The slave contract.   Some people assume that, since "slavery" was outlawed (over a hundred years ago in most places), then "Consensual Slavery" is nothing more than "Role Playing"; that there cannot be any legal, lawful way to "own" another person. To the point of using the words: slave, slavery, and owner, you would be correct; these words are merely symbolic and have no legal meaning.   However, Consensual Slavery (or Voluntary Servitude) is legal, very real, and can be legally practiced. Can a person legally join the military?   If they do, are they allowed to just up and walk out any time they like without warning? Hm… They can't, right? Why not? I thought you said slavery was illegal? Well... That's right. The military does not practice slavery. Yet, in a very real sense, they do own you. However, they do not (and never would) call it slavery; they call it service. We will not go into the detailed specifics of what wording is used in a real Contract of Voluntary Servitude, but, rest assured, it is as binding as any application into the military. It is perfectly legal for a person to voluntarily forfeit their rights and be legally bound to serve, suffer and endure. Slavery is not about sex; nor is it about S&M.Yes, a slave may be disciplined and this discipline can take the form of sexually charged torture or tormenting. Of course an Owner can have sex with their slave,it's a given. But you don't need a slave to have sex or "play" S&M.If you are only interested in sex or S&M (or any combination thereof), I strongly recommend a visit to any of the places in Europe US, or Asia where (prostitution is legal and) you can, far more cheap and you can easily, get your needs fulfilled.   Total Control + Total Responsibility   By definition, a ‘slave’ is a piece of (movable) personal property (a.k.a. "chattel") owned by another person. A slave can be bought, sold or traded.While a slave may be cherished and cared for, a slave can also just as easily be misused and abused. Of course an owner can love their slave; nothing in the book says that an owner cannot love their slave. However, slavery does not require love.   Slavery is about control: the utter and total domination and control over another human being's life.   Slavery is also about responsibility: the utter and total responsibility of another human being's life.   There are two basic elements required of slavery:   1.) A slave.   2.) An owner capable to take the great responsibility of possessing a slave.   Illusions.   For the would-be slave, trust may be an issue prior to slavery, but it is an illusion.   Physical attraction may be an issue prior to slavery, but it is an illusion as well. In fact, everything and anything a would-be slave requires or desires, apart from their true and total commitment to actually being a real, owned slave, is an illusion.   Slavery is NOT about "romance".Sure, an Owner could romance or seduce a slave if they chose to, but romance and seduction are not "part and parcel" of slavery itself.   Slavery is about Ownership and servitude; any other element involved is something other than, or in addition to, slavery.   If a "slave" insists upon a requirement or a condition for, or on, their Ownership – they are seeking something other than slavery. Hm...Yes, it all sounds so terrifically unfair, doesn't it? An Owner can require and involve whatever they like in the “relationship” and a slave must endure and indulge whatever an Owner's whim might be. Ups... That almost sounds like, well... slavery! Doesn't it?   There is nothing at all that a slave can claim “entitlement” to; however, in an effort to demonstrate this, here is an extraordinarily brief list of things a slave is specifically not “entitled” to:   - Respect   - Honesty   - Affection   - Compassion   - Understanding   - Appreciation   - Courtesy   - Recognition   - Fidelity,Etcetera...   You may get all or none of the above. It is at the discretion of your Owner.  

Sub frenzy isn’t devotion. It’s a full blown psychological house fire and you’re standing in the middle of it, smiling like it’s candlelight. It starts as hunger. Then it becomes need. Then it becomes override everything just don’t lose this. And that’s where it gets dangerous not just for the submissive spiraling, but for anyone holding the other end of that dynamic. Because let’s be very clear If you’re a Dominant and you don’t recognize sub frenzy, you are either inexperienced or you’re part of the problem. Frenzy is loud if you know what to look for. It’s the rushed attachment. The “I’ll do anything” energy way too early. The collapsing boundaries. The constant seeking of approval like oxygen. The way they mold themselves to you before you’ve even proven you’re safe to hold that kind of power. That is not a green light. That is a warning flare. A submissive in frenzy is not in a grounded place to consent cleanly, to negotiate clearly, or to advocate for themselves when something goes wrong. Their “yes” can be soaked in fear of losing you instead of genuine desire. And if you take advantage of that if you push, escalate, or feed off that desperation without slowing them down? That’s not dominance. That’s exploitation with a title. A real D type doesn’t just take control they manage the state of the person they’re engaging with. They watch for the cracks. They check in. They pull things back when the energy gets unstable, even if it would be easier and more gratifying not to. Sometimes the most dominant thing you can do is say, “Stop. Breathe. We’re not moving forward like this.” Because power without responsibility is just dressedup harm. But here’s the part people don’t like to hear: Even with awareness, even with check-ins, even with good intentions sometimes a dynamic still turns toxic. Maybe the submissive stays in frenzy and refuses to ground. Maybe the Dominant starts enjoying the control a little too much and stops caring about impact. Maybe communication breaks down and what started as connection turns into damage. When that happens, you don’t “push through.” You don’t “fix it with more intensity.” You don’t cling harder like that’s going to magically make it healthy. You leave. Yeah leave. I don’t care how good it felt at the start. I don’t care how strong the pull is. I don’t care how rare you think it is. If the dynamic is harming you mentally, emotionally, physically you step out of it like your sanity matters more than the connection. Because it does. Staying in something toxic and calling it devotion is just a slower way to self-destruct. And for the submissives drowning in that frenzy spiral: You are not “failing” by pulling back. You are not “less submissive” for needing stability. You are not weak for choosing yourself over a dynamic that’s eating you alive. And for the Dominants: If someone is unraveling in your hands and your response isn’t to steady them but to tighten your grip? You need to check yourself before you wreck someone. Because this isn’t a game of who can fall the hardest. It’s about who can hold power without turning it into a weapon. Sub frenzy will make you forget that. Grounded connection will remind you. And if you have to choose between being consumed or being whole? You already know the right answer. Even if it hurts like hell to act on it.  

The “Honest” secret to a truly happy life I came to this epitome recently which felt as if I found a jigsaw piece that I didn’t even know I had loss. I have always known that I do not think the same as most people but never thought about why. As a young kid I was exposed to motivational speakers and realized that the affirmations, meditation and even the music I listened to affected my mood. I grew up confident in my abilities and became a natural leader but never questioned why. I watched an interview where the topic of honesty and lying came up. The interview prompted me to research the physical and mental effects of lying and I was surprised. What resulted caused me to self-evaluate my some of my deepest personality traits. I felt as if I had been bumping into things in a dark room my whole life without even knowing it and a light was turned on. Nothing in my life is any different today but I can now clearly see how being completely honest has had a major impact in my life. It has affected me physically, mentally in amazing ways that I had not considered until now. When I was successful at something I took credit and if I failed, I accepted the responsibility. There were no participation trophies, if I screwed up I learned to accept the consequences. As a result, I develop strong mental and social connections with those close to me because people inherently understood that I had integrity and they could trust me. While still in high school I recognized that most of my peers were interested in sex but few knew anything about it. I was experienced which high school girls found very attractive so I took advantage of it. As an athlete I used affirmations that I was going to be successful it was uplifting and positive. My success with girls gave me confidence and it became self-fulfilling the more experience I gained the more they were interested in me. Self-deception shapes our reality, influencing choices and beliefs both negatively and positively. Many types of ‘lying’ also involve self-deception, in Aesop's fable "The Fox and the Grapes". The fox in the end, gives up and walks away, saying the grapes weren't that good anyway. The fox demonstrates how self-deception can be useful for avoiding the discomfort of unmet desires. When I was not successful with a girl, I would chalk it up to it was her loss not mine. It was because of that attitude that I never let failure slow me down. I have shared a story many times that, I honestly thought everyone was having sex when I was in high school because I was. Several years after high school I met a friend and we talked about the girls we dated. I was amazed that he never had sex with any of them, he was a virgin until he was in college. I screwed every girl I dated, if fact I flat out told them if I was going to go out and spend money on them, I would require at least a blow job. A few were offended but most were intrigued some even enough to pay for the date. That story always meant something to me because all of my guy friends were talking about getting laid but come to find out they were all full of shit. It has proven to reinforce my confidence and success with women. It turns out that studies have shown, those who believe lying will give them monetary or social recognition are more likely to continue being dishonest. Those who tend to be insecure or have an anxious, avoidant or attachment issues are more likely to be dishonest to avoid being criticized, rejected. Lying affects self-esteem, emotions and can lead to psychological consequences. Dishonesty puts the brain in a state of heightened alert, and this stress increases with the magnitude of the lie. There are very real symptoms of anxiety like increased respiratory and heart rates, sweating, dry mouth. That is how a lie detector works it measures your anxiety but there is a reason it does not work on everyone and I will get to that. The gut-brain axis refers to the two-way communication between the two systems, and explains why people describe feeling butterflies in their stomach under extreme stress. Research has shown the act of lying stimulates the neocortex, limbic system the temporal lobe and other areas of the brain. When we deceive someone the Amygdala, the part of the brain that regulates emotion, is activated, and we tend to feel shame or guilt. Brain imaging experiments have shown the limbic system in a dishonest brain lighting up like a fireworks display. Unfortunately, they also show that the brain can adapt to dishonest behavior. Studies have found that habitual lying can desensitize our amygdala and may even encourage people to tell bigger lies to get the same rush in the future. Those that lie all the time about little things tend to pass a lie detector because their body does not respond normally. A 2002 study performed found that 60 percent of people lied at least once during a 10-minute conversation, telling an average of two to three lies. A 2010 study have shown that the average American tells one to two lies a day. Many people find deception essential for survival and social interaction to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. I will do my best to avoid confrontations and avoid topics where I anticipate difficulties but I will not lie to protect feelings or keep someone’s secret. I have always told people, do not lie to protect me because I will tell the truth no matter the consequences and you will get burned. At least to me being honest about everything is not a moral choice, I just find it a lot less stressful. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing be worry about. If you fuck something up own it and get past it. The facts prove that I am right, if you are in a small group you have to keep track of what you told each person so not to create a confusion. A liar has to steer conversations to avoid tripping over lies which will create the need for more lies or blend, bend lies to make the fit. I am sure that some enjoy the mental gymnastics and get a rush out of deceiving people and they become pathological liars. For most, it just creates anxiety, depression, high blood pressure and all kinds of other stresses. I take the time each day to appreciate what I have achieved. I try to meditate, say affirmations, practice yoga in order to center myself. Life is good…. I have always known I look at life different than most people but never questioned why. I now have a better understanding why a lot of women I correspond with eventually ghost me. My actual life is their fantasy world and they either assume that I am lying. When it becomes clear that I am serious it can scare the shit out of them. I have found that when faced with everything they say they want, their reality kicks them in the ass. They have family obligations, children, career or other considerations that will prevent them from leaving the world they know. In the end they are just looking for a masturbation partner. There a few adventurous enough, that when provided an opportunity to recreate their life, step out of their comfort zone and make the changes necessary to make their fantasies come true. Choosing to live your life before it is too late can be scary. Imagine your life six months from now not having to worry about going to work, paying rent or other bills and everything you need like food, clothing, shelter is provided. The perfect 1950’s homemaker that spends her time taking care of the Master of the home. I have been active in the kink community for my entire life and can make fantasies come true. I won a successful business, multiple vehicles, my home, a bar that hosts monthly BDSM lifestyle events and have organized the Key West kink community for over ten years. I now realize that when I share my reality, the truth about what I have accomplished and what I have to offer it sounds like a lie. Nothing in my life is any different today and I do not know what I am going to do with, this new found understanding of what makes me who I am. I guess the funniest thing is, when I am not successful with a potential slave it is truly her loss not mine. If anyone who knows me wants to comment on what I have written, please feel free. I would appreciate any feedback.  

I've had some interesting conversations of late.   The one who spoke of how much her curiosity drove people away and then spoke about how her mental disorders stopped her being curious and that drove people away.    The one who who admitted all manner of deviant desires but then admitted me knowing those things made her uncomfortable in my company, so she ghosted me.   The one who believed slaves should have no rights, but that she could never be a slave because of that, but that being just a submissive was beneath her.   The one who masturbated openly to thoughts of degradation and humiliation, but was afraid her future owner would expose her to anything degrading or humiliating.   The one who wanted to serve anyone just to practise her skills, but admitted she couldn't serve at all because she just couldn't take D/s seriously.   The theme? Internal conflict. Its a very odd thing to see so many here pulled in such clearly opposing directions. Now, people of all persuasions have regularly dreamed of writing cheques it turned out they couldn't cash; that's par for the course and expected - our reach often exceeds our grasp, after all. But this almost 50/50 spolit been desire and reality, between who we think we are and who we turn out to be, and who we present as and who we then admit to being, is something new. I was away a while, but I did not expect to come back to this. I think it's just fear, something of which there seems to be so much of, more than I ever remember. People are afraid of speaking openly, afraid of seeming dumb, afraid of saying or asking the wrong thing, afraid of learning about themselves, and on and on and on. What I think people are afraid of is being seen for who they really are because so many don't seem to know that basic fact about themselves, and they don't want to put the time, effort and work into finding out, or be vulnerable and humble enough to listen and learn if they do.   It's a dispiriting experience.      

You are a set apart,State of the art,Work of art.That is written into my birth chart,To be your sexpot.To bask in your sunspotAnd become empty like a brain fart.To exist as your pleasurebot;Drive your applecartInto my fertile seedplot.Every single body partIs tailored to be your playspot.I yearn for your cum shotInto my honey pot,And for the squeeze of a slipknotThat will sting like Cupid's dartAnd for the most important partTo be unto you a decadent slave heart. ~dirtydarling

Dinning Out with slave I expect My slave was excited. At least I was hoping it would generate expectations in its little brain. it had not been fed solid food in the last ten days. it was being treated to My lose weight regime. Yes, it had lost a little, but, far from the goal I had determined for it. Outside its cage I had enjoyed leaving pizza fresh from the oven in order that it might enjoy its denial. Actually, I doubt it was ‘enjoying’ smelling the pizza while slowly starving. What it enjoys is not an issue of My particular concern. Needless to say, I enjoyed its discomfort. In its journal it was recording dreams of gorging itself on delicious pizza. So, I offered a torture by way of tantalus for My pleasure. In any case I watched its face closely as I announced it would be accompanying Me out to dinner. it had just finished its required ten miles on the tread mill and was sweating profusely. I let it catch its breath and cool down to the point of an onset of chill. I took a bight of a large corn-beef sandwich while its eyes devoured the sight of My pleasure. I slowly chewed the sandwich while My slave involuntarily chewed nothing but saliva. When it seemed to be at the point of crying with the frustration of dental and hunger, I swallowed to clear My mouth and, negligently dropping the half eaten sandwich on the floor, I began to speak. “Slave, tonight it will accompany Me to dinner out. I will allow it to wear ladies panties, the tight little boy shorts and a T-shirt. it will play chauffeur to the restaurant. it will sit on its hands and not speak without a nod of approval from Me. Before I go out to eat, I will beat it in order that it might keep its servile position in life firmly in its mind. I grant it the opportunity ask a question now about tonight’s adventure. Remember, any answer including punishment for any impertinence I perceive must elicit profound gratitude from it. Ask now, slave.” Poor thing, it could not resist the crying need it felt for, at a minimum, the prospect of receiving food. “Master will it be fed tonight?” To which I responded with a series of face slaps. At each it did as it had been trained and forced its face up to face slapping position with its eyes firmly fixed on mine. No matter how hard I struck its impertinent cheeks it thanked Me profusely for a number of things. The ‘things’ included that it was receiving attention from a Better, it had the opportunity to serve, that it was learning etc.  Later that day, still wondering if it would be fed, the slave although in advanced years of age was dressed much like a little boy included Buster Brown shoes was kneeling by the front door waiting to drive Me to My repast.  As I approached the door ready to leave My residence, I thought I heard My slave properties stomach growl its protest at the lack of something to digest. Darn if I thought I heard the same little growl as I passed it through the door it held open to the interior of My car. I gave it the destination from My comfortable seat. I suspect the slave was pleased to be driving rather than locked in the trunk of the car as it usually was.   It did a competent job of driving, holding the door for me at the entrance of the restaurant and then parking the car. I enjoyed the sight of it running back to me to open the door of the eating establishment. When I announced My name we were conducted to a both. My slave used a handkerchief it carried for just such occasions to wipe down the seat I was about to occupy. As I sat, it waited at the ready should I require anything else in the moment. When I was comfortable, I took a moment to survey the table. The linen tablecloth was spotless and was not overly starched. The flatware was sterling, the plates were all porcelain and the glass all crystal. It pleased Me to see such an elegant setting before me. All the while My slave property maintained a standing posture ramrod straight with eyes focused on My face waiting for instructions. I casually looked at My adoring chattel and nodded slightly. At this indication from Me it took its seat on its hands. The reader may skip the following digression. Sitting on one’s hands sounds simple enough. However, hand sitting is far from comfortable. The reader might like to try a little experiment and spend some time sitting on hands for a while. The longe one sits in that fashion the less comfort afforded. Further, there is the question of palms up or down. Up or down question in My realm depends on the surface the ass is to rest on. A hard surface with palms up leaves discomfort to mount slowly to the ass while the back of the hands almost immediately suffer from the weight of the sitter and the hard surface the knuckles and back of hand are pressed into. A soft cushion, such as the current eatery provided would receive the back of the hand with grace and ease. However, if the hands are palm down, the soft surface causes the hands to bend backward and over time gain certain agony to the sitter. Guess which way My slave property had been trained to orient its palms? Water was in each of the crystal water glasses provided. There was a carafe of H2O on the table as well. I sipped My water while I perused the menu. My slave property kept its eyes on My face should I require anything, even as its thirst remained unquenched. I discarded the wine list. My drinking days are long past. However, I was aware My slave was a drinker (the reader should note the past tense.) The waitress arrived to collect the order. She enquired about drink preference. Noting My decline and nothing by way of speech from My companion, went on to the food question. My order was rather simple, a crab cocktail, followed by a caesar salad, main course of prime rib.  “And for the gentleman?” enquired the wait person after turning to face it.  I watched as My slave’s face reddened ever so slightly. I looked forward to reading its journal entry regarding this whole dinner, especially, its reaction to the “for the gentleman” inquiry. I sadistically savored its quandary of imperative sustenance need and secure knowledge it was to have only what I allowed. “You may bring one dry piece of toasted white bread, please.” With a very well, Sir, she turned to place the order with the cook. “it may have a sip of water, slave.” Of course My slave property could not resist taking more than a sip. It even allowed some liquid to dribble down its chin as it downed half a glass. “Remind Me, slave, to beat it severally for taking more than a sip and for removing hands from under its ass without permission.”

 RAWRSUB