ I am a sub. I feel beautiful when I submit to a Woman and am watched as my  breathing, my sweat and eyes are given to You. The release i feel when She allows me to let Her take over. I want someone who willingly takes “control” in the most vulnerable of situations because it meets both of our needs. I do not want to feel abused that i offer control of me. I value and respect it. True submission requires trust, honesty, communication and patience. Do I want to ALWAYS give up control? No, I don’t. I am interested in an ongoing relationship with ONE person. I am not intimate with people I am not in a committed relationship with. I am however curious about developing a relationship that is Female led. I know that what I want is definitely out of the norm, but I seek someone I can connect on an emotional, psychological and physical level. There is nothing more erotic in my opinion than being with someone who I care about deeply and vice versa. I want to be kinky with my significant other in the bedroom. But I want MORE. I want to watch movies with Her and talk to her about life. I want to cook together, snuggle and have tea in the morning. I want to go on trips and have a relationship. I am a kind hearted person who genuinely cares about people. I often invest myself too quickly in someone, thinking that the feelings are mutual. I am looking for a real LTR, monogamy, love in all its forms. Ultimately I want to get married and have children.

Lately I feel like a lot of my time is spent being adulty. I could really use some unrestricted time to not have to be doing and thinking and being responsible. I've been thinking a lot about coloring, which is not a typical hobby of mine. I don't age play, I don't have stuffies and binkies and pink sippy cups with glitter unicorns on them. But I find myself wanting the freedom to be less complicated, and maybe coloring is a way to do that. After a very specific search, I found a couple of simple books with bold outlines. They sat in the kitchen for a few days. Today, after a responsibly busy morning of chores, I grabbed a pillow and dropped to the living room floor with a box of crayons. Swinging my feet back and forth in the air as I lay on my stomach, selectively choosing colors and testing them on the side of a page like I was being paid for my efforts, I completed my first picture of a cup of ice cream with sprinkles and cherries. I hummed. I deliberated on the correct shade of pink. I carefully stayed within the lines. It's a perfect picture.  Here's what I noticed... I like being little, doing little things. If someone had stuck a binky in my mouth I'm pretty sure I would have happily sucked on it while swinging my feet and asking for a snack. It turns me on. Weird? I'm not really sure what to think of this. Or maybe I don't need to think anything of it and let it be. But great googlie mooglie, am I a little little? I already know that all those cute little names and specific praise all but set fire to my panties, but little activities? What do I do with this? Who even am I right now? 

I want to be clear...here are my hard limits... Kids Animals Choking Guns Orgies/Gangbangs Swinger type events. I am into the power exchange not group sex Cuckold  Scat Serious Public Humiliation/ Sarcasm/ Degradation/ and/or blackmail Diapers Pacifers Bottles Dont ever call me mom or mommy Age Play Animal Play, no pony or puppy role play either ( can be done at very infrequent times but not for all the time) Sissy play (some femme is ok) Needle Play Tattoos /brands, unless you are collared I won’t tattoo you ... and even then I probably won't.  Blood Play Illegal Drugs and many legal ones Smoking/smoke Untruthfulness Ass to mouth. I will not take things from your ass and expect you to put them in your mouth Death play Vomit Occultism Paranormal things Vampirism Poppers or drugs

Open letter to all the weirdos who keep writing me weird shit:  I often get what probably is canned messages from men here, and it's so disappointing and disillusioning.  Dude. Don't send out a message like this to someone you don't even know! The likelihood of a normal woman liking it and replying to it is infinitesimally small! Quit thinking with your dick!  I, and, again, the vast majority of thoughtful women, would no more reply to show interest in this kind of slobbering trite than they would step off a curb in front of a bus!  Grow up, man! Stop being so desperate! Get a life! Get outdoors! Do some volunteer work! Stop wanking all the time! And def stop watching so much porn!  You MAY be a great guy under all the porn induced delusions, but no one will ever know it if you don't stop making these lame attempts at wannabe Dom guy shit. This is not what being a Dom or Master is even about! You are not a white knight, you are an idiot. Get a clue, get real, and stop writing me these I want to take you to my castle in the sky email propositions!  You can thank me later. 

My dom gave me a list of topics to talk about.  So here goes... Random stuff you may or may not find interesting about me:   - When asked to classify myself, I'd describe myself as a nudist who is a bit kinky.  My parents were both nudists and I grew up in a household were clothing was optional.  Around the house, being naked is no big deal...  So for example, I am naked right now... - Several people have asked me here if I've been officially "collared".  I'm going to have to say that I haven't officially been collared.  However I'm not 100% percent sure I know what exactly is involved in that.  I do have a dog collar which I wear when my dom requests it,  Since this collarspace afterall, he has requested that I wear it whenever I am here, so I am wearing it now...  My collar is a simple dog collar that we picked up one day at PetsMart... - Am I a "painslut"? No, I am not a painslut.  In no way do I like be beaten, whipped or punched...  I do like rough sex, but that generally involves being tied up, having my hair pulled, and being choked... - Am I a "gang bang slave". No, I am not.   That said, I have had fantasies about it (see my previous journal entries), but I am not interested in pursuing that.  That said, I have had sex with two guys at once.  But that was a long time ago... - Is my dom interested in sharing me with other men.  The answer to that is no.  However there is one exception.  There is a one couple that we've known for years that we feel safe with. On occasion we will swap partners with them.  - Why am I on collarspace?  I'm here because my dom wants me to be here.  That alone is reason enough enough.  He thinks it would be a good idea to have me interact with all kinds of people here.  My dom reads everything I write and everything that I recieve.  In particular, I think it amuses him to see how I interact with men who only view me as fuckmeat. So there you have it, todays journal entry from naked subMegan.  Hope everyone has a great Sunday and I look forward to reading your responses. subMeghan

What my submissive nature looks like:   I naturally end up taking care of others better than I take care of myself. I love to maintain a household and provide nourishment and comfort to all who dwell there. I enjoy pampering my partner. I’ve raised a child, I garden, I cook, I fix things and I take pride in a job well done.    Things I’m not so good at… selling myself, making big $$, asking for what I need or making the first move.   I’m sensitive and inquisitive. I care about the world. I’m drawn to ponder the meaning of life. I cherish touch, beauty, intimacy and indulging in carnal delights. I love truth and freedom. I adore feeling wanted, desired and useful to the Feminine. I adore giving pleasure… physical, emotional and mental. I adore receiving pleasure. I enjoy enduring erotic pain for another’s pleasure… and I cherish serving the will of a Goddess. 

A few things that need said.   One ... I am currently 58.  Due to not using email this account was created with, unable to do updates... do to this was created with an email I can no longer access. Secondly, I am very real.  So don't come at Me saying you're serious .... then not be.  I am not here to waste your time or Mine. Thirdly, My divorce is final.  If you need to know more just ask. Fourthly, I am healing.  And won't let the circumstances hinder Me no longer if I can help it.   Fifthly, I am working to move back to the USA by the end of 2025 at the latest. Sooner if possible. Lastly, as life goes, curves are thrown at Us.  So at 58, a new chapter is beginning.  Nuff said  

As a man who has worn various chastity devices I have learned useful lessons for staying locked without excuses. The three types I have had the best success with provide different advantages. The tube style belt from Fetish Felix in Germany is easiest to put on and take off during play time, but is too large to hide under clothes. The small cage that locks through a CBR piercing is the most practical for continous wear to the office and during sports, allowing me to pee standing up. The Behind Barz is modular so the intensity of confinement can be adjusted to suit the whims of the keyholder. The big tube belt is the only one in which I was ever able to cum and only after prolonged edging and being re-locked. The tight cage has allowed me to trickle out a few times, but never with pleasure. It is the most effective and practical choice especially for long distance ownership. The Behind Barz is surprisingly comfortable after a lot of work bending and shaping, I have worn it for weeks at a time while doing landscape and remodeling work which included running wires through an attic. The essential trick to any device with a ball ring is using silicone lubricant at least once a day to eliminate pinching the chaffing. For any lady who is considering full time restraint of a man's jewels this knowledge will help her to overcome her worries about keeping him locked for as long as she wants control.  

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

I detest the world of text and email is little better.  How do we get to know one another?  Talking by phone is good, sharing space is better.  Nothing replaces breathing like air.   I'm here seeking now and am looking to install a slave in reasonably short order.  I've no intention of playing with ya'll for months on end.  We talk, we meet, we do. While different aspects are new, unclear, or undefined, this is not an impossible ask. This relating we do touches on our core and when we text and email, we are agreeing to open ourselves to misinterpretation.  We have lives going on, usually complex and not meeting our inner needs, we are over tired, sick or caring for others.  We dont have the luxury of seeing one another at work or at the pub to work things through.  We need to listen and give the benefit of the doubt until or unless discussions implode. Have you ever heard that the more ingredients in a food, the worse it is for your body?  Bingo!  The more division we put between us and our get to know, the harder that climb and claiming is going to be because their is more opportunity for misunderstanding.  

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.

System bug, it seems Different Journal listing at collarspace.com/USERNAME  versus different at: https://www.collarspace.com/personals/v/THEIRuserNUMBERhere/details.htm  In the former their most recent journal entry is 11/29/2021 4:39:27 PM but in the latter it does show their excellent 1/9/2022 1:16:55 PM Journal entry.  Reloading browser page doesn't fix. With system issues like this, you have to wonder whether there is no Message button because they wish to hide, like maybe too many emails following their Journal post, or whether that's a software problem too. Anyway here's what they wrote: "Most of us don't know what we really want. We have vague unrealistic general hopes (such as wanting a lottery win), but when asked to name our specific realistic goals we often struggle. It's probably because so much of our life is bound up in everyday survival - the endless toll of 24-hour emails and social media, plus all the issues and stresses we're dealing with take their toll on our ability to dream and make those dreams come true. " Great point. While it won't solve all these personal and societal issues, I highly recommend meditation or other mindfulness practice (there are others) as one part of one's toolkit and regular weekly, if possible daily, routine. That's for all of us, regardless of BDSM identity, gender etc. Wishing everyone a great week ahead. Or at least a bearable one, haha.

It's a soggy Saturday here in Essex, UK what's everyone up to?  My shopping was done, all domestic was done for me so I am relaxing today after working all week. With a few late nights working too today chilling listening to the rain under a cover works for me. Thinking about the show and tell mix of my edits in chapter 10 of 25.  I haven't written any songs for a while but I will. The art is flowing from me so the next stage to turn them digital will progressed once my edited manuscript goes to readers. Meanwhile I gather hand drawn designs and store them in a box folder.   

shy small subby alone single long time now seeking a dom daddy or any daddy to baby me his ways south west or suunny Bournemouth check me page on here pm me plzzzzzzzzzzzz Daddy little one in waiting huggs melissakins xxxxxxxxxxxx

December 9,2023 - Coaches first visit       First visit with "The Coach" today. I'm not sure, but I think the Coach is the closest thing to a completely straight guy that I've had visit me in a quite a while.   I seem to attract the bisexual guys who are dominant in their work but desire to be submissive to another male. And I think that was the case today.   Coach and I messaged on FetLife for a while, determining what he wanted and what his limits were. Then we set up a time for his first visit. It was going to be just after he had coached a game, so I was sure he would have a good mix of testosterone and adrenaline for his first visit.   The time wasn't exact since he didn't know when the game would finish. Around the time expected, he messaged me to let me know he was going to be on his way soon. I kicked back and watched some porn until his arrival.   Being his first visit, I met him in the driveway so he knew he had the correct house. I was wearing my long brown hooded bathrobe. His mind was probably already racing wondering what, if anything, that I was wearing under the housecoat.   We came inside and took a seat and instructed him to strip. As we had previously discussed as he stripped each article of clothing off he folded them neatly by his shoes next to the door.   He had a nice physique and I knew we were going to be having some fun. He was wearing a small cock cage. It appeared he was already straining against it. I remembered that I had instructed him to wear the cock cage during the game. I didn't verify if he has followed directions, or had put it on after the game. I walked over to the couch and grabbed two velcro wrist restraints. I grabbed one of his wrists and extended his arm and attached the velcros cuff. Then the other wrist, as I wrapped the velcro restraint making sure both cuffs were secured around his wrists. Then I retrieved a dog collar from the couch and put it around his neck. This at first, but then I loosened it a notch or two so it was fairly loose. I had plans, and wanted it a bit loose, almost comfortable. But I wanted him to remember, while he was here, he was property. A sub for my use.   Although I had warmed the house a bit, as I wrapped my arms around him from behind him and played with his nipples, I felt him quiver. I'm sure it was a combination of fear and anticipation causing him to quiver, not the temperature of the room.   Normally and make notes when someone leaves, but during today's visit I forgot. So my memory might not be 100% accurate on our activities since I'm writing this story over a week later.   Normally at this point, I sit back in my rocking chair and have they guy suck my cock for a while, but I remember that didn't happen today. And honestly, I don't remember why. Either something we had talked about, or something in my mind cause me to change things and we headed straight upstairs.   When we got up to the bedroom stripped the bathroom off. I was completely naked. I laid back on the bed and told him to come over between my legs and suck my cock. Without hesitation he climbed on the bed and latched on to my cock.   Although one part of me thinks that he is 99% straight, good Lord was he a great cocksucker. It makes me wonder if I'm correct or not. But during the conversations on Fetlife, that was the impression I had. But now that his mouth was on my cock, I was questioning my assumption.   I'm not sure what the hell he was doing with his tongue on my cock but it was incredible. Something about the combination of sucking and swirling and licking at the same time was great. In fact, it was too good. It had been a week or so since I had hooked up with someone and this felt so good, I felt that I could orgasm at any moment. So I told him to lick my balls.   Although I enjoy having a guy lick my balls, in this case the main reason I was having him lick my balls was to prevent me from having an orgasm. How sad would it be for him to arrive and not more than 5 or 10 minutes later have an orgasm and send him on his way.   So he licked at my balls for a while as I raised my right leg putting my knee in the air to give him greater access to my balls and taint. He was good at that also, but not as good as his cock sucking skills. Soon using both of my hands on the sides of his head, I lifted him off my balls and lowered him onto my cock again. The feeling was sensational. I just remembered that I kept murmuring, "oh fuck, oh fuck that feels great."   I grabbed his head and started pushing him deeper onto my cock. He gagged which made me chuckle. I think I growled something like, "oh yeah choke on Daddy's cock."   Part of the time I watched him bob up and down on my cock, part of the time I just threw my own head back enjoying the moment. I looked down and could see his cute bubble butt over his shoulders which only made my cock harder. I was planning to fuck that ass before he left tonight.   I wrapped my right leg over his shoulder onto his back. That just pulled him down onto my cock a bit more. With my hands on the back of his head and my right leg over his back I could force him onto my cock until his chin rubbed my balls. He was choking on my cock, completely under my control, completely submissive, doing exactly what I was telling him to do. I was giving him the fantasy that he was wanting.   I remember being quite verbal that day. Repeatedly calling him… daddy's little cocksucker, calling him… a good little fagot, but at the same time rewarding him by telling him what a good job he was doing sucking cock. Each time he choked I would give him a compliment like, "good Boyyyyyyyy" dragging the work out like I was rewarding a family dog. I watched as his head continued to bob up and down on my cock.   He would deep throat my cock until it was all the way in the back of his throat, then he would pull almost completely off and suck hard on just the head of my cock, swirling his tongue around, poking his tongue in my piss slit, then go back to deepthroating and choking again.   But now I had reached my threshold of my orgasm. If I can keep from orgasming past the first 5 or 10 minutes, I'm usually good for an hour. I'm not quite sure what that is, but once I passed that 10 minute mark I'm good for a while. And at this point, I was past my mark.   I started getting a little more rough with him. I reached down and grab the collar and gave it a bit of a twist, tightening it on his neck. Simultaneously I pulled the collar down, pulling him onto my cock. This did a bit of breath control, or breath restriction, while he continued to suck my cock.   I kept the color twisted until his body language was telling me he was at his limit on breath control. So I released the collar and I just laid back on the bed enjoying whatever in the fuck he was doing with his tongue. Oh my God, it was incredible.   I remember him repositioning himself, I think to get up on his elbows a bit. He slid his hands under my legs almost cupping my butt cheeks whereas before they had been on top of my legs, his forearms almost resting on my chest toward my nipples. Now that his upper arms were under my legs, I took the advantage and raised both of my legs onto his back. I crossed my legs locking them and behind his back squeezed his head between my legs.   With my hands, I forced him deep onto my cock. Then I tightened the squeeze of my legs holding him in place. No longer

Friendship and Love:    In the heart of a loyal friend, a storm brews deep, As his best friend and ex-lover begin to keep Company in a way that cuts like a knife, Leaving him wrestling with anguish and strife.   The dog, his companion through thick and through thin, Now seems to conspire in this tangled spin, For the one he once loved, who was his trusted guide, Now walks hand in hand with his loyal friend by her side.   Betrayal stings sharp, like a treacherous dart, As the bond of camaraderie tears apart, His confidant, once faithful, now seems so untrue, Leaving him lost in a world askew.   Yet through the pain, a silver lining gleams, For in the depths, friendship's resilience teems, As time soothes wounds and tempers the ache, He finds solace in the bond they all forsake.   For a man's best friend and his ex in their tether, Cannot shake the bond that they share together, But in forgiveness and grace, he'll find his own mend, For in the end, true loyalty will transcend.

VOTED YESTERDAY!  Wow it feels good to know it is done. I've always marveled at the lost opportunity and lackadaisicle approach to citizenship by those who choose not to vote.  Indeed, they often are the ones with the most protests.  Chit or get off the pot I say!   Too many think it is their right to be born, right to have rights, right to complain without productivity.  Of course I agree, we do have the right to not participate, but that IS participation in and of itself though I tend to believe it is almost passive aggressive in nature and not courageous or dare I say honoring the priveledge we receive in this country and many others. I'm more of the mindset that it is our duty as Global Citizens, to do our part to contribute to the human condition positively and proactively.  I know, I've heard all the arguements and it still doesn't pass muster with Me.  Take Jehovah Wintnesses - they dont' participate in ANY voting as they believe mans laws have no place under God's laws.  Imagine that!  A whole section of society that profess not to partake in any governing over their lives.  While I can intellectualize their choices and appreciate their contributions as they are - it BLOWS My mind they remain silent so to speak. The examples go one and on.  At the end of the day - "IF YOU WANT TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE, TAKE A LOOK AT YOURSELF AND MAKE A CHANGE". Get out and VOTE!  Better still, go get yourself an absentee ballot and VOTE TODAY!

Domme, Mistress, and Goddesses do we have a monthly meeting in the space because the insubordinates, sissies, uninslaved, and footstools are running a muck in my DM's Meeting Agenda 1. Who the hell taught them to just start speaking to us with out asking for permission to speak? You bet the fuck not even think about it. It's an instant ignore. 2. Who is allowing them to start telling us about what they want with their needy asses? Am I a therapist? 3. Whats up with the population of couch surfers asking to live with meSo does this mean they think im a  job? 4. So we don't actually train them. We just pretend to train them, get them edging and then what?  Ill be the secretary

Why do I exist: Why do I exist in this vast expanse? A fleeting speck in the cosmic dance, Am I a mere accident of chance, Or part of a grand, divine romance?   Do I wander aimlessly without a cause, Lost in the labyrinth of life's applause? Am I a whisper in nature's laws, Or a beacon in destiny's claws?   Do I exist to love and to dream, To unravel the mysteries that gleam? Am I a ripple in life's stream, Or a figment of an endless scheme?   Why do I exist, I often ponder, In this universe, do I wander? Am I a question without an answer, Or a journey to realms much grander?   In the silence of night, I search for clues, In the stars, in the wind, in the morning dew. Why do I exist? Is there a muse To guide me through this cosmic ruse?   Questions linger, unanswered still, In the depths of my being, an unquenchable thrill. Why do I exist? Time's hands fulfill The mystery of life, a quest until

This is a 45 acre farm. I grew up on it, traveled the world, and came home again.When both parents had passed, I bought out my sisters shares. I stopped all row crops in 2014 and began turning the place into a safe zone for nature.It features a man made lake, spring fed and well stocked with fish. There are 22 acres of tillable land, some woods and rolling hills as well as several rock and flower gardens and roughly 6 or 7 acres of lawn.In 2014, I began to plant trees and flowers in the fields in my attempt to give nature a safe place to be. We have a nesting pair of Bald Eagles, roughly 75 wild turkeys, about 30 head of white tail deer. We more small animals than you could hope to count. The lake is well stocked with fish, large and small mouth bass, crappies, blue gills and sunfish as well as a decent supply of turtles.There are two family homes on this farm and I am selling one of them to my long term renter. There are also two large aluminum pole barns, 60 x 40. In one, I built a large indoor grow with full temperature, light and humidity control and that was a marijuana rental grow from 2014 to this spring. It currently stands empty but I will put it to growing vegetables or mushrooms fairly soon. The other 60 x 40 is being built out as a machine shop.I would really love to find two slaves to work here, (for pay), but in a lifestyle setting. A male/female cuck couple, two females, or a single female to start and help me find another. I feel that two would be the correct number but three is a possibility.I have been  a dominant since birth. I married a submissive in 71 and we are still together. I became  heavily involved in this lifestyle in 96. Now that I am living back on the farm again, I want my 1 or 2 or 3 slaves to come and work this project with me in an ongoing lifestyle arrangement.

WELL!!!  What can I say?  I have been a Goddess to all low life loosers and it seems the older I become the more my temper and patience grows shorter as I am constantly having to turn so many loosers away, and believe me!! Goddess Davinia Jade does NOT get any satisfaction from turning male and cd/tv subbys or pathetic males who cheat on their wives and beg ME to take control of their lives, in every way. Dare YOU become a special pet to The Goddess Davinia Jade, SHE WHO WILL BE OBEYED, SHE WHO IS CONSTANTLY IN YOUR MIND,  SHE WHO BRINGS REAL HAPPINES AND MEANING INTO YOUR LIFE  SHE WHO GIVES YOU A REASON TO LIVE  Only you, the real looser, can make that decision, so act NOW and apply to your Goddess, and I Expect, NO I WANT to see a well written mail with plenty of reasons as to why this Goddess should even consider you and take some of her precious time to answer your mail????  Then again if you dont try you will never know, never reach that high state of personal happiness and excitement.   

== Results from bdsmtest.org ==100% Rope bunny100% Masochist98% Submissive82% Boy/Girl70% Experimentalist69% Brat66% Non-monogamist65% Exhibitionist64% Ageplayer64% Slave62% Primal (Prey)56% Degradee41% Voyeur33% Vanilla19% Pet

Now the summer is over I find I am in demand again spanking single women and couples. from the initial contact to planning a meet and the actual session is very important to me so there is no confusion about me and what I do.  However I find it increasingly annoying that after such preparation , they do not simply turn up , I am accomodating them a lot of the time, but they do not have the courtesy just to say they have changed their mind. As I am a strict , dominant disciplarian, not a BDSM master, they know with me it will revolve around spanking. I am a red blood straight male and I do have sexual needs, but I do not impose these on ladies an dcouples who just want a spanking based experience.  My frustration is that many call themselves submissive , but haven't any good manners or share mutual trust and respect.  I have been spanking for over 35 years, but haven't known it to be like this before. Sorry about my rant I have though had several wonderful encounters in the past couple of weeks and great feedback too from lasses and couples, all shapes and sizes. I do prefer to deal with those 40 and above  as they seem to know what they want from someone like me

I have never worn a chastity belt outside of squeezing into one(painfully) for like 30 minutes at most at a time here and there.And I recently found a site that showed me how to measure, and sadly(sadly?!?) to my non-surprise, i'm much too large and need a custom belt.  One that costs $200-300, not the $30-50 belts that seem to be everywhere.And I think back to a recent conversation I had with a Dominant.  That they don't see the point.  That if they tell their slave not to cum, they want and expect their slave not to.  And they wouldn't want them not to.Besides, they want to make use and enjoy the orgasms, so again the belt is unneeded.And having always had to do just that.  I agree.  And I understand.I don't have no particular joy or desire or need for chastity or denial.   I would be very happy having some form of sex and orgasm daily or more just as I would being denied for days or weeks or more.For me, I don't NEED a belt.   But thinking about it, what I NEED is a lack of control.  And the belt can help with that.I was thinking about that today...  How could I explain that idea to someone, and came up with a story of sorts that I see as being a good way of explaining it.Imagine my orgasm is a pile of cookies in the Kitchen.    My owner can say - "don't eat the cookies unless I tell you".  And I could/would obey.   But then again I also could disobey and eat if I see a chance to.(I wouldn't in reality - i'm not bratty like that)   But even though I was told not to, the ultimate power and control of my actions is held by me.   I CHOOSE not to.   I CHOOSE to obey.    Which in and of itself is a powerful thing for the dynamic.   But my thought here goes beyond that.Now imagine a lock on the kitchen door.  That symbolizes the belt.   With a lock, it doesn't matter my choice or decision or even my desire -  I have no choice.   That was removed from me.   The control I had in any way shape or form to obey or not obey is removed from me.And it's that removal of control that the belt can bring.   I would only have a cookie when my owner allowed.   When it pleases them to do so.   And that brings a different dynamic to the relationship.Even if that is one where I eat cookies daily or more even.   I only do so when my owner unlocks the kitchen and allows me to.   Otherwise, like it or not, I wait.   Helpless and not in control.And it's that, that appeals to me about chastity belts more than anything else.   It's like bondage, but a bondage that can be applied 24/7/365.So it has always intreagued me. That, and the fact I can never really fit in one so it's like a teenager desiring beer, the more you're unable to have it, the more you crave the experience of it, at least once. Anyways, just some random musings from my head.   The end result with everything?   Whatever pleases most.   I don't need it, I don't not need it.    The relationship matters more.    I may always wonder how it may be though.   For better or worse.  But I can be happy never trying it just as I could/would being made to live with it 24/7.So like I said, just some random, maybe meaningless musings... thank you for visiting my mind with me this night...

Not interested in one liners -  Tell me who you are in your everyday life — not just online. If you’re too busy for effort, don’t bother. I’m not here for convenience or endless texting. I’m seeking something real, intentional, and in real life. And the fact that you’re on this site tells me you already understand the balance between kink and vanilla — and that kind of self-awareness matters to me.

So, here's the deal: I'm 62, I have finally found comfort in my shell... I need a PERMENANT Mistress who is going to be BRUTAL with me, use me and abuse me, dehumnanize me, heavy CBT, bondage, caging/kenneling, toilet (full sometimes), outside bondage, predicament bondage, ashtray slave, spit slave, eating the dead skin scrapings from your lovely and delicious FEET, and yes, your small toenail clippings which I'll consume. I'm REAL, ladies and I need this. I love being in a cage/kennel. I'm not here to waste yours or my time. I'm here to be your slut/pig/whore/toilet/whatever you want. I DO NOT CARE. I get tribute so, yeah, not a problem but NOT before, please. I'm old school and will do that when I come for my 2+ hours therapy session. I take my servitude seriously and my slavery seriously. This is the life I've chosen. Women are POWERFUL and are to be OBEYED. Men don't get that. I do... Women are superior to men in every way. Women abuse/use me as they wish. This is the way. I believe it. I live it. I know it. I shave all the hair off my body save for my lower arms and head.  I wear pantyhose or stockings and panties (all the time).  I love the body I'm in and how I'm used/abused. I seek to have a mistress experiment on me, try new things and enjoy our time together. Please, I beg all Mistresses to consider this slut for her enjoyment. I will travel to you. Warmly and humbly, slave selene (my female name)

Master's WritingsCategorizing Levels of SubmissionOthers, in an attempt to categorize submissives, have described submissives by the levels of their submission, moving from role play to slave, while others suggest there are distinct categories of submission, where the motivation behind one’s submission drives their role such as for fantasy, relationship and/or fetish. Acknowledging that all submissives are different and any such categories could only apply in the loosest of terms, I find both model instructive in its own way, yet somehow missing the mark in some aspaspaspects.The creators of both models clearly identified that each individual submissive is unique and comes to their submission and depth of submission in their own way for their own purpose. And to this, I completely agree. Yet we are humans and we live to label things, so I will offer my own model, recognizing full well that mine too will fall short of describing all submissives and their motivations. I would also note that what I suggest here may have already been put forth. If so, I offer this only as my own ideas without the knowledge of their contribution to our body of knowledge. Thus I would offer a third model for consideration and discussion.I see it more a kin to the structure of Maslow‘s hierarchy of needs, Where Maslow identifies our most basic needs, moving from basic survival to self-actualization, I see submissions moving from role play to self-realization. The model I put forth is as follows: Role play. A connection to the role based on whatever preconceptions or second hand knowledge they may have. While one might act the part, they have no emotional or mental connection to the role Exploration. The beginning stages of submissive awareness where thru trial and error or training, real experiences begin the development of a connection to a submissive’s awareness and one's submissive self. This level usually includes an over indulgence or over compensation of doing what they think a sub "should do". Connection. The birth of inner connectedness to one’s submissive self, and the realization of what it feels like to give of one’s self to another. Hallmarked by a greater sense of self awareness, a growing identity as a submissive and a struggling to reconcile their submissive life with their vanilla life. Identity and Belonging. The inner awareness and shift of self-identity as a submissive or having submissive side (as in a switch), as a genuine and acknowledged part of their persona. While they may not share this openly with others, inwardly there is a growing conviction that being a submissive is core to their being. While connection can occur at any stage, at this stage, connection to a Dominant becomes more essential to allow for further growth. Confidence. As identity as a submissive grows and self-esteem relating to the role increases, their confidence of self grows. The focus can now be more inward to understand their submissive needs, who they are as a submissive, and the beginning of blending their submissive self into their vanilla life and identity. Self-Realization and Connectedness to their Id. Full acceptance of their new identity, as submission is fully integrated into their sense of self. Submission can now fuel their lives and relationships with greater meaning and richer experiences as they fully integrate their submissive-self into their vanilla life. Not every submissive will reach or choose to reach this level.        I would welcome comments and ideas for the improvement of this model if others see value in it.

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.

What do I seek in a submissive? The submissive I seek is between the ages of 18-40. Body type well proportioned. Not model status, but pleasing to the eyes. I'm sorry but I just don't have an attraction to BBW or SSBBW type of women. Ideally I would like to be able to lift my sub up in my arms, or throw her over my shoulder even. Though I am not opposed to women that are thicker than normal if they take care of themselves. A woman that is not completely indecisive and has an idea about what she wants in any manner of her life. Often times it does not matter to me what choices she makes, just as long as she make a choice. She should be masochistic, enjoying spankings, paddlings, floggings, roughness, bites, and bruises on the ass, to name a few things that I enjoy to dish out. These are just things that come to my mind the quickest and are by no means completely set in stone. I am willing to make some exceptions based on the mind and personality of the submissive, that WOW factor if you will. I do not have a desire for long-distance relationships, so any inquiries should be made by a submissive in the same state as me. However distance does not matter if you just want to be friendly and chat me up for fun. Nothing wrong with making new friends.

How to have limit if you didnt find your own limit(retoric question)   I take myself for an exemple. Im actually a variated person, wich have too much kinks i did, want to do, want to experiment. But my biggest problem is on my speciality, Sadism! I never find the bottom, i can fall soo much, the the hole is too much profund... Then how i can know, how far i would go ? Simple. I adapt myself to the limit of the other. And if she/he didnt discovered it, i just gradually descent. Actually people i knew have short hard limit, its easy to adapt. Some time im a little scared about one day i find someone like me, because, im difficultly shocked about things. Then the only limit i will put is law and security limit, no amputating or things i cant control, if for me i can put my partner to a state of death i will not doing this. I cant control the blood loss, im not doing this. Permanent loss of important part of body, its depend but most part i will not doing this. Im not a chirurgical doctor, i dont have the skill and surely mess up all. Resulting to a critical state of no return. A limit is here to prevent all of this.   If the other dont have limit, your duty is to create one youself to prevent critical situation. 

25   The silver circle gleams in firelight, A hollow promise, cold and bright. She holds it like a favored gem, Between her fingers, diadem Of her control, his sacrifice, The metal ring, the final price.   "Twenty-five," she whispers low, Her fingers tracing, slow, The path his tongue has yet to take, A journey for her pleasure's sake. One by one, they'll be accounted, Each when she has mounted His willing mouth, his eager face, In this most intimate, sacred space.   The lock clicks shut, a tiny sound, That echoes in his soul profound. A key now rests between her breasts, A promise of his future quests. He feels the weight, the cool restraint, A newly formed, delicious pain.   "Begin," she says, and spreads her thighs, A universe before his eyes. His first obeisance, his first task, No time for questions that men ask. Just service, hunger, devout need, To plant his mouth's devoted seed.   He counts them not in numbers, but In trembling thighs, in every glut Of pleasure that he pulls from deep, While his own promise lies asleep. Twenty-four more, a worthy debt, The finest surrender, truly met.

Mounting a STR8 male Pilars of society, husbands, fathers, movers and shakers. in all body types and backgrounds. You've got to love them all; at least I do. I'm partial to the bravado, the in your face attitude that screams "I'm terrified of venturing outside of my gender, but with the right MAN I'm game." The one thing to remember is to be subtle, these boys are a scary bunch and the slightest threat to their perceived orientation will make them clam up (pun intended) tight and you will loose your boy. However, once you're in their trust that is your chance to explore and they will provide the info you need. Family, marriage, parental relationships  and home issues. Overwhelmed, over worked, and under sexed; perfect combination and there is you, a strong paternal figure to hug them and tell them you understand  and suffer with his plight.  There is a moment of vulnerability in which you become his whole world as he contemplates all crumbling you are the sturdy support.  Sometimes it takes time to get there. Of course this does not apply to your male bride, the one you want for you only.  Check my journal on male brides.  Eventually it will graduate to touching, hugging, kissing and then cock play.  Once you become the adult in his eyes he will nurse from your rod and do it often because is “us boys.” But once he kneels to suck you his body is yours to explore and his butt is there as he is busy following your instructions on how to please you. Easy does it, touch, probe by do not put you finger in yet. Let him get use to your touch and caress.  Eventually his ass will arch up and that is your cue  to begin your entry. Ever so slowly and tenderly. Let  his  body guide you and then move your body to a position of dominance, standing and him in all fours. Pick him up, embrace him and assure him your understanding and his need for release.  Play with his cock , remember he is str8 and feels entitled. Yet as you play in front prepare the rear by probing his prostate. He’ll go through the roof realizing he never felt this with his wife, there is pleasure in his ass and you, his pal, just opened a new window for him to look out of. He is now yours and he will come back, promise. 

  A Quick Disclaimer:  I don't exactly "love" some of the things I claim to enjoy, like corner-time for instance (which is dread... mostly) Corner-time is one of the things that seems particularly effective in explicitly reminding me someone else is in-charge, which weakens my knees. (Un)fortunately (for me), I also find it deeply humiliating, but *this* side-effect means it is something that gives me "the feels" too. Just 'being reminded' such things are even a possibility is enough to get a reaction from me - for a while at least So, it's not something I 100% *want*... I mean, I'd rather just be "into" stuff that I don't find quite so humiliating and that don't leave me unable to respond with a witty retort (or sometimes with Any Words At All). But things that don't embarrass me and don't trigger the push-pull (aka 'my' version of a panic-boner) don't seem to have quite the same effect It's total agony; to crave the things I dread, but it's also where I find my bliss So, I guess my attraction to the very things that especially give me "the feels" is a bit more nuanced than can be conveyed by:  X = a thing I "love", but CS doesn't have a 'push-pull'/'nutcase-option', as far as I'm aware... And though I realise the site might break as a consequence, I still wish it were possible to both love-AND-hate a single fetish, b/c that how us contradictory people tend to operate (unless I am truly an outlier-amongst-outliers, in which case... *nothing to see here* o.O)  Anyway.  ~ Thank-you for coming to my Ted Talk ~  

Advice for messaging*It is disrespectful and insulting when someone sends an introductory email which does not mention anything specific about my profile or interact with it at all.  Ask yourself this question.  Could the majority of your email to me be copied and pasted to 100 other people and be just as valid?  If the answer is yes and you send this to me then you have just identified yourself as a time waster.  Do you want me to think of you as a time waster?  Is this really how you want to introduce yourself?*If your spelling and grammar are poor, you are not putting in enough effort.  This identifies you as LAZY.  Some try to excuse their laziness with various reasons but you can always have a friend read what you write or just reread what you type out loud a few times before you hit the send button.  I do realize that some bad punctuation is facilitated by the text editor here because this site strips out most punctuation except commas, question marks, periods, and exclaimation points. Hopefully this will be addressed someday, but till then you can still find creative ways to mimic other punctuation.*But the main form of showing disrespect through a lack of effort is just not typing very many words.  Incomplete sentences, only one sentence, or worse, one word or just a bit of text speak show a lack of effort, interest, and concern.  Many people do not want to communicate over a phone, they only want to type, but then they also are not willing to put in much effort at typing either.  So I quickly find an imbalance of effort as I see the words I type quickly outpacing the other person.  This makes the other person seem uninvolved and unappreciateive of my efforts.  They insist that I type and not TALK to them but then they do not put effort in to type either!Frequently, I find that I spend a great deal more energy and effort typing long messages to people who do not put any effort into what they send me.  Sometimes, when someone does not put enough effort into their messages, I will limit my response back to them.  If all you can offer me is a few words or letters then I will try to use FEWER words and letters than you did!  This will make my messages difficult to understand and if this frustrates you, GOOD.  Now you know how I feel!*On the other hand, if you are willing to put time, and effort to create a polite, cogent, salient, and compelling email which directly references my profile... perhaps by pointing to something specific that I have written and telling me what you think about it, then you can be sure that I will write back to you.

Hotel from a sluts POV   We check into the hotel and as we are standing at the desk you brush your arm 'accidentally' across my nipples which are swollen and tied sticking out under my top being constantly rubbed and I'm trying to hide them as I know they are really visible. The reception definitely can't see my swollen tied clit or the sink plugs in my arse and cunt that are stretching my holes right in front of her but she can see in my face that I am slightly flushed and breathing a bit heavily. I wish she would type faster!  Finally we have our key. You tell me to walk ahead of you to the lift, I know this is so you can watch me on my heels in my tight skirt trying not to walk like a Slut full of cock.  We are in the lift alone and you take advantage of the time to rub over your handy work on my tits and cunt making me shake and cry out. And Cum inside myself. Unable to release it because of the plug. You smile at me and laugh at how ruined i am tonight. Already begging for you to fuck me.  In the room i stand in front of you with my hands on my head and my legs apart and wait for my master to tell me what to do next. You stroke over my body and sharply pull my nipples, bringing me round from my drift and then sit me down firmly on a chair in the corner and opening up a bottle of champagne that is on the desk. I am wriggling in the chair, trying not to moan out loud with the anticipation and my holes open.  You pour us a glass and turn around and sit on the sofa opposite and tell me to crawl over to you. I slowly crawl across the room my nipples rubbing on my shirt my clit rubbing when I move my legs because it is so swollen. I get to you and you tell me to kneel...  You lift me into your lap by my nipples making me get tears in my eyes and roughly hold me by the neck sideways on your knee...  With your free hand you pass my drink and tell me to drink it I am thirsty from breathing hard and knock it back. You put the glass down and spread my legs and tap on the plugs in my holes staring into me while I beg you to open me up and touch me inside....  You pull the sink plug out of my cunt tube leaving it held open and poke up inside me so I can feel the tip of your fingers deep in me but nothing where the tube sits making me really aware that I am gaped....  I can hear myself begging... Please Master, fill me up with your fist and cock I need it so much. .... then I feel a bit of a lurch and sway into you, I can still hear myself begging and moaning but everything is getting a bit weird and I realise, as I pass out that you are telling me that when I wake up I will get what a Slut deserves......  I don't know how long I am asleep.  I come to hog tied.  It is dark so I am blindfolded  I can't hear anything except my own heart and inner voice.  My mouth is now plugged like the other holes.  I wonder how this going to go!

I had some lovely intro messages today, was nice to be introduced to the civil side of this site. I did notice in the wave of change one message that is still behind the times. Instead of introducing, or building rapport they offered a time stamped plan which included several hours of satisfying their one-sided fantasy. The itemised itinerary marked 4pm you do this to me 5pm you do this to me 8pm you do this to me. I do 6 hrs of unpaid overtime a week to help members of the public and now you want me in my 1 day off on my weekend to spend hours milking your fantasy.  In the great words of Elton John will you F-off.   C  

I just got the official 'Okay' from my doctor and I am now officially "healed". The fucking dick has no fucking clue what he is talking about. I still have aches and pains from just standing up. I went from in fucking good shape to what I feel is a bloated whale. And my endurance is total crap. After 2 flights of stairs, I am now winded.   As for my business, it's gone. All of it. No more tools, or materials. I was even forced to sell off my "personal collection" of goodies. As for my clients, They have found other 'artists' and 'makers'.   Ladies and gentlemen, I have now hit rock bottom.     So what am I looking for I am looking for an artist. Someone who feels they are up for the challenge (and bragging rights). Some knows the ins and outs of social situations as well as proper etiquette in different circles.  Someone who is willing and able to invest their time, talent, money, knowledge etc to make it happen.   The challenge, Take this currently out of shape male, with lacking social skills and has not started their transition yet.  Then through training, diet exercise, surgeries, lessons, transform him into a proper walking talking sex goddess. To remove every trace of ever being a male from the body and mannerisms. To transform so far that unless another was told they would never even suspect that the lady next to them was born a male.   I know something like this is a commitment in both time and money. As such, I do have skills in making and building that can be used. As I transition and look more feminine,  I am willing to be a cam girl or what not. To be by your side as an assistant and maybe more. After the transition, I am more than happy to be a beta dom in your dungeon, or who knows what we can come up with.   Here I am a living flesh piece of clay, looking to be transformed into the 'perfect' woman. To live the life I know I was meant to be living.  Help me and in return I can help you.   Send me a message if you are interested.

How to know if you should write to me. If you are tempted to put the abbreviation HMU in an email to me. Save yourself the trouble. Don't write. If your profile or email uses the abbreviation NSA. Don't bother. If you self identify as an adult baby. I'm not interested. If you self identify as a slave. We're probably not compatible. If you self identify as a bull. Save yourself the time. Don't write. If you actually read my profile and are interested in more than the pretty pictures. Please write. If you have met me in the past, online or in person, and want to renew our acquaintance, please write. If you read my journal and you know the passphrase, please write. If your interest in me goes beyond your next fap session, please write. If your profile or email includes the phrases female supremacy or TPE, keep on trucking. If you feel the urge to tell me about wanting to worship my pussy. Go away. If you use the term breeding to describe your interests in bareback sex, you'll want to save us both time and not write.

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

It was a rough day for this new slave in training He was very willing and eager to please We started out with his oral servitude which happened to be very subpar I knew it would be because he had bragged about what an expert he was at using his tongue I had to get him to understand that a slave never brags about what he can do because that is not his place If I choose to acknowledge your talente in an area, I will issue that compliment and you may wear it as a badge of honor  The ultimate goal is for you to make me squirt and then drink and lick up every drop Are you going to be worthy pet for me??!!   

On The Possibility of a Dream When I was 20something, I discovered Female Domination like a supernova in the night sky. It bathed my thoughts in a different light, it revealed hidden meanings in the way I felt, and it made it seem like anything was possible. It was strongly sexual - physical. Almost like a drug that charged me and made everything more vivid, more alive. In the center of this supernova was an archetypal vision - Woman, the essence of all I desired, the goal of all my efforts. The embodyment of all good and pleasure. Impressive as this was, I think it was incomplete. Now it's been 30 years, and with the help of several intelligent and perceptive Dominas, i can see more clearly. i realize that this raw power, the blind almost biological impulse, is made human, civilized, and meaningful by service - from bending to and serving a real woman. Not an archetype. A human being with her dreams, fears, hopes, and yes weaknesses. Does this mean I think my initial vision was wrong? No - I think that almost primeval response is the natural fuel for a rock-solid relationship. It is the capacity of seeing my partner as the channel, the embodyment of that feminine divine energy, that can charge our whole relationship and add layers of meaning "vanilla" relationships lack. Is this a dream? Maybe. But I know my soul is religious and its dream religion is the woman i would share my life with.

Never mind the brit who I spent far too much time with only to determine that he preys on women as a CollarSpace occupation...but then to be followed by the next group: He doesnt fix his phone and therefore cannot communicate effectively. He cannot share his availability properly or set aside proper time to converse. He doesn't show up for the meeting - 1st time because he was sick and waits to tell Me at the appointed hour. He doesn't show up for the meeting - 2nd time because 'I worry him' and waits until the appointed hour. LOL He verbally attacks and berates when I show the least bit of consideration. He then contacts Me under another screeen name, different state, 15 years older. He tells Me we are not well matched. LOL YA THINK? Next one... 1st meeting - mandatory work schedule change; notified one or two days prior- accepted. 2nd meeting - computer virus effecting communication until last minute; contacted day prior. I had to find suitable PAID option as replacement - accepted. 3rd meeting - had to care for a family member, contact made day of and two hours prior to scheduled meet time - DENIED. aND Next... Meeting scheduled for 18 day visit in November after a few months of build up....then POOF!  I didn't even get a Dear Jane letter on that one! Oh yeah, almost forgot about the local chap who was more than willing to mow and weedwack one fine weekend a month ago... POOOOOOOOF!   YOU INCONVENIENCE A WOMAN WHO IS A FULL TIME CAREGIVER TO A SAINT?  ARE YOU SERIOUS? Regarding the first two subs...what they dont realize is it matters not that they didnt show up.  What matters is that they wanted Me to believe in their ability and desire and went to great lengths to convince Me of their worth and intention.  After I went to considerable lengths to prepare for our meetings, then to not show and cause not just Me an inconvenience but inturn My household - well that is INTOLERABLE.  Slaves My arse!  Bottom toppers is more like it! As of yesterday, 103124, I finally completed the work I had planned to complete with the first two gents.  It has taken Me TWO MONTHS to do what I could have done in two weekends with these men.  By making committments which they did not keep, they cost Me time and money and lots and lots of harder days with mum and FOR mum. Had I not made the plans with them, I would have a. made plans with others b. hired the help I need ahead of time c. restructured My schedule to accomodate a lack of assistance. Instead, My household has been stressed out trying to play catch up which means mother and I have had a stressed time, which means I DON'T TRUST YOU OR LIKE YOU. Ya'll are inconsiderate and you have been dealt with more than fairly.  You know what to do if you decide to get serious and stop playing around. Do what you say.  Say what you do.  Obey.  Simple. And for the love of Pete - stop making plans with women unless you intend on following through!

Adding to the House of M - Our search for a slaveThe House of M is looking for a slave.We’re going to be picky, very picky. We will take out time in this search to find the right one at the right time for us. And because of that, we recognize this search will take some time.Our House and more specifically, our dynamic is built on communication, trust, honesty, intelligence, friendship and deep respect for each other. Those who are a part of it, are individuals that recognize that connection and relationship must exist in both the lifestyle as well as in the vanilla world to develop the kind of bonds that are required to create the richness we desire. We want one who will care a deeply about us as we will about them and share our values. We place a high value on intelligence, the mental aspaspects of the lifestyle, caring about each other, loyalty, seriousness in and about ones roles, as well as the ability to have fun and be let loose when the time is right.We seek a bi M masochistic slave (under 45), smooth with at least a slightly feminine appearance who is height weight-proportional. One who craves to serve and derives fulfillment from the act of giving themself to us. A slave who knows that their proper place is at a Master's feet, serving whenever, however, and whatever Master requires. Our vision is that my babygirl and I will both Dominate this slave equally as their Master. Not live-in, but possible in the future as part of this long-term dynamic. While there should be NO expectation for sexual use from either of us, they should be ready and eager to serve both of us in any way we choose. Our current needs include domestic, sexual and masochistic service, but know that as we intend for this to be a long time ownership, these needs will evolve and grow. We hope to find one who craves degradation, humiliation, objectification, and belonging, with limits that align with our own (see our profiles).For those who wish to explore becoming part of our House, write us and we can begin a conversation about it, but be patient, be respectful, come ready to show us who you truly are and most of all be patient. Take this time to get to know us as we get to know you.We are worth it - I promise you

Lately I wake up in the middle of the night and the puppy is snuggled right up to my side. Tonight she had pushed her face into the crook of my neck. I love how much she loves me.  Someone recently asked me for clarification on something in my profile, that if he was to assume the responsibility, what was it that I was responsible for and how would it affect his ability to assume responsibilty? In all this time no one has asked me that. It's a brilliant question. I needed to think about it because my initial reaction was to create a laundry list of what I think I contribute, things like loyalty, honesty, snuggles, nurturing, etc. And then I paused. Those are all things that I do contribute for sure, but it doesn't account for what the other person needs from me, especially to function as person in charge. I will absolutely be and do all of the things I say are my part. And figure out how to be and do what he needs added to my part. Give and take. Relationships take work. Snuggles are the easy part. 

When Tenacity Becomes Entitlement There is a difference between being persistent and being entitled. That difference matters. Especially in BDSM spaces. Tenacity, when it is healthy, can be admirable. It can mean someone is patient, respectful, willing to learn, and capable of showing steady interest without demanding immediate reward. It can mean someone understands that trust takes time. It can mean they are willing to show up with consistency instead of trying to force instant intimacy. But too often, what some people call tenacity is not tenacity at all. It is pressure. It is impatience dressed up as devotion. It is someone deciding that because they want access, attention, conversation, affection, dominance, submission, or play, they are owed a path to it. They are not. No one is owed access to another person. Not because they sent a message. Not because they wrote a long introduction. Not because they have waited. Not because they believe they are “different.” Not because they think they would be a perfect match. Not because they call themselves submissive, dominant, switch, slave, Master, Mistress, Daddy, pet, little, or anything else. Interest does not create obligation. Desire does not override consent. Persistence does not erase a boundary. In BDSM, we talk often about consent during scenes. We talk about safewords, limits, negotiation, aftercare, and risk awareness. Those conversations are necessary. But consent does not begin when someone is tied to a cross, kneeling at someone’s feet, or negotiating play. Consent begins at first contact. It begins with whether a person wants to talk to you at all. That is where many people fail. They treat the first message as an opening move in a game they intend to win. If they do not get a response, they send another. If they are ignored, they try again somewhere else. If they are blocked, they create a new path. If they are told no, they look for a loophole. That is not dominance. That is not submission. That is not devotion. That is disrespect. A person who cannot respect a simple social boundary has no business asking for access to deeper, more vulnerable spaces. If someone says they are not interested, believe them. If someone does not respond, accept that silence as information. If someone declines a chat request, do not treat it as a challenge. If someone blocks you, that is not an invitation to find another way in. If someone has clearly stated on their profile how they want to be approached, and you ignore it, you have already answered the most important question about yourself. You have shown that your wants matter more to you than their boundaries. That is not a good look. And it is not a small thing. In BDSM, attention to detail matters. Respect matters. Self-control matters. The ability to hear “no” without spiraling, sulking, arguing, punishing, or pushing matters. These are not optional social graces. They are foundational skills. If you cannot handle not getting a reply to a message, how are you going to handle negotiation? If you cannot respect a profile, how are you going to respect limits? If you cannot accept a polite decline, how are you going to accept a safeword? If your first instinct after rejection is to push harder, you are not showing passion. You are showing a lack of emotional discipline. That does not build trust. It destroys it. The fantasy version of BDSM often rewards persistence. The determined suitor. The relentless dominant. The submissive who proves devotion by refusing to give up. The person who keeps chasing until the other person finally realizes they were the right choice all along. Real life does not work that way. Real people have boundaries, preferences, schedules, moods, histories, safety concerns, and instincts. Real people get to decide who they engage with. Real people are allowed to say no for any reason or no reason at all. And no, you do not have to like it. You do have to respect it. That is where maturity enters the room. A mature person can be disappointed without becoming manipulative. A mature person can feel rejected without becoming cruel. A mature person can want someone and still understand they are not entitled to that person. A mature person can move on. This is especially important for submissives who approach Dominants with the language of service. Service is not pestering someone until they give in. Service is not demanding that a Dominant manage your feelings because you did not get the response you wanted. Service is not showing up with a fantasy and expecting a stranger to step into it on command. Service begins with respect. Read the profile. Follow the instructions. Offer a thoughtful introduction. Accept the answer. And if there is no answer, accept that too. Dominants are not vending machines where you insert flattery and receive attention. Submissives are not auditioning for your approval because you have declared yourself dominant. Switches are not available simply because you are curious. Kink labels do not remove basic human courtesy. The same applies to Dominants who mistake aggression for authority. Sending commands to a stranger is not dominance. Calling someone pet names without permission is not dominance. Ignoring stated limits is not dominance. Acting offended because someone does not recognize your self-appointed title is not dominance. Dominance without consent is just behavior. And often, not very good behavior. A real power exchange requires trust. Trust requires safety. Safety requires respect. Respect requires the ability to stop. That last part is where many people reveal themselves. Can you stop when someone does not answer? Can you stop when someone says no? Can you stop when your ego wants one more message? Can you stop when you think you deserve an explanation? Can you stop when you are embarrassed? Can you stop when you are disappointed? That ability matters.